\n
llreseittejt in
of
of Catania
Professor John Satterly
Department of Physics
University of Toronto
(XY^^^^^^
V- C-iwit Bolster, oin
POPULAR ROMANCES
OF THE
WEST OF ENGLAND
OR
Broils, Grabitions, an& Superstitions
of ®16 Cornwall
COLLECTED AND EDITED BY
ROBERT HUNT, F.R.S.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK
A NEW IMPRESSION
LONDON
CH ATTO & WI NDUS
(yR
11 ' Have you any stories like that, guidwife ? '
" 'Ah, she said ; ' there were plenty of people that could tell those stories once. 1
used to hear them telling them over the fire at night ; but people is so changed with
pride now, that they care for nothing.'" — CAMPBELL.
r
870807
\\
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
DURING the last few years a new interest has been awakened,
and the West of England has attracted the attention of many,
who had previously neglected the scenes of interest, and the
spots of beauty, which are to be found in our own island.
The rugged granite range of Dartmoor, rich with the golden
furze ; the moorlands of Cornwall, with their mighty Tors and
giant boulders fringed with ferns and framed in masses of
purple heath; the stern coasts, washed by an emerald sea,
quaint with rocks carved into grotesque forms by the beating
of waves and winds, spread with the green samphire and
coated with yellow lichens ; are now found to have a peculiar
— though a wild — often a savage — beauty. The wood-clad
valleys, ringing with the rush of rivers, and the sheltered plains,
rich with an almost tropical vegetation, present new features
of interest to the stranger's eyes, in the varied characters of the
organisation native to that south-western clime.
The railways give great facilities for visiting those scenes,
of which the public eagerly avail themselves. But they have
robbed the West of England of half its interest, by dispelling
the spectres of romance which were, in hoar antiquity, the
ruling spirits of the place.
The "Romances of the West of England" — collected into
a volume which has served its purpose well — gives the tourist
Preface to the Third Edition.
the means of restoring the giants and the fairies to their
native haunts.
The growing inquiries of those who are desirous of knowing
something of the ancient Cornish miners, — of the old peasantry
of this peninsula, and of the aged fishermen who almost lived
upon the Atlantic waters, — have convinced me that a third
edition of this volume of folk-lore has become a necessity.
While correcting the pages for a new edition, a scientific
friend, who was deep in the cold thrall of positivism, called
upon me. He noticed the work upon which I was engaged,
and remarked, " I suppose you invented most of these stories."
In these days, when our most sacred things are being
sneered at, and the poetry of life is being repressed by the
prose of a cold infidelity, this remark appears to render it a
humiliating necessity, to assure my readers that none of the
legends in this volume have been invented. They were all
of them gathered in their native homes, more than half
a century since, as stated fully in the Introduction to the
volume.
For this edition some necessary corrections have been
made; and additions will be found in the Appendix, which
it is thought will increase the interest of the volume.
ROBERT HUNT
March 1881.
;l
CONTENTS.
PAGE
THE GIANTS. PAGE
THE FAIRIES — continued.
i. The Age of the Giants,
2. Corineus and Gogmagog,
3. The Giants of the Mount, .
4. The Key of the Giant's Castle, .
5. The Rival Giants,
35
36. The Fairy Revels on the
" Gump," St Just, .
37. The Fairy Funeral, .
38. The Fairy Revel,
39. Betty Stogs and Jan the Moun-
98
102
103
6. The Giants of Trencrom, or Tre*
ster, ......
IO3
crobben,
49
40. The Four-leaved Clover, .
107
7. The Giants at Play,
51
41. The Fairy Ointment, .
I0g
8. Holiburn of the Cairn, .
52
42. How Joan Lost the Sight of her
9. The Giant of Nancledry,
10. Trebiggan the Giant, .
53
53
Eye,
43. The Old Woman who Turned her
in
it. The Lord of Pengerswick and the
Shift,
IT3
Giant of St Michael's Mount, .
53
44. The Fairy Widower, .
114
12. The Giant of St Michael's Mount
45. The Small People's Gardens,
118
loses his Wife, ....
53
46. St Levan Fairies,
119
13. Tom and the Giant Blunderbuss ;
47. The Adventure of Cherry of
or, The Wheel and Exe Fight,
55
Zennor
120
14. Tom the Giant, his Wife Jane,
48. Anne Jefferies and the Fairies, .
127
and Jack the Tinkeard, .
60
49. The Piskie Threshers,
129
15. How Tom and the Tinkeard found
50. The Muryan's Bank, .
I30
the Tin, and how it led to
Morva Fair, ....
66
TREGEAGLE.
16. The Giant of Morva, .
17. The Giant Bolster,
18. The Hack and Cast, .
19. The Giant Wrath, or Ralph,
20. Ordulph the Giant,
72
73
75
76
76
51. The Demon Tregeagle,
52. Jahn Tergagle the Steward,
53. Dosmery Pool, ....
54. The Wish Hounds,
55. Cheney's Hounds,
J38
142
145
146
THE FAIRIES.
THE MERMAIDS.
21. The Elfin Creed of Cornwall,
79
22. Nursing a Fairy, ....
83
56. Morva or Morveth,
148
23. Changelings, ....
24. The Lost Child, ....
85
86
57. Merrymaids and Merrymen,
58. The Mermaid of Padstow,
149
25. A Native Pigsey Story,
26. The Night-Riders,
87
8?
59. The Mermaid's Rock,
60. The Mermaid of Seaton,
«5'
27. The Fairy Tools ; or, Barker's
Knee,
°/
88
61. The Old Man of Cury,
62. The Mermaid's Vengeance
152
28. The Piskies in the Cellar, .
88
29. The Spriggans of Trencrom Hill,
9°
THE ROCKS.
30. The Fairy Miners — the Knock-
63. Cromlech and Druid Stones,
172
ers, .....
QO
91
64. The Logan or Loging Rock,
65. Mincamber, Main-Amber, or
i74
31. The Spriggan's Child, .
32. The Piskies' Changeling,
33. The Pixies of Dartmoor,
95
96
Ambrose's Stone,
66. Zennor Coits, ....
i75
175
34. The Fairy Fair in Germoe, .
97
67. The Men-an-Tol,
176
35. St Margery and the Piskies,
97
68. The Crick Stone in Morva,
177
i8
Contents.
THE ROCKS— continued. P
AGE
69. The Dancing Stones, the Hur-
lers, &c.,
177
92.
70. The Nine Maids, or Virgin
93-
Sisters,
179
94
71. The Twelve-o'clock Stone,
179
72. The Men-Scryfa,
180
95-
73. Table-Men— The Saxon Kings'
nfi
Visit to the Land's End,
180
90.
74. Merlvn's Prophecies,
75. The Armed Knight, .
181
182
76. The Irish Lady,
183
77. The Devil's Doorway,
78. Piper's Hole, Scilly, .
184
185
97-
98.
79. The Devil's Coits, &c.,
185
99.
80. King Arthur's Stone,
81. The Cock-Crow Stone, .
1 86
187
I CO.
101.
IO2.
LOST CITIES.
103.
82. Lost Lands, ....
83. The Tradition of the Lyonesse
189
104.
or Lethowsow,
189
105.
84 Cudden Point and the Silver
106.
Table
J93
107.
85 The Padstow " Hobbv-Ho se,"
194
108.
86. St Michael's Mo in t— The White
109.
Rock in the Wood, .
J95
ib.
87. Gwavas Lake, .
198
ii.
88. The City of Langarrow or Lan-
12.
gona, ....
89. The Sands at Lelant and Phil-
199
*3-
14.
lack, . ...
20 1
15-
90. "The Island," St Ives, .
201
16.
91. The Chapel Rock, Perran-
17
Porth
202
FIRE WORSHIP.
PAGE
92. Romances of Fire Worship, 205
93. Baal Fires, . .206
The Garrack Zans, or Holy
Rock, ... .208
95. Fire Ordeal for the Cure of
Disease, 209
96. Burning Animals Alive, . . 21?
DEMONS AND SPECTRES.
The Hooting Cairn, . . . yif
Jago's Demon, .... 219
Peter the Devil, . . . 220
Dmdo and his Do?s, . 220
The Devil and his Dandy-Dogs, 223
The Spectral Coach, . . 224
Sir Francis Drake and his
Demon, ..... 230
The Parson and Clerk, . . 231
The Haunted Widower, . . 233
The Spectre Bridegroom, . 233
Duffy and the Devil, . . 239
The Lovers of Porthangwarthn, 247
The Ghost of Rosewarne, . 248
The Suicide's Spearman, . . 253
The Suicide's Ghost, . . . 254
The " Ha-af" a Face. . . 254
The Warning, . . . .254
Laying a Ghost, . . . 255
A Flying Spirit, . . . 256
The Execution and Wedding, . 256
The Lugger of Croft Pasco Pool, 258
Series.
THE SAINTS.
1. Legends of the Saints, . . 261
2. The Crowza Stones, . . . 262
3. The Longstone, .... 264
4. St Sennen and St Just, . . 265
9. Legends of St Leven —
The Saint and Johana, . . 265
The Saint's Path, . . . 266 |
The Sc Leven Stone, . . 266 i
The Two Breams, ... 266
10. St Keyne, 268
11. St Dennis's B!ood, . . . 269
12. St Kea's Boat, . . . .270
13. St German's Well, . . .271
14. How St Piran reached Cornwall, 272
15. St Peran, the Miners' Saint, . 273
16. The Discovery of Tin, . . 274
17. St Neot, the Pigmy, . . . 275
1 8. St Neot and the Fox, . . . 275
19. St Neot and the Doe, . . - 276
20. St Neot and the Thieves, . . 276
ai. St Neot and the Fishes, . . 276
22. Probus and Grace, . . . 277
23. St Nectan's Kieveand the Lonely
Sisters, 278
24. Theodore, King of Cornwall, 282
HOLY WELLS.
25. Well-Worship, .
26. The Well of St Constantine,
27. The Well of St Ludgvan, .
28. Gulval Well,
29. The Well of St Keyne,
30. Maddern or Madron Well, .
31. The Well at Altar-Nun,
32. StGundred's Well at Roach Rock
33. St Cuthbert's or Cube) t's Well,
24. Rickety Children,
35. ChapellUny,
36. Perran Well,
37. Redruth Well, .
38. Holy Well at Little Conan,
39. The Preservation of Holy Wells,
285
287
288
290
292
299
299
300
300
300
300
300
KING ARTHTTR.
40. Arthur Legends, .... 303
41. The Battle of Vellan-druchar, . 305
42. Arthur at the Land's End, . 306
43. Traditions of the Danes in Corn-
wall, 307
44. King Arthur in the Form of a
Chough 308
Contents.
KING ARTHUR — continued. PAGE
DEATH SUPERSTITIONS.
PAGE
45-
The Cornish Chough, .
3°9
96.
The Death Token of the Vin-
46.
Slaughter Bridge,
309
goes,
372
47-
Camelford and King Arthur,
310
97-
The Death Fetch of William
48.
Dameliock Castle,
311
Rufus
372
49-
Carlian in Kea, ....
3*2
98.
Sir John Ai undell,
373
99.
Phantoms of the Dying, .
374
SORCERY AND WITCHCRAFT
100.
The White Hare, .
377
101.
The Hand of a Suicide, .
378
50-
Si-
The " Cunning Man,"
Notes on Witchcraft, .
Ill-wishing,
316
102.
103.
The North Side of a Church, .
Popular Superstitions,
379
379
53-
The " Peller," ....
319
54-
55.
Bewitched Cattle,
How to Become a Witch, .
320
321
OLD USAGES.
56-
Cornish Sorcerers,
521
104.
Sanding the Step on New Year's-
How Pengerswick became a Sor-
Day
382
57*
cerer,
322
105.
May-Day, . -
382
58.
The Lord of Pengerswick an En-
chanter,
323
106.
. 107.
Shrove Tuesday at St Ives,
" The Furry," Helstone, .
383
383
59-
The Witch of Fraddam and Pen-
108.
Midsummer Superstitious Cus-
gerswick,
326
toms,
384
60.
Ci.
62.
Trewa,. the Home of Witches, .
Kenidzhek Witch, .
The Witches of the Logan Stone,
328
329
329
109.
no.
Crying the Neck,
Drinking to the Apple-Trees on
Twelfth- Night Eve,
385
386
63-
Madgy Figgy's Chair,
33°
in.
Allhallows-Eve at St Ives,
388
64-
65-
66.
Old Madge Figgey and the Pig,
Madam Noy and Old Joan,
The Witch of Treva, .
332
334
335
112.
114.
The Twelfth Cake, .
Oxen Pray on Christmas-Eve, .
"St George" — The Christmas
388
389
67.
How Mr Lenine gave up Court-
Plays, .
389
ting,
336
"5-
Geese-Dancing — Plough Mon-
68.
The Witch and the Toad, .
337
day,
392
69.
The Sailor Wizard, .
339
116.
Christmas at St Ives,
392
117.
Lady Lovell's Courtship, .
395
THE MINERS.
118.
The Game of Hurling,
400
10.
71-
72.
73-
74-
75-
76.
77-
78.
Traditions of Tinners,
The Tinner of Chyannor, .
Who are the Knockers ? .
Miners' Superstitions,
Christmas-Eve in the Mines,
Warnings and " Tokens,"
The Ghost on Horseback,
The Black Dogs,
Pitmen's Omens and Goblins,
344
346
349
349
350
352
119.
120.
121.
122.
Sham Mayors —
The Mayor of Mylor, .
The Mayor of St Germans,
The Mayor of Halgaver
Moor, ....
The Faction Fight at Cury
Great Tree
Towednack Cuckoo Feast,
The Duke of Restormel, .
401
402
402
403
404
404
79.
The Dead Hand,
353
80.
Dorcas, the Spirit of Po.breen
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.
8r.
Mine, .
355
123.
Charming, and Prophetic
Power,
407
Kingston Downs,
FISHERMEN AND SAILORS.
124.
125.
Fortune-Telling, Charms, &c ,
The Zennor Charmers,
408
410
82.
The Pilot's Ghost Story, .
357
126.
J. H., the Conjuror of St
t
The Phantom Ship,
Jack Harry's Lights,
358
359
127-
Colomb, ...
Cures for Warts,
410
411
85-
The Pirate-Wrecker and the
I 128.
A Cure for Paralysis,
412
Death Ship
359 129.
A Cure for Rheumatism,
412
86.
The Spectre Ship of Porthcur-
130.
Sundry Charms,
no, .
362
I3I'
Cure for Colic in Towednack, .
4T3
87-
The Lady with the Lantern, . .
364
132.
For a Scald or Burn,
413
38.
The Drowned " Hailing their
Charms for Inflammatory Dis-
Names," ....
366
eases, .
413
89,
The Voice from the Sea,
366
I34-
Charms for the Prick of a Thorn,
4*3
P-
The Smuggler's Token,
367
*35-
Charms for Stanching of Blood,
4T3
ji.
The Hooper of Sennen Cove,
367
136.
Charm f»r a Totter, .
414
J2.
How to Eat Pilchards,
137.
Charm for the Sting of a Nettle,
414
•V3-
Pilchards Crying for More,
368
138.
Charm for Toothache,
414
V4-
AS-
The Pressing-Stones,
Whipping the Hake.
368
370
139-
140.
Charm for Sei pentsj*
The Cure of Boils, .
4'5
2O
Contents.
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS — COtltimtcd.
141. Pickets, or a Crick in the Back,
142. The Club-Moss,
143. Moon Superstition*, .
144. Cures for Whooping-('o
145. Cure of Toothache, .
146. The Convalescent's Walk,
147. Adders, and the Milpreve,
148. Snakes Avoid the Ash-Tree
149. To Charm a Snake, .
150. The Ash-Tree, ....
151. Rhyme on the Even Ash, .
152. A Test of Innocency,
153. The Bonfire Test,
154. Lights seen by the Converted .
155. The Migratory Birds,
156. Shooting Stars
157. The Sun never Shines on the
Perjured
158. Characteristics, ....
159. The Mutton Feast, .
160. The Floating Grindstone, .
161. Celts— Flint Arrow-heads, &c.,
162. The Horns on the Church
Tower, . ... 427
163. Tea-Stalks nnd Smut,
164. An old Cornish Rhyme,
165. To Choose a Wife, . . .
166. The Robin and the Wren, .
167. To Secure Good Luck for a
Child,
j68. Innocency, ....
169. Rain at Bridal or Burial, .
170. Crowing Hens &c. .
171. The New Moon,
172. Looking-Glasses,
173. The Magpie, ....
174. The Month of May Unlucky .
175. On the Births of Children,
176. On Washing Linen, .
177. Itching Ears, ....
178. The Spark on the Candle,
179. The Blue Vein
180. The Croaking of the Raven,
181. Whistling, . . _ .
182 Meeting on the Stairs,
183 Treading on Graves, .
184. A Loose Garter,
185. To Cure the Hiccough, .
186. The Sleeping Foot, .
187. The Horse-Shoe,
188. The Black Cat's Tail,
189. Unlucky Things,
190. The Limp Corpse,
TQI. " By Hook or by Crook," .
192. Weather Signs, ....
193. Weather at Liskeard,
194. The First Butterfly, .
195. Peculiar Words and Phrases, .
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES.
196. The Bells of Forrabury Church,
197. The Tower of Minster Church,
198. Templt: Moors, ....
199. The Legend of Tamar.i,
>d.
M
SCKLLANEOUS STORIKS — Continued.
PAI E
PAGB
4T5
200.
The Church and the Barn,
441
4' 5
201.
The Penryn Tragedv,
442
4,6
416
2O2.
203.
Goldsithney Fair and the Glove,
The Harlyn Pie,
444
444
4'7
204.
Packs of Wool the Foundation of
418
the Brid^ of Wadebridge, .
445
418
205.
The Last Wolf in England,
446
420
206.
Churches Built in Performance
420
ofVo'vs, ....
446
421
207.
Bolait, the Field of Blood,
447
208.
Woeful Moor, and Bodrigan's
421
443
422
209.
Pengerswick Castle, .
449
422
210.
The Clerks of Cornwall, .
450
422
211.
A Fairy Caught,
450
423
212.
The Lizard People, .
451
213-
Prussia Cove and Smugglers'
424
Holes,
451
424
214.
Cornish Teeny-tiny, .
452
426
426
215-
216.
The Spaniard at Penryn, .
Boyer, Mayor of Bodmin, .
453
453
427
217.
Thomasine Bonaventure, .
454
218.
The Last of the Killigrews,
456
427
219.
Saint Gerennius, .
459
427
220.
Cornish Dialogue,
460
428
428
428
APPENDIX.
A
Bellerian
A&I
428
B!
The Poem of the Wrestling,
4CH
428
c.
Shara and Sheela,
464
429
429
D.
The H.ig's Bed near Fermoy, .
The Giant of Nancledry ; and
JSs
429
429
E.
Trebijjgan the Giant, .
Geese Dancing — Guise Dancing
46!
429
— Guizards, ....
466
43°
—
"Goose D.mcing," .
467
430
F.
Wayland Smith,
467
43°
G.
The Wonderful Cobbler of Wel-
43°
lington,
467
43°
H.
The Giant " Bolster,"
468
I.
St Piran's-day and Picrous-day,
431
K.
Moses Pitt's Letter respecting
43'
432
L.
Anne Jefferies,
The Bargest, or Spectre-Hounc
470
» 471
Billy B 's Adventure, .
472
432
M.
The Mermaid's Vengeance,
472
432
N.
Rock Masses. Celtic,
473
432
0.
Ambrosia Pftrec,
473
432
433
P.
Q.
Padstow Hobby-Horse
The City of Langarrow or Lan-
474
433
gona. — Perran Churches,
475
433
R.
St. Piran— Perran Zabuloe,
475
433
S.
St. Chiwidden, ....
476
434
T.
The Discoverer of Tin,
476
434
U.
St. Neot,
477
433
X.
The Sisters of Glen-Neot,
478
435
Y.
Z.
Millington of Pengerswick,
Pengerswick
478
478
AA.
Saracen, .....
478
MB.
The Tinner of Chyannor, .
479
433
CC.
Merrv Sean Lads
479
439
DD.
The North Side of a Church, .
479
440
EE.
Peculiar Words and Phrases, .
480
4 |O
FF.
The Harlyn Pie,
480
INTRODUCTION.
THE beginning of this collection of Popular Romances may
be truly said to date from my early childhood. I remember
with what anticipations of pleasure, sixty-eight years since, I
stitched together a few sheets of paper, and carefully pasted them
into the back of an old book. This was preparatory to a visit I
was about to make with my mother to Bodmin, about which town
many strange stories were told, and my purpose was to record
them. My memory retains dim shadows of a wild tale of Render
the Huntsman of Lanhydrock ; of a narrative of streams having
been poisoned by the monks ; and of a legend of a devil who
played many strange pranks with the tower which stands on a
neighbouring hill. I have, within the last year? endeavoured to
recover those stories, but in vain. The living people appear to
have forgotten them ; my juvenile note-book has long been lost :
those traditions are, it is to be feared, gone for ever.
Fifteen years passed away — about six of them at school in
Cornwall, and nine of them in close labour in London, — when
failing health compelled my return to the West of England.
Having spent about a month on the borders of Dartmoor, and
wandered over that wild region of Granite Tors, gathering up its
traditions, — ere yet Mrs Bray* had thought of doing so, — I re-
solved on walking through Cornwall. Thirty-five years since, on
a beautiful spring morning, I landed at Saltash, from the very
ancient passage-boat which in those days conveyed men and
women, carts and cattle, across the river Tamar, where now that
triumph of engineering, the Albert Bridge, gracefully spans its
waters. Sending my box forward to Liskeard by a van, my
wanderings commenced ; my purpose being to visit each relic of
Old Cornwall, and to gather up every existing tale of its ancient
people. Ten months were delightfully spent in this way ; and in
that period a large number of the romances and superstitions which
* Mrs Bray collected her "Traditions, Legends, and Superstitions of Devonshire " in
1835, and they were published in 1838. This work proves to me that even at that time
tli» old-world stories were perishing like the shadows on the mist berhre the rising sun
Many wild tales which 1 heard in 1829 appear to have been lost in 1835.
22 Introduction
are published in these volumes were collected, with many more,
which have been weeded out of the collection as worthless.
During the few weeks which were spent on the borders of Dart-
moor, accidental circumstances placed me in the very centre of a
circle who believed " there were giants on the earth in those
days " to which the " old people " belonged, and who were con-
vinced that to turn a coat-sleeve or a stocking prevented the
piskies from misleading man or woman. I drank deeply from the
stream of legendary lore which was at that time flowing, as from
a well of living waters, over
" Devonia's dreary Alps ;" *
and longed to renew my acquaintance with the wild tales of Corn-
wall, which had either terrified or amused me when a child.
My acquaintance with the fairies commenced at an early date.
When a very boy, I have often been taken by a romantic young
lady, who lives in my memory —
"So bright, so fair, so wild,"t
to seek for the fairies on Lelant Towans. The maiden and the
boy frequently sat for hours, entranced by the stories of an old
woman, who lived in a cottage on the edge of the blown sandhills
of that region. Thus were received my earliest lessons in fairy
mythology.
From earthly youth accidental circumstances have led to my
acquiring a taste for collecting the waifs floating upon the sea of
time, which tell us something of those ancient peoples who have
not a written history. The rude traditions of a race who appear to
have possessed much native intelligence, minds wildly poetical, and
great fertility of imagination, united with a deep feeling for the
mysteries by which life is girdled, especially interested me. By
the operation of causes beyond my control, I was removed from
the groove of ordinary trade and placed in a position of considerable
responsibility, in connection with one of the most useful institutions
of Cornwall. J To nurse the germs of genius to maturity — to seek
those gems " of purest ray serene," which the dark, though not
" unfathomed caves " of the Cornish mines might produce — and
to reward every effort of human industry, was the purpose of this
institution. As its secretary, my duties, as well as my inclination,
took me often into the mining and agricultural districts, and brought
me into intimate relation with the miners and the peasantry. The
bold shores of St Just — the dark and rock-clad hills of Morva,
* Carrington's " Dartmoor." t Coleridge,
t The Royal Cornwall Polytechnic Society.
Introduction. 23
Zennor, and St Ives — the barren regions of St Agnes — the sandy
undulations of Perranzabuloe — the sterile tracts of Gwennap —
the howling moorlands of St Austell and Bodmin — and, indeed,
every district in which there was a mine, became familiar ground.
Away from the towns, at a period when the means of communi-
cation were few, and those few tedious, primitive manners still
lingered. Education was not then, as now, the fashion. Church-
schools were few and far between ; and Wesleyan Methodism —
although it was infusing truth and goodness amongst the people
— had not yet become conscious of the importance of properly
educating the young. Always delighting in popular tales, no oppor-
tunity of hearing them was ever lost. Seated on a three-legged
stool, or in a " timberen settle," near the blazing heath -fire on the
hearth, have I elicited the old stories of which the people were
beginning to be ashamed. Resting in a level, after the toil of
climbing from the depths of a mine, in close companionship with
the homely miner, his superstitions, and the tales which he had
heard from his grandfather, have been confided to me.
To the present hour my duties take me constantly into the most
remote districts of Cornwall and Devon, so that, as boy and as man,
I have possessed the best possible opportunities for gathering up
the folk-lore of a people, who, but a few generations since, had a
language peculiarly their own,* — a people, who, like all the Celts,
cling with sincere affection to the memories of the past, and who
even now regard with jealousy the introduction of any novelty, and
accept improvements slowly.
The store of old-world stories which had been collected under
the circumstances described would, perhaps, never have taken
their present form, if Mr Thomas Wright had not shown the value
of studying the Cyclopean Walls of the promontory beyond
Penzance, popularly called " The Giant's Hedges," — and if Mr
* " The Cornish dialect, one of the three branches of the old British, bears greater
affinity with the Breton or Armorican dialect of Brittany than it does with the Welsh,
although it properly forms the link of union between the Celtic dialect of France and
that of the Cambrian hills. The nature of its inflexions, both in letters and in tenses
and cases, is, generally speaking, alike, allowance being made for dialectic variations
arising from the nature of the country in which the dialect is spoken." The above quo-
tation is from the remarkable book published by Bagster & Sons, " The Bible of every
Land : A History of the Sacred Scriptures in every Language and Dialect into which
Translations have been made." Preceding the above quotation, I find it stated that
" Dolly Pentreath, who died at Penzance in 1778, aged 102, was then said to be the only
person in Cornwall who could speak the aboriginal idiom of that province of ancient
Britain." This old woman died at Mousehole, and was buried in the churchyard of Paul.
Over her grave Prince Lucien Bonaparte has recently placed an inscribed granite obelisk.
Polwhele and some others have doubled the statement made by Daines Harrington, that
Dolly was the last person who could speak Cornish. As they contend, many other men
and women may, a hundred yt-ars since, have known the tongue, but no writer has pro-
duced good evidence to show that any person habitually spoke the language, which
Barrington informs us was the case with Dolly Pentreath.
24 Introduction.
J. O. Halliwell had not told us that his " Rambles in Western
Cornwall, by the Footsteps of the Giants" had led him to attempt
" to remove part of a veil beyond which lies hid a curious episode
in the history" of an ancient people.
In writing of the Giants, the fairies, and the spectral bands, I
have often asked myself, How is it possible to account for the
enduring life of those romantic tales, under the constantly-repress-
ing influences of Christian teaching, and of the advances of
civilisation ? I have, to some extent, satisfied myself by such a
reply as the following: —
Those things which make a strong impression on the mind of
the child are rarely obliterated by the education through which
he advances to maturity, and they exert their influences upon the
man in advanced age. A tale of terror, related by an ignorant
nurse, rivets the attention of an infant mind, and its details are
engraven on the memory. The " bogle," or " bogie," with which
the child is terrified into quiet by some thoughtless servant, re-
mains a dim and unpleasant reality to shake the nerves of the
philosopher. Things like these — seeing that existence is sur-
rounded by clouds of mystery — become a Power which will,
ever and anon through life, exert considerable control over our
actions. As it is with the individual, so is it with the race to
which that individual belongs. When our Celtic ancestors — in
the very darkness of their ignorance — were taught, through their
fears, a Pantheistic religion, and saw a god in every grand
phenomenon : — when not merely the atmospheric changes — the
aspects of the starry sky — and the peculiarities apparent in the
sun and moon, were watched with fearful anxiety ; but when the
trembling of a rock — the bubbling of a spring — the agitation of
the forest leaves — and the flight of a bird, were charged with
sentences of life and death : — then was moulded the Celtic mind,
and the early impressions have never been entirely obliterated.
" There were maddening orgies amongst the sacred rites of the
Britons ; orgies that, whilst they reminded one writer of the
Bacchic dances, reminded another of the worship of Demeter." *
The Romans came and possessed the land. Even to the most
westerly promontory, we have evidences of their rule, and indications
of their superiority. The Saxons overcame the Danmonii — Athel-
stane drove the Cornish beyond the Tamar, and planted his banner
on the Scilly Islands ; — and this Teutonic people diffused their
religion and their customs over the West.t The Dane followed upon
* Latham.
t " Athelstane (937) bandied them yet more extremely, for ho drove them out of
Introduction. 2$
the Saxon, and he has left his earthworks, in evidence ot his
possession, upon the Cornish hills.* The Norman conquerors
eventually took possession of our island, and several of the existing
families of Cornwall can speak of ancestors, who won their lands
by favour of William, the Duke of Normandy.
Notwithstanding the influences which can be — not very obscurely
— traced of Roman and Saxon, Danish and Norman civilisations,
the Celtic superstitions lingered on : — varied perhaps in their cloth-
ing, but in all essentials the same. Those wild dreams which
swayed with irresistible force the skin-clad Briton of the Cornish
hills, have not yet entirely lost their power where even the National
and the British Schools are busy with the people, and Mechanics'
Institutions are diffusing the truths of science. In the infancy of
the race, terror was the moving power : in the maturity of the
people, the dark shadow still sometimes rises, like a spectre,
partially eclipsing the mild radiance of that Christian truth which
shines upon the land.
It must not be forgotten that Cornwall has, until a recent period,
maintained a somewhat singular isolation. England, with many
persons, appeared to terminate on the shores of the river Tamar ; and
the wreckers of the coasts, and the miners of the hills, were equally
regarded as indicating the semi-civilisation of this county. The
difficulties of travelling in Cornwall were great. A clergyman
writing in 1788, says, " Our object was now to obtain a passage
to Loo, without losing sight of the noble sea. Saddle-horses would
render the difficulty of this route a pleasure, but with my carriage
it is deemed impracticable.''! Again, he tells us he was with his
guide " five hours coming the eleven miles from Loo to Lost-
withiel." Within my own memory, the ordinary means of travel-
ling from Penzance to Plymouth was by a van called a "kitterine,"
and three days were occupied in the journey. There was in latter
years, a mail coach, but the luxury of this conveyance was, even
then, reserved for the wealthier classes. This difficulty of transit
in a great measure explains the seclusion of the people up to a
comparatively recent period ; and to it we certainly owe the pre-
servation of their primitive character, and most of the material to
be found in these volumes. At one period indeed — but still earlier
than the days of kitterines — we find the Cornish people, as a body,
Excester, where, till then, they Inre equal sway with the Saxons, and left them only the
narrow angle on the west of Tamar river for their inheritance, which hath ever since
beene their fatall bound." — Carew, p. 96.
* "And divers round ho!ds on the tops of hill ; some single, some double, and treble
trenched, which are termed Castellan Denis or Danis, as raysed Uy the Danes when
they were destyned to become our scourge." — Carew, p. 85.
f A Tour to the West of England in 1788. By rhe Rev. S. Shaw, M.A., London, 1789.
Introduction.
curiously, but completely, cut off by the river Tamar, from their
countrymen. They were then informed of the active life of the
world beyond them by the travelling historian only, who, as he
also sought amuse the people, was called the " droll-teller."
The wandering minstrel, story-teller, and newsmonger appears
to have been an old institution amongst the Cornish. Indeed
Carew, in his " Survey of Cornwall," tells us that " the last of the
Wideslades, whose estates were forfeited in the Rebellion, was
called Sir Tristram. He led a walking life with his harp to
gentlemen's houses." As the newspaper gradually found its way
into this western county (the first one circulated in Cornwall being
the Sherbourne Mercury], the occupation of this representative of
the bards was taken away ; but he has only become extinct within
the last twenty years. These old men wandered constantly from
house to house, finding a hearty welcome at all. Board and bed
were readily found them, their only payment being a song or a
droll (story). A gentleman to whom I am under many obliga-
tions writes : —
" The only wandering droll-teller whom I well remember was an
old blind man, from the parish of Cury, — I think, as he used to
tell many stories about the clever doings of the conjurer Luty of
that place, and by that means procure the conjurer much practice
from the people of the west. The old man had been a soldier in
his youth, and had a small pension at the time he went over the
country, accompanied by a boy and dog. He neither begged
nor offered anything for sale, but was sure of a welcome to bed
and board in every house he called at. He would seldom stop in
the same house more than one night, not because he had exhausted
his stories, or ' eaten his welcome,' but because it required all his
time to visit his acquaintances once in the year. The old man
was called Uncle Anthony James. (Uncle is a term of respect,
which was very commonly applied to aged men by their juniors
in Cornwall. Aunt (A'nt or Ann), as A'nt Sally or Ann' Jenney,
was used in the same manner when addressing aged women.
" Uncle Anthony James used to arrive every year in St Leven
parish about the end of August. Soon after he reached my father's
house, he would stretch himself on the ' chimney-stool/ and sleep
until supper-time. When the old man had finished his frugal
meal of bread and milk, he would tune his fiddle and ask if
1 missus ' would like to hear him sing her favourite ballad. As
soon as my dear mother told him how pleased she would be, Uncle
Anthony would go through the ' woeful hunting' (< Chevy Chase '),
from beginning to end, accompanied by the boy and the fiddle.
Introduction.
I expect the air was his own composition, as every verse was a
different tune. The young were then gratified by hearing the
* streams' (strains) of 'Lovely Nancy,' divided in three parts.*
I never saw this ballad published, yet it is a very romantic old
thing, almost as long as « Chevy Chase.' Another favourite was : —
' Cold blows the wind to-day, sweetheart J
Cold are the drops of rain ;
The first truelove that ever I had
In the green wood he was slain.
'Twas down in the garden-green, sweetheart,
Where you and I did walk ;
The fairest flower that in the garden grew
Is withered to a stalk.
' The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart ;
The flowers will ne'er return ;
And since my truelove is dead and gone,
What can I do but mourn ?
1 A twelvemonth and a day being gone,
The spirit rose and spoke —
"My body is clay cold, sweetheart ;
My breath smells heavy and strong ;
And if you kiss my lily-white lips,
Your time will not be long." '
" Then follows a stormy kind of duet between the maiden and
her lover's ghost, who tries to persuade the maid to accompany
him to the world of shadows. Uncle Anthony had also a knack
of turning Scotch and Irish songs into Cornish ditties. * Barbara
Allan ' he managed in the following way, and few knew but that
he had composed the song : —
' In Cornwall I was born and bred,
In Cornwall was my dwelling ;
And there I courted a pretty maid,
Her name was Ann Tremellan.
" The old man had the ' Babes in the Wood ' for religious folks ;
but he avoided the * Conorums,' as he called the Methodists. Yet
the grand resource was the stories in which the supernatural bore
great part. The story I told you about the ancestors of the con-
jurer Luty finding the mermaid, who gave them the power to break
the spell of witchcraft, was one of this old man's tales, which he
seemed to believe ; and he regarded the conjurer with as much
respect as the bard might the priest in olden time. I have a dim
recollection of another old droll-teller, called Billy Frost, in St Just,
who used to go round to the feasts in the neighbouring parishes,
and be well entertained at the public-houses for the sake of his
drolls."
* Carew, in his " Survey of Cornwall," makes especial mention of " three men's songs,"
as beini peculiar to this county.
28 Introduction.
In 1829 there still existed two of those droll-tellers, and from
them were obtained a few of the stories here preserved.
These wanderers perpetuated the traditions of the old inhabi-
tants ; but they modified the stories, according to the activity of
their fancy, to please their auditors. Not merely this : they with-
out doubt introduced the names of people remembered by the
villagers ; and when they knew that a man had incurred the hatred
of his neighbours, they made him do duty as a demon, or placed
him in no very enviable relation with the devil. The legends of
Tregeagle are illustrations of this. The man who has gained the
notoriety of being attached to a tale as old as that of Orestes, —
was a magistrate in Cornwall two hundred years since. The story
of the murderess of Ludgvan and her lover is another, and a very
modern, example of the process by which recent events are inter-
woven with very ancient superstitions.*
When the task of arranging my romances was commenced, I
found that the traditions of Devonshire, as far east as Exeter — the
tract of country which was known as " Danmonium," or even
more recently as " Old Cornwall " — had a striking family resem-
blance. My collection then received the name it bears, as em-
bracing the district ordinarily known as the West of England.
Although I have avoided repeating any of the traditions which are
to be found in Mrs Bray's books ; I have not altered my title ;
for the examples of folk-lore given in these volumes belong strictly
to " Old Cornwall."
There are some points of peculiar interest connected with the
Dartmoor traditions, indicating, as I conceive, a purely Saxon
origin, deserving an attention which they have not yet received.
Childe's Tomb, in one of the dreariest portions of the moor, is
a large cross of granite. This Childe, lord of the manor of Plym-
stock, was benighted on the moor in a snowstorm ; he killed his
horse, and got within its body for warmth, having first written in
blood on a granite slab, near which he was found dead, —
"The first that finds and brings me to my grave,
The lands of Plymstock he shall have."
The Benedictine monks of Tavistock are said to have found the
body, and thus secured their right to the lands. This is without
doubt an old Saxon legend, modified, as it has been handed down
from age to age. Wistman's Wood, with its " hundred oaks one
hundred yards high," — a remnant of the old Dartmoor Forest, —
* I find in Campbell's "Popular Tales of the West Highlands" particular mention
made of numerous historical events which have taken the forms of ancient legends.
" There is popular history of events which really happened within the last five centuries."
Introduction. 29
is the very home of the Wish hounds, which hunt so fiercely over
the Moor ; and this Wistman appears to have been some demon
creature, whose name alone remains. Mr Kemble gives W^tsc, or
Wise, as one of the names of Odin. Here we have a similar
name given to a strange wood in Devonshire, associated with wild
superstitions ; and whish, or whisht > is a common term for that
weird sorrow which is associated with mysterious causes.
The stone circles, the stone avenues, and the rock tribunals, —
of which Crockern Tor furnishes us with a fine example, — have
yet tales to tell, which would well repay any labour that might be
bestowed upon them. Ancient British rule gave way to Saxon
power, and probably there was no tract in England less known to
the Romans than Dartmoor. Thus we may expect to find the
paganism of the Briton and the rude Christianity of the Saxon,
shadowed out in the remaining legends of Dartmoor.
" Crocker, Conwys, and Coplestone,
When the Conqueror came, were found at home,"
is an old Devonshire rhyme. Those names are associated with
many a moorland tradition, and indicate their Sax®n origin.
It may appear strange to many, that having dealt with the super-
stitions of the Cornish people, no mention has been made of the
Divining Rod (the " Dowsing Rod" as it is called), and its use in
the discovery of mineral lodes. This has been avoided, in the first
place, because any mention of the practice of "dowzing" would lead
to a discussion, for which this work is not intended ; and, in the
second place, because the use of the hazel-twig is not Cornish.
The divining or dowzing rod is certainly not older than the German
miners, who were brought over by Queen Elizabeth to teach the
Cornish to work their mines, one of whom, called Schutz, was some
time Warden of the Stannaries. Indeed, there is good reason for
believing that the use of this wand is of more recent date, and,
consequently, removed from the periods which are sought to be
illustrated by this collection. The Divining Rod belongs no more
to them than do the modern mysteries of twirling hats, of teaching
tables to turn, and, — in their wooden way, — to talk.
The giant stories, prefaced with the often-told tale of Gog-
magog, are of a character peculiarly their own. They do not
appear to resemble the giants described in Mr Campbell's " Popu-
lar Tales of the West Highlands ; " but it must be admitted that
there are some indications of a common origin between those
of Cromarty and of Cornwall. In Mr Dasent's translation of
Asbjornsen, and Moe 's collection of " Norse Tales*" the giant is
not like our native friends. May we venture to believe that the
30 Introduction.
Cornish giant is a true Celt, or may he not belong to an earlier
race ? He was fond of home, and we have no record of his ever
having passed beyond the wilds of Dartmoor. The giants of
Lancashire, of Cheshire, and Shropshire have a family likeness,
and are, no doubt, closely related ; but if they are cousins to the
Cornish giants, they are cousins far removed. Dr Latham, in his
" Ethnology of the British Islands," says " Tradition, too, indicates
the existence of an old march or debatable land ; for south of
Rugby begins the scene of 'the deeds of Guy, Earl of Warwick,
the slayer of the dun cow." The large bone which is shown in
Redcliff Church, Bristol, is the last indication of the dun cow in
the south. As this marvellous cow moved within prescribed
limits, so was it with the giants of old Cornwall.
The fairies of Cornwall do not exhibit the same marked indi-
viduality. Allowing for the influences of physical conditions,
they are clearly seen to be an offshoot from the common stock.
Yet they have several local peculiarities, and possess names which
are especially their own.
A few of the more popular legends of the Cornish saints are
preserved, for the purpose of showing how enduringly the first
impressions of power, as exhibited by the earliest missionaries,
have remained fixed amongst the people ; this being due mainly
to the mental operation of associating mental power and physical
strength with external things in the relations of cause and effect.
I cannot but consider myself fortunate in having collected these
traditions thirty-five years ago. They could not be collected now.
Mr J. O. H alii well speaks of the difficulties he experienced in his
endeavours to obtain a story. The common people think they
will be laughed at if they tell their " ould drolls " to a stranger.
Beyond this, many of the stories have died out with those who
told them. In the autumn of 1862, being very desirous of getting
every example of folk-lore which existed in the remote parishes
of Zennor and Morva, I employed the late C. Taylor Stephens,
" sometime rural postman from St Ives to Zennor/' and the author
of " The Chief of Barat-Anac," to hunt over the district. This he
did with especial care, and the results of his labours are included
in those pages. The postman and poet, although he spent many
days and nights amidst the peasantry, failed to procure stories
which had been told me, without hesitation, thirty years before.
When it was known that I was engaged in preparing for
publication a work on the Traditions and Superstitions of Cornwall,
numerous contributions, from much-valued friends, and from
strangers interested in the preservation of these characteristics
Introduction. 3 1
of the West of England, were sent to me. From these some
stories have been selected, but by far the larger number were
modifications of stories already told. My obligations and thanks
are, nevertheless, due to all ; but there are two gentlemen to
whom acknowledgments beyond this are necessary. These are
Mr T. Q. Couch, who had already published examples of the
folk-lore of Polperro and the neighbourhood, who has communi-
cated several original stories, and Mr W. Botterell of Caerwyn, a
native of St Leven, who possesses a greater knowledge of the
household stories of the Land's-End district than any man living.
Mr Botterell has, with much labour, supplied me with gleanings
from his store, and his stories have been incorporated, in most
cases, as he told them. Beyond this, it was satisfactory to have
the correctness of many in my own collection confirmed by so
reliable an authority. Without the assistance which this gentle-
man has given, the West Cornwall stories would not have pos-
sessed the interest which will be found to belong to them.
One word on the subject of arrangement. In the First Series
are arranged all such stories as appear to belong to the most
ancient inhabitants of these islands. It is true that many of them,
as they are now told, assume a mediaeval, or even a modern char-
acter. This is the natural result of the passage of a tradition or
myth from one generation to another. The customs of the age in
which the story is told are interpolated for the purpose of render-
ing them intelligible to the listeners, and thus they are constantly
changing their exterior form. I am, however, disposed to believe
that the spirit of all the romances included in this series shows them
to have originated before the Christian era. The romances of the
Second Series belong certainly to the historic period, though the
dates of many of them are exceedingly problematical.
All the stories given in these volumes are the genuine household
tales of the people. The only liberties which have been taken
with them has been to alter them from the vernacular — in which
they were for the most part related — into modern language. This
applies to every romance but one. " The Mermaid's Vengeance"
is a combination of three stories, having no doubt a common origin,
but varying considerably in their details. They were too much
alike to bear repeating ; consequently it was thought best to throw
them into one tale, which should preserve the peculiarities of all.
This has been done with much care ; and even the songs given
preserve lines which are said by the fisherman — from whom the
stories were obtained — to have been sung by the me/maids.
The traditions which are told, the superstitions which are spoken
32 Introduction.
of, and the customs which are described in these volumes, may be
regarded as true types of the ancient Cornish mythology, and
genuine examples of the manners and customs of a people who
will not readily deviate from the rules taught them by their
fathers.
Romances such as these have floated down to us as wreck upon
the ocean. We gather a fragment here and a fragment there, and
at length, it may be, we learn something of the name and char-
acter of the vessel when it was freighted with life, and obtain a
shadowy image of the people who have perished.
Hoping to have been successful in saving a few interesting
fragments of the unwritten records of a peculiar race, my labours
are submitted to the world. The pleasure of recalling the past
has fully repaid me for the labour of arranging the Traditions oj
Old Cornwall.
ROBERT HUNT.
ROMANCES AND SUPERSTITIONS
OF THE
MYTHIC AGES.
THE GIANTS.
" Of Titan's monstrous race
Only some few disturb'd that happy place.
Raw hides they wore for clothes, their drink was blood,
Rocks were their dining-rooms, their prey their food,
Caverns their lodging, and their bed their grove,
Their cup some hollow trunk."
— Havilaris " Architrenium"
translated in Gougtis ' ' Camaei
POPULAR ROMANCES OF THE
WEST OF ENGLAND.
THE AGE OF THE GIANTS.
" Eald enta geweorc
Idlu stodon." — The H'anderer. Exeter Book.
" The old works of giants
Stood desolate."— THOMAS WRIGHT.
IN wandering over some of the uncultivated tracts which still
maintain their wildness, austerely and sullenly, against the
march of cultivation, we are certain of finding rude masses of rock
which have some relation to the giants. The giant's hand, or the
giant's chair, or, it may be, the giant's punch-bowl, excites your
curiosity. What were the mental peculiarities of the people who
fixed so permanently those names on fantastic rock-masses ?
What are the conditions — mental or otherwise — necessary for the
preservation of these ideas ? are questions which I have often
asked myself when wandering amidst the Tors of Dartmoor, and
when seated upon the granite masses which spread themselves so
strangely, yet so picturesquely, over Carn Brea and other rocky
hills in Cornwall. When questions of this kind are continually
recurring, the mind naturally works out some reply, which satisfies
at least itself ; and it consequently not unfrequently reposes con-
tentedly on a fallacy as baseless as the giant-spectre of the moun-
tain mists. This may possibly be the condition at which I have
arrived, and many of my readers may smile at my dreams. It is
not in my nature to work without some hypothesis ; but I endea-
vour to hold it as loosely as possible, that it may be yielded up
readily the moment a more promising theory is born, whoever may
be its parent — wherever its birthplace.
$6 Romances of the Giants.
Giants, and every form of giant-idea, belong to the wilds of
nature. I have never discovered the slightest indication of the
existence of a tradition of giants, of the true legendary type, in a
fertile valley or in a well-cultivated plain. Wherever there yet
linger the faint shadows of the legendary giant, there the country
still retains much of its native wildness, and the inhabitants have,
to a great extent, preserved their primitive character In other
words, they have nurtured a gloomy imagination, and permitted
ignorance to continue its melancholy delusions. The untaught
mind, in every age, looks upon the grander phenomena of nature
with feelings of terror, and endeavours to explain them by the aid
of those errors which have been perpetuated from father to son
since the days when the priests of superstition sought to rule the
minds of men by exciting their fears.
I shall have to tell, by and by, the story of a so-called giant,
who could bestride the lovely river which flows through the luxu-
riant valley of Tavistock, where, also, the inquiring traveller is
shown his grave. The giant's grave in Penrith churchyard is
familiar to me ; and in or near many a picturesque village,
shadowed by noble trees, and surrounded by richly-clothed fields,
I can point to mounds, and to stones, which are said to be the
resting-places of giants. These, however, will invariably be found
to be rude monuments to ordinary men, who were possessed of
more wealth, intelligence, courage, or strength than their fellows :
men who have been the objects of hero-worship, but whose names
have perished amidst the wrecks of time. It may be argued that
these village giants are creations of the same character as those
of the tine legendary type, and that both result from analogous
operations in the human mind. It may be so ; but how vastly
different must have been the constitution of those minds to which
we owe the creations of the Titans of our mountains and the large
men of our lowlands. Had I the learning necessary for the task
of showing that our legendary giant is of Oriental origin, I have
not the required leisure to pursue that inquiry to its end ; and I
leave it to abler men, contenting myself, and, let me hope, satis-
fying my readers, by studying the subject in its more simple
aspects.
I find, over a tract of country extending from the eastern edge
of Dartmoor to the Land's End — and even beyond it, to the Scilly
Islands — curious relics of the giants. This district is in many
respects a peculiar one. The physical features of the country are
broadly marked ; and, even after the civilising influences of cen-
turies, wild nature contests with man, and often maintains her
The Land of the Giants. 37
supremacy. On one hand we see industry taking possession of
the hills, and holding them firm in its ameliorating grasp ; on
the other, we find the sterile moor and the rock-spread region still
resisting successfully the influences of man and his appliances.
When I travel into other parts of the British Isles, and reach a dis-
trict having the same general features, I usually discover some
outstanding memory of the giants, often, it must be admitted,
faint and ill-defined. The giant Tarquin, almost forgotten amidst
the whir of spindles, " who had his dwelling in a well-fortified
castle near Manchester, on the site of what is yet known by the
name of Castlefield," and Carados —
" A mighty giant, just pull'd down,
Who lived near Shrewsbury's fair town " —
may be quoted as examples of the fading myths.*
I therefore draw the conclusion that those large masses of
humanity — of whom Saturn devouring his own children would
seem to be the parental type — can exist only in the memories of
those races who are born and live amidst the sublime phenomena
of nature.
On the rugged mountain, overspread with rocks which appear
themselves to be the ruins of some Cyclopean hall, amidst which
the tempests play, still harmless in their fury ; — here, where the
breezes of spring and summer whistle as with some new delight —
where the autumnal winds murmur the wildest music, or make
the saddest wail ; and the winter storms, as if. joyous in their
strength, shout in voices of thunder from cairn to cairn ; — here
does the giant dwell ! On the beetling cliff, where coming tem-
pests delight to send those predicating meanings, which tell of the
coming war of winds and waves ; — on rocks which have frowned
for ages on the angry sea, and in caverns which mock, by repeat-
ing, the sounds of air and water — be they joyous as the voice of
birds, or wild and solemn as the howl of savages above the dead ;
— here does the giant dwell !
In the valley, too, has he sometimes fixed his home ; but the
giant has usually retired from business when he leaves the hills.
Even here we miss not the old associations. Huge boulders are
spread on every side ; rock-masses are overgrown with furze,
ferns, mosses, and heaths ; and torrents rush from the hills, bring-
ing, as it were, their native music with them. Wherever, indeed,
the giants have made a home, we find a place remarkable for the
grand scale on which the works of nature are displayed.
* See " Popular Traditions of Lancashire," by J. Roby, E>.q., M.R S.L. Bohn, 1843.
38 Romances of the Giants.
The giants of Danmonium — as that region was once named to
which I have confined my inquiries — will be found to be a marked
race. They appear to bear about them the characteristics of the
giants of the East. They have the peculiarities which may be
studied in those true Oriental Titans, Gog and Magog, who still
preside so grimly and giantly at our City feasts. They have none
of that stony, cold-hearted character which marks the giants of
Scandinavia ; and although Mr Keightley* would connect the
mighty Thor with the no less mighty giants of the Arabian
stories, I think it can be shown that all those of the West of
England resemble their Northern brethren only in the manner
in which the sensual monsters succumb to the slightest exercise of
thought.
Mr J. O. Halliwell appears to have been a little surprised at
discovering, during a very short residence in the West of Corn-
wall, that the Land's End district was " anciently the chosen land
of the giants ; " that it was " beyond all other the favourite abode
and the land of the English giants." Peculiarly fitted for the
inquiry as Mr Halliwell is, by his life-long studies, it is to be re-
gretted that he spent so brief a period amidst " what still remains
of these memorials of a Titan race." f
Who were the giants ? Whence came they ? J I asked my-
self these questions when, seated in the Giant's Chair, I have
looked down upon a wide expanse of " furzy downs," over which
were scattered in picturesque confusion vast masses of granite
rocks, every one of them standing in monumental grandeur, in-
scribed by the finger of tradition with memorials of this mighty
race. Did Cormelian and Cormoran really build St Michael's
Mount ? Did Thunderbore walk the land, inspiring terror by his
extreme ugliness ? Did Bolster persecute the blessed St Agnes,
until she was compelled by stratagem to destroy him ? Did,
indeed, our British Titans play at quoits and marbles with huge
rocks ? Is it a fact that all the giants died of grief after Corineus
overthrew Gog Magog on Plymouth Hoe ? Let us, if only for
amusement — and to give to a light work some appearance of
* Tales and Popular Fictions: their Resemblance and Transmission from Country
to Country. By Thomas Keightley. 1834.
t Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants, with Notes on the
Celtic Remains of the Land's End District, and the Islands of Scilly. By J. O. Halli-
well, F.R.S. 1861.
t That these Titans lived down to historic times is suggested by the following : —
" Guy, Earl of Warwick, fought at the request of Athelstan a combat with Colbrand,
a Danish giant, and slew him." — Gilbert, quoting Carew^ who again quotes Walter of
Exeter. Vol. iv., p. 111.
The Sons of the Titans. 39
research — examine a few antiquated authorities, who may be said
— in their own way — indirectly to answer those questions.
M. Pezron, D.D., and abbot of La Charmoye, wrote a strange
book, "The Antiquities of Nations," which in 1706 was "Englished
by Mr Jones."*
In his Epistle Dedicatory to Charles Lord Halifax, speaking of
the " Famous Pezron," Mr Jones asks, " Was there ever any
before him that attempted to Trace the Origin of the Celta, who
with Great Probability of Truth, were the same People, and spoke
the same Language, as our Ancient Britains did. and their
Descendants continue to do to this Day, so high as Corner and
the Gomarians ? "
This authority, with a great display of learning, proves that
Gomer, the eldest son of Japhet, was the chief of the Gomarians,
and that these Gomarians afterwards were called Galatians, or
Gauls. We further learn from him that a section of the Goma-
rians were called Sacae, and that the Sacas went into Phrygia, and
afterwards assumed the name of TITANS. This race, " and
especially the Princes that commanded them, exceeded all others
in Bulk and Strength of Body ; and hence it is that they have
been looked upon to be terrible people, and, as it were, Giants.
The Scripture itself, the Rule of Truth, even gives such an Idea
as this, of those famous and potent men, who, according to it,
ruled over all the Earth. Judith, speaking of them in her fine
Song, called them Giants the sons of the Titans.^ And the
Prophet Isaiah informs us, also, that these Giants were anciently
Masters of the World."
This mighty race dwelt in mountains, woods, and rough and in-
accessible places, and " they lay in the Hollows of Valleys, and the
like Places of Shelter and retirement, because they had no Houses in
those Times." The learned abbot proceeds, exerting all his powers
to prove that the Titans were the true Celtae — that a people of Greece
were the descendants of the Titans — that Gomer was "the true stock
of the Gauls " — and that Magog, his brother, " is also looked upon
to be the Origin of the Scythians, or People of Great Tartary.^%
To seize on another authority, who appears to connect the
Oriental with the British cromlech, and through those the people
* The Antiquities of Nations : more particularly of the Celtse or Gauls, taken to be
originally the same People as our Ancient Britains.
t Judith xvi. 7 : " Neither the sons of the Titans smite him, nor high giants set upon
him."
t Those who are curious in this matter may examine also, " Gomer ; or, A Brief
Analysis of the Language and Knowledge of the Ancient Cymry. By John Williams,
A.M., Oxen., Archdeacon of Cardigan."
40 Romances of the Giants.
whose remains they cover, we- will quote Dr E. D. Clarke, who
describes* a Cyclopean structure visited by him near Kiel, con-
sisting of three upright stones, supporting horizontally an enor-
mous slab of granite. After mentioning several cromlechs of a
similar character, and other " stupendous vestiges of Cyclopean
architecture," he says — " There is nothing Gothic about them —
nothing denoting the Cimbri or the Franks, or the old Saxons —
but rather the ancient Gaulish, the ancient British, and the
ancient Irish; and if this be admitted, they were Titan-Celts:
the GIANTS of the sacred, and the CYCLOPS of the heathen his-
torians." I am informed that Mr Christy has lately examined
several cromlechs in Algeria ; beneath each he found a human
skeleton.
Such may be presumed to be the sources from which sprang
the giants of Cornwall, whose labours — of which relics still remain
— prove them to have been a race by the side of whom
" In stature the tall Amazon
Had stood a pigmy's height."
Everything they have left us informs us that they were men
who
" Would have ta'en
Achilles by the hair, and bent his neck,
Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel." t
With these evidences, who then dares say that the Samotheanst
who, under the reign of Bardus, people this island, were not sub-
dued by Albion, a giant son of Neptune, " who called the land
after his own name, and reigned forty-four years. " J Let us not
forget the evidence also given by Milton in his " Lycidas," when
he asks, in his poetic sorrow, if his friend
" Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great Vision of the guarded Mount
Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold."
Bellerian was the name formerly given to the promontory of the
Land's End. It was the home of a mighty giant, after whom, in
all probability, the headland was called.§
* Travels in Various Countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa, vol. ix., p. 59.
t Hyperion. By John Keats.
J The History of Britain. By John Milton. Second edition, 1678.
J Keightley, who of all men should have traced this Belierus to his home, in his "Life
of Milton" confuses St Michael's Mount and the Land's End, and "conceives the
giant Bellerus to have been an invention of Milton's." The evidence of the " History
Works of the Giants. 41
Tradition throws a faint light back into those remote ages, and
informs us that Cyclopean walls, vast earthworks, and strangely-
piled masses of rock, which still remain, imperishable monuments
of animal power, in various parts of the ancient Danmonium, were
the works of the giants. With the true history of Jack the Giant-
Killer — of him of the Bean-Stalk — and some others, we are all
acquainted. We listened to those histories ere yet the dark seed
of that troublesome weed — doubt — had germinated. They were
poured forth from loving lips into believing ears ; and often in the
sleep of innocency have we buried our heads in the maternal
bosom to hide the horrid visage of some Cormoran Blunderbore,
or Thunderbore, and escape the giant's toils. By this process the
stories were imprinted on memory's tablets with an indelible ink,
and for long years, the spunge and water — which is employed by
the pioneers in the great March of Intellect — has been used almost
in vain. Notwithstanding the influences which have been brought to
bear, with no kindly spirit, upon the old-world tales, we have still
lingering, though in ruins, the evidences by which they were
supported. Mr Thomas Wright, in his " Memoir on the Local
Legends of Shropshire," quotes from (and translates his quotation)
an Anglo-Saxon poem, which bears the title of " The Ruin," in
the " Exeter Book . " —
" Wondrous is this wall-stone,
The fates have broken it,
Have burst the burgh-place ;
The work of giants is perishing."
From the Land's End* to the eastern edge of Dartmoor, the
perishing works of the giants — wondrous wall-stones — are yet to
be found. In many instances the only records by which we can
mark the homes of the giants are the names which yet cling to
the rocks on the hills where they dwelt. The Giant's Cradle, on
Trecrobben Hill, reminds us of the great man's infancy, as does
also the Giant's Spoon, which is near it. The giant of Trecrobben
of Britain" shows with how much diligence the legendary lore which existed in 1678
had been sought out by the poet ; and his grand epic proves with how much reverence
Milton studied our own mythology. I could lead the reader to twenty places around
the Land's End which were not discovered even by Mr J. O. Halliwell when rambling
" In Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants," upon which Bellerus, although
he has not left his name, has left a long-enduring record. See Appendix A.
* "Not far from the land's ende there is a little village called Trebegean — in English,
the towne of ike Giant's Grave, — near whereunto, and within memory (as I have been
informed), certain workmen, searching for Tynne, discovered a long square vault,
which contained the bones of an excessive bigge carkas, and vtrifieo! this Etimology of
the name."— Carew's Survey ofCortnvall.
42 Romances of the Giants.
was, beyond question, a temperate one, as the Giant's Well, without
the walls of his castle, incontestibly proves. But what shall we
say of his neighbour, who dwelt at Beersheba, where the Giant's
Bowl is still suggestive of imbibitions deep. The monumental
mass of granite on Dartmoor, known as Boiverman's Nose, may
hand down to us the resting-place and name of a giant whose
nose was the index of his vice ; though Carrington, in his poem
of " Dartmoor," supposes these rocks to be
" A granite god, —
To whom, in days long flown, the suppliant knee
In trembling homage bow'd."
Let those, however, who are curious in this problem visit the
granite idol ; when, as Carrington assures us, he will find that
the inhabitants of
" The hamlets near
Have legends rude connected with the spot
(Wild swept by every wind), on which he stands,
The Giant of the Moor."
Of the last resting-places of the giants there are many. Mardon,
on Dartmoor, has a Giant's Grave* and from that rude region,
travelling westward, we find these graves — proving the mortality
of even this Titan race — rising on many a moor and mountain,
until, crossing the sea, we see numerous giants' graves in the Scilly
Islands ; as though they had been the favourite resting-places of
the descendants of those who dreamed of yet more western
lands, beneath the setting sun, which were, even to them, " the
Islands of the Blest." f
* See Shortt's Collection, p. 28.
t Mr Augustus Smith, in the Reports of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, has de-
scribed one of the graves opened by him during a visit paid by the Cambrian Archaeo-
logical Society to the Scilly Isles.
Hugh Miller, in his " Scenes and Legends of the North of Scotland," tells us a story
of the giants of Cromarty, which shows us that they were intimately related to the giants
of Cornwall. Moreover, from him we learn something of the parentage of our giants, for
we presume the Scottish myth may be applied with equal truth to the Titans of the
south. "Diocletian, king of Syria, say the historians, had thirty-three daughters, who,
like the daughters of Danaus, killed their husbands on their wedding-night. The king,
their father, in abhorrence of their crime, crowded them all into a ship, which he aban-
doned to the mercy of the waves, and which was drifted by tides and winds, until it
arrived on the coast of Britain, then an uninhabited island. There they lived solitary,
subsisting on roots and berries, the natural produce of the soil, until an order of demons,
becoming enamoured of them, took them for their wives, and a tribe of giants, who must
be regarded as the true aborigines of the country, if indeed the demons have not a prior
claim, were the fruits of those marriages. Less fortunate, however, than even their
prototypes, the Cyclops, the whole tribe was extirpated a few years after by Brutus, the
Works of the Giants. 43
There is scarcely a pile of rocks around our western shore upon
which the giants have not left their impress. At Tol-Pedden-Pen-
with we have the Giant's Chair ; at Carn Boscawen we see the
Giant's Pulpit. If we advance nearer to the towns, even the small
mass of rocks behind Street-an-Noan, near Penzance, called Tol-
carne, has the mark of the Giant's Foot. The priests, however, in
the season of their rule, strove to obliterate the memories of those
great pagans. They converted the footprint at Tolcarne — and
similar indentations elsewhere — into the mark of the devil's hoof,
when he stamped in rage at the escape of a sinner, who threw
himself from the rock, strong in faith, into the arms of the Church.
In more recent times, this footmark has been attributed to the
devil jumping with joy, as he flew off, from this spot, with some
unfortunate miller, who had lost his soul by mixing china clay with
his flour. The metamorphosis of ancient giants into modern
devils is a curious feature in our inquiry. At Lemorna we have
the Giant's Cave. On Gulval Cairn we find also the giant's mark,
which the magic of Sir H. Davy's science could not dispel.* On
Carn Brea are no end of evidences of these Titans — the Giant's
Hand rivalling in size any of the monstrous monuments of the
Egyptian gods. Thus, in nearly every part of the country where
granite rocks prevail, the monuments of the giants may be found.
Why do the giants show such a preference for granite ? At Looe,
indeed, the Giant's Hedge is a vast earthwork; but this is an excep-
tion,t unless the Bolster in St Agnes is a giant's work. In pur-
suing the dim lights which yet remain to guide us to the history of
the giants, we must not forget the record of the Fatal Wrestling
on Plymouth Hoe.
parricide, who, with a valour to which mere bulk could render no effectual resistance,
overthrew Gog, Magog, and Termagol, and a whole host of others with names equally
terrible." The Cromarty legends give accounts of a ponderous stone flung from the point
of a spindle across Dornoch Firth ; and of another yet larger, still to be seen, a few miles
from Dingwall, which was thrown equally far, and which bears the impress of the giant's
finger and thumb. Also, they tell us of the cailliack-more , or great woman, who "from
a pannier filled with earth and stones, which she carried on her back, formed almost all
the hills of Ross-shire." The Sutars, as the promontories of Cromarty are named, served
as the work-stools of two giants, who were shoemakers, or soutars, and hence, says Hugh
Miller, " in process of time the name soutar was transferred by a common metonymy
from the craftsmen to their stools, the two promontories, and by this name they have
ever since been distinguished."
* Sir H. Davy, when a youth, would frequently steal to Gulval Cairn, and in its soli-
tude pursue his studies.
f See Davies Gilbert's History, vol. iv., p. 29.
44 Romances of the Giants.
CORINEUS AND GOGMAGOG.
WHO can dare question such an authority as John Milton? In
his " History of Britain, that part especially now called
England. From the first Traditional beginning continued to the
Norman Conquest. Collected out of the antientest and best authors
thereof/' he gives us the story of Brutus and of Corineus, " who
with the battele Ax which he was wont to manage against the
Tyrrhen Giants, is said to have done marvells." With the adven-
tures of these heroes in Africa and in Aquitania we have little
concern. They suffer severe defeats ; and then " Brutus, finding
now his powers much lessn'd, and this not yet the place fore-
told him, leaves Aquitain, and with an easy course arriving at Tot-
ness in Devonshire, quickly perceivs heer to be the promis'd end of
his labours." The following matters interest us more closely :* —
" The Hand, not yet Britain, but Albion, was in a manner
desert and inhospitable, kept only by a remnant of Giants, whose
excessive Force and Tyrannic had consumed the rest. Them
Brutus destroies, and to his people divides the land, which, with
some reference to his own name, he thenceforth calls Britain. To
Corineus, Cornwall, as now we call it, fell by lot ; the rather by
him lik't, for that the hugest Giants in Rocks and Caves were said
to lurk still there ; which kind of Monsters to deal with was his
old exercise.
" And heer, with leave bespok'n to recite a grand fable, though
dignify'd by our best Poets : While Brutus, on a certain Festival
day, solemnly kept on that shoar where he first landed ( Totness\
was with the People in great jollity and mirth, a crew of these
savages, breaking in upon them, began on the sudden another sort
of Game than at such a meeting was expected. But at length by
many hands overcome, Goemagog, the hugest, in hight twelve
cubits, is reserved alive ; that with him Corineus, who desired
nothing more, might try his strength, whom in a Wrestle the Giant
catching aloft, with a terrible hugg broke three of his Ribs :
Nevertheless Corineus, enraged, heaving him up by main force,
and on his shoulders bearing him to the next high rock, threw him
hedlong all shatter'd into the sea, and left his name on the cliff,
called ever since Langoetnagog, which is to say, the Giant's Leap."
The same story has been somewhat differently told, although there
is but little variation in the main incidents. When Brutus and
* Fora discussion of the question relative to Brutus, see Cough's "Camden's Bri-
tannia," vol. i., pp. xlix. to Iv.
The Giants Wrestling. 45
Corineus, with their Trojan hosts, landed at Plymouth, these chiefs
wisely sent parties into the interior to explore the country, and
to learn something of the people. At the end of the first day, all
the soldiers who had been sent out as exploring parties, returned
in great terror, pursued by several terrific giants. Brutus and
Corineus were not, however, to be terrified by the immense size of
their enemies, nor by the horrid noises which they made, hoping
to strike terror into the armed hosts. These chieftains rallied
their hosts and marched to meet the giants, hurling their spears
and flinging their darts against their huge bodies. The assault
was so unexpected that the giants gave way, and eventually fled
to the hills of Dartmoor. Gogmagog, the captain of the giants,
who was sadly wounded in the leg, and, unable to proceed, hid
himself in a bog ; but there, by the light of the moon, he was
found by the Trojan soldiers, bound with strong cords, and carried
back to the Hoe at Plymouth, where the camp was. Gogmagog
was treated nobly by his victors, and his wounds were speedily
healed. Brutus desired to make terms with the giants ; and it
was at length proposed by Gogmagog to try a fall with the strong-
est in the host, and that whoever came off the conqueror should be
proclaimed king of Cornwall, and hold possession of all the western
land. Corineus at once accepted the challenge of the monster.
Notwithstanding, the giant,
"Though bent with WCKS,
Full eighteen feet in height he rose j
His hair, exposed to sun and wind,
Like wither d heath, his head entwined,"
and that Corineus was but little above the ordinary size of man,
the Trojan chief felt sure of a victory. The day for the wrestling
was fixed. The huge Gogmagog was allowed to send for the
giants, and they assembled on one side of a cleared space on
Plymouth Hoe, while the Trojan soldiers occupied the other. All
arms were thrown aside ; and fronting each other, naked to the
waist, stood the most lordly of the giants, and the most noble of
men. The conflict was long, and it appeared for sometime doubt
ful. Brute strength was exerted on one side, and trained skill on
the other. At length Corineus succeeded in seizing Gogmagog by
the girdle, and by regularly-repeated impulses he made the monster
undulate like a tree shaken by a winter storm, until at length,
gathering all his strength into one effort, the giant was forced to
his back on the ground, the earth shaking with his weight, and the
air echoing with the thunder of his mighty groan, as the breath was
46 Romances of the Giants.
forced from his body by the terrible momentum of his fall. There
lay the giant, and there were all the other giants, appalled at the
power which they could not understand, but which convinced them
that there was something superior to mere animal strength.
Corineus breathed for a minute, then he rushed upon his prostrate
foe, and seizing him by the legs, he dragged him to the edge of
the cliff, and precipitated him into the sea. The giant fell on the
rocks below, and his body was broken into fragments by the fall ;
while the
"Fretted flood
Roll'd frothy waves of purple blood."
" Gogmagog's Leap " has been preserved near the spot which now
presents a fortress to the foes of Britain ; and there are those "who
say that, at the last digging on the Haw for the foundation of the
citadel of Plymouth, the great jaws and teeth therein found were
those of Gogmagog." *
THE GIANTS OF THE MOUNT.
E history of the redoubtable Jack proves that St Michael's
Mount was the abode of the giant Cormelian, or, as the
name is sometimes given, Cormoran. We are told how Jack de-
stroyed the giant, and the story ends. Now, the interesting part,
which has been forgotten in the narrative, is not only that Cormoran
lived on, but that he built the Mount, his dwelling-place. St
Michael's Mount, as is tolerably well known, is an island at each
rise of the tide — the distance between it and the mainland being
a little more than a quarter of a mile. In the days of the giants,
however, it was some six miles from the sea, and was known as the
White Rock in the wood, or in Cornish, " Carreg luz en kuz," Of the
evidences in favour of this, more will be said when the traditions
connected with physical phenomena are dealt with. In this wood
the giant desired to build his home, and to rear it above the trees,
that he might from the top keep watch over the neighbouring
country. Any person carefully observing the structure of the
granite rocks will notice their tendency to a cubical form. These
stones were carefully selected by the giant from the granite of the
neighbouring hills, and he was for a long period employed in
carrying and piling those huge masses, one on the other, in which
labour he compelled his wife to aid him. It has been suggested,
with much show of probability, that the confusion of the two names
* See Appendix B for the " Poem of the Wrestling," £c.
The Key of the Giant's Castle. 47
alluded to has arisen from the fact that the giant was called Cor-
moran, and that the name of his wife was Cormelian ; at all events,
there is no harm in adopting this hypothesis. The toil of lifting
those granitic masses from their primitive beds, and of carrying
them through the forest, was excessive. It would seem that the
heaviest burthens were imposed upon Cormelian, and that she was
in the habit of carrying those rocky masses in her apron. At a
short distance from the " White Rock," which was now approaching
completion, there exists large masses of greenstone rock. Cormelian
saw no reason why one description of stone would not do as well as
another ; and one day, when the giant Cormoran was sleeping, she
broke off a vast mass of the greenstone rock, and taking it in her
apron, hastened towards the artificial hill with it, hoping to place
it without being observed by Cormoran. When, however, Cormelian
was within a short distance of the " White Rock," the giant awoke,
and presently perceived that his wife was, contrary to his wishes,
carrying a green stone instead of a white one. In great wrath he
arose, followed her, and, with a dreadful imprecation, gave her a
kick. Her apron-string broke, and the stone fell on the sand.
There it has ever since remained, no human power being sufficient
to remove it. The giantess died, and the mass of greenstone,
resting, as it does, on clay slate rocks, became her monument.
In more recent days, when the light of Christianity was dawning
on the land, this famous rock was still rendered sacred : " a lytle
chapel"* having been built on it ; and to this day it is usually
known as the "The Chapel Rock."t
THE KEY OF THE GIANT'S CASTLE.
THE giant's castle at Treryn, remarkable as a grand example
of truly British Cyclopean architecture, was built by the
power of enchantment. The giant to whom all the rest of his
race were indebted for this stronghold was in every way a remark-
able mortal. He was stronger than any other giant, and he was a
mighty necromancer. He sat on the promontory of Treryn, and
by the power of his will he compelled the castle to rise out of the
sea. It is only kept in its present position by virtue of a magic
key. This the giant placed in a holed rock, known as the Giant's
Lock, and whenever this key, a large round stone, can be taken
out of the lock, the promontory of Treryn and its castle will dis-
appear beneath the waters. There are not many people who
obtain even a sight of this wonderful key. You must pass at low
* Leland. t See Appendix C for the Irish legend of Shara and Sheela.
48 Romances of the Giants.
tide along a granite ledge, scarcely wide enough for a goat to
stand on. If you happen to make a false step, you must be dashed
to pieces on the rocks below. Well, having got over safely, you
come to a pointed rock with a hole in it ; this is the castle lock.
Put your hand deep into the hole, and you will find at the bottom
a large egg-shaped stone, which is easily moved in any direction.
You will feel certain that you can take it out, — but try ! Try as you
may, you will find it will not pass through the hole ; yet no one can
doubt but that it once went in.
Lieutenant Goldsmith dissolved one bit of superstition by foolishly
throwing the fatal Logan Stone from off its bearing ; but no one
has ever yet succeeded in removing the key of the giant's castle
from the hole in which the necromancer is said to have placed it
when he was dying.
THE RIVAL GIANTS.
HPHOSE who have visited the Logan Rock will be familiar with
JL the several groups which form the Treryn promontory.
Treryn Castle, an ancient British fortress, the Cyclopean walls of
which, and its outer earthwork, can still be traced, was the dwell-
ing of a famous giant and his wife. I have heard it said that he
gave his name to this place, but that is, of course, doubtful. This
giant was chief of a numerous band, and by his daring he held
possession, against the giants of the Mount, of all the lands west
of Penzance. Amongst the hosts who owned allegiance to him,
was a remarkable fine young fellow, who had his abode in a cave,
in the pile of rocks upon which the Logan Rock stands. This
young giant grew too fond of the giantess, and it would appear
that the lady was not unfavourably inclined towards him. Of
their love passes, however, we know nothing. Tradition has only
told us that the giantess was one day reclining on the rock still
known as the Giant Lady's Chair, while the good old giant was
dosing in the Giant's Chair which stands near it, when the young
and wicked lover stole behind his chief and stabbed him in the
belly with a knife.* The giant fell over the rocks to the level
ridge below, and there he lay, rapidly pouring out his life-blood.
From this spot the young murderer kicked him into the sea, ere
yet his life was quite extinct, and he perished in the waters.
The guilty pair took possession of Treryn Castle, and, we are
told, lived happily for many years.
* Mr Halliwell infers from this that the story is Saxon See "Wanderings in the
Footsteps of the Giants."
The Giants of Trecrobben. 49
THE GIANTS OF TRENCROM, OR TRECROBBEN.
THE rough granite hill of Trecrobben rises in almost savage
grandeur from the wooded lands which form the park of
Trevetha, close by the picturesque village of Lelant. From the
summit of this hill may be surveyed one of the most striking
panoramic views in Cornwall. The country declines, rather
rapidly, but still with a pleasing contour, towards the sea on the
southern side. From the sandy plain, which extends from
Marazion to Penzance, there stretch out two arms of land, one on
the eastern side, towards the Lizard Point, and the other on the
western side towards Mousehole and Lemorna, which embrace as
it were that fine expanse of water known as the Mount's Bay. The
most striking object, " set in the silver sea," is the pyramidical hill
St Michael's Mount, crowned with the " castle," an unhappy mix-
ture of church, castle, and modern dwelling-house, which, never-
theless, from its very incongruities, has a picturesque appearance
when viewed from a distance. Nestling amidst the greenstone
rocks, sheltered by " the Holy Mount," is the irregular town of
Marazion, or Market-Jew ; and, balancing this, on the western
side of " the Green," Penzance displays her more important build-
ings, framed by the beautifully fertile country by which the town
is surrounded.
The high lands to the westward of Penzance, with the fishing
villages of Newlyn and Mousehole, the church of Paul on the
summit of the hill, and the engine-house belonging to a mine at
its base, have much quiet beauty under some aspects of light, —
the yet more western hills shutting out the Land's End from the
observer's eye.
Looking from Trencrom (this is the more common name) to
the south-east, the fine hills of Tregoning and Godolphin, — both
of which have given names to two ancient Cornish families, —
mark the southern boundary of a district famed for its mineral
wealth. Looking eastward, Carn Brea Hill, with its ancient
castle and its modern monument, stands up from the tableland
in rugged grandeur. This hill, " a merry place, 'tis said, in days
of yore," — when British villages were spread amidst the mighty
cairns, and Cyclopean walls sheltered the inhabitants, — rises to
mark the most productive piece of mining-ground, of the same
area, to be found in the world. Around the towns of Camborne
and Redruth are seen hundreds of miners7 cottage§, and scores of
tall chimneys, telling of the mechanical appliances which are
D
HO Romances of the Giants.
brought to bear upon the extraction of tin and copper from the
earth. Beyond this thickly-peopled region the eye wanders yet
eastward, and eventually reposes on the series of granite hills
which rise beyond St Austell and stretch northward, — the two
highest hills in Cornwall, which are known as Roughtor and
Brown whilly* being in this range.
Let the observer now turn his face northward, and a new and
varied scene lies before him. Within two miles the waters of St
Ives' Bay break against the cliffs. On the left is the creek of
Hayle, which has been fashioned by the energy of man into a
useful harbour, and given rise to the foundation of two extensive
iron-foundries. Between those and the sea are the hills of blown
sand, which have ever been the homes of the Fairy people. The
lighthouse of Godrevy stands, a humble companion, to balance in
this bay the " Mount," which adorns the bay, wasting the
southern slope of this " narrow neck of land." Godrevy marks
the region of sand extending to the eastward. To the north the
shores become more and more rugged, culminating in St Agnes'
Beacon, — a hill of graceful form rising somewhat rapidly to a
considerable elevation. From this the " beetling cliffs " stretch
away northward, until the bold promontory Trevose Head closes
the scene, appropriately displaying another of those fine examples
of humanity — a lighthouse.
To the left, towards the sea, rises the cenotaph of Knill, an
eccentric man, who evidently sought to secure some immortality
by this building, and the silly ceremonials carried on around it ;
the due performance of which he has secured by bequests to the
Corporation of St Ives. Around this the mining district of St Ives
is seen, and her fishing-boats dotting the sea give evidence of
another industry of vast importance to the town and neighbour-
hood. Westward of St Ives, hills more brown and rugged than
any which have yet been viewed stretch away to Zennor, Morva,
and St Just, and these, girding the scene beneath our feet, shut
out from us the region of the Land's End.
On the summit of this hill, which is only surpassed in savage
grandeur by Carn Brea, the giants built a castle — the four en-
trances to which still remain in Cyclopean massiveness to attest
the Herculean powers by which such mighty blocks were piled
upon each other. There the giant chieftains dwelt in awful state.
Along the serpentine road, passing up the hill to the principal
gateway, they dragged their captives, and on the great flat rocks
within the castle they sacrificed them. Almost every rock still
bears some name connected with the giants — " a race may perish,
the highest hill, according to Mr Bellow*.
The Giants at Play. 5 i
but the name endures." The treasures of the giants who dwelt
here are said to have been buried in the days of their troubles,
when they were perishing before the conquerors of their land.
Their gold and jewels were hidden deep in the granite caves of
this hill, and secured by spells as potent as those which Merlin
placed upon his "hoarded treasures." They are securely preserved,
even to the present day, and carefully guarded from man by the
Spriggans, or Trolls, of whom we have to speak in another page.
THE GIANTS AT PLAY.
IN several parts of Cornwall there are evidences that these
Titans were a sportive race. Huge rocks are preserved to
show where they played at trap -ball, at hurling, and other athletic
games, t The giants of Trecrobben and St Michael's Mount often
met for a game at bob-buttons. The Mount was the " bob," on
which flat masses of granite were placed to serve as buttons, and
Trecrobben Hill was the " mit," or the spot from which the throw
was made. This order was sometimes reversed. On the outside
of St Michael's Mount, many a granite slab which had been
knocked off the " bob " is yet to be found ; and numerous piles
of rough cubical masses of the same rock, said to be the granite
of Trecrobben Hill,* show how eagerly the game was played.
Trecrobben Hill was well chosen by the giants as the site of
their castle. From it they surveyed the country on every side ;
and friend or enemy was seen at a considerable distance as he
approached the guarded spot. It is as clear as tradition can make
it, that Trecrobben was the centre of a region full of giants. On
Lescudjack Hill, close to Penzance, there is " The Giant's Round,"
evidently the scene of many a sanguinary conflict, since the
Cornish antiquarian authority Bprlase informs us, that Lesgud-
zhek signifies the " Castle of the Bloody Field." On the cairn at
Gulval are several impressions on the rocks, all referable to the
giants. In Madron there is the celebrated " Giant's Cave ; " and
the well-known Lanyon cromlech is reported by some to be the
" Giant's Coit," while others declare it to be the " Giant's Table."
Cairn Galva, again, is celebrated for its giant ; and, indeed, every
• Mr O. Halliwell, who carefully followed in the " Footsteps of the Giants," referring
to this game as played by them, says : —
" Doubtlessly the Giant's Chair on Trink Hill was frequently used during the progress
of the game, nor is it improbable that the Giant's Well was also in requisition. Here,
then, were at hand opportunities for rest and refreshment — the %ircumstances of the
various traditions agreeing well with, and, in fact, demonstrating the truth of each
other."
52 Romances of the Giants.
hill within sight has some monument preserving the memory of
those, " the Titans fierce."
HO LI BURN OF THE CAIRN*
TTOLIBURN, according to tradition, was a very amiable and
- -L somewhat sociable gentleman ; but, like his brethren, he
loved to dwell amongst the rocks of Cairn Galva. He made his
home in this remote region, and relied for his support on the gifts
of sheep and oxen from the farmers around — he, in return, pro-
tecting them from the predatory incursions of the less conscientious
giants of Trecrobben. It is said that he fought many a battle in
the defence of his friends, and that he injured but one of his
neighbours during his long lifetime. This was, however, purely
an accident. The giant was at play with the human pigmies, and
in the excitement of the moment, being delighted at the capital
game made by a fine young peasant, he tapped him on the head,
and scattered his brains on the grass. I once heard that Holiburn
had married a farmer's daughter, and that a very fine race, still
bearing a name not very dissimilar, was the result of this union.
Holiburn, like his brethren, was remarkably fond of quoits ;
indeed, go where we will within the Land's End district, the
" Giant's Quoit " is still shown. Other — shall we call them house-
hold— relics of the giants occur. From Cairn Galva to Zennor we
find a series of " Giant's Chairs ; " and, careful to preserve each
remarkable relic of this interesting race, here is also the " Giant's
Dinner-plate." That St Ives, too, was not without its giant,
although the record of his name is lost, is evident from the fact
that a tooth, an inch broad, was taken from a " Giant's Grave." t
* "Somewhere amongst the rocks in this cairn is the Giant's Cave — in ages long gone
by the abode of a giant named Holiburn." — HALLIWELL. Mr Halliwell was fortunate
in securing a name. I have often heard of the giant in question, but I never heard his
name.
t The following extract from a note written by the late Zennor postman and poet,
shows how enduringly the giants have left their names on the rocks of Cornwall : —
" Some districts in Cornwall were said to have been peopled in olden times by giants,
and even Zennor district possesses the largest quoit — three Logan rocks — whilst Tre-
crobben Hill still exhibits the Bowl in which the giants of the west used to wash. The
large granite boulder near to the residence of the Rev. Mr S , curate of Morva, is
said to be the Giant's Dinner-plate. Farther down the hill, and hard by the Zennor
vicarage, the seats of the giants are still shown by the inhabitants. Indeed, so strong is
the belief that giants inhabited the hills of the west, that a young lady in this neighbour-
hood assayed, a month or two ago, to deliver a lecture, or address, on the subject, taking
for her text, 'There were giants in those days.' But the giants were not immortal;
colossal as were their frames, they too had to 'sleep with their fathers.1 Whether
Jack the Giant-killer took any part in ridding the earth of this wonderful race of men
Pengerswick and the Giant. 53
THE GIANT OF NANCLEDRY*
IN Nancledry Bottoms, about a mile from the famous hill Castle-
an-Dinas, there stood at one time a thatched house near the
brook which runs murmuring down the valley. Rather more
than thirty years since, some mouldering " clob " (mud) walls,
indicating the existence at one time of a large dwelling, were
pointed to as the former residence of a terrible giant. He ap-
pears to have led a solitary life, and to have lived principally on
little children, whom he is said to have swallowed whole. His
strength was indicated by several huge masses of granite which
were scattered around the Bottoms, and in the neighbouring fields.
These were carried by him in his pockets, to defend himself from
the giants of Trecrobben, with whom he appears to have been on
unfriendly terms. This giant is noteworthy as the only one re-
corded who lived in a house.
TREBIGGAN THE GIANT*
TREBEGEAN is the name of a village near the Land's End.
This name, as we have already stated, signifies the town of
the giant's grave. The giant's existence was confirmed by the
discovery of a vault and some large bones in it, on this spot,}
Trebiggan divides with Tregeagle the honourable immortality of
being employed to frighten children into virtue. Often have I
heard the unruly urchins of this neighbourhood threatened with
Trebiggan. They are told that Trebiggan was a vast man, with
arms so long that he could take men out of the ships passing by
the Land's End, and place them on the Longships ; but that some-
times he would, having had his fun with them, good-humouredly
place them on board their ships or boats again. He is said to
have dined every day on little children, who were generally fried
on a large flat rock which stood at a little distance from his cave.
THE LORD OF PENGERSWICK AND THE GIANT
OF ST MICHAELS MOUNT.
THE giant who dwelt on St Michael's Mount had grown very
old, and had lost all his teeth ; still he was the terror of the
neighbouring villages. The horrid old monster — who had but one
we cannot positively state ; but thus much is certain, the giants^were succeeded by a
numerous race of small people, and so small as not to be observable by the eye."
* See Appendix D. t See Heath's Description of Cornwall, 1750.
54 Romances of the Giants.
eye, and that one in the middle of his forehead — would, whenevet
he required food — which was pretty often — walk or wade across
to Market-Jew, as the tide might be, select the best cow in the
neighbourhood, and, swinging it over his shoulders, return to his
island. This giant had often taken cattle from the Pengerswick
estate ; and one day he thought he should like another of this
choice breed. Accordingly, away he went, across the sea, to
Pengerswick Cove. The giant did not know that the lord of
Pengerswick had returned from the East, a master of " white-
witchcraft," or magic. The lord had seen the giant coming, and
he began to work his spells. The giant was bewildered, yet he
knew not how. At last, after much trouble, he caught a fine calf,
tied its four feet together, passed his great head between the fore and
hind legs, and, with the calf hanging on his shoulders, he trod in
joy towards the shore. He wandered on in perfect unconsciousness
of the path, and eventually he found himself on the precipitous
edge of the great black rock which still marks the western side of
Pengerswick Cove. As if the rock had been a magnet, the giant
was chained fast. He twisted, turned, and struggled in vain.
He found himself gradually becoming stiff, so that at last he could
neither move hand nor foot ; yet were his senses more keenly alive
than ever. The giant had to remain thus, during a long winter's
night, with the calf bleating, as never calf bleated before, into his
ear. In the morning when the enchanter thought he had punished
the giant sufficiently, he mounted his mare, and rode down to the
shore. He disenchanted the giant, by giving him a severe horse-
whipping, and he then made him drop the calf. He continued to
flog the giant until he leaped off the rock into the sea, through
which in great agony he waded to the Mount ; and from that day
to this he has never ventured on the mainland.
We learn, however, from undoubted authority, that some time
after this, Tom, the giant of Lelant, visited the giant on the Mount,
and, finding him half starved, he took his aunt Nancy from Gulval
to see his friend, with a large supply of butter and eggs. The old
giant was exceedingly glad to see the farmer's wife, bought all her
store at a very extravagant price, and bargained and paid in
advance for more. He had a store of wealth in the caverns of the
Mount. The knowing old woman kept him well supplied as long
as the giant had money to pay her ; and aunt Nancy's family
became the wealthiest in the parish of Gulval.
Tom and the Giant Blunderbuss. 5 5
THE GIANT OF ST MICHAEL'S MOUNT LOSES
HIS WIFE.
HPHE giant on the Mount and the giant on Trecrobben Hill were
-1- very friendly. They had only one cobbling-hammer be-
tween them, which they would throw from one to the other, as
either required it. One day the giant on the Mount wanted the
hammer in a great hurry, so he shouted, " Holloa, up there !
Trecrobben, throw us down the hammer, woost a'?"
" To be sure," sings out Trecrobben ; " here ! look out, and
catch Jm."
Now, nothing would do but the giant's wife, who was very near-
sighted, must run out of her cave to see Trecrobben throw the
hammer. She had no hat on ; and coming at once out into the
light, she could not distinguish objects. Consequently, she did
not see the hammer coming through the air, and received it be-
tween her eyes. The force with which it was flung was so great
that the massive bone of the forehead of the giantess was crushed,
and she fell dead at the giant's feet. You may be sure there was
a great to-do between the two giants. They sat wailing over the
dead body, and with their sighs they produced a tempest. These
were unavailing to restore the old lady, and all they had to do was
to bury her. Some say they lifted the Chapel Rock and put her
under it, others, that she is buried beneath the castle court, while
some — no doubt the giants' detractors — declare that they rolled
the body down into the sea, and took no more heed of it.
TOM AND THE GIANT BLUNDERBUSS; OR, THE
WHEEL AND EXE FIGHT*
A YOUNG giant, who does not appear to have been known by
any other name than Tom, lived somewhere westward of
Hayle, probably in Lelant. Tom would eat as much meat as
* The similarity of this story to the well-known tale of " Tom Hicknthrift " will strike
every one. It might be supposed that the old story of the strong man of the Isle of Ely
had been read by some Cornish man, and adapted to the local peculiarities. This may
possibly have been the case, but I do not think it probable I first heard the story from
a miner, on the floors of Ding-Dong Mine, during my earliest tour in search of old
stories. I have since learned that it was a common story with the St Ives nurses, who
told it to amuse or terrify their children. Recently, I have had the same tale commMni-
cated to me by a friend, who got it from a farmer living in Lelartt This storv is con-
hned to the parishes of Lelant, St Ives, Sancreed, Towcdnach, Morva, and Zcnnor.
56 Romances of the Giants.
three men, and when he was in the humour he could do as much
work as half a dozen. Howbeit, Tom was a lazy fellow, and
spent most of his time wandering about the parish with his hands
in his pockets. Occasionally Tom would have an industrious fit ;
then, if he found any of his neighbours hedging, he would turn
to and roll in all the largest rocks from over the fields, for
" grounders." * This was the only work Tom took delight in ;
he was won't to say, he could feel his strength about such work as
that. Tom didn't appear so very big a man in those days, when
all men were twice the size they are now. He was about four feet
from shoulder to shoulder, square built, and straight all the way
down from shoulder to cheens (loins).
Tom's old mother was constantly telling her idle son to do
something to earn his food, but the boy couldn't find any job to
his mind for a long time. At last he undertook to drive a brewer's
wain, in the hope of getting into plenty of strong drink, and he
went to live in Market-Jew, where the brewery was. The first
day he was so employed, he was going to St Ives with his load of
beer, and on the road he saw half a score of men trying to lift a
fallen tree on to a " draw." It was, however, more than the whole
of them could do.
" Stand clear ! " shouts Tom.
He put his hands, one on each side of the tree, and lifted it on
the " draw," without so much as saying " Ho I " to his oxen, or
looking behind him. The feat was performed in Ludgvan Lees,
and a little farther on was a giant's place diverting the road, which
should have gone straight to St Ives but for it. This place was
hedged in with great rocks, which no ten men of these times could
move. They call them the Giant's Hedges to the present day.
There was a gate on that side of the giant's farm which was nearest
Market- Jew, and another on that side which joined the highway
leading on to St Ives. Tom looked at the gate for some time,
half disposed to drive through, but eventually he decided on pro-
ceeding by the ordinary road. When, however, Tom was coming
Mr Halliwell thinks the adventures of Tom Hickathrift are connected with " some of
the insurrections in the Isle of Ely, such as that of Herewood, described in Wright's
' Essays,' ii. 91." Now, Herewood the Saxon is said to have taken refuge in the ex-
treme part of Cornwall, and we are told of many romantic adventures, chiefly in con-
nection with the beautiful daughter of Alef, a Cornish chief. May it not be, that here
we have the origin of the story as it is told in Lincolnshire and in Cornwall ?
* In making the really Cyclopean hedges which prevail in some parts of Cornwall, the
large boulders of granite, or other stones, which lie scattered on the moors are used for
the foundation. Indeed, one purpose, and a very important one, served by those hedges,
has been the removal of the stones from the ground which has been enclosed, and the
disposal of the stones so removed.
Tom and the Giant Blunderbuss. 57
back from St Ives with his empty wain, his courage screwed up
by the influence of some three or four gallons of strong beer which
he had drunk, he began to reason with himself thus : —
" The king's highway ought not to be twisting and turning like
an angle-twitch.* It should go straight through here. What
right has the giant to keep his place closed, stopping honester
men than he ever was longer on the road home ? If everybody
were of my mind, the road would soon be opened. Faith, I'll
drive through. He wouldn't eat me, I suppose. My old mammy
never told me I was to come to my end that way. They say the
giant has had scores of wives. What becomes of them nobody
can tell ; yet there are always more ready to supply their place.
Well, that 's no business of mine. I never met the man to make
me turn back yet ; so come along, Neat and Comely," shouts Tom
to the oxen, opening the great gate for them to pass through. On
went Tom, without seeing anything of the giant or of anybody else,
except the fat cattle of all sorts in the fields. After driving about
a mile, Tom came to a pair of gates in a high wall, which was
close to and surrounding the giant's castle. There was no passing
round those, as deep ditches, full of water, were on either side of
these gates. So at them went Tom. The huge gates creaked on
their hangings, and the wheels of Tom's wain rattled on over the
causey.t A little ugly midgan of a cur began to bark, and
out tore the giant, a great ugly unshapely fellow, all head and
stomach.
" You impudent little villain," roared the giant, " to drive into
my grounds, disturbing my afternoon's nap. What business have
you here ? "
" I am on the road," says Tom, " and you — nor a better man
than you — shan't put me back. You ha' no right to build your
hedges across what used to be the king's highway, and shall be
again."
" I shan't bemean myself to talk with such a little saucy black-
guard as thee art," said the giant ; " I '11 get a twig, and drive thee
out faster than thee came in."
" Well," says Tom, " you may keep your breath to cool your
porridge ; but, if that 's the game you are up to, I can play at that
as well as you."
The giant had pulled up a young elm-tree, about twenty feet
high or so, and he began stripping the small branches from the
head of the tree, as he came up the hill, gaping (yawning) all the
time, as if he were half asleep. Tom, seeing whafrhe was up to,
* A worm. t Causeway, pavement.
58 Romances of the Giants,
upset his wain. This he did without the oxen moving, as the
tuntsy (pole) turned round in the ring of the yoke. He then
slipped off the further wheel in a wink, hauled out the exe (axle-
tree) fast in the other wheel, against the giant came up. (In old
time the axle was made to work in gudgeons under the carts or
wains. )
" Now then," says Tom, " fair play for the buttons. If you
can beat me, I '11 go back. The exe and wheel is my sword and
buckler, which I '11 match against your elm-tree." Then Tom
began whistling.
The giant got round the uphill side, lifted his tree, and tore
towards Tom without saying a word, as if he would cleave him
from head to heel.
Tom lifted the axle-tree, with the wheel, up, to guard off the
blow of the giant's twig — the giant being in such a towering
passion to hear Tom coolly whistling all the time, that he couldn't
steady himself. He missed Tom's head, struck the edge of the
wheel, and, the ground being slippery, the giant fell upon his face
on the ground. Tom might have driven the " exe " through him
as he lay sprawling in the mud, and so have nailed him to the
earth ; but no, not he ! Tom would rather be killed than not
fight fair, so he just tickled the giant under the ribs with the end
of the " exe." " Come, get up," says Tom, " let 's have another
turn." The giant rose very slowly, as if he were scarcely able to
stand, bent double, supporting himself on his twig. He was only
dodging — the great cowardly skulk — to get the uphill side again,
and take Tom unawares ; but he was waiting with his right hand
grasping the " exe," the wheel resting on the ground. Quick as
lightning the giant raised his tree. Tom fetched him a heavy kick
on the shins, he slipped, fell forward, and Tom so held the " exe,"
that it passed through his body like a spit. Good Lord, how the
giant roared !
" Thee stop thy bleating," says Tom. " Stand quiet a moment.
Let 's draw the exe out of thy body, and I '11 give thee a chance
for another round. Thee doesn't deserve it, because thee aren't
playing fair."
Tom turned the giant over, laid hold of the wheel, and dragged
out the " exe." In doing this he was nearly blinded with the
blood that spouted out of the hole. Blunderbuss rolled on the
ground like an empty sack, roaring amain all the time in great
agony.
" Stop thy bleating," says Tom, " and put thy hands in the
hole the * exe ' has made in thee, to keep in the blood, until I
Tom Kills the Giant. 59
can cut a turf to stop up the place, and thee will'st do again
yet."
As Tom was plugging the wound with the turfs, the giant
groaned and said, " It's all no good ; I shall kick the bucket. I
feel myself going round land ; but with my last breath I '11 do thee
good, because I like thee better than anybody else I ever met with,
for thy fair play and courage. The more thee wouldst beat me,
the better I should like thee. I have no near relations. There
is heaps of gold, silver, copper, and tin down in the vaults of the
castle, guarded by two dogs. Mind there names are Catchem
and Tearem. Only call them by these names and they '11 let thee
pass. The land from this to the sea is all mine. There is more
head of oxen, cows, sheep, goats, and deer, than thee canst count.
Take them all, only bury me decent."
" Did you kill all your wives ? " asked Tom.
" No," sighed the giant, " they died natural. Don't let them
abuse me after death. I like thee as a brother."
" Cheer up," says Tom, " you '11 do again."
He then tried to raise the giant up, but the plug of turf slipped
from the wound, and all was over.
Tom put the wheel and axle in order, turned over the wain, and
drove home to Market- Jew. The brewer was surprised and well
pleased to see Tom back so early, and offered him good wages to
stop for the year.
" I must leave this very night," says Tom, " for my old granfer,
who lived up in the high countries, is dead. I am his nearest re-
lation. He lived all alone. He 's left me all his money and
lands, so I must go and bury my old granfer this very night."
The brewer was about to pay him for his day's work — " Oh, never
mind that," says Tom ; " I '11 give up that for as much beer as I
can drink with supper."
After supper Tom went and took possession of the giant's castle
and lands — nobody the wiser except a little woman, the giant's
last wife, who came from some place not far from the castle.
Some name Crowlas, some Tregender, others Bougiehere, as the
place where she dwelt. Howbeit, she knew all about the giant's
overthrow, and thought it the wisest course to " take up " at once
with Tom ; and she being a tidy body, Tom was by no means
unwilling. Tom and this woman took possession of the castle.
They buried the giant down in the bottom, and placed a block
of granite to keep him down. They gave the carcass of a sheep
to Catchem and Tearem, visited the caves of the castle, found lots
of treasure, and fairly got into the giant's shoes.
60 Romances of the Giants.
TOM THE GIANT, HIS WIFE JANE, AND JACK THE
TINKEARD, AS TOLD BY THE "DROLLS."*
WHEN Tom and his wife had settled themselves in the giant's
castle, they took good care not to allow any one to make
a king's highway across their grounds. Tom made the hedges
higher, and the gates stronger than ever, and he claimed all the
run of land on the sea-side, and enclosed it. Tom's wife, Jane,
was a wonderful cleanly body — the castle seemed to be always
fresh swept and sanded, while all the pewter plates and platters
shone like silver. She never quarrelled with Tom ; except when
he came in from hedging covered with mud ; then in a pet she
would threaten to go home to her mother. Jane was very famous
for her butter and cheese, and Tom became no less so for his fine
breed of cattle, so that he fared luxuriously, and all went on happily
enough with Tom and his wife. They had plenty of children, and
these were such fine healthy babies, that it took two or three of
the best cows to feed them, when but a few weeks old. Tom and
Jane thought that they had all that part of the world to themselves,
and that no one could scale their hedges or break through their
gates. They soon found their mistake. Tom was working one
morning, not far from the gate, on the Market- Jew side of his pro-
perty, when he heard a terrible rattle upon the bars. Running up,
he saw a man with a hammer smashing away, and presently down
went the bars, and in walked a travelling tinkeard, with his bag of
tools on his back.
" Holla ! where are you bound for ? " says Tom.
" Bound to see if the giant, whom they say lives up here,
wouldn't let a body pass through where the road ought to be,"
says the tinkeard.
" Oh, ay ! are you ? " says Tom.
"He must be a better man than I am who stops me," says the
tinkeard. " As you are a fine stout chap, I expect you are the
giant's eldest son. I see you are hedging. That 's what all the
people complain of. You are hedging in all the country."
* In some of the old geese dances (guise dances, from danse d^ttisS') the giant Blun-
derbuss and Tom performed a very active part. Blunderbuss was always a big-bellied
fellow — his smoke-frock being well stuffed with straw. He fought with a tree, and the
other giant with the wheel and axle. The giant is destroyed, as in the story, by falling
on the axle. The tinker, of whom we have yet to tell, with his unfailing coat of
darkness, comes in and beats Tom, until Jane comes out with the broom and beats the
tinker ; and then, — as in nearly all these rude plays, — St George and the Turkish
knight come in ; but they have no part in the real story of the drama. — See note, page
66. Appendix E.
The Tinkeard teaches Tom Single- stick. 6 1
" Well," says Tom, " if I am his son, I can take my dad's part
any way ; and we '11 have fair play too. I don't desire better fun
than to try my strength with somebody that is a man. Come on.
Any way you like — naked fists, single-stick, wrestling, bowling,
slinging, or throwing the quoits."
" Very well," says the tinkeard, " I '11 match my blackthorn
stick against anything in the way of timber that you can raise on
this place."
Tom took the bar which the tinker had broken from the gate, and
said, " I '11 try this piece of elm if you don't think it too heavy."
" Don't care if it 's heavier. Come on !"
The tinkeard took the thorn-stick in the middle, and made it
fly round Tom's head so fast that he couldn't see it. It looked
like a wheel whizzing round his ears, and Tom soon got a bloody
nose and two black eyes. Tom's blov/s had no effect on the tinkeard,
because he wore such a coat as was never seen in the West Coun-
try before. It was made out of a shaggy black bull's hide, dressed
whole with the hair on. The skin of the forelegs made the sleeves,
the hind quarters only were cut, pieces being let in to make the
spread of the skirts, while the neck and skin of the head formed a
sort of hood. The whole appeared as hard as iron ; and when
Tom hit the tinkeard, it sounded, ac if the coat roared, like
thunder. They fought until Tom got very hungry, and he found
he had the worst of it. " I believe *thee art the devil, and no
man," says Tom. " Let 's see thy feet before thee dost taste any
more of my blood."
The tinkeard showed Tom that he had no cloven foot, and told
him that it depended more on handiness than strength to conquer
with the single-stick ; and that a small man with science could
beat a big man with none. The tinkeard then took the clumsy
bar of the gate from Tom, gave him his own light and tough
blackthorn, and proceeded to teach him to make the easiest
passes, cuts, &c. Whilst the two men were thus engaged, Jane
had prepared the dinner, and called her husband three times. She
wondered what could be keeping Tom, as he was always ready to
run to his dinner at the first call. At length she went out of the
castle to seek for him, and surprised she was, and — if truth must
be told — rather glad to see another man inside the gates, which
no one had passed for years. Jane found Tom and the tinkeard
tolerable friends by this time, and she begged them both to come
into dinner, saying to the tinkeard that she wished she had some-
thing better to set before him. She was vexed that Tom hadn't
sent her word, that she might have prepared something better
62 Romances of the Giants.
than the everlasting beef and pease ; and vowed she would give
him a more savoury mess for supper, if she had to go to the hills
for a sheep or a kid herself.
At length the men were seated at the board, which groaned
beneath the huge piece of boiled beef, with mountains of pease-
pudding, and they soon got fairly to work. Jane then went to
the cellar, and tapped a barrel of the strongest beer, which was
intended to have been kept for a tide (feast). Of the meat, Tom
ate twice as much as the tinkeard, and from the can of ale he took
double draughts. The tinkeard ate heartily, but not voraciously ;
and, for those days, he was no hard drinker. Consequently, as
soon as dinner was over, Tom fell back against the wall, and was
quickly snoring like a tempest. His custom was to sleep two or
three hours after every meal. The tinkeard was no sleepy-head,
so he told Jane to bring him all her pots and pans which required
mending, and he would put them in order. He seated himself
amidst a vast pile, and was soon at work. The louder Tom
snored, the more Jack rattled and hammered away at the kettles ;
and ere Tom was awake, he had restored Jane's cooking vessels
to something like condition.
At length Tom awoke, and, feeling very sore, he begged the
tinkeard to put off until to-morrow a wrestling-match which they
had talked of before dinner. The tinkeard, nothing loath, agreed ;
so Tom took him up to the topmost tower of the castle, to show
him his lands and his cattle. For miles and miles, farther over
the hill than the eye could reach, except on the southern side,
everything belonged to Tom. In this tower they found a long
and strong bow. Tom said none but the old giant could bend it.
He had often tried, and fretted because he could not bring the
string to the notch. The tinkeard took the bow ; he placed one
end to his toe, and, by what appeared like sleight-of-hand to Tom,
he bent the bow, brought the string to the notch, sent the arrow off
— thwang, — and shot a hare so far away that it could hardly be
seen from the heath and ferns. Tom was surprised, until the
tinkeard showed him how to bend the bow, more by handiness
than strength, and again he killed a kid which was springing from
rock to rock on the cairns far away. The hare and kid were
brought home, cooked for supper, and the tinkeard was invited to
stop all night.
The story ordinarily rambles on, telling of the increasing friend-
ship between the three, and giving the tinkeard's story of himself,
which was so interesting to Tom and Jane that they stayed up
nearly all night to hear it. He told how he was born and bred in
Tom Wrestles with the Tinkeard. 63
a country far away — more than a score days' journey from this
land, far to the north and east of this, from which it was divided
by a large river. This river the tinkeard had swam across ; then
there was a week's journey in a land of hills and cairns, which
were covered with snow a great part of the year. In this land
there were many giants, who digged for tin and other treasures.
With these giants he had lived and worked, — they always treated
him well ; indeed, he always found the bigger the man the more
gentle. Half the evil that's told about them by the cowardly
fools who fear to go near them is false. Many, many more
strange things did the tinkeard tell. Amongst other matters, he
spoke of wise men who came from a city at no great distance
from this land of tin for the purpose of buying the tin from the
giants, and they left them tools, and other things, that the diggers
required in exchange. One of these merchants took a fancy
to the tinkeard, named him Jack — he had no name previously
— and removed him to the city, where Jack was taught his trade,
and many other crafts. The tinkeard had left that city four
months since, and worked his way down to Market-Jew. Being
there, he heard of the giant, and he resolved to make his acquaint-
ance. The rest has been told.
While this, which was a long story, was being told, Jack the
Tinkeard was enjoying Jane's new barley -bread, with honey and
cream, which he moistened with metheglin. " Good night, Tom,"
says he at last ; " you see you have lived all your days like a lord
on his lands, and know nothing. I never knew father or mother,
never had a home to call my own. All the better for me, too.
If I had possessed one, I would never have known one-thousandth
part of what I have learned by wandering up and down in the
world."
Morning came ; and, after breakfast, Tom proposed to try " a
hitch " on the grass in the castle court. Jack knew nothing of
wrestling ; so he told Tom he had never practised, but still he
would try his strength. Tom put the tinkeard on his back at
every " hitch," but he took all the care he could not to hurt him.
At last the tinkeard cried for quarter, and declared Tom to be best
man.
Jane had made a veal-and-parsley pie, and put it down to bake,
when, being at leisure, she came out to see the sport. Now, it
must be remembered the tinkeard had broken down the gate, and
no one had thought of repairing it, or closing the opening. Two
men of Tregender were coming home from Bal,* and passing the
• Popular name for a mine : " Bal, a place of digging — Balas, to dig." — PKYCB.
64 Romances of the Giants.
giant's gate, they thought it very strange that it should be broken
down. After consulting for some time, they summoned all their
courage, and — it must be confessed, with fear and trembling —
they crawled into the grounds, and proceeded towards the castle.
Now, no one in that country except Tom and Jane knew that the
old giant was dead.
The two men turned round a corner, and saw three very large
children playing. The baby, a year old, was riding an old buck-
goat about the field. The two elder children, Tom Vean* and
young Jane, were mounted on a bull, back to back, one holding
on by the horns, and the other by the tail, galloping round the
field like mad, followed by the cows and dogs, — a regular " cow's
courant."
" Lord, you," says one of the men to the other, " what dost a'
think of that for a change ?"
" But to think," says the other, " that the old giant should ever
have a wife and young chil'ren here, and the people knaw nothing
about it."
" Why, don't everybody say that he ate all his wives and chil'-
ren too. What lies people tell, don't they, you?"
" Le 's go a little farther ; he won't eat we, I suppose."
" I '11 throw my pick and sho'el down the throat of an, as soon
as a' do open as [his] jaws."
" Look you," now shouts the other, " you come round a little
farther : just peep round the corner and thee meest see two fellows
wrestling, and a woman looking on."
" Can I believe my eyes, you ? Don't that woman look some-
thing like Jane I used to be courson of?"
The miners satisfied themselves that it was Jane, sure enough,
and quietly beat a retreat. Soon was St Ives in a state of excite-
ment, and all Jane's cousins, believing from the accounts given by
the miners that Jane was well off, resolved to pay her a visit.
These visits worked much confusion in Tom's castle and family.
He and his wife quarrel, but the tinkeard is the never-failing friend.
All this part of the story is an uninteresting account of fair-weather
friends.
Jack the Tinkeard taught Tom how to till his ground in a proper
manner. He had hitherto contented himself with gathering wild
herbs, — such as nettles, wild beet, mallows, elecampane, various
kinds of lentils, and chick or cat-peas. Jack now planted a garden
for his friends, — the first in Cornwall, — and they grew all kinds of
good vegetables. The tinkeard also taught Jane to make malt and
* Veaii) a term of endearment.
Tom Jealous of the Tinkeard. 6$
to brew beer ; hitherto they had been content with barley-wort,
which was often sour. Jack would take the children and collect
bitter herbs to make the beer keep, such as the alehoof (ground
ivy), mugwort, bannell (the broom), agrimony, centuary, wood-
sage, bettony, and pellitory. Jane's beer was now amongst the
choicest of drinks, and her St Ives cousins could never have
enough of it. Tom delighted in it, and often drank enough to
bewilder his senses.
Tom had followed the example of the old giant, and killed his
cattle by flinging rocks at them. The giant's "bowls" are seen
to this day scattered all over the country. Jack gave Tom a knife
of the keenest edge and finest temper, and taught him how to
slaughter the beasts. When a calf was to be skinned, he instructed
Tom how to take the skin off whole from the fore legs, by im<
jointing the shoulders, and to remove it entirely clear of grain, and
without the smallest scratch. In addition to all this, Tomy Vean
(who was now a boy four years old, but bigger than many at ten)
must have a coat possessing all the virtues which belonged to the
tinkeard's. So a bull-calf's skin was put on to the boy, and Jane
had special instructions how she was to allow the coat to dry on
his back, and tan and dress it in a peculiar way. The skin thus
treated would shrink and thicken up until it came to his shape.
Nobody can tell how proud the young Tom was of his coat when
all was done, though the poor boy suffered much in the doing.
Now Jack the Tinkeard desired the intrusion of strangers as
little as did Tom and Jane, so he set to work to repair the gate
which he had broken down. He not only did this, but he con-
structed a curious latch with the bobbin ; it was so contrived that
no stranger could find the right end of it, and if they pulled at any
other part, the latch was only closed the tighter. While he was
at work a swarm of Jane's St Ives cousins came around him ; they
mistook Jack for Tom, and pointed out how the children, who
were playing near him, were like their father. Jack "parlayed"
with them until he had completed his task, and then he closed the
gate in their faces.
Much more of this character is related by the " drolls ; " but with
the exception of constant alternations of feasting and fighting, there
is little of novelty in the story, until at last a grand storm arises be-
tween Tom and his wife, who is believed by the husband to be on too
intimate terms with Jack the Tinkeard. The result of this is, that
Jane goes home to Crowlas, fights with her mother, old Jenny,
because old Jenny abuses Tom, which Jane will act allow in her
presence. While yet at Crowlas another boy is born, called Honey;
E
66 Romances of the Giants.
and, as the cow was not at hand as when she was in the castle,
he was nursed by a goat, and it is said a class of his descendants
are yet known as the Zennor goats.
HOW TOM AND THE TINKEARD* FOUND THE TIN,
AND HOW IT LED TO MORVA FAIR,
WHEN Tom had fairly thrown the tinkeard in the wrestling
match, which, it must be remembered, was seen by the
miners of Tregender, at which Tom was much pleased, although
he did not express his pleasure, it was settled that Tom was the
best man. This was sealed over a barrel of strong ale, and a
game of quoits was proposed, while Jane was taking up the dinner.
Tom had often wished, but never more so than now, that the green
sloping banks against the inside of the castle walls had not been
there, that he might have a fair fling of the quoits from end to end
of the court. Tom's third throw in this game was a very strong
one, and the quoit cut a great piece of turf from the banks, laying
bare many gray -looking stones, small rounded balls, and black
sandy stuff.
" Look here you, Jack," says Tom ; " whatever could possess
the old fools of giants to heap up such a lot of black and gray
mining-stones against the wall ? wherever could they have found
them all?"
Jack carefully looked at the stuff thus laid bare, clapped his
hands together, and shouted —
* I have preserved the pronunciation of this word, which was common in Cornwall
between twenty and thirty years since, and which still prevails in some of the outlying
districts.
In Webster's English Dictionary we find tinker oddly enough derived from the Welsh
tincerz, the ringer, from tinciaw, to ring, " a mender of brass kettles, pans, and the
like." The word being so obviously tin-ceard, or tin-cerdd, — the original having been
in all probability staen, or ystaen-cerdd, a worker in tin. The Gaelic still retains
"ceard" and "caird" to represent the English smith.*
In the present case, we have to deal, there can be little doubt, not with the modern
tinker, but the ancient worker in tin, as is shown in this division of the legend, although
the story has suffered some modern corruption, and Jack is made to mend Jane's pots
and pans.
The old Cornish saying —
Stean San Agnes an quella stean in Kernow,
St Agnes' tin is the best tin in Cornwall-
gives the original Cornish term for tin.
Jack the Tinkeard partakes of the character of Wayland Smith in many of his pecu-
liarities. See Appendix F.
* Gomer ; or, A Brief Analysis of the Language and Knowledge of the Ancient Cymry
By John Williams, A.M., Oxon.
They Discover the Tin. 67
" By the gods, it 's all the richest tin ! "
Now Tom, poor easy-going soul, " didn't knaw tin ; " so he
could scarcely believe Jack, though Jack had told him that he
came from a tin country.
" Why, Tom," says Jack, " thee art a made man. If these
banks are all tin, there is enough here to buy all the land, and all
the houses, from sea to sea."
" What do I care for the tin ; haven't I all a man can desire ?
My lands are all stocked with sheep and horned cattle. We shall
never lack the best beef and mutton, and we want no better than
our honest homespun."
Jane now made her appearance, announcing that dinner was
ready. She was surprised at seeing so much tin, but she didn't
say anything. She thought maybe she would get a new gown
out of it, and go down to St Ives Fair. Notwithstanding that Tom
and Jane professed to treat lightly the discovery of the tin, it was
clear they thought deeply about it, and their thoughts spoiled
their appetites. It was evidently an accession of wealth which
they could not understand.
Tom said he didn't know how to dress tin, it was of little use to
him. Jack offered to dress it for the market on shares. Tom
told him he might take as much as he had a mind to for what he
cared. After dinner, the giant tried to sleep, but could not get a
snore for the soul of him. Therefore, he walked out into the court,
to get some fresh air, as he said, but in reality to look at the tin.
Jane saw how restless Tom was, so she unhung his bows and
arrows, and told him he must away to the hills to get some kids
and hares.
" I shan't trouble myself with the bows and arrows," says Tom ;
" all I want are the slings Jack and I have in our pockets.
Stones are plenty enough, hit or miss, no matter ; and we needn't
be at the trouble to gather up the stones again."
Off went Tom and Jack, followed by young Tom and Jane, to
the Towednack and Zennor hills. They soon knocked down as
many kids, hares, and rabbits as they desired ; — they caught
some colts, placed the children on two of them and the game on
the others, and home they went. On their return, whilst waiting
for supper, Jack wandered around the castle, and was struck by
seeing a window which he had not before observed. Jack was
resolved to discover the room to which this window belonged, so
he very carefully noticed its position, and then threw his hammer
in through it, that he might be certain of the spot when he found
the tool inside of the castle. The next day, after dinner, when
68 Romances of the Giants.
Tom was having his snooze, Jack took Jane with him, and they
commenced a search for the hammer near the spot where Jack
supposed the window should be, but they saw no signs of one in
in any part of the walls. They discovered, however, a strangely-
fashioned, worm-eaten oak hanging-press. They carefully ex-
amined this, but found nothing. At last Jack, striking the back
of it with his fist, was convinced, from the sound, that the wall
behind it was hollow. He and Jane went steadily to work, and
with some exertion they moved the press aside, and disclosed a
stone door. They opened this, and there was Jack's hammer lying
amidst a pile of bones, evidently the relics of some of old Blunder-
buss's wives, whom he had imprisoned in the wall, and who had
perished there. Jane *vas in a great fright, and blessed her good
fortune that she had escaped a similar end. Jack, however, soon
consoled her by showing her the splendid dresses which were here,
and the gold chains, rings, and bracelets, with diamonds and
other jewels, which were scattered around. It was agreed that
Tom for the present should be kept in ignorance of all this. Tom
awoke, his head full of the tin. He consulted with Jack and
Jane. They duly agreed to keep their secret, and resolved that
they would set to work the very next day to prepare some of the
tin stuff for sale. Tom as yet scarcely believed in his wealth,
which was magnified as much as possible by Jack, to bewilder
him. However, several sacks of tin were duly dressed, and Tom
and Jack started with them for Market -Jew, Tom whispering to
Jack before he left the castle, that they would bring home a cask
of the brewer's best ale with 'em. " It is a lot better than
what Jane brews with her old-fashioned yerbes ; but don't Je tell
her so."
The brewer of Market-Jew was also mayor, and, as it appears,
tin-smelter, or tin merchant. To him, therefore, Tom went with
his black tin,* and received not only his cask of beer, but such an
amount of golden coin — all of it being a foreign coinage — as con-
vinced him that Jack had not deceived him. This brewer is
reputed to have been an exceedingly honest and kind-hearted man,
beloved by all. It was his practice, when any of the townspeople
came before him, begging him to settle their disputes, — even when
they "limbed" one another, — to shut them up in the brewery-yard,
give them as much beer as they could drink, and keep them there
until they became good friends. Owing to this practice he seldom
had enough beer to sell, and was frequently troubled to pay for
his barley. This brewer, who was reputed to be " the best mayor
* *' Black tint" tin ore ; oxiue of tin.
The Lord of Pengerswick. 69
that ever was since the creation of gray cats," gave rise, from the
above practice of his, to the proverb still in daily use, " Standing,
like the mayor of Market- Jew, in his own light."
The mayor was always fat and jolly. He was an especial
favourite, too, with the Lord of Pengerswick, who is believed to
have helped him out of many troubles. He had bought his tin of
Tom and Jack, such a bargain, that he resolved to have some
sport, so a barrel of beer was broached in the yard, and the crier
was sent round the town to call all hands to a " courant " (merry-
making). They came, you may be certain, in crowds. There
was wrestling, hurling, — the length of the Green from Market-Jew
to Chyandour, and back again, — throwing quoits, and slinging.
Some amused themselves in pure wantonness by slinging stones
over the Mount ; so that the old giant, who lived there, was afraid
to show above ground, lest his only eye should get knocked out.
The games were kept up right merrily until dusk ; when in rode
the Lord of Pengerswick on his enchanted mare, with a colt by
her side. The brewer introduced Tom and Jack, and soon they
became the best of friends. Tom invited Pengerswick to his
castle, and they resolved to go home at once and make a night of
it. Pengerswick gave Tom the colt, and, by some magic power,
as soon as he mounted this beautiful animal, he found himself at
home, and the lord, the brewer, and Jack with him. How this
was brought about Tom could never tell, but Jack appeared to be
in the secret. Tom was amazed and delighted to find Jane
dressed like a queen, in silks and diamonds, and the children
arrayed in a manner well becoming the dignity of their mother.
Jane, as soon as Tom and Jack had left her, had proceeded to
the room in the wall, and with much care removed the jewels,
gold, and dresses, caring little, as she afterwards said, for the dead
bones, although they rattled as she shook them out of the robes.
In a little time she had all the dresses in the main court of the
castle, and having well beaten and brushed them, she selected
the finest — those she now wore — and put the rest aside for other
grand occasions.
The condescension of the great Lord of Pengerswick was some-
thing wonderful. He kissed Jane until Tom was almost jealous,
and the great lord romped about the court of the castle with the
children. Tom was, on the whole, however, delighted with the
attention paid to his wife by a real lord, but our clear-headed Jack
saw through it all, and took measures accordingly.
Pengerswick tried hard to learn the secret of %the stores of tin,
but he was foiled by the tinkeard on every tack. You may well
?O Romances of the Giants.
suppose how desirous he was of getting Jack out of the way, and
eventually he began to try his spells upon him. The power of his
necromancy was such, that all in the castle were fixed in sleep as
rigid as stones, save Jack. All that the enchanter could do pro-
duced no effect on him. He sat quietly looking on, occasionally
humming some old troll, and now and then whistling to show his
unconcern. At last Pengerswick became enraged, and he drew
from his breast a dagger and slyly struck at Jack. The dagger,
which was of the finest Eastern steel, was bent like a piece of soft
iron against Jack's black hide.
" Art thou the devil ? " exclaimed Pengerswick.
" As he 's a friend of yours," says Jack, " you should know his
countenance."
" Devil or no devil," roared Pengerswick, " you cannot resist
this," and he held before Jack a curiously-shaped piece of polished
steel.
Jack only smiled, and quietly unfastening his cow's hide, he
opened it. The cross, like a star of fire, was reflected in a mirror
under Jack's coat, and it fell from Pengerswick's grasp. Jack
seized it, and turning it full upon the enchanter, the proud lord
sank trembling to the ground, piteously imploring Jack to spare
his life and let him go free. Jack bade the prostrate lord rise
from the ground. He kicked him out of the castle, and sent the
vicious mare after him. Thus he saved Tom and his family from
the power of this great enchanter. In a little time the sleep which
had fallen upon them passed away, and they awoke, as though
from the effects of a drunken frolic. The brewer hurried home,
and Tom and Jack set to work to dress their tin. Tom and
Jane's relations and friends flocked around them, but Jack said,
" Summer flies are only seen in the sunshine," and he shortly
after this put their friendship to the test, by conveying to them
the idea that Tom had spent all his wealth. These new friends
dropped off when they thought they could get no more, and Tom
and Jane were thoroughly disgusted with their summer friends and
selfish relations. The tinkeard established himself firmly as an
inmate of the castle. No more was said about the right of the
public to make a king's highway through the castle grounds. He
aided Tom in hedging in the waste lands, and very carefully secured
the gates against all intruders. In fact, he also quite altered his
politics.
Jack had a desire to go home to Dartmoor to see his mother, who
had sent to tell him that the old giant Dart was near death. He
started at once, on foot. Tom wished him to have Pengerswick's
Tom and the Tinkeard. 7 1
colt, but Jack preferred his legs. It would be too long a tale to
tell the story of his travels. He killed serpents and wild beasts
in the woods, and when he came to rivers, he had but to take off
his coat, gather up the skirts of it with a string, and stretch out
the body with a few sticks, — thus forming a cobble, — launch it on
the water, and paddle himself across. He reached home. The
old giant was at his last gasp. Jack made him give everything
to his mother before he breathed his last. When he died, Jack
carefully buried him. He then settled all matters for his mother,
and returned to the West Country again.
Tom's daughter became of marriageable years, and Jack wished
to have her for a wife. Tom, however, would not consent to this,
unless he got rid of a troublesome old giant who lived on one of
the hills in Morva, which was the only bit of ground between
Hayle and St Just which Tom did not possess. The people of
Morva were kept in great fear by this giant, who made them bring
him the best of everything. He was a very savage old creature,
and took exceeding delight in destroying every one's happiness.
Some of Tom's cousins lived in Morva, and young Tom fell in
love with one of his Morva cousins seven times removed, and by
Jack's persuasion, they were allowed by Tom and Jane to marry.
It was proclaimed by Jack all round the country that great
games would come off on the day of the wedding. He had even
the impudence to stick a bill on the giant's door, stating the prizes
which would be given to the best games. The happy day arrived,
and, as the custom then was, the marriage was to take place at
sundown. A host of people from all parts were assembled, and
under the influence of Jack and Tom, the games were kept up in
great spirit. Jack and Tom, by and by, amused themselves by
pitching quoits at the giant's house on the top of the hill. The old
giant came out and roared like thunder. All the young men were
about to fly, but Jack called them a lot of scurvy cowards, and
stayed their flight. Jack made faces at the giant, and challenged him
to come down and fight him. The old monster thought he could eat
Jack, and presently began to run down the hill, — when, lo ! he
disappeared. When the people saw that the giant was gone, they
took courage, and ran up the hill after Jack, who called on them
to follow him.
There was a vast hole in the earth, and there, at the bottom of
it, lay the giant, crushed by his own weight, groaning like a vol-
cano and shaking like an earthquake.
Jack knew there was an adit level driven into 4he hill, and he
had quietly, and at night, worker! away the roof at one particular
*
72 Romances of the Giants.
part, until he left only a mere shell of rock above, so it was, that,
as the giant passed over this spot, the ground gave way. Heavy
rocks were thrown down the hole on the giant, and there his bones
are said to lie to this day.
Jack was married at once to young Jane, her brother Tom to
the Morva girl, and great were the rejoicings. From all parts of
the country came in the wrestlers, and never since the days of
Gogmagog had there been such terrific struggles between strong
men. Quoits were played ; and some of the throws of Tom and
the tinkeard are still shown to attest the wonderful prowess of
this pair. Hurling was played over the wild hills of those northern
shores, and they rung and echoed then, as they have often rung
and echoed since, with the brave cry, " Guare wheag yw guare
teag" which has been translated into " Fair play is good play," *
— an honourable trait in the character of our Celtic friends. All
this took place on a Sunday, and was the origin of Morva Feast
and Morva Fair. We are, of course, astonished at not finding
some evidence of direct punishment for these offences, such as
that which was inflicted on the hurlers at Padstow. This has,
however, been explained on the principle that the people were
merely rejoicing at the accomplishment of a most holy act, and
that a good deed demanded a good day.f
THE GIANT OF MORVA. \
IN the Giant's Field in Morva still stand some granite fragments
which once constituted the Giant's House. From this we
see the Giant's Castle at Bosprenis, and the Giant's Cradle, thus
perpetuating the infancy of the great man, and his subsequent
power. The quoits used by this giant are numerous indeed. This
great man, on the ist day of August, would walk up to Bosprenis
Croft, and there perform some magical rites, which were either
never known, or they have been forgotten. On this day, — for
when thus engaged the giant was harmless, — thousands of people
would congregate to get a glimpse of the monster ; and as he
passed them, — all being seated on the stone hedges, — every one
drank " to the health of Mr Giant." At length the giant died,
but the gathering on the ist of August has never been given up,
* Or, " Sweet play is fair play," i.e., it is not fair to play roughly.
t See Appendix G for Mr Wright's story of " The Wonderful Cobbler of Wellington."
J The above notices were collected for me in Morva by the late C. Taylor Stephens,
author of "The Chief of Barat-Anac," and "some time rural postman from St Ives to
Zennor." Their connection with the traditions of Jack and Tom will be evident tc
every reader.
The Giant Bolster. 73
or rather, the day shifts, and is made to agree with Morva Feast,
which is held on the first Sunday in August.
A Morva farmer writes : — " A quarter of an acre would not
hold the horses ridden to the fair, — the hedges being covered by
the visitors, who drink and carouse as in former times. Morva
Fair is, however, dying out."
The parish-clerk informed me that the giant had twenty sons ;
that he was the first settler in these parts ; and that he planted
his children all round the coast. It was his custon to bring all
his family together on the ist of August, and hence the origin of
the fair. Whichever may be the true account of the cause which
established the fair and the feast, these romances clearly establish
the fact that the giants were at the bottom of it.
THE GIANT BOLSTER.
THIS mighty man held especial possession of the hill formerly
known as Came Bury-anacht or Bury-anack* " the spar^
stone grave," sometimes called St Agnes' Ball and St Agnef
Pestis, but which is now named, from the use made of the hill
during the long war, St Agnes' Beacon. He has left his name to
a very interesting, and undoubtedly most ancient earthwork, which
still exists at the base of the hill, and evidently extended from
Trevaunance Forth to Chapel Forth, enclosing the most im-
portant tin district in St Agnes. This is constantly called " The
Bolster."
Bolster must have been of enormous size : since it is stated that
he could stand with one foot on St Agnes' Beacon and the other
on Carn Brea; these hills being distant, as the bird flies, six miles, t
his immensity will be clear to all. In proof of this, there still
exists, in the valley running upwards from Chapel Forth, a stone
in which may yet be seen the impression of the giant's fingers.
On one occasion, Bolster, when enjoying his usual stride from the
Beacon to Carn Brea, felt thirsty, and stooped to drink out of
the well at Chapel Forth, resting, while he did so, on the above-
mentioned stone. We hear but little of the wives of our giants ; but
Bolster had a wife, who was made to labour hard by her tyrannical
husband. On the top of St Agnes' Beacon there yet exist the
evidences of the useless labours to which this unfortunate giantess
was doomed, in grouped masses of small stones. These, it is said,
have all been gathered from an estate at the foot of the hill,
immediately adjoining the village of St Agnes. This farm is to
* £ury, Saxon for grave. This does not appear to be Cornisn, which is bedh't
Welsh, bedd.
t See Appendix H.
74 Romances of the Giants.
the present day remarkable for its freedom from stones, though
situated amidst several others, which, like most lands reclaimed
from the moors of this district, have stones in abundance mixed
with the soil. Whenever Bolster was angry with his wife, he
compelled her to pick stones, and to carry them in her apron to the
top of the hill. There is some confusion in the history of this
giant, and of the blessed St Agnes to whom the church is dedi-
cated. They are supposed to have lived at the same time, which,
according to our views, is scarcely probable, believing, as we do,
that no giants existed long after their defeat at Plymouth by
Brutus and Corineus. There may have been an earlier saint of
the same name ; or may not Saint Enns or Anns, the popular
name of this parish, indicate some other lady ?
Be this as it may, the giant Bolster became deeply in love with
St Agnes, who is reputed to have been singularly beautiful, and a
pattern woman of virtue. The giant allowed the lady no repose.
He followed her incessantly, proclaiming his love, and filling the
air with the tempests of his sighs and groans. St Agnes lectured
Bolster in vain on the impropriety of his conduct, he being already
a married man. This availed not ; her prayers to him to relieve
her from his importunities were also in vain. The persecuted
lady, finding there was no release for her, while this monster ex-
isted, resolved to be rid of him at any cost, and eventually
succeeded by the following stratagem : — Agnes appeared at length
to be persuaded of the intensity of the giant's love, but she told
him she required yet one small proof more. There exists at Chapel
Forth a hole in the cliff at the termination of the valley. If
Bolster would fill this hole with his blood the lady would no longer
look coldly on him. This huge bestrider-of-the-hills thought that
it was an easy thing which was required of him, and felt that he
could fill many such holes and be none the weaker for the loss of
blood. Consequently, stretching his great arm across the hole, he
plunged a knife into a vein, and a torrent of gore issued forth.
Roaring and seething the blood fell to the bottom, and the giant
expected in a few minutes to see the test of his devotion made
evident, in the filling of the hole. It required much more blood
than Bolster had supposed ; still it must in a short time be filled,
so he bled on. Hour after hour the blood flowed from the veinr
yet the hole was not filled. Eventually the giant fainted from
exhaustion. The strength of life within his mighty frame enabled
him to rally, yet he had no power to lift himself from the ground,
and he was unable to stanch the wound which he had made.
Thus it was, that after many throes, the giant Bolster died !
The cunning saint, in proposing this task to Bolster, was well
The Hack and Cast. 75
aware that the hole opened at the bottom into the sea, and that
as rapidly as the blood flowed into the hole it ran from it, and
did
" The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red."
Thus the lady got rid of her hated lover ; Mrs Bolster was re-
leased, and the district freed from the presence of a tyrant. The
hole at Chapel Forth still retains the evidences of the truth of this
tradition, in the red stain which marks the track down which
flowed the giant's blood.
There is another tradition, in some respects resembling this
one, respecting a giant who dwelt at Goran, on the south coast.
THE HACK AND CAST.
IN the parish of Goran is an intrenchment running from cliff to
cliff, and cutting off about a hundred acres of coarse ground.
This is about twenty feet broad, and twenty-four feet high in most
places.
Marvellous as it may appear, tradition assures us that this was
the work of a giant, and that he performed the task in a single
night. This fortification has long been known as Thica Vosa, and
the Hack and Cast.
The giant, who lived on the promontory, was the terror of the
neighbourhood, and great were the rejoicings in Goran when his
death was accomplished through a stratagem by a neighbouring
doctor.
The giant fell ill through eating some food — children or other-
wise— to satisfy his voracity, which had disturbed his stomach.
His roars and groans were heard for miles, and great was the
terror throughout the neighbourhood. A messenger, however,
soon arrived at the residence of the doctor of the parish, and he
bravely resolved to obey the summons of the giant, and visit him.
He found the giant rolling on the ground with pain, and he at
once determined to rid the world, if possible, of the monster.
He told him that he must be bled. The giant submitted, and
the doctor moreover said that, to insure relief, a large hole in the
cliff must be filled with the blood. The giant lay on the ground,
his arm extended over the hole, and the blood flowing a torrent
into it. Relieved by the loss of blood, he permitted the stream
to flow on, until he at last became so weak, that the doctor
76 Romances of the Giants.
kicked him over the cliff, and killed him. The well-known pro-
montory of The Dead Man, or Dodman, is so called from the
dead giant. The spot on which he fell is the " Giant's House,"
and the hole has ever since been most favourable to the growth of
ivy.
THE GIANT WRATH, OR RALPH.
NOT far from Portreath there exists a remarkable fissure, or
gorge, on the coast, formed by the wearing out, through
the action of the sea, of a channel of ground softer than that
which exists on either side of it. This is generally known as
Ralph's Cupboard ; and one tale is, that Ralph was a famous
smuggler, who would run his little vessel, even in dark nights,
into the shelter afforded by this gorge, and safely land his goods.
Another is, that it was formerly a cavern in which dwelt Wrath —
a huge giant — who was the terror of the fishermen. Sailing from
St Ives, they ever avoided the Cupboard ; as they said, " Nothing
ever came out of it which was unfortunate enough to get into it."
Wrath is reputed to have watched for those who were drifted
towards his Cupboard by currents, or driven in by storms. It is
said that wading out to sea, he tied the boats to his girdle, and
quietly walked back to his den, making, of course, all the fisher-
men his prey. The roof of the cavern is supposed to have fallen
in after the death of the giant, leaving the open chasm as we now
see it.
ORDULPH THE GIANT.
THIS Tavistock Sampson is far removed from our fine old
legendary giant ; yet we perceive in the stories of Ordulph
precisely the same process as that which has given immortality to
Blunderbuss and others. In the church of the monastery of
Tavistock, built by Orgar in 960, and consecrated by St Rumon,
was buried Orgar, and also his son Edulf, or Ordulph, to whom,
by some writers, the foundation of the abbey is attributed
Ordulph was a man of giant size, and possessing most remarkable
strength. He once appeared before the gates of the city of
Exeter in company with King Edward, and demanded admission.
His demand was not immediately complied with. He tore away
the bars of the portcullis with his hands — burst open the gates
with his foot — rent the locks and bolts asunder — and broke down
a considerable portion of the wall — walking into the city over the
ruins, and occasioning great alarm amidst the inhabitants.
The king is said to have attributed this extraordinary feat of
Ordulph the Giant. 77
strength to the chieftain's having entered into a compact with the
devil ; and the people generally believed the king to be correct.
At Tavistock, it was the custom of Ordulph to stand with one
foot on either side of the Tavy, which is about twenty feet wide,
and having the wild beasts driven in from the Dartmoor forests,
he would — with the seemingly insignificant blows of a small knife
— strike their heads off into the stream.*
* William of Malmesbury tells us that both father and son were buried at Tavistock,
which is thus described : — " Est in Domnonia caenobium monachorum, juxta Tau
fluvium, quod Tauistock vocator ; quod per Ordgarum, comitem Domnoniensem,
patrem Elfiida, qui fuit uxor regis Edgari, surgendi exordium, per Livingum episcopum,
cresendi accepit auspicium; locus, amaenus opportunitate nemorum, captura copiosa
piscum, Ecclesiae congruente fabrica, fluvialibus rivis per officinas monachorum de-
currentibus, qui suo impetu effusi, quidquid invenerint superflum, portant in exitum."
Quoted by Pedler in his " Episcopate of Cornwall."
Mrs Bray, in her " Traditions, Legends, Superstitions, and Sketches of Devonshire,"
says, — " But notwithstanding the superiority of his strength and stature, Ordulph died
in the flower of his age. He gave orders to be buried at his abbey at Herton, in
Dorsetshire ; but was interred in or near the Abbey Church of Tavistock, where a
mausoleum or tomb of vast dimensions was erected to his memory, which is represented
to have been visited as a wonder. ' The thigh-bone of Ordulph is still preserved in
Tavistock Church.' "
THE FAIRIES.
* Elves, urchins, goblins all, and little fairyes." — Mad Prankcs.
" I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moone's sphere ;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green." — SHAKESPEARE.
" By the moon we sport and play ;
With the night begins our day ;
As we dance the dew doth fall —
Trip it little urchins all ;
Lightly as the little bee,
Two by two, and three by three,
And about go we, and about go we."
— LYLIE, Maydes1 Metamorphose*.
ROMANCES OF THE FAIRIES
THE ELFIN CREED OF CORNWALL.
" To thee the fairy state
I with discretion dedicate ;
Because thou prizest things that are
Curious and unfamiliar."
Oberon's Feast. — ROBERT HERRICK.
TO the " Fairy Mythology" of Thomas Keightley, I must refer
all those who are desirous of examining the metamorphoses
which this family of spiritual beings undergo, in passing from one
country to another. My business is with the Cornish branch of
this extensive family, and I shall be in a position to show that,
notwithstanding Mr Keightley has entirely excluded Cornwall from
consideration, there exists, even to the present day, a remarkable
fairy mythology in that county. Between thirty and forty years
since, ere yet the influences of our practical education had disturbed
the poetical education of the people, every hill and valley, every
tree, shrub, and flower was peopled with spiritual creations, deriv-
ing their characteristics from the physical peculiarities amidst
which they were born. Extending over the whole district which
was formerly known as Danmonium,* — embracing not only Corn-
wall, but Devonshire, to the eastern edge of Dartmoor, — we find
a mythology, which varies but little in its main features. Beyond
an imaginary line, drawn in a north-westerly direction from the
mouth of the Teign to the rise of the Torridge, the curiously wild
and distinguishing superstitions of the "Corn wallers" t fade away,
and we have those which are common to Somersetshire and the
more fertile counties of mid-England.
" If Alfred, as is probable, fixed the limits of Devon where the ancient eastern
boundary was, between the Belgse and Durotriges on the east, and Danmonii on the
west, ancient Cornwall will have included all Devon, as well as what is west of the
Tamar." — Camden's Britannia. Gough, vol. i., p. i.
^* "The ' Cornwallers ' overpowered by the Saxons." — Ca-Mtden'sJSritannia, vol. i.,
p. cxxxix.
8o Romances of the Fairies.
The Piscy or Pixy of East Devon and Somersetshire is a dif-
ferent creature from his cousin of a similar name in Cornwall.
The former is a mischievous, but in all respects a very harmless
creation, who appears to live a rollicking life amidst the luxu-
riant scenes of those beautiful counties. The latter, the piskies of
Cornwall, appear to have their wits sharpened by their necessities,
and may be likened to the keen and cunning " Arab " boy of the
London streets, as seen in contrast with the clever child who has
been reared in every comfort of a well-regulated home. A gentle-
man, well known in the literary world of London, very recently
told me, that he once saw in Devonshire a troop of fairies. It
was a breezy summer afternoon, and these beautiful little creatures
were floating on the circling zephyrs up the side of a sunlit hill,
and fantastically playing
*' Where oxlips and the nodding violet grow."
They are truly the fairies of " Midsummer Night's Dream." They
haunt the most rural and romantic spots, and they gather
" On hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or on the beached margent of the sea,
To dance their ringlets to the whistling wind."
No such fairies are ever met with on Dartmoor. A few, judging
from Mrs Bray's tales,* may have been tempted into the lovely
valley of the Tavy, but certainly they never crossed the Tamar.
The darker shades in the character of the Cornish fairy almost
dispose me to conclude that they belong to an older family than
those of Devonshire.
It should be understood that there are in Cornwall five varieties
of the fairy family, clearly distinguishable —
1. The Small People.
2. The Spriggans.
3. Piskies, or Pigseys.
4. The Buccas, Bockles, or Knockers.
5. The Browneys.
Of the Small People I have heard two accounts. Indeed, it is
by no means clear that the tradition of their origin does not apply
to the whole five branches of this ancient family. The Small
People are believed by some to be the spirits of the people who
* Traditions, Legends, Superstitions, and Sketches of Devonshire, on the Borders of
the Tamar and the Tavy, by Mrs Bray.
The Elfin Creed of Cornwall. 8 1
inhabited Cornwall many thousands of years ago — long, long be-
fore the birth of Christ. That they were not good enough to in-
herit the joys of heaven, but that they were too good to be condemned
to eternal fires. They were said to be " poor innocents " (this
phrase is now applied to silly children). When they first came
into this land, they were much larger than they are now, but ever
since the birth of Christ they have been getting smaller and
smaller. Eventually they will turn into muryans (ants), and at
last be lost from the face of the earth. These Small People are
exceedingly playful amongst themselves, but they are usually demure
when they know that any human eye sees them. They commonly
aid those people to whom they take a fancy, and, frequently, they
have been known to perform the most friendly acts towards men
and women. The above notion corresponds with the popular
belief in Ireland, which is, " that the fairies are a portion of the
fallen angels, who, being less guilty than the rest, were not driven
to hell, but were suffered to dwell on earth."* In Cornwall, as in
Wales, another popular creed is, that the fairies are Druids becom-
ing— because they will not give up their idolatries — smaller and
smaller. These Small People in many things closely resemble the
Elves of Scandinavia.
The Spriggans are quite a different class of beings. In some
respects they appear to be offshoots from the family of the Trolls
of Sweden and Denmark. The Spriggans are found only about
the cairns, coits, or cromlechs, burrows, or detached stones, with
which it is unlucky for mortals to meddle. A correspondent writes :
" This is known, that they were a remarkably mischievous and
thievish tribe. If ever a house was robbed, a child stolen, cattle
carried away, or a building demolished, it was the work of the
Spriggans. Whatever commotion took place in earth, air, or water,
it was all put down as the work of these spirits. Wherever the
giants have been, there the Spriggans have been also. It is
usually considered that they are the ghosts of the giants ; certainly,
from many of their feats, we must suppose them to possess a
giant's strength. The Spriggans have the charge of buried trea-
sure."
The Piskie. — This fairy is a most mischievous and very un-
sociable sprite. His favourite fun is to entice people into the bogs
by appearing like the light from a cottage window, or as a man
carrying a lantern. The Piskie partakes, in many respects, of the
character of the Spriggan. So wide-spread were their depreda-
tions, and so annoying their tricks, that it at one time^was neces-
* See Keightley's "Fairy Mythology."
F
82 Romances of the Fairies.
sary to select persons whose acuteness and ready tact were a
match for these quick-witted wanderers, and many a clever man
has become famous for his power to give charms against Pigseys.
It does not appear, however, that anything remarkable was re-
quired of the clever man. " No Pigsey could harm a man if his
coat were inside-out, and it became a very common practice for
persons who had to go from village to village by night, to wear
their jacket or cloak so turned, ostensibly to prevent the dew from
taking the shine off the cloth, but in reality to render them safe
from the Pigseys." *
They must have been a merry lot, since to " laugh like a
Piskie" is a popular saying. These little fellows were great
plagues to the farmers, riding their colts and chasing their cows.
The Buccas or Knockers. — These are the sprites of the mines,
and correspond to the Kobals of the German mines, the Duergars,
and the Trolls. They are said to be the souls of the Jews who
formerly worked the tin-mines of Cornwall. They are not allowed
to rest because of their wicked practices as tinners, and they share
in the general curse which ignorant people believe still hangs on
this race.
The Browney. — This spirit was purely of the household.
Kindly and good, he devoted his every care to benefit the family
with whom he had taken up his abode. The Browney has fled,
owing to his being brought into very close contact with the school-
master, and he is only summoned now upon the occasion of the
swarming of the bees. When this occurs, mistress or maid seizes
a bell-metal, or a tin pan, and, beating it, she calls " Browney,
Browney ! " as loud as she can until the good Browney compels
the bees to settle.
Mr Thorns has noticed that in Cornwall "the moths which
some regard as departed souls, others as fairies, are called Pisgies."
This is somewhat too generally expressed ; the belief respecting
the moth, so far as I know, is confined to one or two varieties
only. Mr Couch informs us that the local name, around Polperro,
of the weasel is Fairy. So that we have evidence of some sort of
metempsychosis amongst the elf family. Moths, ants, and weasels
it would seem are the forms taken by those wandering spirits.
* The Cornish had formerly a great belief in piskays or fairies. If a traveller
happened to lose his way, he immediately concluded he was "piskay led." To dispel
the charm with which the " piskay-led " traveller was entangled, nothing was deemed
sufficient but that of his turning one of his garments inside-out. This generally fell
upon one of his stockings ; and if this precaution had been taken before the com-
mencement of the journey, it was fully believed that no such delusion would have
happened. — Drew and Hitchins' History of Cornwall, p. 97.
Nursing a Fairy. 83
We read in Bishop Corbet, whose work was published in 1 648,
and was reprinted many years after by Bishop Percy —
"The fairies
Were of the old profession ;
Their songs were Ave Maries,
Their dances were procession.
But now, alas ! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas,
Or, further, for religion fled,
Or else they take their ease."
Other writers have supposed that at the time of the Reformation
the fairies departed from the land. This hypothesis is not war-
ranted by evidence. It is possible that they may have taken pos-
session of some of the inferior creatures, but they are certainly
still to be found in those regions which lie beyond the reach of
the railway-giant, with his fiery mouth, or of that electric spirit
who, travelling on his mysterious wires, can beat the wildest elf
that ever mounted " night-steeds."
NURSING A FAIRY.
A THRIFTY housewife lived on one of the hills between Zen-
**• nor Church-town and St Ives. One night a gentleman
came to her cottage, and told her he had marked her cleanliness
and her care : that he had a child whom he desired to have
brought up with much tenderness, and he had fixed on her. She
should be very handsomely rewarded for her trouble, and he
showed her a considerable quantity of golden coin. Well, she
agreed, and away she went with the gentleman to fetch this child.
When they came to the side of Zennor hill, the gentleman told the
woman he must blindfold her, and she, good, easy soul, having
heard of such things, fancied this was some rich man's child, and
that the residence of its mother was not to be known, so she gave
herself great credit for cunning in quietly submitting. They walked
on some considerable distance. When they stopped the handker-
chief was taken from her eyes, and she found herself in a magni-
ficent room, with a table spread with the most expensive luxuries,
in the way of game, fruits, and wines. She was told to eat, and
she did so with some awkwardness, and not a little trembling.
She was surprised that so large a feast should have been spread
for so small a party, — only herself and the master. At last, hav-
ing enjoyed luxuries such as she never tasted befote or since, a
84 Romances of the Fairies.
silver bell was rung, and a troop of servants came in, bearing a
cot covered with satin, in which was sleeping the most beautiful
babe that human eyes ever gazed on. She was told this child
was to be committed to her charge ; she should not want for any-
thing ; but she was to obey certain laws. She was not to teach
the child the Lord's Prayer ; she was not to wash it after sun-
down : she was to bathe it every morning in water, which she
would find in a white ewer placed in the child's room : this was
not to be touched by any one but herself, and she was to be care-
ful not to wash her own face in this water. In all other respects
she was to treat the child as one of her own children. The woman
was blinded again, and the child having been placed in her arms,
away she trudged, guided by the mysterious father. When out
on the road, the bandage was removed from her eyes, and she
found she had a small baby in her arms, not remarkably good-
looking, with very sharp, piercing eyes, and but ordinarily dressed.
However, a bargain is a bargain ; so she resolved to make the
best of it, and she presented the babe to her husband, telling him
so much of the story as she thought it prudent to trust him with.
For years the child was with this couple. They never wanted for
anything ; meat, and even wines, were provided, — as most people
thought, — by wishing for them ; clothes, ready-made, were on the
child's bed when required ; and the charmed water was always in
the magic ewer. The little boy grew active and strong. He was
remarkably wild, yet very tractable, and he appeared to have a
real regard for his "big mammy," as he called the woman.
Sometimes she thought the child was mad. He would run, and
leap, and scream, as though he were playing with scores of boys,
when no soul was near him. The woman had never seen the
father since the child had been with them ; but ever and anon,
money was conveyed to them in some mysterious manner. One
morning, when washing- the boy, this good woman, who had often
observed how bright the water made the face of the child, was
tempted to try if it would improve her own beauty. So directing
the boy's attention to some birds singing on a tree outside the
window, she splashed some of the water up into her face. Most
of it went into her eye. She closed it instinctively, and upon
opening it, she saw a number of little people gathered round her
and playing with the boy. She said not a word, though her fear
was great ; and she continued to see the world of small people
surrounding the world of ordinary men and women, being with
them, but not of them. She now knew who the boy's playmates
were, and she often wished to speak to the beautiful creatures of the
Changelings. 85
invisible world who were his real companions ; but she was dis-
creet, and kept silence.
Curious robberies had been from time to time committed in St
Ives Market, and although the most careful watch had been kept,
the things disappeared, and no thief detected. One day our good
housewife was at the market, and to her surprise she saw the
father of her nursling. Without ceremony she ran up to him, —
at a moment when he was putting some choice fruit by stealth
into his pocket, — and spoke to him. " So, thou seest me, dost
thou ? " " To be sure I do, and know 'ee too," replied the woman.
" Shut this eye," putting his finger on her left eye. " Canst see
me now ? " " Yes, I tell ;ee, and know 'ee too," again said the
woman.
" Water for elf, not water for self ;
You've lost your eye, your child, and yourself,"
said the gentleman. From that hour she was blind in the right
eye. When she got home the boy was gone. She grieved sadly,
but she never saw him more, and this once happy couple became
poor and wretched.
CHANGELINGS.
A CORRESPONDENT, to whom I am much indebted for
^-J- many curious examples of the folk-lore of the people in the
remote districts to the west of Penzance, says, in reference to some
stories of fairy changelings — " I never knew but one child that
had been kept by the . Spriggans more than three days. It was
always complaining, sickly, and weakly, and had the very face of
a changeling" .
It has been my fortune, some thirty or forty years since, to have
seen several children of whom it had been whispered amongst the
peasantry that they were changelings. In every case they have
been sad examples of the influence of mesenteric disease — the
countenance much altered — their eyes glassy and sunk in their
sockets — the nose sharpened — the cheeks of a marble whiteness,
unless when they were flushed with hectic fever — the lips some-
times swollen and of a deep, red colour, and small ulcers not
unfrequently at the angles of the mouth. The wasted frame, with
sometimes strumous swellings, and the unnatural abdominal en-
largement which accompanies disease of mesenteric glands, gives
a very sad, and often a most unnatural appearance to the sufferer.
The intense ignorance which existed in many of the districts visited
by me, at the period named, has been almost Dispelled by the
86 Romances of the Fairies.
civilising influences of Wesleyanism. Consequently, when ascrofu-
lous child is found in a family, we no longer hear of its being a
changeling ; but, within a very recent period, I have heard it said
that such afflicted children had been " ill-wished."
THE LOST CHILD.
IN the little hamlet of Treonike, in the parish of St Allen, has
long lingered the story of a lost child, who was subsequently
found. All the stories agree in referring the abduction of the
child to supernatural agency, and in some cases it is referred to
the " Small People or Piskies," — in others, to less amiable spiritual
creatures. Mr Hals* has given one version of this story, which
differs in some respects from the tale as I heard it, from an old
woman some thirty years since, who then lived in this parish.
Her tale was to the following effect. It was a lovely evening, and
the little boy was gathering flowers in the fields, near a wood.
The child was charmed by hearing some beautiful music, which
he at first mistook for the song of birds ; but, being a sharp boy,
he was not long deceived, and he went towards the wood to
ascertain from whence the melodious sounds came. When he
reached the verge of the wood, the music was of so exquisite a
character, that he was compelled to follow the sound, which
appeared to travel before him. Lured in this way, the boy pene-
trated to the dark centre of the grove, and here, meeting with
some difficulties, owing to the thick growth of underwood, he
paused and began to think of returning. The music, however,
became more ravishing than before, and some invisible being
appeared to crush down all the low and tangled plants, thus form-
ing for him a passage, over which he passed without any difficulty.
At length he found himself on the edge of a small lake, and,
greatly to his astonishment, the darkness of night was around him,
but the heavens were thick with stars. The music ceased, and,
wearied with his wanderings, the boy fell asleep on a bed of ferns.
He related, on his restoration to his parents, that he was taken by
a beautiful lady through palaces of the most gorgeous description.
Pillars of glass supported arches which glistened with every colour,
and these were hung with crystals far exceeding anything which
were ever seen in the caverns of a Cornish mine. It is, however,
stated that many days passed away before the child was found by his
friends, and that at length he was discovered, one lovely morning,
sleeping on the bed of ferns, on which he was supposed to have
* See Davies Gilbert's Parochial History of Cornwall.
The Night-Riders. 87
fallen asleep on the first adventurous evening. There was no
reason given by the narrator why the boy was " spirited away " in
the first instance, or why he was returned. Her impression was,
that some sprites, pleased with the child's innocence and beauty,
had entranced him. That when asleep he had been carried
through the waters to the fairy abodes beneath them ; and she felt
assured that a child so treated would be kept under the especial
guardianship of the sprites for ever afterwards. Of this, however,
tradition leaves us in ignorance.
A NATIVE PIGSEY STORY.
>YE see that 'ere hoss there ? " said a Liskeard farmer to a
West- Country miner.
" What ov it ? " asked the miner.
" Well, that 'ere hoss he 'n been ridden to death a'most by the
pigsies again."
" Pigsies ! " said the miner ; " thee don't b'leve in they, do
'ee ? "
" Ees I do ; but I specks you 're a West-Country bucca, ain't
'ee ? If you 'd a had yourn hosses wrode to death every nite,
you 'd tell another tayl, I reckon. But as sure as I 'se living the
pigsies do ride on 'em whenever they Ve a mind to."
THE NIGHT-RIDERS.
I WAS on a visit when a boy at a farmhouse situated near
Fowey river. Well do I remember the farmer with much
sorrow telling us one morning at breakfast, that "the piskie
people had been riding Tom again ; " and this he regarded as
certainly leading to the destruction of a fine young horse. I was
taken to the stable to see the horse. There could be no doubt
that the animal was much distressed, and refused to eat his food.
The mane was said to be knotted into fairy stirrups ; and Mr
told me that he had no doubt at least twenty small people
had sat upon the horse's neck. He even assured me that one of
his men had seen them urging the horse to his utmost speed
round and round one of his fields.
88 Romances of the Fairies.
THE FAIRY TOOLS; OR, BARKER'S KNEE.
THE buccas or knockers are believed to inhabit the rocks,
caves, adits, and wells of Cornwall. In the parish of
Towednack there was a well where those industrious small people
might every day be heard busy at their labours — digging with
pickaxe and shovel. I said, every day. No ; on Christmas-day
— on the Jews' Sabbath — on Easter-day — and on All- Saints' day —
no work was done. Why our little friends held those days in
reverence has never been told me. Any one, by placing his ear
on the ground at the mouth of this well, could distinctly hear the
little people at work.
There lived in the neighbourhood a great, hulking fellow, who
would rather do anything than work, and who refused to believe
anything he heard. He had been told of the Fairy Well — he said
it was " all a dream." But since the good people around him
reiterated their belief in the fairies of the well, he said he 'd find it
all out. So day after day, Barker— that was this hulk's name —
would lie down amidst the ferns growing around the mouth of the
well, and, basking in the sunshine, listen and watch. He soon
heard pick and shovel, and chit-chat, and merry laughter. Well,
" he 'd see the out of all this," he told his neighbours. Day after
day, and week after week, this fellow was at his post. Nothing
resulted from his watching. At last he learned to distinguish the
words used by the busy workers. He discovered that each set of
labourers worked eight hours, and that, on leaving, they hid their
tools. They made no secret of this ; and one evening he heard
one say, he should place his tools in a cleft in the rock ; another,
that he should put his under the ferns ; and another said, he
should leave his tools on Barker's knee. He started on hearing
his own name. At that moment a heavy weight fell on the man's
knee ; he felt excessive pain, and roared to have the cursed things
taken away. His cries were answered by laughter. To the day
of his death Barker had a stiff knee ; he was laughed at by all the
parish ; and " Barker's knee " became a proverb.
THE PISKIES IN THE CELLAR.
r~pHE following story, for which I am indebted to Mr T. Q.
-1- Couch, will remind the reader of "The Cluricaun" and
" The Haunted Cellar," in " Fairy Legends and Traditions of the
South of Ireland." By T. Crofton Croker, Esq.
On the Thursday immediately preceding Christmas-tide (year
The Piskies in the Cellar. 89
not recorded), were assembled at " The Rising Sun " the captain
and men of a stream work * in the Couse below. This Couse
was a flat, alluvial moor, broken by gigantic mole-hills, the work
of many a generation of tinners. One was half inclined, on look-
ing at the turmoiled ground, to believe with them that the tin grew
in successive crops, for, after years of turning and searching, there
was still enough left to give the landlord his dole, and to furnish
wages to some dozen streamers. This night was a festival
observed in honour of one Picroiisjr and intended to celebrate the
discovery of tin on this day by a man of that name. The feast is
still kept, though the observance has dwindled to a supper and its
attendant merrymaking.
Our story has especially to do with the adventures of one of the
party, John Sturtridge, who, well primed with ale, started on his
homeward way for Luxulyan Church-town. John had got as far
as Tregarden Down without any mishap worth recording, when,
alas ! he happed upon a party of the little people, who were at their
sports in the shelter of a huge granite boulder. Assailed by shouts
of derisive laughter, he hastened on frightened and bewildered, but
the Down, well known from early experience, became like ground
untrodden, and after long trial no gate or stile was to be found.
He was getting vexed, as well as puzzled, when a chorus of tiny
voices shouted, " Ho ! and away for Par Beach !" John repeated
the shout, and was in an instant caught up, and in a twinkling
found himself on the sands of Par. A brief dance, and the cry
was given, " Ho ! and away for Squire Tremain's cellar ! " A
repetition of the Piskie cry found John with his elfish companions
in the cellars at Heligan, where was beer and wine galore. It
need not be said that he availed himself of his opportunities. The
mixture of all the good liquors so affected him that, alas ! he for-
got in time to catch up the next cry of " Ho ! and away for Par
Beach ! " In the morning John was found by the butler, groping
and tumbling among butts and barrels, very much muddled with
the squire's good drink. His strange story, very incoherently told,
was not credited by the squire, who committed him to jail for
the burglary, and in due time he was convicted and sentenced to
death.
The morning of his execution arrived ; a large crowd had
assembled, and John was standing under the gallows-tree, when a
commotion was observed in the crowd, and a little lady of com-
* A "stream work" is a place where tin is obtained from the drift deposits.
"Streamers" are the tinners who wash out the tin.
t Picrous day is still kept up in Luxulyan. See Appendi* I.
9<D Romances of the Fairies.
manding mien made her way through the opening throng to the
scaffold. In a shrill, sweet voice, which John recognised, she
cried, " Ho ! and away for France ! " Which being replied to,
he was rapt from the officers of justice, leaving them and the
multitude mute with wonder and disappointment.
THE SPRIGGANS OF TRENCROM HILL.
IT is not many years since a man, who thought he was fully
informed as to the spot in which a crock of the giant's gold
was buried, proceeded on one fine moonlight night to this enchanted
hill, and with spade and pick commenced his search. He pro-
ceeded for some time without interruption, and it became evident
to him that the treasure was not far off. The sky was rapidly
covered with the darkest clouds, shutting out the brilliant light o
the moon — which had previously gemmed each cairn — and leaving
the gold-seeker in total and unearthly darkness. The wind rose,
and roared terrifically amidst the rocks ; but this was soon
drowned amidst the fearful crashes of thunder, which followed in
quick succession the flashes of lightning. By its light the man
perceived that the spriggans were coming out in swarms from all
the rocks. They were in countless numbers ; and although they
were small at first, they rapidly increased in size, until eventually
they assumed an almost giant form, looking all the while, as he
afterwards said, " as ugly as if they would eat him." How this
poor man escaped is unknown, but he is said to have been so
frightened that he took to his bed, and was not able to work for a
long time.
THE FAIRY MINERS— THE KNOCKERS.
AT Ransom Mine the " Knockers * were always very active in
their subterranean operations. In every part of the mine
their " knockings " were heard, but most especially were they busy
in one particular " end." There was a general impression that
great wealth must exist at this part of the " lode." Yet, notwith-
standing the inducements of very high " tribute " were held out to
the miners, no pair of men could be found brave enough to ven-
ture on the ground of the " Bockles." An old man and his son,
called Trenwith, who lived near Bosprenis, went out one mid-
summer eve, about midnight, and watched until they saw the
" Smae People " bringing up the shining ore. It is said they were
possessed of some secret by which they could communicate with
The Spriggans Child, 91
the fairy people. Be this as it may, they told the little miners
that they would save them all the trouble of breaking down the
ore, that they would bring " to grass " for them, one-tenth of the
" richest stuff," and leave it properly dressed, if they would quietly
give them up this end. An agreement of some kind was come to.
The old man and his son took the " pitch," and in a short time
realised much wealth. The old man never failed to keep to his
bargain, and leave the tenth of the ore for his friends. He died.
The son was avaricious and selfish. He sought to cheat the
Knockers, but he ruined himself by so doing. The "lode"
failed ; nothing answered with him ; disappointed, he took to
drink, squandered all the money his father had made, and died a
beggar.
I
THE SPRIGGAN'S CHILD,
AS TOLD BY A CORNISH DROLL.
'LL tell you a tale, an you Ve patience to hear an,
'Bout the Spriggans, that swarm round Partinney still-
You knew Janey Tregeer, who lives in Brea Vean,
In the village just under the Chapel-Hill.
One arternoon she went out for to reap,
And left the child in the cradle asleep :
Janey took good care to cover the fire ; —
Turn'd down the brandis on the baking- ire (iron),
Swept up the ashes on the hearthstone,
And so left the child in the house all alone—
The boys had all on 'em gone away,
Some to work and some to play.
Janey work'd in the field as gay as a lark,
And when she came home it was nearly dark ;
The furst thing she saw when she open'd the door
Was the cradle upset — all the straw on the floor.
But no child in sight —
She search'd all round —
Still no child was found :
And it got dark night.
So great was Jane's fright,
That for more than an hour
She hadn't the power
To strike a light.
However, she kindled the fire at last,
And threw to a faggot to make a blast. *
92 Romances of the Fairies.
As she stoop'd over the wood-corner stone,
She heard a sound 'tween a cry and a moan —
It clearly came from a bundle of ferns —
The two bigger boy's bed —
And there, sure enough, as frighten'd she turns,
Janey saw the child's head.
Twas very queer. How the child got there,
Nobody could say ;
Yet ever since that day, the babe pined away —
It was at all times crying, or sucking, or eating,
And blinking and peeping, when it ought to be sleeping.
But seldom it closed its eyes.
Jane said for a child it look'd too wise —
That she thought it a changeling
She didn't disguise —
And often and often she gave it a beating,
To stop — but she couldn't — its cussed bleating.
Janey resolved to work the spell,
And whene'er she could stay,
She bath'd the brat in the Chapel Well—
Which he thought rare play.
On the three first Wednesdays in flow'ry May
She plunged it deep at the dawn of day —
Pass'd it slowly three times against the sun,
Went three times round, — and when all was done,
The imp of a child roar'd aloud for fun.
No tongue can tell
The trouble it gave her
To dip the shaver,
And work the spell.
From Brea to Chapel- Uny is a mile or more,
And surely it tried Janey's patience sore
To trudge forth and back from the Chapel Well,
With this brat on her back, to work the spell.
She wish'd it dead ; but it wouldn't die :
It ate its bread, it would pine and cry ;
And Janey was nearly beside herself
With this plague of her life— this wicked elf.
Well, one rainy day, — as it rains in May, —
Janey set out with the child in her arms
Once more to work the holy channs.
The Spriggan's Child. 93
When very close to the top of the hill,
Where she was sure there was nobody near,
She heard the strangest voice in her ear,
Saying these words, quite clear and shrill —
Tredrill, Tredrill! thy wife and children greet thee well"
Oh, Janey's heart-strings were like to crack,
When up spake the thing in her arms, good lack !-—
" For wife or child little care I,
They may laugh,
Or they may cry, —
While milk I quaff,
When I am dry —
Get of my pap my fill
Whenever I will,
On the dowdy's back ride,
With my legs astride,
When we work the spell
At the Chapel Well."
/aney dropp'd the cussed thing on the ground,
And turn'd round, and round, and round ;
You may be sure she was in a fright
To hear the sound, and nobody in sight,
And to hear a child talk
Months before it could walk.
She has said o'er and o'er,
And I am sure you can't wonder,
'Twouldn't frighten her more,
H>d the rocks burst asunder,
And the earth belch'd forth thunder.
When Janey at length got over the fright
From hearing the sound and nobody in sight,
And the brat which lay crying, as if it was dying,
Talking out like a man of his wife and his child,
She felt all bedazzled as if she was wild —
Took the brat by the arm, flung it over her shoulder—-
Wouldn't believe it her child if the parson had told her—
Thought the devil was in it,
As she ran the hill down,
Without stopping a minute
Till she came to Brea town.
94 Romances of the Fairies.
The old women came out, and all on 'em agreed
'Twas the strangest thing that ever they seed ;
They stood in a row, and each one had a word —
'Twas the wonderfull'st story that ever they heard ;
'Twas a Spriggan's brat — they were all sure of that—
No more like Jane's child than an old ram-cat.
She must beat it black, she must beat it blue,
Bruise its body all o'er with the heel of her shoe —
Then lay it alone beneath the church stile,
And keep out of hearing and sight for a while —
When every one said, as every one thought,
That Janey's child would again be brought :
Some said 'twould be living — some said 'twould be dead- -
But the Spriggan's base brat she no longer need dread.
Jane beat the babe black,
And she beat the babe blue,
On the ashes' pile before the door ;
And she would have beaten it ten times more,
But out of her hand she lost her shoe,
Struck away all at once — by she couldn't tell who.
The brat had roar'd — it could roar no more —
So they carried it off to the old church stile,
And laid it under the stones — some swore
That when placed on the earth it was seen to smile —
Then all turn'd back, and kept far out of sight : —
And Janey declared she was almost wild :
But they kept her back till the turn o' the night,
When she rush'd to the stile and found her own child.
'Twas there, sure enough, her own dear child : —
But when first she saw it,
She did not know it —
It look'd so frighten'd — it seem'd so wild.
Then the old women said,
If it keeps its wits,
We 're sadly afraid
The poor babe will have fits.
A friend writes me : — " I saw an account in a newspaper the
other day of an Irishwoman who was brought before the magis-
trates, in New York, for causing the death of a child by making it
stand on hot coals, to try if it were her own truly-begotten child,
or a changeling. I think the notion was, that her own child
The Piskies Changeling. 95
would stand fire, but an imp would either die, to all appearance,
or be spirited away. This is much worse than the plan of the
woman of Brea Vean, who put the brat on the ashes' pile, and
beat it black with the broom." *
THE PISKIES' CHANGELING.
THIS story is told by Mr T. Q. Couch, as an example of the
folk-lore of a Cornish village, in " Notes and Queries,"
under the name of " Coleman Gray : " —
" There is a farmhouse of some antiquity with which my family
have a close connection ; and it is this circumstance, more than
any other, that has rendered this tradition concerning it more
interesting to us, and better remembered than many other equally
romantic and authentic. Close to this house, one day, a little
miserable-looking bantling was discovered alone, unknown, and
incapable of making its wants understood. It was instantly
remembered by the finder, that this was the way in which the
piskies were accustomed to deal with those infants of their race
for whom they sought human protection ; and it would have been
an awful circumstance if such a one were not received by the
individual so visited. The anger of the piskies would be certain,
and some direful calamity must be the result ; whereas, a kind
welcome would probably be attended with great good fortune.
The miserable plight of this stranger, therefore, attracted attention
and sympathy. The little unconscious one was admitted as one
of the family. Its health was speedily restored, and its renewed
strength, activity, intelligence, and good-humour, caused it to
become a general favourite. It is true the stranger was often
found to indulge in odd freaks ; but this was accounted for by a
recollection of its pedigree, which was not doubted to be of the
piskie order. So the family prospered, and had banished the
thought that the foundling would ever leave them. There was to
the front door of this house, a hatch, which is a half-door, that is
kept closed when the whole door behind it is open, and it then
serves as a guard against the intrusion of dogs, hogs, and ducks,
while air and light are freely admitted. This little being was one
day leaning over the top of this hatch, and looking wistfully
outward, when a clear voice was heard to proceed from a neigh-
* " The Father of Eighteen Elves," in " Legends of Iceland," is, in all its chief
features, similar to this story, even to the beating him without mercy. " Icelandic
Legends. Collected by John Arnason : Translated by George E. J. Powell and
Eirikur Magmisson." Bentley, 1864. ^
g6 Romances of the Fairies.
bouring part of the toivnplacey calling, ' Coleman Gray, Coleman
Gray ! ' The piskie immediately started up, and with a sudden
laugh, clapped its hands, exclaiming, ' Aha ! my daddy is come ! '
It was gone in a moment, never to be seen again."
THE PIXIES OF DARTMOOR.
'HPHERE is a celebrated piskie haunt at Costellas in Cornwall
J- (says Mrs Bray), where they have been seen sitting in a ring
— the men smoking after the most approved fashion of the Dutch
burgomaster, and the women spinning, perhaps in emulation of
the frugal vrow.
I never heard of this place. Like the rest of the "good
people," piskies are fond of music, and the sound of their " harp
and pipe and symphony," is occasionally heard at nightfall. It is
said that a man once passing one of the piskie rings, and hearing
them dancing and singing within it, threw a large stone into the
midst of the circle, when the music at once ceased and a dreadful
shriek arose.
The appearance of the pixies of Dartmoor is said to resemble
that of a bale or bundle of rags. In this shape they decoy
children to their unreal pleasure. A woman, on the northern
borders of the moor, was returning home late on a dark evening,
accompanied by two children, and carrying a third in her arms,
when, on arriving at her own door, she found one missing. Her
neighbours, with lanthorns, immediately set out in quest of the
lost child ; whom they found sitting under a large oak-tree, well
known to be a favourite haunt of the pixies. He declared that he
had been led away by two large bundles of rags, which had
remained with him until the lights appeared, when they immedi-
ately vanished.*
The pixies of Dartmoor, notwithstanding their darker character,
aided occasionally in household work. A washerwoman was one
morning greatly surprised, on coming down- stairs, to find all her
clothes neatly washed and folded. She watched the next evening,
and observed a pixie in the act of performing this kind office for
her : but she was ragged and mean in appearance, and Betty's
gratitude was sufficiently great to induce her to prepare a yellow
petticoat and a red cap for the obliging pixie.
* For additional information respecting the pixies of the banks of the Taraar and the
Tavy, the reader is referred to Mrs Bray's " Traditions, Legends, Superstitions, aua
Sketches of Devonshire."
St Margery and the Piskies. 97
THE FAIRY FAIR IN GERMOE.
BAL LANE in Germoe was a notorious place for piskies.
One night Daniel Champion and his comrade came to
Godolphin Bridge, — they were a little bit " overtook" with liquor.
They said that when they came to " Bal Lane," they found it
covered all over from end to end, and the Small People holding a
fair there with all sorts of merchandise — the prettiest sight they
ever met with. Champion was sure he saw his child there ; for
a few nights before, his child in the evening was as beautiful a
one as could be seen anywhere, but in the morning was changed
for one as ugly and wizened as could be ; and he was sure the
Small People had done it. Next day, telling the story at Croft
Gothal, his comrade was knocked backward, thrown into the bob-
pit, and just killed. Obliged to be carried to his home, Champion
followed, and was telling of their adventure with the Small
People, when one said, " Don't speak about them ; they ;re
wicked, spiteful devils." No sooner were the words uttered than
the speaker was thrown clean over stairs and bruised dreadfully,
— a convincing proof to all present of the reality of the existence
of the Small Folks.
ST MARGERY AND THE PISKIES.
WE have no reliable information of the birth, parentage, or
education oi Margery Daw, but we have a nursery rhyme
which clearly indicates that she must have been a sloven — per-
haps an ancient picture of a literary lady, who was by her sad
habit reduced to extreme necessity.
See saw, Margery Daw,
clearly indicates a lazy woman rocking herself, either in deep
thought, or for want of thought.
Sold her bed and lay on the straw ;
this was stage the first of her degradation.
She sold her straw and lay in the smut,
the second and final stage, which may well induce the poet to in-
quire—
Was not she a dirty slut ?
Another version of Margery's story is more distinct as to her
end :—
G
98 Romances of the Fairies.
See saw,
Margery Daw,
Sold her bed
And lay on the straw ;
She sold her straw,
And lay upon hay,
So piskies came
And carried her away.
A friend, in writing to me on this dirty Cornish saint, is dis-
posed to regard St Margery Daw as a very devout Roman Catho-
lic, and to refer the version of her story which I have given first
to the strong feeling shown by many Protestants against those
pious women who rejected the finery of the world, and submitted
for the sake of their souls to those privations which formed at one
time the severe rule of conventual life. Margery and the fairies
are supposed to have left England together at the time of the Re-
formation, but she has left her name to several Cornish mines.
THE FAIRY REVELS ON THE « GUMP" ST JUST.
T ONG has the Gump been the reputed playground of the Small
-L/ People. Many of the good old people were permitted to
witness their revels, and for years they have delighted their grand-
children with tales of the songs they have heard, and of the sights
they have seen. To many of their friends those fairies have given
small but valuable presents ; but woe to the man or woman who
would dare to intrude upon the ground occupied by them at the
time of their high festivals. There was a covetous old hunks in
St Just — never mind his name, he was severely punished, let that
suffice — well, this old fellow had heard so much of the riches dis-
played by the little people, when holding holiday on the Gump,
that he resolved to get some of the treasures. He learned all he
could learn from his neighbours, but kept his intention to himself.
It was during the harvest-moon — the night was a softened day — and
everything abroad on such a night should have been in harmony
with its quiet brilliancy. But here was a dark soul passing along,
making a small eclipse with his black shadow. The old man
stole towards the rendezvous of the " good people/' as some were
fond of calling them, anxiously looking out for the treasures which
he coveted. At length, when he had not advanced far on the
Gump, he heard music of the most ravishing kind. Its influence
was of a singularly mysterious character. As the notes were
The Fairy Revels on the "Gump" St Just. 99
solemn and slow, or quick and gay, the old man was moved from
tears to laughter ; and on more than one occasion he was com-
pelled to dance in obedience to the time. Notwithstanding that
he was almost bewildered by the whirling motion to which he was
compelled, the old man " kept his wits awake," and waited his
opportunity to seize some fairy treasure ; but as yet nothing
remarkable had presented itself. The music appeared to surround
him, and, as he thought, to come closer to him than it was at first ;
and although its sound led him to believe that the musicians were
on the surface, he was impressed with an idea that they were
really beneath the earth Eventually there was a crash of sound,
startling beyond description, and the hill before him opened. All
was now ablaze with variously-coloured lights. Every blade of
grass was hung with lamps, and every furze bush was illuminated
with stars Out from the opening in the hill marched a host of
spriggans, as if to clear the road. Then came an immense num-
ber of musicians playing on every kind of instrument. These were
followed by troop after troop of soldiers, each troop bearing aloft
their banner, which appeared to spread itself, to display its
blazonry, without the assistance of any breeze. All these arranged
themselves in order over the ground, some here and some there.
One thing was not at all to our friend's liking ; several hundreds
of the most grotesque of the spriggans placed themselves so as to
enclose the spot on which he was standing. Yet, as they were
none of them higher than his shoe-tic, he thought he could
" squash " them easily with his foot if they were up to any mis-
chief, and so he consoled himself. This vast array having disposed
of themselves, first came a crowd of servants bearing vessels of silver
and vessels of gold, goblets cut out of diamonds, rubies, and other
precious stones. There were others laden, almost to overflowing,
with the richest meats, pastry, preserves, and fruits. Presently the
ground was covered with tables and everything was arranged in
the most systematic order, — each party falling back as they dis-
posed of their burdens.
The brilliancy of the scene nearly overpowered the old man ;
but, when he was least prepared for it, the illumination became a
thousand times more intense. Out of the hill were crowding
thousands upon thousands of lovely ladies and gentlemen, arrayed
in the most costly attire. He thought there would be no end to
the coming crowd. By and by, however, the music suddenly
changed, and the harmonious sounds which fell upon his ears
appeared to give new life to every sense. His eyes were clearer,
his ears quicker, and his sense of smell more exquisite.
IOO Romances of the Fairies.
The odours of flowers, more delicious than any he had evei
smelt, filled the air. He saw, without any disturbing medium,
the brilliant beauty of the thousands of ladies who were now upon
the Gump ; and their voices were united in one gush of song,
which was clear as silver bells — a hymeneal symphony of the
utmost delicacy. The words were in a language unknown to him,
but he saw they were directed towards a new group now emerging
from the hill.
First came a great number of female children clothed in the
whitest gauze, strewing flowers on the Gump. These were not
dead or cut flowers, for the moment they touched the ground they
took root and grew. These were followed by an equally large
number of boys, holding in their hands shells which appeared to be
strung like harps, and from which they brought forth murmurs of
melody, such as angels only could hope to hear and live. Then
came — and there was no end to their coming — line upon line of
little men clothed in green and gold, and by and by a forest of
banners, which, at a signal, were all furled. Then, seated on
thrones, carried upon a platform above the heads of the men,
came a young prince and princess who blazed with beauty and
jewels, as if they were suns amidst a skyey host of stars. There
was much ceremonial marching to and fro, but eventually the
platform was placed upon a mound on the Gump, which was now
transformed into a hillock of roses and lilies ; and around this all
the ladies and gentlemen walked, bowing, and each one saying some-
thing to the princess and the prince, — passing onward and taking
their seats at the tables. Although no man could count the number
of this fairy host, there was no confusion ; all the ladies and gentle-
men found, as if by instinct, their places. When all were seated, a
signal was given by the prince ; servants in splendid liveries placed
tables crowded with gold-plate and good things on the platform,
and every one, the prince and princess included, began to feast with
a will. Well, thought the old man, now is my time ; if I could
only crawl up to the prince's table, I should have a catch sure
enough, and become a rich man for life. With his greedy mind
fixed on this one object, and unobservant of everything else, he
crouched down, as though by so doing he could escape ob-
servation, and very slowly and stealthily advanced amongst the
revellers. He never saw that thousands of spriggans had thrown
little strings about him, and that they still held the ends of the
threads. The presence of this selfish old mortal did not in any
way discompose the assembly ; they ate and drank and were as
merry as though no human eye was looking on them. The old
The Fairy Revels on the "Gump;1 St Just. IOI
man was wondrous cautious lest he should disturb the feasters,
consequently a long time was spent in getting, as he desired, to
the back of the mound. At length he reached the desired spot,
and, to his surprise, all was dark and gloomy behind him, but in
front of the mound all was a blaze of light. Crawling like a
serpent on his belly, trembling with anxiety, the old man advanced
close to the prince and princess. He was somewhat startled to
find, as he looked out over the mound, that every one of the
thousands of eyes in that multitude was fixed on his. He gazed
a while, all the time screwing his courage up ; then, as a boy who
would catch a butterfly, he took off his hat and carefully raised it,
so as to cover the prince, the princess, and their costly table, and,
when about to close it upon them, a shrill whistle was heard, the
old man's hand was fixed powerless in the air, and everything be-
came dark around him.
Whir ! whir ! whir ! as if a flight of bees were passing him,
buzzed in his ears. Every limb, from head to foot, was as if
stuck full of pins and pinched with tweezers. He could not move,
he was changed to the ground. By some means he had rolled
down the mound, and lay on his back with his arms outstretched,
arms and legs being secured by magic chains to the earth ; there-
fore, although he suffered great agony, he could not stir, and,
strange enough, his tongue appeared tied by cords, so that he
could not call. He had lain, no one can tell how long, in this
sad plight, when he felt as if a number of insects were running
over him, and by the light of the moon he saw standing on his
nose one of the spriggans, who looked exceedingly like a small
dragon-fly. This little monster stamped and jumped with great
delight ; and having had his own fun upon the elevated piece of
humanity, he laughed most outrageously, and shouted, " Away,
away, I smell the day ! " Upon this the army of small people,
who had taken possession of the old man's body, moved quickly
away, and left our discomfited hero alone on the Gump. Be-
wildered, or, as he said, bedevilled, he lay still to gather up his
thoughts. At length the sun arose, and then he found that he
had been tied to the ground by myriads of gossamer webs, which
were now covered with dew, and glistened like diamonds in the
sunshine.
He shook himself, and was free. He rose wet, cold, and
ashamed. Sulkily he made his way to his home. It was a long
time before his friends could learn from the old man where he
had passed the night, but, by slow degrees, they gathered the
story I have related to you.
IO2 Romances of the Fairies.
THE FAIRY FUNERAL.
THIS and two or three other bits of folk-lore were communi.
cated to the Athenceum by me, when Ambrose Merton (Mr
Thorns) solicited such contributions.
The parish church of Lelant is curiously situated amidst hills
of blown sand, near the entrance of the creek of Hayle. The
sandy waste around the church is called the Towen ; and this
place was long the scene of the midnight gambols of the Small
People. In the adjoining village — or, as it is called in Cornwall,
the " church-town " — lived an old woman who had been, accord-
ing to her own statement, a frequent witness to the use made by
the fairies of the Towen. Her husband, also, had seen some
extraordinary scenes on the same spot. From her — to me, oft-
repeated description — I get the following tale : — It was the fish-
ing season ; and Richard had been to St Ives for some fish. He
was returning, laden with pilchards, on a beautiful moonlight
night ; and as he ascended the hill from St Ives, he thought he
heard the bell of Lelant Church tolling. Upon a nearer approach,
he saw lights in the church ; and most distinctly did the bell
toll — not with its usual clear sound, but dull and heavy, as
if it had been muffled, scarcely awakening any echo. Richard
walked towards the church, and cautiously, but not without fear,
approaching one of the windows, looked in. At first he could not
perceive any one within, nor discover whence the light came by
which everything was so distinctly illuminated. At length he
saw, moving along the centre aisle, a funeral procession. The
little people who crowded the aisle, although they all looked very
sorrowful, were not dressed in any mourning garments — so far
irom it, they wore wreaths of little roses, and carried branches of
the blossoming myrtle. Richard beheld the bier borne between
six — whether men or women he could not tell — but he saw that
the face of the corpse was that of a beautiful female, smaller than
the smallest child's doll. It was, Richard said, " as if it were a
dead seraph," — so very lovely did it appear to him. The body
was covered with white flowers, and its hair, like gold threads,
was tangled amongst the blossoms. The body was placed within
the altar ; and then a large party of men, with picks and spades,
began to dig a little hole close by the sacramental table. Their
task being completed, others, with great care, removed the body
and placed it in the hole. The entire company crowded around,
eager to catch a parting glimpse of that beautiful corpse, ere yet
it was placed in the earth. As it was lowered into the ground,
Betty Stogs and Jan the Mounster. 103
they began to tear off their flowers and break their branches of
myrtle, crying, " Our queen is dead ! our queen is dead ! " At
length one of the men who had dug the grave threw a shovelful of
earth upon the body ; and the shriek of the fairy host so alarmed
Richard, that he involuntarily joined in it. In a moment, all
the lights were extinguished, and the fairies were heard flying in
great consternation in every direction. Many of them brushed
past the terrified man, and, shrieking, pierced him with sharp
instruments. He was compelled to save his life by the most rapid
flight.
THE FAIRY REVEL.
~D I CHARD also once witnessed a fairy revel in the Towen —
J-^- upon which tables were spread, with the utmost profusion of
gold and silver ornaments, and fruits and flowers. Richard, however,
according to the statement of " Aunt Alcey" (the name by which
his wife was familiarly called), very foolishly interrupted the feast
by some exclamation of surprise ; whereas, had he but touched the
end of a table with his finger, it would have been impossible for
the fairy host to have removed an article, as that which has been
touched by mortal fingers becomes to them accursed. As it was,
the lovely vision faded before the eyes of the astonished labourer.
BETTY STOGS AND JAN THE MOUNSTER.
IN the " high countries," as the parishes of Morva, Zennor, and
Towednack are called, there has long existed a tradition
that the children of dirty, lazy, " courseying " women are often
taken away by the Small People, carefully cleansed, and then re-
turned — of course all the more beautiful for being washed by the
fairies in morning-dew. This notion has evidently prevailed for
many ages, and, like many an old tradition, it has been remodelled
in each generation to adapt it to the conditions of the time. The
following is but slightly modified in its principal characteristics
from a story somewhat coarsely told, and greatly extended, by an
old woman in Morva. A woman, up the higher side, called
Betty Stogs, very nearly lost her baby a few months ago. Stogs
was only a nickname, but every one knew her by that and no
other. It was given to her because she was so untidy about the
feet and legs. She could not darn a hole in her stocking — the
lazy slut could never knit one. Betty was always pulling the legs
of her stockings down under her feet, that the holes in her heels
might not be seen — as long as the tops would come under the
IO4 Romances of the Fairies.
garter — and she often gartered half-way down the leg to meet the
necessities of the case. Betty was reared up in Towednack, at no
great distance from Wheal Reeth, at which Bal the old man, her
father, worked. He also fanned a few acres of land, and, " out
of core," he and his daughter worked on it. The old people used
to say — they wouldn't put the poor innocent chield to work to
Bal, for fear the great rough heathens from Lelant might overcome
her ; so they kept her at home, and the old man would brag how
his Betty could cut furze and turf. Instead of staying at home in
the evenings, Betty was always racing round the lanes to class -
meetings ; for she had been a " professor ever since she was a
chield." Betty was an only child, and the old people had saved a
little money, and they hoped some one " above the common "
would marry her. In Higher Side there lived a man called Jan
the Mounster (monster), and, tempted by the bit of money, he
resolved to lay himself out to catch Betty. Jan became a converted
character — he met in the same class with Betty, and expressed
himself as being "so fond of the means of grace." Things went on
in this way for some time, and it was found that Betty " had met
with a misfortune." The old people were now in a great hurry to
marry their daughter, and promised Jan money enough to buy a
set of cheene (china), and lots of beautiful dome (earthenware) ;
but Mounster required more than this, and fought off. He left the
"people," that he mightn't be read out. He said he was heartily
sick of the lot, told strange stories about their doings, and became
as bad a character as ever. Time advanced, and Betty's mother
— who was herself a wretchedly dirty woman, and, as people said,
too fond of the " drop of drink " — saw that she must lose no
chance of making her daughter an honest woman. So she went
to Penzance and bought a new bed — a real four-poster — a new
dresser, painted bright lead and liver colour — an eight-day clock,
in a painted mahogany case — a mass of beautiful dome — and a
glass milk- cup. When all these things were ranged in a cottage,
Jan was well enough pleased with them, and hung his " great
turnip of a watch " up in the middle of the dresser, to see how
it would look. When he had satisfied himself, he told the old
woman he would marry Betty out of hand, if she would give them
their great pretty, bright, warming-pan to hang opposite the door.
This was soon settled, and Jan the Mounster and Betty Stogs were
married.
In a little time the voice of a baby was heard in Jan's cottage,
but the poor child had no cradle, only a " costan" (a straw and
bramble basket) ; and, in addition to the ordinary causes of neglect,
Betty Stogs and Jan the Mounster. 105
another cause was introduced — Betty took to drink. A great,
nasty suss of a woman, who went about pretending to sell crochet-
work, but in reality to sell gin — which she kept in a bottle under
the dirty rags, which she called " the most beautiful croshar-work
collars and cuffs, that all the ladies in the towns and up the country
wear on Sundays and high holidays " — formed a close acquaintance
with Jan's wife. The result was, things went from bad to worse.
Jan was discontented, and went to Bal, and returned from Bal
always a sullen man. One day Betty had to bake some bread —
she had never before done so, as her mother had always attended
to that job. Jan had left his watch hanging to the dresser, that
Betty might know the time. All went well till the middle of the
day ; and, just as the bread was ready to put down, in came the
crochet-woman. First Betty had a noggin of gin — she then had
her fortune told — and because she was promised no end of good
luck and the handsomest children in the country, and Jan the best
luck in tribute-pitches, the kettle was boiled, and some pork fried
for the fortune-teller.
All this time the dough was forgotten, and it was getting sour
and heavy. At last, when the woman went away, the lump of
sour " leven " was put down to bake. The neglected child got
troublesome, and as Jan would be home early to supper, Betty was
in a great hurry to get things done. To quiet the child, she gave
it Jan's watch ; and, that it might be the better pleased, she
opened it, "that the dear chield might see the pretty little wheels
spinning round." In a short time the " machine " was thrown
down in the ashes, and it, of course, stopped. Betty, at last,
wished to know the time ; she then found the watch clogged full
of dirt. To put the thing to rights she washed it out in the kettle
of dish-water, which had not been changed for two or three days,
and was thick with salt pilchard-bones, and potato-skins. She
did her best to clean the watch, for she was now terribly afraid of
Jan, and she wiped all the little wheels, as far as she could reach,
with the corner of the dishcloth, but the confounded thing would
not go. She had to bake the bread by guess ; and, therefore, when
she took it up, it was as black as soot, and as hard as a stone.
Jan came home ; and you may judge the temper he was in at
finding things as they were, and his watch stopped. Betty swore
to the deepest that she had never taken the thing into her hands.
Next morning Jan got up early to go to Bal ; and taking the burnt
loaf, he tried to cut it with a knife, but it was in vain — as well try
to cut a stone ; next he tried the dag (axe), and Mounster said it
strook fire, and the dag never made the least mark in the crust.
io6 Romances of the Fairies.
The poor fellow had to go to his work without his breakfast, and
to depend upon the share of a comrade's fuggun for dinner.
Next day, Friday, was pay-day, and Jan having got his pay,
went to St Ives for bread, and took the precious watch with him
to be set to rights. The watchmaker soon found out the complaint ;
here was a bit of fish-bone, there a piece of potato-paring ; in one
tooth a piece of worsted from a dishcloth, in another a particle of
straw, and ashes everywhere.
The murder was out ; and that night Jan, having first drunk to
excess in St Ives, went home and nearly murdered his wife. From
this time Jan was drunk every day, and Betty was so as often as
she could get gin. The poor child was left half the day to suck
his thumbs, and to tumble and toss on the filthy rags in the old
costan, without any one to look after it.
One day Betty was in a " courseying " mood, and went from
house to house, wherever she could find a woman idle enough to
gossip with her. Betty stayed away till dark — it was Jan's last
core by day — and the poor child was left all alone.
When she came home she was surprised not to hear the child,
but she thought it might have cried itself to sleep, and was not
concerned. At last, having lit the candle, she looked in the cos-
tan, and there was no child to be seen. Betty searched about, in
and out, every place she could think of ; still there were no signs
of the child. This pretty well sobered Betty, and she remembered
that she had to unlock the door to get into the cottage.
While yet full of fear and trembling to meet her husband, Jan
came home from Bal. He was, of course, told that his " croom
of a chield was lost." He didn't believe a word of what Betty
told him, but he went about and called up all the neighbours, who
joined him in the search. They spent the night in examining
every spot around the house and in the village — all in vain.
After daybreak they were all assembled in deep and earnest
consultation, when the cat came running into the house, with her
tail on end, and mewing anxiously. She ran forth and back
round a brake of furze, constantly crying, as if she wished the
people to follow her. After a long time some one thought of
going after the cat, and in the middle of the furze-brake, on a
beautiful green, soft spot of mossy grass, was the baby sleeping, " as
sweet as a little nut," wrapped carefully up in some old dry gowns,
and all its clothes clean and dry. When they unwrapped the
child, they found he was covered over with bright flowers, as we
place them round a babe in the coffin. He had a bunch of violets
in his dear little hands, and there were wallflowers and primroses,
The Four-Leaved Clover. 107
and balm and mint spread over his body. The furze was high
all around, so that no cold wind could reach the infant. Every
one declared that the child never looked so handsome before. It
was plain enough, said the old women, that the Small People had
taken the child and washed it from top to toe ; that their task of
cleansing the babe was a long one, and that the sun arose before
they could finish it ; that they had placed the child where it was
found, intending to take it away the next night.
They were never known to come for the babe, but every one said
that this affair worked a great change in Betty Stogs and in Jan
the Mounster. The cottage was kept tidy, the child clean ; and its
father and mother drank less, and lived happier, for ever afterwards.
THE FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.
NOT many years since a farmer lived in Bosfrancan in St
Burrien, who had a very fine red-and-white cow called
Daisey. The cow was always fat, with her dewlaps and udder
sweeping the grass. Daisey held her milk from calf to calf; had
an udder like a bucket, yet she would never yield more than a
gallon or so of milk, when one might plainly see that she had still
at least two gallons more in her udder. All at once, when the
milk was in full flow, she would give a gentle bleat, cock up her
ears, and the milk would stop at once. If the milkmaid tried to
get any more from her after that, she would up foot, kick the
bucket, and spill all the milk, yet stand as still as a stock, and
keep chewing her cud all the time. Everybody would have
thought the cow bewitched, if she hadn't been always fat and held
her milk all the year round ; besides, everything prospered with
the farmer, and all the other cows had more milk than any of the
neighbours'. No one could tell what the deuce could be the
matter with Daisey ; and they tried to drive her to Burrien
Church-town fair, that they might be rid of her, as she was always
fit for the butchers. All the men and boys on the farm couldn't
get her to Church-town. As fast as they drove her up Alsie Lane,
she would take down Cotneywilley, through by the Crean, down
the Bottoms, and up the Gilley, and be in the field again before
the men and boys would be half way home.
One midsummer's day in the evening, the maid was later than
usual milking, as she had been down to Penberth to the games.
The stars were beginning to blink when she finished her task.
Daisey was the last cow milked, and the bucket was so full
she could scarcely lift it to her head. Before rising from the
io8 Romances of the Fairies.
milking- stool, the maid plucked up a handful of grass and clover
to put in the head of her hat, that she might carry the bucket the
steadier. She had no sooner placed the hat on her head, than
she saw hundreds and thousands of Small People swarming in all
directions about the cow, and dipping their hands into the milk,
taking it out on the clover blossoms and sucking them. The grass
and clover, all in blossom, reached to the cow's belly. Hundreds
of the little creatures ran up the long grass and clover stems, with
buttercups, lady's smocks, convolvuluses, and foxglove flowers,
to catch the milk that Daisey let flow from her four teats, like a
shower, among them. Right under the cow's udder the maid
saw one much larger than the others lying on his back, with his
heels cocked up to the cow's belly. She knew he must be a
Piskie, because he was laughing, with his mouth open from ear to
ear. The little ones were running up*and down his legs, filling
their cups, and emptying them into the Piskie's mouth. Hundreds
of others were on Daisey's back, scratching her rump, and tickling
her round the horns and behind the ears. Others were smooth-
ing down every hair of her shining coat into its place.
The milkmaid wasn't much startled to see them, as she had
so often heard of fairies, and rather wished to see them. She
could have stayed for hours, she said, to look at them dancing
about among the clover, which they hardly bent any more than
the dew-drops.
The cows were in the field called Park-an-Ventan, close under
the house. Her mistress came out into the garden between the
field and the house, and called to know what was keeping the
maid so long. When the maid told what she had seen, her mis-
tress said she couldn't believe her unless she had found a four-leaved
grass. Then the maid thought of the handful of grass in the
head of her hat. In looking it over by the candlelight, she found
a bunch of three-leaved grass, and one stem with four leaves.
They knew that it was nothing strange that she should see the
Small People, but they didn't know what plan to take to get rid
of them, so that they might have the whole of Daisey's milk, till the
mistress told her mother about it. Her mother was a very notable
old dame, who lived in Church-town. The old woman knew all
about witches, fairies, and such things ; was noted for being a
sharp, careful old body ; for when she happened to break the eye
of her stocking darning-needle, she would take it to the blacksmith
that he might put a new eye to it. The smith always charged her
twopence. She would rather pay that than throw it away.
Our Betty told her daughter that everybody knowed that the
The Fairy Ointment. 109
Small People couldn't abide the smell of fish, nor the savour of
salt or grease ; and advised her to rub the cow's udder with fish
brine to drive the Small People away. Well, she did what her
mammy told her to do. Better she had let it alone. From that
time Daisey would yield all her milk, but she hadn't the half, nor
quarter, so much as before, but took up her udder, so that one
could hardly see it below her flanks. Every evening, as soon as
the stars began to twinkle, the cow would go round the fields
bleating and crying as if she had lost her calf; she became hair-
pitched, and pined away to skin and bone before the next Burrien
fair, when she was driven to Church-town and sold for next to
nothing. I don't know what became of her afterwards ; but
nothing throve with the farmer, after his wife had driven the Small
People away, as it did before.
THE FAIRY OINTMENT.
MANY years since, there lived as housekeeper with a cele-
brated squire, whose name is associated with the history
of his native country, one Nancy Tregier. There were many
peculiarities about Nancy ; and she was, being a favourite with
her master, allowed to do much as she pleased. She was in fact
a petted, and, consequently, a spoiled servant. Nancy left Pen-
deen one Saturday afternoon to walk to Penzance, for the purpose
of buying a pair of shoes. There was an old woman, Jenny
Trayer, living in Pendeen Cove — who had the reputation of being
a witch — or, as some people mildly put it, "who had strange
dealings ; " and with her Nancy desired, for sundry reasons best
known to herself, to keep on the closest of terms. So on this
Saturday, Nancy first called on the old woman to inquire if she
wished to have anything brought home from Penzance. Tom, the
husband of Nancy's friend, did no work ; but now and then he
would go to sea for an hour or two and fish. It is true everybody
gave Jenny just what she asked for her fish, out of pure fear.
Sometimes they had a ** venture " with the smugglers, who, in
those days, carried on a roaring trade in Pendeen Cove. The old
Squire was a justice ; but he winked very hard, and didn't know
anything about the smugglers. Indeed, some ill-natured people —
and there are always such to be found in any nook or corner-
said Nancy often took her master home a choice bottle of Cogniac ;
even a case of " Hollands " now and then ; and, especially when
there was to be a particularly " great run," there were some beau-
tiful silk handkerchiefs to be seen at the Squire's. But this is
no Romances of the Fairies.
beyond our story. When Nancy went into Jenny's cottage, Tom
was there, and right busy was she in preparing some ointment,
and touching her husband's eyes with it : this Jenny tried to hide
in the mouth of the oven at the side of the chimney. Tom got up
and said he must be off, and left the two women together. After
a few idle compliments, Jenny said that Nancy must have some-
thing to drink before she started for Penzance, and she went
to the spence for the bottles. Nancy, ever curious, seized the
moment, dipped her finger into the pot of green ointment, and,
thinking it was good for the eyes, she just touched her right eye
with it before Jenny returned. They then took a horn or two
together, and being thus spliced, Nancy started for Penzance.
Penzance Market was in those days entirely in the street ; even
the old market-house had not yet an existence. Nancy walked
about doing a little business and a great deal of gossiping ; when
amongst the standings in Market -Jew Street, whom should Nancy
see but Tom Trayer, picking off the standings, shoes, stockings,
hanks of yarn, and pewter spoons — indeed, some of all the sorts
of things which were for sale. Nancy walked up to him, and,
taking him by the arm, said, " Tom ! ar'then't ashamed to be here
carrying on such a game? However thee canst have the im-
pudence, I can't think, to be picking the things from the standings
and putting them in thy pocket in broad daylight, and the people
all around thee." Tom looked very much surprised when Nancy
spoke to him. At last he said, " Is that you, Nancy ? — which eye
can you see me upon ? " Nancy shut her left eye, this made no
difference ; she then shut her right eye, and, greatly to her sur-
prise, she saw all the people, but she no longer saw Tom. She
opened her right eye, and there was Tom as before. She winked,
and winked, and was surprised, you may be sure, to find that she
could not see Tom with either eye. " Now, Nancy," said Tom,
" right or left." " Well," said Nancy, " 'tis strange ; but there is
something wrong with my left eye." *
" Oh, then, you see me with the right, do you ? "
Then Tom put his finger on her right eye, and from that
moment she was blind on that side.
On her way home, Nancy was always going off the road on
her blind side ; but the hedges kept her from wandering far away.
On the downs near Pendeen there were no hedges, so Nancy
wandered into a furze brake, — night came on, she could not find
her way out, and she was found in it the next morning fast asleep.
* The tale, " Nursing a Fairy," p. 83, where a similar incident occurs, will be
remembered.
How Joan Lost the Sight of her Eye. 1 1 1
The old Squire was out hunting in the early morning, according
to his usual custom. In passing along the road leading to Carn-
yorth, he saw a woman's knitting-work hanging on a bramble, and
the yarn from the stocking leading away into the brake. He took
the yarn in his hand and followed it until he came to the old
woman, who had the ball in her pocket. When the Squire
awakened the old woman, she told him the story which I have
told you. Her master, however, said that he didn't believe she
had been into Penzance at all, but that she had stayed in the
Cove and got drunk : that when dark night came, she had endea-
voured to find her way home, — lost her road, — fallen down, and
probed her eye out on a furze bush, and then gone off in drunken
unconsciousness. Nancy told her master that he was no better
than an unbelieving heathen ; and to the day of her death she
protested that Tom Trayer put her eye out. Jenny's ointment is
said to have been made with a four-leaved clover, gathered at a
certain time of the moon. This rendered Fairyland visible, and
made men invisible.
Another version of this story, varying in a few details, was
given me by a gentleman, a native of St Levan. It is as
follows : —
HOW JOAN LOST THE SIGHT OF HER EYE.
JOAN was housekeeper to Squire Lovell, and was celebrated for her
beautiful knitting. One Saturday afternoon Joan wished to go to
Penzance to buy a pair of shoes for herself, and some things for the Squire.
So the weather being particularly fine, away she trudged.
Joan dearly loved a bit of gossip, and always sought for company. She
knew Betty Trenance was always ready for a jaunt : to be sure, everybody
said Betty was a witch ; but, says Joan, " Witch or no witch, she shall go ;
bad company is better than none."
Away went Joan to Lemorna, where Betty lived. Arrived at Betty's
cottage, she peeped through the latch-hole (the finger-hole), and saw Betty
rubbing some green ointment on the children's eyes. She watched till
Betty Trenance had finished, and noticed that she put the salve on the
inner end of the chimney stool, and covered it over with a rag.
Joan went in, and Betty was delighted, sure enough, to see her, and sent
the children out of the way. But Betty couldn't walk to Penzance, she
was suffering pain, and she had been taking milk and suet, and brandy
and rue, and she must have some more. So away went Betty to the othei
room for the bottle.
Joan seized the moment, and taking a very small bit of the ointment on
her finger, she touched her right eye with it. Betty came with the bottle,
112 Romances of the Fairies.
and Joan had a drink ; when she looked round she was surprised to see
the house swarming with small people. They were playing all sorts of
pranks on the key-beams and rafters. Some were swinging on cobwebs,
some were riding the mice, and others were chasing them into and out of
the holes in the thatch. Joan was surprised at the sight, and thought she
must have a four-leaved clover about her.
However, without stopping to take much drink, she started alone for
Penzance. She had wasted, as it was, so much time, that it was nearly
dark when she reached the market.
After having made her purchases, and as she was about to leave the
market, who should Joan spy but Betty's husband, Tom Trenance. There
he was, stealing about in the shadows, picking from the standings, shoes
and stockings from one, hanks of yarn from another, pewter spoons from a
third, and so on. He stuffed these things into capacious pockets, and yet
no one appeared to notice Tom.
Joan went forth to him.
" Aren't ye ashamed to be here in the dark carrying on such a game ?"
" Is that you, Dame Joan," says Tom ; "which eye can you see me
upon?"
After winking, Joan said she could see Tom plain enough with her
right eye.
She had no sooner said the word than Tom Trenance pointed his finger
to her eye, and she lost the sight of it from that hour.
" The work of the world " had Joan to find her way out of Penzance.
She couldn't keep the road, she was always tumbling into the ditch on her
blind side. When near the Fawgan, poor Joan, who was so weary that she
could scarcely drag one leg after the other, prayed that she might find a
quiet old horse on which she might ride home.
Her desire was instantly granted. There, by the roadside, stood an old,
bony white horse, spanned with its halter.
Joan untied the halter from the legs and placed it on the head of the
horse ; she got on the hedge, and seated herself on the horse's back.
There she was mounted, "Gee wup, gee wup ; k'up, k'up, k'up."
The horse would not budge. Busy were Joan's heels rattling against the
ribs of the poor horse, and thwack, thwack went a thorn-stick over his tail,
and by and by the old blind brute began to walk. Joan beat, and kicked,
and k'uped, and coaxed, the horse went but little faster until it got to the
top of the hill.
Then away, away, like the wind it went through Toldava Lanes, a^d it
swelled out until the horse became as high as the tower. Over hedges nd
ditches, across all the corners that came into the road, on went the hoi \
Joan held on by the mane with both hands, and shouted, " Woa ! wot
woey ! " until she could shout no longer.
At length they came to Toldava Moor; the "ugly brute" took right
The Old Woman who Turned her Shift. 113
away down towards the fowling-pool, when Joan, fearing he might plunge
in and drown her, let go her hold.
The wind was blowing so strong, and the pair were going so fast against
it, that Joan was lifted off, over the hindquarters of the horse, and by luck
she fell soft on the rushes at the very edge of the fowling-pool.
When she looked up, Joan saw whatever she had been riding going
down the "bottom" in a blaze of fire, and the devil riding after, with
lots of men, horses, and hounds, all without heads. All the marketing
was lost ; and in getting through the bogs, Joan had her shoes dragged
from her feet. At last she got to Trove Bottoms, and seeing the Bouge
(sheep-house), she clambered over the hedge as she best could ; got into it,
and laying herself down amongst the sheep, she soon fell fast asleep,
thoroughly wearied out.
She would have slept for a week, I believe, if she had not been disturbed.
But, according to custom on Sunday morning, the Squire and his boys
came out to the Downs to span the sheep, and there, greatly to their sur-
prise, they found her.
They got the miserable woman home between them. The Squire
charged her with having got drunk, and said her eye had been scratched
out by a furze-bush ; but Joan never wandered from her story, and to the
day of her death she told it to all young women, warning them never to
meddle with " Fairy Salve."
THE OLD WOMAN WHO TURNED HER SHIFT.
IN a lone house — situated not far from the hill on which now
stands Knill's Steeple, as it is called — which was then known
as Chyanwheal, or the House on the Mine, lived a lone woman, the
widow of a miner, said to have been killed in one of the very
ancient " coffens," as the open mine-workings existing in this hill
are termed. A village now bears this name, but it has derived it
from this lone house. Whether it was that they presumed upon
her solitude, or whether the old lady had given them some induce-
ment, is not now known, but the spriggans of Trencrom Hill were in
the habit of meeting almost every night in her cottage to divide their
plunder. The old woman usually slept, or at least she pretended
to sleep, during the visit of the spriggans. When they left, they
always placed a small coin on the table by her bedside, and with
this indeed the old woman was enabled to provide herself with
not merely the necessaries of life, but to add thereto a few of
those things which were luxuries to one in her position. The old
lady, however, was not satisfied with this. She resolved to bide
her time, and when the spriggans had an unusually large amount
H
1 1 4 Romances of the Fairies.
of plunder, to make herself rich at once and for ever at their
expense. Such a time at last arrived. The spriggans had gath-
ered, we know not how much valuable gold and jewellery. It
gleamed and glistened on the floor, and the old woman in bed
looked on with a most covetous eye. After a while, it appears,
the spriggans were not able to settle the question of division with
their usual amicability. The little thieves began to quarrel
amongst themselves.
Now, thought the old woman, is my time. Therefore huddling
herself up under the bedclothes, she very adroitly contrived to
turn her shift, and having completed the unfailing charm, she
jumped from her bed, placed her hand on a gold cup, and ex-
claimed, " Thee shusn't hae one on 'em ! "
In affright the spriggans all scampered away, leaving their
stolen treasure behind them. The last and boldest of the sprig-
gans, however, swept his hand over the old woman's only garment
as he left the house. The old woman, now wealthy, removed in
a little time from Chyanwheal to St Ives, and, to the surprise of
every one, purchased property and lived like a gentlewoman.
Whenever, however, she put on the shift which had secured her
her wealth, she was tortured beyond endurance. The doctors and
all the learned people used hard names to describe her pains, but
the wise women knew all along that they came of the spriggans.
THE FAIRY WIDOWER.
NOT many years since a very pretty girl called Jenny Permuen
lived in Towednack. She was of poor parents, and lived
in service. There was a good deal of romance, or what the old
people called nonsense, in Jenny. She was always smartly
dressed, and she would arrange wildflowers very gracefully in her
hair. As a consequence, Jenny attracted much of the attention
of the young men, and again, as a consequence, a great deal of
envy from the young women. Jenny was, no doubt, vain ; and
her vanity, which most vain persons will say is not usual, was ac-
companied by a considerable amount of weakness on any point
connected with her person. Jenny loved flattery, and being a
poor, uneducated girl, she had not the genius necessary to disguise
her frailty. When any man told her she was lovely, she quite
admitted the truth of the assertion by her pleased looks. When
any woman told her not to be such a fool as to believe such non-
sense, her lips, and eyes too, seemed to say you are only jealous
of me, and if there was a pool of water near, nature's mirror was
The Fairy Widower. 115
speedily consulted to prove to herself that she was really the best-
looking girl in the parish. Well, one day Jenny, who had been
for some time out of a situation, was sent by her mother down to
the lower parishes to " look for a place." Jenny went on merrily
enough until she came to the four cross roads on the Lady Downs,
when she discovered that she knew not which road to take. She
looked first one way and then another, and she felt fairly puzzled,
so she sat down on a boulder of granite, and began, in pure want
of thought, to break off the beautiful fronds of ferns which grew
abundantly around the spot she had chosen. It is hard to say
what her intentions were, whether to go on, to return, or to remain
where she was, so utterly indifferent did Jenny appear. Some say
she was entirely lost in wild dreams of self-glorification. How-
ever, she had not sat long on this granite stone, when hearing a
voice near her, she turned round and saw a young man.
" Well, young woman," says he, " and what are you after ? "
" I am after a place, sir," says she.
" And what kind of a place do you want, my pretty young
woman ? " says he, with the most winning smile in the world.
" I am not particular, sir," says Jenny ; "I can make myself
generally useful."
" Indeed," says the stranger ; " do you think you could look
after a widower with one little boy ? "
" I am very fond of children," says Jenny.
" Well, then," says the widower, " I wish to hire for a year and
a day a young woman of your age, to take charge of my little boy."
" And where do you live ? " inquired Jenny.
"Not far from here," said the man ; " will you go with me
and see ? "
" An it please you to show me," said Jenny.
" But first, Jenny Permuen," — Jenny stared when she found the
stranger knew her name. He was evidently an entire stranger in
the parish, and how could he have learnt her name, she thought.
So she looked at him somewhat astonished. " Oh ! I see, you
suppose I didn't know you ; but do you think a young widower
could pass through Towednack and not be struck with such a
pretty girl ? Beside," he said, " I watched you one day dressing
your hair in one of my ponds, and stealing some of my sweet-
scented violets to put in those lovely tresses. Now, Jenny Per-
muen, will you take the place ? "
" For a year and a day ? " asked Jenny.
" Yes, and if we are pleased with each other tliQn, we can renew
the engagement."
1 1 6 Romances of the Fairies.
" Wages," said Jenny.
The widower rattled the gold in his breeches-pocket.
" Wages ! well, whatever you like to ask," said the man.
Jenny was charmed ; all sorts of visions rose before her eyes,
and without hesitation she said —
" Well, I '11 take the place, sir ; when must I come ? "
" I require you now — my little boy is very unhappy, and I
think you can make him happy again. You '11 come at once ? "
" But mother "
" Never mind mother, I '11 send word to her."
" But my clothes"
" The clothes you have will be all you require, and I '11 put you
in a much gayer livery soon."
" Well, then," says Jane, " 'tis a bargain "
" Not yet," says the man ; I 've got a way of my own, and you
must swear my oath."
Jenny looked frightened.
" You need not be alarmed," said the man, very kindly ; " I
only wish you to kiss that fern-leaf which you have in your hand,
and say, * For a year and a day I promise to stay.' "
" Is that all ? " said Jenny ; so she kissed the fern-leaf and
said —
" For a year and a day
I promise to stay."
Without another word he walked forward on the road leading
eastward. Jenny followed him — she thought it strange that her
new master never opened his lips to her all the way, and she grew
very tired with walking. Still onward and onward he went, and
Jenny was sadly weary and her feet dreadfully sore. At last poor
Jenny began to cry. He heard her sob and looked round.
" Tired are you, poor girl? Sit down — sit down," says the man,
and he took her by the hand and led her to a mossy bank. His
kindness completely overcame her, and she burst into a flood of
tears. He allowed her to cry for a few minutes, then taking a
bunch of leaves from the bottom of the bank, he said, " Now I
must dry your eyes, Jenny."
He passed the bunch of leaves rapidly first over one and then
over the other eye.
The tears were gone. Her weariness had departed. She felt
herself moving, yet she did not know that she had moved from the
bank. The ground appeared to open, and they were passing very
rapidly under the earth. At last there was a pause.
The Fairy Widower. 117
" Here we are, Jenny," said he, " there is yet a tear of sorrow
on your eyelids, and no human tears can enter our homes, let me
wipe them away." Again Jenny's eyes were brushed with the
small leaves as before, and, lo ! before her was such a country as
she had never seen previously. Hill and valley were covered
with flowers, strangely varied in colour, but combining into a mosf
harmonious whole ; so that the region appeared sown with gems
which glittered in a light as brilliant as that of the summer sun,
yet as mild as the moonlight. There were rivers clearer than any
water she had ever seen on the granite hills, and waterfalls and
fountains ; while everywhere ladies and gentlemen dressed in green
and gold were walking, or sporting, or reposing on banks of flowers,
singing songs or telling stories. Oh ! it was a beautiful world.
" Here we are at home," said Jenny's master ; and strangely
enough he too was changed ; he was the most beautiful little man
she had ever seen, and he wore a green silken coat covered with
ornaments of gold. " Now," said he again, " I must introduce
you to your little charge." He led Jenny into a noble mansion in
which all the furniture was of pearl and ivory, inlaid with gold and
silver, and studded with emeralds. After passing through many
rooms, they came at length to one which was hung all over with
lace, as fine as the finest cobweb, most beautifully worked with
flowers ; and, in the middle of this room was a little cot made
out of some beautiful sea-shell, which reflected so many colours
that Jenny could scarcely bear to look at it. She was led to the
side of this, and she saw, as she said, " One of God's sweetest
angels sleeping there." The little boy was so beautiful that she
was ravished with delight.
" This is your charge," said the father ; " I am the king in
this land, and I have my own reasons for wishing my boy to
know something of human nature. Now you have nothing to do
but to wash and dress the boy when he wakes, to take him to
walk in the garden, and to put him to bed when he is weary."
Jenny entered on her duties, and gave, and continued to give,
satisfaction. She loved the darling little boy, and he appeared to
love her, and the time passed away with astonishing rapidity.
Somehow or other she had never thought of her mother. She
had never thought of her home at all. She was happy and in
luxury, and never reckoned the passing of time.
Howsoever happiness may blind us to the fact, the hours and
days move onward. The period for which Jenny had bound her-
self was gone, and one morning she awoke and all was changed.
She was sleeping in her own bed in her mother's^ cottage. Every-
1 1 8 Romances of the Fairies.
thing was strange to her, and she appeared strange to everybody.
Numerous old gossips were called in to see Jenny, and to all
Jenny told her strange tale alike. One day, old Mary Calineck of
Zennor came, and she heard, as all the others had done, the story
of the widower, and the baby, and the beautiful country. Some
of the old crones who were there at the time said the girl was
" gone clean daft." Mary looked very wise — " Crook your arm,
Jenny," said she.
Jenny sat up in the bed and bent her arm, resting her hand on
her hip.
" Now say, I hope my arm may never come uncrooked if I have
told ye a word of a lie."
" I hope my arm may never come uncrooked if I have told ye
a word of a lie," repeated Jenny.
" Uncrook your arm," said Mary.
Jenny stretched out her arm.
" It is truth the girl is telling," said Mary; " and she has been
carried by the Small People to some of their countries under the
hills."
" Will the girl ever come right in her mind ? " asked her
mother.
" All in good time," said Mary; " and if she will but be honest,
I have no doubt but her master will take care that she never
wants."
Howbeit, Jenny did not get on very well in the world. She
married and was discontented and far from happy. Some said she
always pined after the fairy widower. Others said they were sure
she had misbehaved herself, or she would have brought back lots
of gold. If Jenny had not dreamt all this, while she was sitting
picking ferns on the granite boulder, she had certainly had a very
strange adventure.
THE SMALL PEOPLE'S GARDENS.
IF the adventurous traveller who visits the Land's End district
will go down as far as he can on the south-west side of the
Logan Rock Cairn, and look over, he will see, in little sheltered
places between the cairns, close down to the water's edge, beauti-
fully green spots, with here and there some ferns and cliff-pinks.
These are the gardens of the Small People, or, as they are called
by the natives, Small Folk. They are beautiful little creatures,
who appear to pass a life of constant enjoyment amongst their
own favourite flowers. They are harmless ; and if man does not
St Levan Fairies. 119
meddle with them when they are holding their fairs — which are
indeed high festivals — the Small Folk never interfere with man or
anything belonging to him. They are known to do much good,
especially when they discover a case of oppressed poverty; but
they do it in their own way. They love to do good for its own
sake, and the publication of it in any way draws down their cen-
sure, and sometimes severe anger, on the object whom it was their
purpose to serve. To prove that those lovely little creatures are
no dream, I may quote the words of a native of St Levan :—
" As I was saying, when I have been to sea close under the
cliffs, of a fine summer's night, I have heard the sweetest of music,
and seen hundreds of little lights moving about amongst what
looked like flowers. Ay ! and they are flowers too, for you may
smell the sweet scent far out at sea. Indeed, I have heard many
of the old men say, that they have smelt the sweet perfume, and
heard the music from the fairy gardens of the Castle, when more
than a mile from the shore." Strangely enough, you can find no
flowers but the sea-pinks in these lovely green places by day, yet
they have been described by those who have seen them in the
midsummer moonlight as being covered with flowers of every
colour, all of them far more brilliant than any blossoms seen in
any mortal garden.
ST LEVAN FAIRIES.
YEARS since — the time is past now — the green outside the
gate at the end of Trezidder Lane was a favourite place with
the Small Folks on which to hold their fairs. One might often see
the rings in the grass which they made in dancing, where they
footed it. Mr Trezillian was returning late one night from
Penzance ; when he came near the gate, he saw a number of little
creatures spinning round and round. The sight made him light-
headed, but he could not resist the desire to be amongst them, so
he got off his horse. In a moment they were all over him like
a swarm of bees, and he felt as if they were sticking needles and
pins into him. His horse ran off, and he didn't know what to do,
till, by good luck, he thought of what he had often heard, so he
turned his glove inside out, threw it amongst the Small Folk, and
ere the glove reached the ground they were all gone. Mr Trezillian
had now to find his horse, and the Small Folk, still determining
to lead him a dance, bewildered him. He was piskie-led, and he
could not find out where he was until broad daylight. Then he
saw he was not a hundred yards from the place^at which he had
1 20 Romances of the Fairies.
left his horse. On looking round the spot where he had seen the
Small Folk dancing, he found a pair of very small silver knee-
buckles of a most ancient shape, which, no doubt, some little
gentleman must have lost when he was punishing the farmer.
Those who knew the families will well remember the little silver
buckles, which were kept for some time at Trezidder and some
time at Raftra.
Down in Penberth Cove lived an old woman who was an espe-
cial favourite with these little people. She was a good old crea-
ture, and had been for many years bedridden. These Small Folk
were her only company. Her relations dropped in once a day,
rendered her the little aid she required, and left food by the bed-
side. But day by day, and all the day long, the Small Folk vied
with each other to amuse her. The men, she related, were for
the most part dressed in green, with a red or a blue cap and a
feather — " They look for all the world like little sodgers." As for
the ladies — you should have heard the old woman tell of the gay
ladies, with their feathers, hooped petticoats with furbelows, trains,
and fans, and what saucy little creatures they were with the men !
No sooner was the old woman left alone than in they came and
began their frolics, dancing over the rafters and key-beams,
swinging by the cobwebs like rope-dancers, catching the mice and
riding them in and out through the holes in the thatch. When
one party got tired another party came, and by daylight, and even
by moonlight, the old bedridden creature never wanted amuse-
ment.
THE ADVENTURE OF CHERRY OF ZENNOR.
THIS may be regarded as another version of the story of the
Fairy Widower : — Old Honey lived with his wife and family
in a little hut of two rooms and a " talfat," * on the cliff side of
Trereen in Zennor. The old couple had half-a-score of children,
who were all reared in this place. They lived as they best could
on the produce of a few acres of ground, which were too poor to
keep even a goat in good heart. The heaps of crogans (limpet-
shells) about the hut, led one to believe that their chief food was
limpets and gweans (periwinkles). They had, however, fish and
potatoes most days, and pork and broth now and then of a Sun-
day. At Christmas and the Feast they had white bread. There
was not a healthier nor a handsomer family in the parish than Old
Honey's. We are, however, only concerned with one of them — his
* Talfat is a half-floor at one end of a cottage on which a bed is placed.
The Adventure of Cherry of Zennor. 1 2 1
daughter Cherry. Cherry could run as fast as a hare, and was
ever full of frolic and mischief.
Whenever the miller's boy came into the " town," tied his
horse to the furze-rick and called in to see if any one desired to
send corn to the mill, Cherry would jump on to its back and
gallop off to the cliff. When the miller's boy gave chase, and she
could ride no further over the edge of that rocky coast, she would
take to the cairns, and the swiftest dog could not catch her, much
less the miller's boy.
Soon after Cherry got into her teens she became very discon-
tented, because year after year her mother had been promising her
a new frock that she might go off as smart as the rest, " three on
one horse to Morva Fair." * As certain as the time came round
the money was wanting, so Cherry had nothing decent. She
could neither go to fair, nor to church, nor to meeting.
Cherry was sixteen. One of her playmates had a new dress
smartly trimmed with ribbons, and she told Cherry how she had
been to Nancledry to the preaching, and how she had ever so
many sweethearts who brought her home. This put the volatile
Cherry in a fever of desire. She declared to her mother she would
go off to the " low countries "t to seek for service, that she might
get some clothes like other girls.
Her mother wished her to go to Towednack, that she might
have the chance of seeing her now and then of a Sunday.
" No, no ! " said Cherry, " 1 711 never go to live in the parish
where the cow ate the bell-rope, and where they have fish and
taties (potatoes) every day, and conger-pie of a Sunday for a
change."
One fine morning Cherry tied up a few things in a bundle and
prepared to start. She promised her father that she would get
service as near home as she could, and come home at the earliest
opportunity. The old man said she was bewitched, charged her
to take care she wasn't carried away by either the sailors or
pirates, and allowed her to depart. Cherry took the road leading
to Ludgvan and Gulval. When she lost sight of the chimneys of
Trereen, she go out of heart, and had a great mind to go home
again. But she went on.
At length she came to the four cross roads on the Lady
Downs, sat herself down on a stone by the roadside, and cried to
think of her home, which she might never see again.
* A Cornish proverb.
t The terms "high "and " low countries," are applied respectively to the hills and
the valleys of the country about Towednack and Zennor.
122 Romances of the Fairies.
Her crying at last came to an end, and she resolved to go home
and make the best of it.
When she dried her eyes and held up her head she was sur-
prised to see a gentleman coming towards her ; — for she couldn't
think where he came from ; no one was to be seen on the Downs
a few minutes before.
The gentleman wished her " Good morning," inquired the road
to Towednack, and asked Cherry where she was going.
Cherry told the gentleman that she had left home that morning
to look for service, but that her heart had failed her, and she was
going back over the hills to Zennor again.
"I never expected to meet with such luck as this/' said the gen-
tleman. " I left home this morning to seek for a nice clean girl
to keep house for me, and here you are."
He then told Cherry that he had been recently left a widower,
and that he had one dear little boy, of whom Cherry might have
charge. Cherry was the very girl that would suit him. She was
handsome and cleanly. He could see that her clothes were so
mended that the first piece could not be discovered ; yet she was
as sweet as a rose, and all the water in the sea could not make
her cleaner. Poor Cherry said " Yes, sir," to everything, yet she
did not understand one quarter part of what the gentleman said.
Her mother had instructed her to say " Yes, sir," to the parson,
or any gentleman, when, like herself, she did not understand them.
The gentleman told her he lived but a short way off, down in
the low countries ; that she would have very little to do but milk
the cow and look after the baby ; so Cherry consented to go with
him.
Away they went, he talking so kindly that Cherry had no
notion how time was moving, and she quite forgot the distance she
had walked.
At length they were in lanes, so shaded with trees that a
checker of sunshine scarcely gleamed on the road. As far as she
could see, all was trees and flowers. Sweetbriars and honey-
suckles perfumed the air, and the reddest of ripe apples hung from
the trees over the lane.
Then they came to a steam of water as clear as crystal, which
ran across the lane. It was, however, very dark, and Cherry
paused to see how she should cross the river. The gentleman put
his arm around her waist and carried her over, so that she did not
wet her feet.
The lane was getting darker and darker, and narrower and
narrower, and they seemed to be going rapidly down-hill.
The A dventure of Cherry of Zennor. 123
Cherry took firm hold of the gentleman's arm, and thought, as
he had been so kind to her, she could go with him to the world's
end.
After walking a little farther, the gentleman opened a gate which
led into a beautiful garden, and said, " Cherry, my dear, this is
the place we live in."
Cherry could scarcely believe her eyes. She had never seen
anything approaching this place for beauty. Flowers of every dye
were around her ; fruits of all kinds hung above her ; and the
birds, sweeter of song than any she had ever heard, burst out into
a chorus of rejoicing. She had heard granny tell of enchanted
places. Could this be one of them ? No. The gentleman was
as big as the parson ; and now a little boy came running down
the garden- walk shouting, " Papa, papa."
The child appeared, from his size, to be about two or three
years of age ; but there was a singular look of age about him. His
eyes were brilliant and piercing, and he had a crafty expression.
As Cherry said, " He could look anybody down."
Before Cherry could speak to the child, a very old, dry-boned,
ugly-looking woman made her appearance, and seizing the child
by the arm, dragged him into the house, mumbling and scolding.
Before, however, she was lost sight of, the old hag cast one look
at Cherry, which shot through her heart " like a gimblet."
Seeing Cherry somewhat disconcerted, the master explained
that the old woman was his late wife's grandmother ; that she
would remain with them until Cherry knew her work, and no
longer, for she was old and ill-tempered, and must go. At length,
having feasted her eyes on the garden, Cherry was taken into the
house, and this was yet more beautiful. Flowers of every kind
grew everywhere, and the sun seemed to shine everywhere, and
yet she did not see the sun.
Aunt Prudence — so was the old woman named — spread a table
in a moment with a great variety of nice things, and Cherry made
a hearty supper. She was now directed to go to bed, in a cham-
ber at the top of the house, in which the child was to sleep also.
Prudence directed Cherry to keep her eyes closed, whether she
could sleep or not, as she might, perchance, see things which she
would not like. She was not to speak to the child all night.
She was to rise at break of day ; then take the boy to a spring in
the garden, wash him, and anoint his eyes with an ointment, which
she would find in a crystal box in a cleft of the rock, but she was
not, on any account, to touch her own eyes with it. Then Cherry
was to call the cow ; and having taken a bucl^t full of milk, to
1 24 Romances of the Fairies.
draw a bowl of the last milk for the boy's breakfast. Cherry was
dying with curiosity. She several times began to question the
child, but he always stopped her with, " I '11 tell Aunt Prudence."
According to her orders, Cherry was up in the morning early.
The little boy conducted the girl to the spring, which flowed in
crystal purity from a granite rock, which was covered with ivy and
beautiful mosses. The child was duly washed, and his eyes duly
anointed. Cherry saw no cow, but her little charge said she must
call the cow.
" Pruit ! pruit ! pruit ! " called Cherry, just as she would call
the cows at home ; when, lo ! a beautiful great cow came from
amongst the trees, and stood on the bank beside Cherry.
Cherry had no sooner placed her hands on the cow's teats than
four streams of milk flowed down and soon filled the bucket. The
boy's bowl was then filled, and he drank it. This being done, the
cow quietly walked away, and Cherry returned to the house to be
instructed in her daily work.
The old woman, Prudence, gave Cherry a capital breakfast, and
then informed her that she must keep to the kitchen, and attend
to her work there — to scald the milk, make the butter, and clean
all the platters and bowls with water and gard (gravel sand).
Cherry was charged to avoid curiosity. She was not to go into
any other part of the house ; she was not to try and open any
locked doors.
After her ordinary work was done on the second day, her master
required Cherry to help him in the garden, to pick the apples and
pears, and to weed the leeks and onions.
Glad was Cherry to get out of the old woman's sight. Aunt
Prudence always sat with one eye on her knitting, and the other
boring through poor Cherry. Now and then she 'd grumble, " I
knew Robin would bring down some fool from Zennor — better for
both that she had tarried away."
Cherry and her master got on famously, and whenever Cherry
had finished weeding a bed, her master would give her a kiss to
show her how pleased he was.
After a few days, old Aunt Prudence took Cherry into those
parts of the house which she had never seen. They passed
through a long dark passage. Cherry was then made to take off
her shoes ; and they entered a room, the floor of which was like
glass, and all round, perched on the shelves, and on the floor,
were people, big and small, turned to stone. Of some, there
were only the head and shoulders, the arms being cut off ; others
were perfect. Cherry told the old woman she " wouldn't cum ony
The A dventure of Cherry of Zennor. 125
furder for the wurld." She thought from the first she was got into
a land of Small People underground, only master was like other
men ; but now she know'd she was with the conjurors, who had
turned all these people to stone. She had heard talk on 'em up in
Zennor, and she knew they might at any moment wake up and eat
her.
Old Prudence laughed at Cherry, and drove her on, insisted
upon her rubbing up a box, " like a coffin on six legs," until she
could see her face in it. Well, Cherry did not want for courage,
so she began to rub with a will ; the old woman standing by,
knitting all the time, calling out every now and then, " Rub !
rub ! rub ! harder and faster ! " At length Cherry got des-
perate, and giving a violent rub at one of the corners, she nearly
upset the box. When, O Lor ! it gave out such a doleful, un-
earthly sound, that Cherry thought all the stone-people were
coming to life, and with her fright she fell down in a fit. The
master heard all this noise, and came in to inquire into the cause
of the hubbub. He was in great wrath, kicked old Prudence out
of the house for taking Cherry into that shut-up room, carried
Cherry into the kitchen, and soon, with some cordial, recovered
her senses. Cherry could not remember what had happened ;
but she knew there was something fearful in the other part of the
house. But Cherry was mistress now — old Aunt Prudence was
gone. Her master was so kind and loving that a year passed by
like a summer day. Occasionally her master left home for a
season ; then he would return and spend much time in the en-
chanted apartments, and Cherry was certain she had heard him
talking to the stone-people. Cherry had everything the human heart
could desire, but she was not happy; she would know more of
the place and the people. Cherry had discovered that the oint-
ment made the little boy's eyes bright and strange, and she thought
often that he saw more than she did ; she would try ; yes, she
would !
Well, next morning the child was washed, his eyes anointed,
and the cow milked ; she sent the boy to gather her some flowers
in the garden, and taking a " crum " of ointment, she put it into
her eye. Oh, her eye would be burned out of her head ! Cherry
ran to the pool beneath the rock to wash her burning eye ; when
lo ! she saw at the bottom of the water, hundreds of little people,
mostly ladies, playing, — and there was her master, as small as
the others, playing with them. Everything now looked different
about the place. Small people were everywhere, hiding in the
flowers sparkling with diamonds, swinging in tte trees, and run-
1 26 Romances of the Fairies.
ning and leaping under and over the blades of grass. The master
never showed himself above the water all day ; but at night he rode
up to the house like the handsome gentleman she had seen before.
He went to the enchanted chamber and Cherry soon heard the
most beautiful music.
In the morning, her master was off, dressed as if to follow the
hounds. He returned at night, left Cherry to herself, and pro-
ceeded at once to his private apartments. Thus it was day after
day, until Cherry could stand it no longer. So she peeped through
the keyhole, and saw her master with lots of ladies, singing ;
while one dressed like a queen was playing on the coffin. Oh,
how madly jealous Cherry became when she saw her master kiss
this lovely lady ! However, the next day, the master remained at
home to gather fruit. Cherry was to help him, and when, as usual,
he looked to kiss her, she slapped his face, and told him to kiss
the Small People, like himself, with whom he played under the
water. So he found out that Cherry had used the ointment.
With much sorrow he told her she must go home, — that he would
have no spy on his actions, and that Aunt Prudence must come
back. Long before day, Cherry was called by her master. He
gave her lots of clothes and other things ; — took her bundle in one
hand, and a lantern in the other, and bade her follow him. They
went on for miles on miles, all the time going up hill, through
lanes, and narrow passages. When they came at last on level
ground, it was near daybreak. He kissed Cherry, told her she
was punished for her idle curiosity ; but that he would, if she be-
haved well, come sometimes on the Lady Downs to see her. Say-
ing this, he disappeared. The sun rose, and there was Cherry
seated on a granite stone, without a soul within miles of her, — a
desolate moor having taken the place of a smiling garden. Long,
long did Cherry sit in sorrow, but at last she thought she would
go home.
Her parents had supposed her dead, and when they saw her,
they believed her to be her own ghost. Cherry told her story,
which every one doubted, but Cherry never varied her tale, and
at last every one believed it. They say Cherry was never after-
wards right in her head, and on moonlight nights, until she died,
she would wander on to the Lady Downs to look for her master.
Anne Jefferies arid the Fairies. 127
ANNE JEFFERIES AND THE FAIRIES.
ANNE JEFFERIES was the daughter of a poor labouring
man, who lived in the parish of St Teath. She was born
in 1626, and is supposed to have died in 1698.
When she was nineteen years old, Anne, who was a remarkably
sharp and clever girl, went to live as a servant in the family of Mr
Moses Pitt. Anne was an unusually bold girl, and would do
things which even boys feared to attempt. Of course, in those
days every one believed in fairies, and everybody feared those
little airy beings. They were constantly the talk of the people,
and this set Anne longing anxiously to have an interview with
some of them. So Anne was often abroad after sundown, turn-
ing up the fern leaves, and looking into the bells of the foxglove
to find a fairy, singing all the time —
" Fairy fair and fairy bright ;
Come and be my chosen sprite,"
She never allowed a moonlight night to pass without going down
into the valley, and walking against the stream, singing —
" Moon shines bright, waters run clear,
I am here, but where 's my fairy dear ? "
The fairies were a long time trying this poor girl ; for, as they told
her afterwards, they never lost sight of her ; but there they would
be, looking on when she was seeking them, and they would run
from frond to frond of the ferns, when she was turning them up in
her anxious search.
One day Anne, having finished her morning's work, was sitting
in the arbour in her master's garden, when she fancied she heard
some one moving aside the branches, as though endeavouring to
look in upon her ; and she thought it must be her sweetheart, so
she resolved to take no notice. Anne went on steadily with her
work, no sound was heard but the regular beat of the knitting-
needles one upon the other. Presently she heard a suppressed
laugh, and then again a rustle amidst the branches. The back of
the arbour was towards the lane, and to enter the garden it was
necessary to walk down the lane to the gate, which was, however,
not many yards off.
Click, click went the needles, click, click, click. At last Anne
began to feel vexed that the intruder did not show himself, and she
pettishly said, half aloud —
128 Romances of the Fairies.
" You may stay there till the kueney * grows on the gate, ere
1 11 come to 7ee."
There was immediately a peculiar ringing and very musical
laugh. Anne knew this was not her lover's laugh, and she felt
afraid. But it was bright day, and she assured herself that no
one would do her any mischief, as she knew herself to be a general
favourite in the parish. Presently Anne felt assured that the garden
gate had been carefully opened and again closed, so she waited
anxiously the result. In a few moments she perceived at the
entrance of the arbour six little men, all clothed very handsomely
in green. They were beautiful little figures, and had very charm-
ing faces, and such bright eyes. The grandest of these little
visitors, who wore a red feather in his cap, advanced in front of
the others, and, making a most polite bow to Anne, addressed her
familiarly in the kindest words.
This gentleman looked so sweetly on Anne that she was
charmed beyond measure, and she put down her hand as if to
shake hands with her little friend, when he jumped into her palm,
and she lifted him into her lap. He then, without any more ado,
clambered upon her bosom and neck, and began kissing her.
Anne never felt so charmed in her life as while this one little gentle-
man was playing with her ; but presently he called his companions,
and they all clambered up by her dress as best they could, and kissed
her neck, her lips, and her eyes. One of them ran his fingers over
her eyes, and she felt as if they had been pricked with a pin.
Suddenly Anne became blind, and she felt herself whirled through
the air at a great rate. By and by, one of her little companions
said something which sounded like " Tear away," and lo ! Anne
had her sight at once restored. She was in one of the most
beautiful places — temples and palaces of gold and silver. Trees
laden with fruits and flowers. Lakes full of gold and silver fish,
and the air full of birds of the sweetest song, and the most
brilliant colours. Hundreds of ladies and gentlemen were walk-
ing about. Hundreds more were idling in the most luxuriant
bowers, the fragrance of the flowers oppressing them with a
sense of delicious repose. Hundreds were also dancing, or
engaged in sports of various kinds. Anne was, however, sur-
prised to find that these happy people were no longer the small
people she had previously seen. There was now no more than the
difference usually seen in a crowd, between their height and her
own. Anne found herself arrayed in the most highly-decorated
clothes. So grand, indeed, did she appear, that she doubted her
* Mo»», or mildew ; properly, cmtey.
The Piskie Threshers. 129
identity. Anne was constantly attended by her six friends ; but
the finest gentleman, who was the first to address her, continued
her favourite, at which the others appeared to be very jealous.
Eventually Anne and her favourite contrived to separate themselves,
and they retired into some most lovely gardens, where they were
hidden by the luxuriance of the flowers. Lovingly did they pass
the time, and Anne desired that this should continue for ever.
However, when they were at the happiest, there was heard a great
noise, and presently the five other fairies at the head of a great
crowd came after them in a violent rage. Her lover drew his sword
to defend her, but this was soon beaten down, and he lay wounded
at her feet. Then the fairy who had blinded her again placed
his hands upon her eyes, and all was dark. She heard strange
noises, and felt herself whirled about and about, and as if a
thousand flies were buzzing around her.
At length her eyes were opened, and Anne found herself on the
ground in the arbour where she had been sitting in the morning,
and many anxious faces were around her, all conceiving that she
was recovering from a convulsion fit.*
THE PISKIE THRESHERS.
MANY an industrious farmer can speak of the assistance
which he has received from the piskies. Mr T. Q. Couch
tells a story of this kind so well that no other is required, t Long,
long ago, before threshing-machines were thought of, the farmer
who resided at C , in going to his barn one day, was surprised
at the extraordinary quantity of corn that had been threshed the
previous night, as well as to discover the mysterious agency by
which it was effected. His curiosity led him to inquire into the
matter ; so at night, when the moon was up, he crept stealthily
to the barn-door, and looking through a chink, saw a little fellow,
clad in a tattered suit of green, wielding the " dreshel" (flail) with
astonishing vigour, and beating the floor with blows so rapid that
the eye could not follow the motion of the implement. The
farmer slunk away unperceived, and went to bed, where he lay a
long while awake, thinking in what way he could best show his
gratitude to the piskie for such an important service. He came to
the conclusion at length, that, as the little fellow's clothes were
getting very old and ragged, the gift of a new suit would be a proper
way to lessen the obligation ; and, accordingly, on the morrow he
had a suit of green made, of what was supposed to be %the proper
See Moses Pitt's Letter, Appendix K. t See Notes and Queries.
I
I
1 30 Romances of the Fairies.
size, which he carried early in the evening to the barn, and left
for the piskie's acceptance. At night the farmer stole to the door
again to see how his gift was taken. He was just in time to see
the elf put on the suit, which was no sooner accomplished than,
looking down on himself admiringly, he sung —
" Piskie fine, and piskie gay,
Piskie now will fly away."
THE MUR VANS' BANK.*
THE ant is called by the peasantry a Muryan. Believing that
they are the Small People in their state of decay from off the
earth, it is deemed most unlucky to destroy a colony of ants. If
you place a piece of tin in a bank of Muryans at a certain age of
the moon, it will be turned into silver.
* Murrian, Welsh. " Crig-murrian," the hill of ants.
TREGEAGLE.
In Cornwaile's fair land, bye the poole on the moors.
Tregeagle the wicked did dwell."
— Iregeagle; or, Dozmare Pool.
By JOHN PENWARNE,
ROMANCES OF TREGEAGLE.
THE DEMON TREGEAGLE.
" Thrice he began to tell his doleful tale,
And thrice the sighs did swallow up his voice."
— THOMAS SACKVILI.E.
WHO has not heard of the wild spirit Tregeagle ? He haunts
equally the moor, the rocky coasts, and the blown sand-
hills of Cornwall. From north to south, from east to west, this
doomed spirit is heard of, and to the day of judgment he
is doomed to wander, pursued by avenging fiends. For ever
endeavouring to perform some task by which he hopes to secure
repose, and being for ever defeated. Who has not heard the
howling of Tregeagle ? When the storms come with all their
strength from the Atlantic, and urge themselves upon the rocks
around the Land's End, the howls of the spirit are louder than
the roaring of the winds. When calms rest upon the ocean, and
the waves can scarcely form upon the resting waters, 7ow wail-
ings creep along the coast. These are the wailings of this vender-
ing soul. When midnight is on the moor or on the mountains,
and the night winds whistle amidst the rugged cairns, the shrieks
of Tregeagle are distinctly heard. We know, then, that he is
pursued by the demon dogs, and that till daybreak he must fly
with all speed before them. The voice of Tregeagle is every-
where, and vet he is unseen by human eye. Every reader will at
once perceive that Tregeagle belongs to the mythologies of the
oldest nations, and that the traditions of this wandering spirit in
Cornwall, which centre upon one tyrannical magistrate, are but
the appropriation of stories which belong to every age and country.
Tradition thus tells Tregeagle's tale.
There are some men who appear to be from their births given
over to the will of tormenting demons. Such a man was Tre-
geagle. He is as old as the hills, yet there are many circum-
stances in the story of his life which appear to remove him from
The Dead Tregeagle. 133
this remote antiquity. Modern legends assert him to belong to
comparatively modern times, and say that, without doubt, he was
one of the Tregeagles who once owned Trevorder near Bodmin.
We have not, however, much occasion to trouble ourselves with
the man or his life ; it is with the death and the subsequent exist-
ence of a myth that we are concerned.
Certain it is that the man Tregeagle was diabolically wicked.
He seems to have been urged on from one crime to another until
the cup of sin was overflowing.
Tregeagle was wealthy beyond most men of his time, and his
wealth purchased for him that immunity, which the Church, in
her degenerate days, too often accorded to those who could aid,
with their gold or power, the sensual priesthood. As a magis-
trate, he was tyrannical and unjust, and many an innocent man
was wantonly sacrificed by him for the purpose of hiding his own
dark deeds. As a landlord, he was rapacious and unscrupulous,
and frequently so involved his tenants in his toils, that they could
not escape his grasp. The stain of secret murder clings to his
memory, and he is said to have sacrificed a sister whose good-
ness stood between him and his demon passions ; his wife and
children perished victims to his cruelties. At length death drew
near to relieve the land of a monster whose name was a terror to
all who heard it. Devils waited to secure the soul they had won,
and Tregeagle in terror gave to the priesthood wealth, that they
might fight with them and save his soul from eternal fire. Des-
perate was the struggle, but the powerful exorcisms of the banded
brotherhood of a neighbouring monastery, drove back the evil
ones, and Tregeagle slept with his fathers, safe in the custody of
the churchmen, who buried him with high honours in St Breock
Church. They sang chants and read prayers above his grave, to
secure the soul which they thought they had saved. But Tregeagle
was not fated to rest. Satan desired still to gain possession of
such a gigantic sinner, and we can only refer what ensued to the
influence of the wicked spiritings of his ministers.
A dispute arose between two wealthy families respecting the
ownership of extensive lands around Bodmin. The question had
been rendered more difficult by the nefarious conduct of Tregeagle,
who had acted as steward to one of the claimants, and who had
destroyed ancient deeds, forged others, and indeed made it appear
that he was the real proprietor of the domain. Large portions of
the land Tregeagle had sold, and other parts were leased upon long
terms, he having received all the money and appropriated it. His
death led to inquiries, and then the transactions were gradually
134 Romances of Tregeagle.
brought to light. Involving, as this did, large sums of money — •
and indeed it was a question upon which turned the future well-
doing or ruin of a family — it was fought by the lawyers with great
pertinacity. The legal questions had been argued several times
before the judges at the assizes. The trials had been deferred,
new trials had been sought for and granted, and every possible
plan known to the lawyers for postponing the settlement of a suit
had been tried. A day was at length fixed, upon which a final
decision must be come to, and a special jury was sworn to admin-
ister justice between the contending parties. Witnesses innumer-
able were examined as to the validity of a certain deed, and the
balance of evidence was equally suspended. The judge was about
to sum up the case and refer the question to the jury, when the
defendant in the case, coming into court, proclaimed aloud that
he had yet another witness to produce. There was a strange
silence in the judgment-hall. It was felt that something chilling
to the soul was amongst them, and there was a simultaneous
throb of terror as Tregeagle was led into the witness-box.
When the awe-struck assembly had recovered, the lawyers for
the defendant commenced their examination, which was long and
terrible. The result, however, was the disclosure of an involved
system of fraud, of which the honest defendant had been the
victim, and the jury unhesitatingly gave a verdict in his favour.
The trial over, every one expected to see the spectre-witness
removed. There, however, he stood, powerless to fly, although
he evidently desired to do so. Spirits of darkness were waiting
to bear him away, but some spell of holiness prevented them from
touching him. There was a struggle with the good and the evil
angels for this sinner's soul, and the assembled court appeared
frozen with horror. At length the judge with dignity commanded
the defendant to remove his witness.
" To bring him from the grave has been to me so dreadful a
task, that I leave him to your care, and that of the Prior's, by
whom he was so beloved." Having said this, the defendant left
the court.
The churchmen were called in, and long were the deliberations
between them and the lawyers, as to the best mode of disposing
of Tregeagle.
They could resign him to the devil at once, but by long trial
the worst of crimes might be absolved, and as good churchmen
they could not sacrifice a human soul. The only thing was to
give the spirit some task, difficult beyond the power of human
nature, which might be extended far into eternity. Time might
'Iregeagle at Dosmery Pool. 135
thus gradually soften the obdurate soul, which still retained all
the black dyes of the sins done in the flesh, that by infinitely
slow degrees repentance might exert its softening power. The
spell therefore put upon Tregeagle was, that as long as he was
employed on some endless assigned task, there should be hope of
salvation, and that he should be secure from the assaults of the
devil as long as he laboured steadily. A moment's rest was fatal —
labour unresting, and for ever, was his doom.
One of the lawyers, remembering that Dosmery Pool* was
bottomless, and that a thorn-bush which had been flung into it,
but a few weeks before, had made its appearance in Falmouth
Harbour, proposed that Tregeagle might be employed to empty
this profound lake. Then one of the churchmen, to make the
task yet more enduring, proposed that it should be performed by
the aid of a limpet-shell having a hole in it.
This was agreed to, and the required incantations were duly
made. Bound by mystical spells, Tregeagle was removed to the
dark moors and duly set to work. Year after year passed by,
and there, day and night, summer and winter, storm and shine,
Tregeagle was bending over the dark water, working hard with
his perforated shell ; yet the pool remained at the same level.
His old enemy the devil kept a careful eye on the doomed one,
resolving, if possible, to secure so choice an example of evil.
Often did he raise tempests sufficiently wild, as he supposed, to
drive Tregeagle from his work, knowing that if he failed for a
season to labour, he could seize and secure him. These were
long tried in vain ; but at length an auspicious hour presented
itselt.
Nature was at war with herself, the elements had lost their
balance, and there was a terrific struggle to recover it. Light-
nings flashed and coiled like fiery snakes around the rocks of
Roughtor. Fire-balls fell on the desert moors and hissed in the
accursed lake. Thunders peeled through the heavens, and echoed
from hill to hill ; an earthquake shook the solid earth, and terror
was on all living. The winds arose and raged with a fury which
was irresistible, and hail beat so mercilessly on all things, that it
spread death around. Long did Tregeagle stand the " pelting of
the pitiless storm," but at length he yielded to its force and fled.
The demons in crowds were at his heels. He doubled, however,
on his pursuers, and returned to the lake ; but so rapid were they,
that he could not rest the required moment to dip his shell in the
now seething waters.
* Or Dozmare. Unfortunately for its bottomless character, in a recent hot and rainless
summer, this little lake became dry.
136 Romances of Tregeagle.
Three times he fled round the lake, and the evil ones pursued
him. Then, feeling that there was no safety for him near Dosmery
Pool, he sprang swifter than the wind across it, shrieking with
agony, and thus, — since the devils cannot cross water, and were
obliged to go round the lake, — he gained on them and fled over
the moor.
Away, away went Tregeagle, faster and faster the dark spirits
pursuing, and they had nearly overtaken him, when he saw Roach
Rock and its chapel before him. He rushed up the rocks, with
giant power clambered to the eastern window, and dashed his
head through it, thus securing the shelter of its sanctity. The
defeated demons retired, and long and loud were their wild wail-
ings in the air. The inhabitants of the moors and of the neigh-
bouring towns slept not a wink that night.
Tregeagle was safe, his head was within the holy church, though
his body was exposed on a bare rock to the storm. Earnest were
the prayers of the blessed hermit in his cell on the rock to be
relieved from his nocturnal and sinful visitor.
In vain were the recluse's prayers. Day after day, as he knelt
at the altar, the ghastly head of the doomed sinner grinned
horridly down upon him. Every holy ejaculation fell upon
Tregeagle's ear like molten iron. He writhed and shrieked under
the torture ; but legions of devils filled the air, ready to seize
him, if for a moment he withdrew his head from the sanctuary.
Sabbath after Sabbath the little chapel on the rock was rendered
a scene of sad confusion by the interruptions which Tregeagle
caused. Men trembled with fear at his agonising cries, and
women swooned. At length the place was deserted, and even the
saint of the rock was wasting to death by the constant perturba-
tion in which he was kept by the unholy spirit, and the demons
who, like carrion birds, swarmed around the holy cairn. Things
could not go on thus. The monks of Bodmin and the priests
from the neighbouring churches gathered together, and the result
of their long and anxious deliberations was, that Tregeagle, guarded
by two saints, should be taken to the north coast, near Padstow,
and employed in making trusses of sand, and ropes of sand with
which to bind them. By powerful spell, Tregeagle was removed
from Roach, and fixed upon the sandy snores of the Padstow dis-
trict. Sinners are seldom permitted to enjoy any peace of soul.
As the ball of sand grew into form, the tides rose, and the breakers
spread out the sands again a level sheet ; again was it packed
together and again washed away. Toil ! toil ! toil ! day and
night unrestingly, sand on sand grew with each hour, and ruth-
lessly the ball was swept, by one blow of a sea wave, along the shore.
Tregeagle at Loo Pool. 137
The cries of Tregeagle were dreadful ; and as the destruction
of the sand heap was constantly recurring, a constantly increasing
despair gained the mastery over hope, and the ravings of the
baffled soul were louder than the roarings of the winter tempest.
Baffled in making trusses of sand, Tregeagle seized upon the
loose particles and began to spin them into a rope. Long and
patiently did he pursue his task, and hope once more rose like a
star out of the midnight darkness of despair. A rope was forming,
when a storm came up with all its fury from the Atlantic, and
swept the particles of sand away over the hills.
The inhabitants of Padstow had seldom any rest. At every
tide the howlings of Tregeagle banished sleep from each eye. But
now so fearful were the sounds of the doomed soul, in the mad-
ness of the struggle between hope and despair, that the people fled
the town, and clustered upon the neighbouring plains, praying,
as with one voice, to be relieved from the sad presence of this
monster.
St Petroc, moved by the tears and petitions of the people,
resolved to remove the spirit ; and by the intense earnestness of
his prayers, after long wrestling, he subdued Tregeagle to his will.
Having chained him with the bonds which the saint had forged
with his own hands, every link of which had been welded with a
prayer, St Petroc led the spirit away from the north coast, and
stealthily placed him on the southern shores.
In those days Ella's Town, now Helston, was a flourishing port.
Ships sailed into the estuary, up to the town, and they brought all
sorts of merchandise, and returned with cargoes of tin from the
mines of Breage and Wendron.
The wily monk placed his charge at Bareppa, and there con-
demned him to carry sacks of sand across the estuary of the Loo,
and to empty them at Porthleven, until the beach was clean down
to the rocks. The priest was a good observer. He knew that
the sweep of the tide was from Trewavas Head round the coast
towards the Lizard, and that the sand would be carried back
steadily and speedily as fast as the spirit could remove it.
Long did Tregeagle labour ; and, of course, in vain. His
struggles were giant-like to perform his task, but he saw the sands
return as regularly as he removed them. The sufferings of the
poor fishermen who inhabited the coast around Porthleven were
great. As the howlings of Tregeagle disturbed the dwellers in
Padstow, so did they now distress those toil-worn men.
" When sorrow is highest.
Relief is Highest."
138 Romances of Tregeagle.
And a mischievous demon-watcher, in pure wantonness, brought
that relief to those fishers of the sea.
Tregeagle was laden with a sack of sand of enormous size, and
was wading across the mouth of the estuary, when one of those
wicked devils, who were kept ever near Tregeagle, in very idleness
tripped up the heavily-laden spirit. The sea was raging with the
irritation of a passing storm ; and as Tregeagle fell, the sack was
seized by the waves, and its contents poured out across this arm
of the sea.
There, to this day, it rests a bar of sand, fatally destroying the
harbour of Ella's Town. The rage of the inhabitants of this sea-
port,— now destroyed, — was great; and with all their priests,
away they went to the Loo Bar, and assailed their destroyer.
Against human anger Tregeagle was proof. The shock of tongues
fell harmlessly on his ear, and the assault of human weapons was
unavailing.
By the aid of the priests, and faith-inspired prayers, the bonds
were once more placed upon Tregeagle ; and he was, by the force
of bell, book, and candle, sent to the Land's End. There he would
find no harbour to destroy, and but few people to terrify. His task
was to sweep the sands from Porthcurnow Cove round the head-
land called Tol-Peden-Penwith, into Nanjisal Cove. Those who
know that rugged headland, with its cubical masses of granite,
piled in Titanic grandeur one upon another, will appreciate the
task ; and when to all the difficulties are added the strong sweep
of the Atlantic current, — that portion of the Gulf-stream which
washes our southern shores, — it will be evident that the melancholy
spirit has, indeed, a task which must endure until the world shall
end.
Even until to-day is Tregeagle labouring at his task. In calms
his wailing is heard ; and those sounds which some call the
" soughing of the wind," are known to be the moanings of Tre-
geagle ; while the coming storms are predicated by the fearful
roarings of this condemned mortal.
JAHN TERGAGLE THE STEWARD.
HT^HERE are numerous versions of this legend, and sundry statements
JL made as to the man who is supposed to have achieved the no very
envious immortality which he enjoys.
One or two of these may interest the reader.
The following very characteristic narrative, irom a much-esteemed cor-
Jahn Tergagle the Steward. 1 39
respondent, gives several incidents which have not a place in the legend as
I have related it, which comprehends the explanation given for the appear-
ance of Tregeagle at so many different parts of the county.
The Tregeagle, of whom mention occurs in the writings of Cornish
legendary authors, was a real person : a member of a respectable family,
resident during the seventeenth century at Trevorder, in the parish of St
Breock, and identical probably with a John Tregeagle whose tombstone
may yet be seen in the parish church there, close to the chancel.
Lingering one day amid the venerable arches of that same church, the
narrator, a native of the parish, encountered, near a small transept called
the Trevorder aisle, the sexton, a man then perhaps of about eighty years
of age. The conversation turning not unnaturally on the "illustrious
dead," the narrator was gratified in receiving from the lips of the old man
the following characteristic specimen of folk-lore, the greater part of which
has remained clearly imprinted in his memory after a lapse of many years ;
though [he thinks he has had to supply the very last sentence of all from
the general popular tradition] here and there he may have had to supply
a few expressions : —
" Theess Jahn Tergagle, I 've a heerd mun tell, sir, he was a steward to
a lord.*
" And a man came fore to the court and paid az rent : and Jahn Ter-
gagle didn't put no cross to az name in the books.
' ' And after that Tergagle daied : and the lord came down to look after
az rents : and when he zeed the books, he zeed this man's name that there
wasn't no cross to ut.
" And he zent for the man, and axed'n for az rent : and the man zaid
he 'd apaid az rent : and the lord said he hadn't, there warn't no cross to az
name in the books, and he tould 'n that he 'd have the law for 'n if he didn't
pay.
"And the man, he didn't know what to do : and he went vore to the
minister of Simonward ; t and the minister axed 'n if he 'd a got faith : and
the man, he hadn't got faith, and he was obliged for to come homewards
again.
"And after that the 'Zaizes was coming naigh, and he was becoming
afeerd, sure enough : and he went vore to the minister again, and tould 'n
he 'd a got faith ; the minister might do whatever a laiked.
" And the minister draed a ring out on the floor : and he caaled out dree
times, Jahn Tergagle, Jahn Tergagle, Jahn Tergagle ! and (I 've a heerd
the ould men tell ut, sir) theess Jahn Tergagle stood before mun in the
middle of the ring.
" And he went vore wi' mun to the Ezaizes, and gave az evidence and
tould how this man had a paid az rent ; and the lord he was cast.
"And after that they was come back to their own house, theess Jahn
* Lord— i.e., a landlord. t St Breward.
140 Romances of Tregeagle.
Tergagle he gave mun a brave deal of trouble ; he was knackin' about the
place, and wouldn't laive mun alone at all.
"And they went vore to the minister, and axed he for to lay un.
" And the minister zaid, thicky * was their look-out ; they'd a brought 'n
up, and they was to gett 'n down again the best way they could. And I 've
a heerd the ould men tell ut, sir. The minister he got dree hunderd pound
for a layin' of un again.
" And first, a was bound to the old epping-stock f up to Churchtown ; £
and after that a was bound to the ould oven in Tevurder ; James Wyatt
down to Wadebridge, he was there when they did open ut.
"And after that a was bound to Dozmary Pool ; and they do say that
there he ez now emptying of it out with a lampet-shell, with a hole in the
bottom of ut."
This is a very ancient idea, and was one of the torments of the classical
Tartarus. The treacherous daughters of Danaus being condemned therein
to empty Lethe with a bottomless vessel : —
" Et Danai proles Veneris quae numma laesit,
In cava Lethaeas solia portal aquas."
Dosmare Pool is a small lake or tarn on the Bodmin Moors, a fit repre-
sentative of Lethe, with its black water and desolate environs. — J. C. H.
Another correspondent to whom I am much indebted for valuable notes
on the folk-lore of the Land's End district, sends me the following
version : —
You may know the story better than I do ; however, I '11 give you the
west-country version. A man in the neighbourhood of Redruth, I think
(I have almost forgotten the story), lent a sum of money to another without
receiving bond or note, and the transaction was witnessed by Tregagle, who
died before the money was paid back. When the lender demanded the
money, the borrower denied having received it. He was brought into a
court of justice, when the man denied on oath that he ever borrowed the
money, and declared that if Tregagle saw any such thing take place, he
wished that Tregagle would come and declare it. The words were no
sooner out of his mouth than Tregagle stood before him, and told him
that it was easy to bring him, but that he should not find it so easy to put
him away. Tregagle followed the man day and night, wouldn't let him
have a moment's rest, until he got all the parsons, conjurors, and other
wise men together, to lay him. The wise ones accomplished this for a
short time by binding the spirit to empty Dosmery (or Dorsmery) Pool with
a crogan (limpet-shell). He soon finished the job and came to the man
* Thicky, correctly written thilke — i.e., the ilka, a true word frequent in Chaucer,
t Perhaps Uppingstock, an erection of stone steps for the farmers' wives to get on
their horses by.
J Not Churchtown, but Churcht<5wn.
Tregeagle at Genvor Cove. 141
again, who sent for Parson Corker, of Burrian, who was a noted hand for
laying spirits, driving the devil from the bedside of old villains, and other
kinds of jobs of the same kind. When the parson came into the room with
the spirit and the man, the first thing the parson did was to draw a circle
and place the man to stand within it ; the spirit took the form of a black
bull, and (roared as you may still hear Tregagle roar in Genvor Cove
before a northerly storm) did all he could to get at the man with his horns
and hoofs. The parson continued reading all the time. At first the read-
ing seemed to make him more furious, but little by little he became as
gentle as a lamb, and allowed the parson to do what he would with him,
and consented at last to go to Genvor Cove (in Escols Cliff), and make a
truss of sand, which he was to carry above a certain rock in Escols Cliff.
He was many years trying, without being able to accomplish this piece of
work, until it came to a very cold winter, when Tregagle, by taking water
from the stream near by, and pouring over the sand, caused it to freeze
together, so that he finished the task, came back to the man, and would
have torn him in pieces, but the man happened to have a child in his arms,
so the spirit couldn't harm him. The man sent for the parson without
delay ; Parson Corker couldn't manage him alone, this time ; had to get
some more parsons to help, — very difficult job ; — bound Tregagle at last
to the same task, and not to go near the fresh water. He is still there,
making his truss of sand and spinning sand ropes to bind it. What some
people take to be the *l calling of the northern cleves" (cliffs) is the roaring
of Tregagle because there is a storm coming from the north to scatter his
sand.* W. B.
* In connection with the incident given of Tregeagle and the child, the following is
interesting : —
I find in the Temple Bar Magazine for January 1862, "The Autobiography of an
Evil Spirit," professing to be an examination of a strange story related by Dr Justinus
Kerner. In this a woman is possessed by a devil or sometimes by devils. " Sometimes
a legion of fiends appeared to take possession of her, and the clamour on such occasions
is compared to that of a pack of hounds. Amid all these horrors her confinement oc-
curred, which was the means of procuring her some respite, as the demon appeared to
have no power over her while her innocent babe was in her arms." To this the author
adds the following note : —
This ancient general and beautiful superstition is graphically illustrated in the legend
of Swardowski, the Polish Faust. Satan, weary of the services the magician is continually
requiring at his hands, decoys him to a house in Cracow, where, for some unexplained
reason, he expects to have him at a disadvantage. Put on his guard by the indiscretion
of a flock of ravens and owls, who cannot suppress their satisfaction at seeing him enter
the house, Swardowski snatches a new-born child from the cradle and paces the room
with it in his arms. In rushes the devil, as terrible as horns, tail, and hoofs can make
him ; but confronted with the infant, recoils and collapses insttinter. This suggests to
him the propriety of resorting to " moral suasion ;" and after a while he thus addresses
the magician, — "Thou art a gentleman and knowest that verbnni nobile debet esse
stabile." Swardowski feels that he cannot break his word of honour as a gentleman,
replaces the child in the cradle, and flies up the chimney with his companion. In the
confusion of his faculties, however, the demon would seem to have mistaken the way ;
142 Romances of Tregeagle.
DOSMERY POOL.
MR BOND, in his "Topographical and Historical Sketches of
the Boroughs of East and West Looe," writes — " This pool
is distant from Looe about twelve miles off. Mr Carew says : —
' Dosmery Pool amid the moores,
On top stands of a hill ;
More than a mile about, no streams
It empt, nor any fill.'
It is a lake of fresh water about a mile in circumference, the only
one in Cornwall (unless the Loe Pool near Helston may be
deemed such), and probably takes its name from Dome-Mer, sweet
or fresh-water sea. It is about eight or ten feet deep in many parts.
The notion entertained by some, of there being a whirlpool in its
middle, I can contradict, having, some years ago, passed all over
in a boat then kept there."
Such is Mr Bond's evidence ; but this is nothing compared with
the popular belief, which declares the pool to be bottomless ; and
beyond this, is it not known to every man oi faith, that a thorn-
bush thrown into Dosmery Pool has sunk in the middle of it, and
after some time has come up in Falmouth Harbour ?
Notwithstanding that Carew says that " no streams it empt, nor
any fill," James Michell, in his parochial history of St Neot's,
says, — " It is situate on a small stream called St Neot's River, a
branch of the Fowey, which rises in Dosmare Pool."
There is a ballad, " Tregeagle ; or, Dozmare Poole: an Andente
Cornishe Legende, in two parts" by John Penwarne. He has
given a somewhat different version of the legend from any I have
heard, and in the ballad very considerable liberties have been taken.
It must, however, be admitted, that nearly all the incidents intro-
duced in the poem are to be found in some of the many stories
current amongst the peasantry.
Speaking of Dozmare' Pool, Mr Penwarne says : —
"There is a popular story attached to this lake, ridiculous
enough, as most of those tales are. It is, that a person of the name
of Tregeagle, who had been a rich and powerful man, but very
at all events, the pair fly upwards instead of downwards, — Swardowski lustily intoning
a hymn till suddenly he finds his companion gone, and himself fixed at an immeasurable
height in the air, and hears a voice above him saying, " Thus shall thou hang until the
day of judgment !" He has, however, changed one of his disciples into a spider, and is
in the habit of letting him down to collect the news of earth. When, therefore, we see
any floating threads of gossamer, we may suspect that "a chiel's amang us taking:
notes," though it is not equally probable that he will ever "prent them."
Dosmery Pool. 143
wicked, guilty of murder and other heinous crimes, lived near this
place ; and that, after his death, his spirit haunted the neighbour-
hood, but was at length exorcised and laid to rest in Dozmar6 Pool.
But having in his lifetime, in order to enjoy the good things of
this world, disposed of his soul and body to the devil, his infernal
majesty takes great pleasure in tormenting him, by imposing on
him difficult tasks ; such as spinning a rope of sand, dipping out
the pool with a limpet-shell, &c., and at times amuses himself with
hunting him over the moors with his hell-hounds, at which time
Tregeagle is heard to roar and howl in a most dreadful manner, so
that ' roaring or howling like Tregeagle/ is a common expression
amongst the vulgar in Cornwall. Such is the foundation on
which is built the following tale. The author has given it an
ancient dress, as best suited to the subject."
Tregeagle, in the ballad, is a shepherd dwelling " by the poole
on the moore." He was ambitious and unscrupulous. " I wish
for all that I see ! " was his exclamation, when " a figure gigan-
tick" is seen " midst the gloom of the night."
This spirit offers Tregeagle, in exchange for his soul, all that he
desires for one hundred years. Tregeagle does not hesitate: —
" 'A bargaine ! a bargaine ! ' he said aloude ;
' At my lot I will never repine ;
I sweare to observe it, I sweare by the roode.
And am readye to scale and to sygne with my bloode,
Both my soul and my body are thine. ' "
Tregeagle is thrown into a trance, from which he awakes to find
himself " cloathed in gorgeous attyre," and master of a wide do-
main of great beauty : —
" Where Dozmare lake its darke waters did roll,
A castle now reared its heade,
Wythe manye a turrete soe statelye and talle ;
And many a warden dyd walke on its walle,
All splendidly cloathed in redde."
Surrounded with all that is supposed to minister to the enjoyment
of a sensual life, time passes on, and " Tregeagle ne'er notyc'd its
flyghte." Yet we are told " he marked each day with some damn-
able deed." In the midst of his vicious career he is returning
home through a violent storm, and he is accosted by a damsel on
a white horse and a little page by her side, who craves his protec-
tion. Tregeagle takes this beautiful maiden to his castle. The
page is made to tell the lady's story ; she is called Goonhylda,
144 Romances of Tregeagle.
and is the daughter of " Earl Cornwaill," living in Launceston, or,
as it was then called, " Dunevyd Castle." Engaged in the plea-
sures of the hunt, the lady and her page are lost and overtaken
by the storm. Tregeagle, as the storm rages savagely, makes
them his " guests for the nyghte," promising to send a " quicke
messenger " to inform her father of her whereabouts. At the
same time —
" If that the countenance speaketh the mynde,
Dark deeds he revolved in hys breaste."
The earl hears nothing of his daughter ; and having passed a
miserable night, he sets forth in the morning, "wyth hys knyghtes,
and esquyers, and serving-men all," in search of his child ; and —
" At length to the plaine he emerged from the woode,
For a father, alas, what a syghte !
There lay her fayre garments all drenched in blood,
Her palfreye all torn in the dark crimson floode,
By the ravenous beasts of the nyghte."
This is a delusion caused by enchantment ; Goonhylda still lives.
Tregeagle offers himself to Goonhylda, who rejects his suit with
scorn, and desires to leave the castle. Tregeagle coolly informs
her that she cannot quit the place ; Goonhylda threatens him with
her father's vengeance. She is a prisoner, but her page contrives to
make his escape, and in the evening arrives at. Launceston Castle
gate. The Earl of Cornwall, hearing from the page that his
daughter lives and is a prisoner, arms himself and all his re-
tainers—
" And ere the greye morne peep'd the eastern hills o'er,
At Tregeagle's gate sounded hys home."
Tregeagle will not obey the summons, but suddenly " they hearde
the Black Hunter's dread voyce in the wynde ! "
" They heard hys curste hell-houndes runn yelping behynde,
And his steede thundered loude on the eare ! "
This gentleman in black shakes the castle with his cry, " Come
forth, Sir Tregeagle ! come forth and submit to thy fate ! " Of
course he comes forth, and " the rede bolte of vengeaunce shot
forth wyth a glare, and strooke him a corpse to the grounde ! "
" Then from the black corpse a pale spectre appear*d,
And hyed him away through the night."
Goonhylda is of course found uninjured, and taken home by the
earl. The castle disappears and Dozmare Pool re-appears ; but —
The Wish Hounds. 145
" Sty lie as the traveller pursues hys lone waye,
In horroure at nyghte o'er the waste,
He hears Syr Tregeagle with shrieks rushe awaye,
He hears the Black Hunter pursuing his preye,
And shrynkes at hys bugle's dread blaste."
THE WISH HOUNDS.
THE tradition of the Midnight Hunter and his headless hounds
— always, in Cornwall, associated with Tregeagle — prevails
everywhere.
The Abbot's Way on Dartmoor, an ancient road which extends
into Cornwall, is said to be the favourite coursing ground of " the
wish or wisked hounds of Dartmoor," called also the "yell-
hounds," and the " yeth-hounds." The valley of the Dewerstone is
also the place of their midnight meetings. Once I was told at
Jump, that Sir Francis Drake drove a hearse into Plymouth at
night with headless horses, and that he was followed by a pack of
" yelling hounds " without heads. If dogs hear the cry of the
wish hounds they all die. May it not be that "wish" is connected
with the west-country word " whist," meaning more than ordinary
melancholy, a sorrow which has something weird surrounding it ?
" And then he sought the dark -green lane,
Whose willows mourn'd the faded year,
Sighing (I heard the love-lorn swain),
'Wishness! oh, ivishness I walketh here. '"
— The Wishful Swain of Devon. By POLWHELE.
The author adds in a note, " An expression used by the vulgar
in the north of Devon to express local melancholy. There is
something sublime in this impersonation of wishness." The ex-
pression is as common in Cornwall as it is in Devonshire.
Mr Kemble has the following incorrect remarks on this word : —
" In Devonshire to this day all magical or supernatural dealings go
under the common name of wishtness. Can this have any
reference to Woden's name 'wyse?'" Mr Polwhele's note gives
the true meaning of the word. Still Mr Kemble's idea is supported
by the fact that " there are Wishanger (Wisehangre or Woden's
Meadow), one about four miles south-west of Wanborough in
Surrey, and another near Gloucester." * And we find also, "south-
* Kemble's "Saxons in England," vol. i., p. 346. Wistman's Wood on Dartmoor, no
K
146 Romances of Tregeagle.
east of Pixhill in Tedstone, Delamere, there are Wishmoor and
Inksmoor near Sapey Bridge in Whitbourn." *
CHENEY'S HOUNDS.
IN the parish of St Teath, a pack of hounds was once kept by an
old squire named Cheney. How he or they died I cannot
learn ; but on " Cheney Downs " the ghosts of the dogs are some-
times seen, and often heard, in rough weather.
In the western parishes of the county, I can name several places
which are said to be haunted by the " wish hounds." t
doubt derives it name from its extraordinary character. Carrington, in his " Dartmoc*,"
well describes its oaks : —
" But of this grove,
This pigmy grove, not one has climb'd the air,
So emulously that its loftiest branch
May brush the traveller's brow. The twisted roots
Have clasp'd, in search of nourishment, the rocks,
And straggled wide, and pierced the stony soil."
"Around the boughs
Hoary and feebly, and around the trunks
With grasp destructive feeding on the life
That lingers yet, the ivy winds, and moss
Of growth.enormous."
— Dartmoor, a descriptive Poem.
By N. T. CARRINGTON, 1826. Murray.
* "The British, Roman, and Saxon Antiquities and Folk-lore of Worcestershire." By
/abez Allies.
t See AthetuBumt No. 1013, March 27, 1847. See Appendix L for Notes on the
BARGEST.
THE MERMAIDS.
" One Friday morning we set sail,
And when not far from land,
We all espied a fair mermaid
With a comb and glass in her hand.
The stormy winds they did blow," &c.
—Old Song.
ROMANCES OF THE MERMAIDS.
MORVA OR MORVETH (Sea-daughters).
" You dwell not on land, but in the flood,
Which would not with me agree."
— Duke Magnus and the Mermaid. — SMALAND.
THE parish of this name is situated on the north-west coast ol
Cornwall, — the parish of St Just being on its western
borders, and that of Zennor on the east, between it and St Ives.
The Cornish historian Tonkin says, " Morva signifies Locus
Maritimus, a place near the sea, as this parish is. The name is
sometimes written Morveth, implying much the same sense."
The similarity of this name to " Morgan," sea-women, and
" Morverch," sea-daughters, which Mr Keightley has shown us is
applied to the mermaids of the Breton ballads, is not a little
curious. There are several stories current in this parish of ladies
seen on the rocks, of ladies going off from the shore to peculiar
isolated rocks at special seasons, and of ladies sitting weeping ana
wailing on the shore. Mr Blight, in his " Week at the Land's
End," speaking of the church in the adjoining parish, Zennor,
which still remains in nearly its primitive condition, whereas Morva
church is a modern structure, says — " Some of the bench ends
were carved ; on one is a strange figure of a mermaid, which to
many might seem out of character in a church." (Mr Blight
gives a drawing of this bench end. ) This is followed by a quota-
tion bearing the initials R. S. H., which, it is presumed, are those
of the Rev. R. S. Hawker, of Morwenstow : —
" The fishermen who were the ancestors of the Church, came
from the Galilean waters to haul for men. We, born to God at
the font, are children of the water. Therefore, all the early
symbolism of the Church was of and from the sea. The carvure
of the early arches was taken from the sea and its creatures. Fish,
dolphins, mermen, and mermaids abound in the early types, trans-
ferred to wood and stone."
Merry maids and Merry men. 149
Surely the poet of " the Western Shore " might have explained
the fact of the figures of mermaids being carved on the bench ends
of some of the old churches with less difficulty, had he remembered
that nearly all the churches on the coast of Cornwall were built by
and for fishermen, to whom the superstitions of mermen and mer-
maidens had the familiarity of a creed.
The intimate connection between the inhabitants of Brittany, of
Cornwall, and of Wales, would 'appear to lead to the conclusion
that the Breton word Moruerch, or mermaid, had much to do with
the name of this parish, Morva, — of Morvel, near Liskeard, — and
probably of Morwenstow, of which the vicar, Mr Hawker, writes —
" My glebe occupies a position of wild and singular beauty. Its
western boundary is the sea, skirted by tall and tremendous cliffs,
and near their brink, with the exquisite taste of ecclesiastical anti-
quity, is placed the church. The original and proper designation
of the parish is Morvuen-stovf — that is, Morwenna's Stow, or
station ; but it has been corrupted by recent usage, like many
other local names."
MERRYMAIDS AND MERRYMEN.
THE " merry-maids " of the Cornish fishermen and sailors
possess the well-recognised features of the mermaid. The
Breton ballad, quoted by Mr Keightley, relating to the Morgan
(sea-women] and the Morverch (sea-daughters), peculiarly adapts
;tself to the Cornish merry-maid.
" Fisher, hast thou seen the mermaid combing her hair, yellow
as gold, by the noontide sun, at the edge of the water ? "
" I have seen the fair mermaid ; I have also heard her singing
her songs plaintive as the waves."
The Irish legends make us acquainted with the amours of men
with those sea-sirens. We learn that the Merrows, or Moruachs,
came occasionally from the sea, and interested themselves in the
affairs of man. Amongst the fragments which have been gathered,
here a pebble and there a pebble, along the Western coast, will be
found similar narratives.
The sirens of the ^Egean Sea — probably the parents of the
mediaeval mermaid — possess in a pre-eminent degree the beauty
and the falsehood of all the race. Like all other things, even those
mythical creations take colour from that they work in, like the
dyer's hand. The Italian mermaid is the true creature of the
romance of the sunny South ; while the lady of «ur own southern
seas, although she possesses much in common with her Mediter-
150 Romances of the Mermaids.
ranean sister, has less poetry, but more human sympathy. The
following stories, read in connection with those given by Mr
Keightley and by Mr Croker, will show this.*
When, five-and-thirty years since, I spent several nights in a
fisherman's cottage on a south-western coast, I was treated to many
a " long yarn " respecting mermaids seen by the father and his
sons in the southern ocean. The appearance of those creatures
on our own shores, they said, was rare ; but still they knew they
had been seen. From them I learned of more than one family
who have received mysterious powers from the sea-nymphs ; and I
have since heard that members of those families still live, and that
they intimate to their credulous friends their firm belief that
this power, which they say has been transmitted to them, was
derived, by some one of their ancestors, from merman or mer-
maiden.
Usually those creatures are associated with some catastrophe ;
but they are now and then spoken of as the benefactors of
man.
One word more. The story of " The Mermaid's Vengeance "
has been produced from three versions of evidently the same
legend, which differed in many respects one from the other, yet
agreeing in the main with each other. The first I heard at the
Lizard, or rather at Coverach ; the second in Sennen Cove, near
the Land's End ; the third at Perranzabaloe. I have preferred the
last locality, as being peculiarly fitted for the home of a mermaid
story, and because the old man who told the tale there was far
more graphic in his incidents ; and these were strung more closely
together than either of the other stories. f
* See " The Fairy Family : a Series of Ballads and Metrical Tales Illustrating the
Fairy Mythology of Europe," Longman, 1857; "The Fairy Mythology, Illustrative of
the Romance and Superstitions of Various Countries," by Thomas Keightley; and " Irish
Fairy Legends," by Crofton Croker.
t The following extract from a letter from an esteemed correspondent shows the exist-
ence of a belief in those fabled creations of the ocean amongst an extensive class of the
labouring population of Cornwall. There is so much that is characteristic in my corre-
spondent's letter that it is worth preserving as supporting the evidence of the existing
belief:—
" I had the chance of seeing what many of our natives firmly believed to be that family.
Some fourteen years ago I found myself, with about fifty emigrants; in the Gulf of St
Lawrence, on board the old tub Resolution, Captain Davies, commander. We were
shrouded in a fog so thick that you might cut it like a cheese, almost all the way from the
Banks to Anticosti. One morning, soon after sunrise, when near that island, the fog as
thick as night overhead, at times would rise and fall on the shore like the tantalising
stage curtain. All at once there was a clear opening right through the dense clouds
•which rested on the water, that gave us a glimpse of the shore, with the rocks covered
vith what to us appeared very strange creatures. In a minute, the hue and cry from
The Mermaid ys Rock. 1 5 J
THE MERMAID OF PADSTOW.
THE port of Padstow has a good natural harbour, so far as
rocky area goes, but it is so choked up with drifting sands
as to be nearly useless. A peasant recently thus explained the
cause. He told how " it was once deep water for the largest
vessel, and under the care of a merry -maid — as he called her ;
but one day, as she was sporting on the surface, a fellow with a gun
shot at her. " She dived for a moment ; but re-appearing, raised
her right arm, and vowed that henceforth the harbour should be
desolate." " And," added the old man, " it always will be so.
We have had commissions, and I know not what, about con-
verting this place into a harbour of refuge. A harbour of refuge
would be a great blessing, but not all the Government commis-
sions in the world could keep the sand out, or make the harbour
deep enough to swim a frigate, unless the parsons can find out the
way to take up the merry-maid's curse."
Another tale refers the choking up of this harbour to the bad
spirit Tregeagle.
THE MERMAID'S ROCK.
TO the westward of the beautiful Cove of Lemorna is a rock
which has through all time borne the above name. I have
never been enabled to learn any special story in connection with
this rock. There exists the popular fancy of a lady showing her-
self here previous to a storm — with, of course, the invariable
comb and glass. She is said to have been heard singing most
plaintively before a wreck, and that, all along the shore, the
spirits have echoed her in low moaning voices.* Young men are
stem to stern, among all the cousin Johnnys, was ' What are they, you? What are they,
you?' Somebody gave the word mermaids. Old men, women, and children, that
hadn't been out of their bunks for weeks, tore on deck to see the mermaids, when, alasl
the curtain dropped, or rather closed, and the fair were lost to sight, but to memory dear;
for, all the way to Quebec, those not lucky enough to see the sight bothered the others
out of their lives to know how they looked, and if we saw the comb and glass in their
hands. The captain might as well save his breath as tell them that the creatures they
saw on the rocks were seals, walruses, and sea-calves. ' Not yet, Captain dear, you
won't come that over me at all ; no, not by a long chalk ! no, not at all, I can tell'e ! I
Know there are mermaids in the sea ; have heard many say so who have seen them too !
but as for sea-calves, I ain't such a calf nor donkey neither as to believe ut. There may
be a few of what we call soils (seals) for all I know ; perhaps so, but the rest were mer-
maidens.' No doubt, centuries hence, this story of the mermaidens will be handed down
with many additions, in the log-huts of the Western States."
* The undulations of the air, travelling with more rapidity Aan the currents, reach
our shores long before the tempest by which they have been established in the centre of
152 Romances of the Mermaids.
said to have swam off to the rock, lured by the songs which
they heard, but they have never returned. Have we not in this
a dim shadow of the story of the Sirens ?
THE MERMAID OF SEATON.
NEAR Looe, — that is, between Down Deny and Looe, — there
is a little sand-beach called " Seaton."
Tradition tells us that here once stood a goodly commercial
town bearing this name, and that when it was in its pride, Ply-
mouth was but a small fishing-village.
The town of Seaton is said to have been overwhelmed with
sand at an early period, the catastrophe having been brought
about, — as in the case of the filling up of Padstow harbour, — by
the curse of a mermaid, who had suffered some injury from the
sailors who belonged to this port. Beyond this I have been unable
to glean any story worth preserving.
THE OLD MAN OF CURY.
MORE than a hundred years since, on a fine summer day,
when the sun shone brilliantly from a cloudless sky, an
old man from the parish of Cury, or, as it was called in olden
time, Corantyn, was walking on the sands in one of the coves
near the Lizard Point. The old man was meditating, or at least
he was walking onward, either thinking deeply, or not thinking at
all — that is, he was " lost in thought " — when suddenly he came
upon a rock on which was sitting a beautiful girl with fair hair, so
long that it covered her entire person. On the in-shore side of
the rock was a pool of the most transparent water, which had
been left by the receding tide in the sandy hollow the waters had
scooped out. This young creature was so absorbed in her
occupation, — arranging her hair in the watery mirror, or in
admiration of her own lovely face, that she was unconscious of
an intruder.
The old man stood looking at her for some time ere he made
up his mind how to act. At length he resolved to speak to the
maiden. " What cheer, young one ? " he said ; " what art thee
doing there by thyself, then, this time o' day ? " As soon as she
heard the voice, she slid off the rock entirely under the water.
the Atlantic, and by producing a low moaning sound, " the soughing of the wind,"
predicates the storms. The "moans of Tregeagle " is another expression indicatin
the same phenomenon.
The Old Man of Cury. 1 5 3
The old man could not tell what to make of it. He thought the
girl would drown herself, so he ran on to the rock to render her
assistance, conceiving that in her fright at being found naked by
a man she had fallen into the pool, and possibly it was deep
enough to drown her. He looked into the water, and, sure
enough, he could make out the head and shoulders of a woman,
and long hair floating like fine sea-weeds all over the pond, hiding
what appeared to him to be a fish's tail. He could not, however,
see anything distinctly, owing to the abundance of hair floating
around the figure. The old man had heard of mermaids from
the fishermen of Gunwalloe ; so he conceived this lady must be
one, and he was at first very much frightened. He saw that the
young lady was quite as much terrified as he was, and that, from
shame or fear, she endeavoured to hide herself in the crevices of
the rock, and bury herself under the sea-weeds.
Summoning courage, at last the old man addressed her,
" Don't 'e be afraid, my dear. You needn't mind me. I wouldn't
do ye any harm. I 'm an old man, and wouldn't hurt ye any
more than your grandfather."
After he had talked in this soothing strain for some time, the
young lady took courage, and raised her head above the water.
She was crying bitterly, and, as soon as she could speak, she
begged the old man to go away.
" I must know, my dearie, something about ye, now I have
caught ye. It is not every day that an old man catches a merry-
maid, and I have heard some strange tales of you water-ladies.
Now, my dear, don't 'e be afraid, I would not hurt a single hair
of that beautiful head. How came ye here ? " After some further
coaxing she told the old man the following story : — She and her
husband and little ones had been busy at sea all the morning,
and they were very tired with swimming in the hot sun ; so the
merman proposed that they should retire to a cavern, which they
were in the habit of visiting in Kynance Cove. Away they all
swam, and entered the cavern at mid-tide. As there was some
nice soft weed, and the cave was deliciously cool, the merman
was disposed to sleep, and told them not to wake him until
the rise of the tide. He was soon fast asleep, snoring most
lustily. The children crept out and were playing on the lovely
sands ; so the mermaid thought she should like to look at the
world a little. She looked with delight on the children rolling to
and fro in the shallow waves, and she laughed heartily at the
crabs fighting in their own funny way. " The scent from the
flowers came down over the cliffs so sweetly," said she, " that I
154 Romances of the Mermaids.
longed to get nearer the lovely things which yielded those rich
odours, and I floated on from rock to rock until I came to this
one ; and rinding that I could not proceed any further, I thought
I would seize the opportunity of dressing my hair." She passed
her fingers through those beautiful locks, and shook out a number
of small crabs, and much broken sea-weed. She went on to say
that she had sat on the rock amusing herself, until the voice of a
mortal terrified her, and until then she had no idea that the sea
was so far out, and a long dry bar of sand between her and it.
" What shall I do ? what shall I do ? Oh ! I 'd give the world to
get out to sea ! Oh ! oh ! what shall I do ? "
The old man endeavoured to console her ; but his attempts
were in vain. She told him her husband would " carry on " most
dreadfully if he awoke and found her absent, and he would be
certain of awaking at the turn of the tide, as that was his dinner-
time. He was very savage when he was hungry, and would as
soon eat the children as not, if there was no other food at hand.
He was also dreadfully jealous, and if she was not at his side
when he awoke, he would at once suspect her of having run off
with some other merman. She begged the old man to bear her
out to sea. If he would but do so, she would procure him any
three things he would wish for. Her entreaties at length pre-
vailed ; and, according to her desire, the old man knelt down on
the rock with his back towards her. She clasped her fair arms
around his neck, and locked her long finny fingers together on his
throat. He got up from the rock with his burthen, and carried
the mermaid thus across the sands. As she rode in this way, she
asked the old man to tell her what he desired.
" I will not wish," said he, " for silver and gold, but give me
the power to do good to my neighbours : first, to break the spells
of witchcraft ; next, to charm away diseases ; and thirdly, to dis-
cover thieves, and restore stolen goods."
All this she promised he should possess ; but he must come to
a half-tide rock on another day, and she would instruct him how
to accomplish the three things he desired. They had reached the
water, and taking her comb from her hair, she gave it to the old
man, telling him he had but to comb the water and call her at
any time, and she would come to him. The mermaid loosened
her grasp, and sliding off the old man's back into the sea, she
waved him a kiss and disappeared. At the appointed time the
old man was at the half-tide rock, — known to the present time as
the Mermaid's Rock, — and duly was he instructed in many mys-
teries. Amongst others, he learned to break the spells of witches
The Mermaid 's Vengeance. 155
from man or beast ; to prepare a vessel of water, in which to
show to any one who had property stolen the face of the thief ;
to charm shingles, tetters, St Antony's fire, and St Vitus's dance ;
and he learnt also all the mysteries of bramble leaves, and the
like.
The mermaid had a woman's curiosity, and she persuaded her
old friend to take her to some secret place, from which she could
see more of the dry land, and of the funny people who lived on it,
" and had their tails split, so that they could walk." On taking
the mermaid back to the sea, she wished her friend to visit her
abode, and promised even to make him young if he would do so,
which favour the old gentleman respectfully declined. A family,
well known in Cornwall, have for some generations exercised the
power of charming, &c. They account for the possession of this
power in the manner related. Some remote great-grandfather was
the individual who received the mermaid's comb, which they re-
tain to the present day, and show us evidence of the truth of their
being supernaturally endowed. Some people are unbelieving
enough to say the comb is only a part of a shark's jaw. Scepti-
cal people are never lovable people.
THE MERMAID'S VENGEANCE*
IN one of the deep valleys of the parish of Perranzabuloe, which
are remarkable for their fertility, and especially for the
abundance of fruit which the orchards produce, lived in days long
ago, amidst a rudely-civilised people, a farmer's labourer, his
wife, with one child, a daughter. The man and woman were
equally industrious. The neatly white-washed walls of their mud-
built cottage, the well-kept gravelled paths, and carefully-weeded
beds of their small garden, in which flowers were cultivated for
ornament, and vegetables for use, proclaimed at once the character
of the inmates. In contrast with the neighbouring cottages, this
one, although smaller than many others, had a superior aspect,
and the occupiers of it exhibited a strong contrast to those pea-
sants and miners amidst whom they dwelt.
Pennaluna, as the man was called, or Penna the Proud, as he
was, in no very friendly spirit, named by his less thoughtful and
more impulsive fellows, was, as we have said, a farmer's labourer.
* Several versions of the following story have been given me. The general idea of
the tale belongs to the north coast ; but the fact of mermaidens taking innocents
under their charge was common around the Lizard, and in som»of the coves near the
Land's End.
156 Romances of the Mermaids,
His master was a wealthy yeoman, and he, after many years' ex-
perience, was so convinced of the exceeding industry and sterling
nonesty of Penna, .that he made him the manager of an outlying
farm in this parish, under the hind (or hine — the Saxon pronun-
ciation is still retained in the West of England), or general super-
visor of this and numerous other extensive farms.
Penna was too great a favourite with the Squire to be a favourite
of the hind's ; he was evidently jealous of him, and from not being
himself a man of very strict principles, he hated the unobtrusive
goodness of his underling, and was constantly on the watch to dis-
cover some cause of complaint. It was not, however, often that he
was successful in this. Every task committed to the care of Penna,
— and he was often purposely overtasked, — was executed with great
care and despatch. With the wife of Penna, however, the case
was unfortunately different. Honour Penna was as industrious as
her husband, and to him she was in all respects a helpmate. She
had, however, naturally a proud spirit, and this had been en-
couraged in her youth by her parents. Honour was very pretty
as a girl, and, indeed, she retained much beauty as a woman.
The only education she received was the wild one of experience,
and this within a very narrow circle. She grew an ignorant girl,
amongst ; ignorant men and women, few of them being able to
write their names, and scarcely any of them to read. There was
much native grace about her, and she was flattered by the young
men, and envied by the young women, of the village, — the envy
and the flattery being equally pleasant to her. In the same village
was born, and brought up, Tom Chenalls, who had, in the course
of years, become hind to the Squire. Tom, as a young man,
had often expressed himself fond of Honour, but he was always
distasteful to the village maiden, and eventually, while yet young,
she was married to Pennaluna, who came from the southern coast,
bringing with him the recommendation of being a stranger, and
an exceedingly hard-working man, who was certain to earn bread,
and something more, for his wife and family. In the relations in
which these people were now placed towards each other, Chenalls
had the opportunity of acting ungenerously towards the Pennas.
The man bore this uncomplainingly, but the woman frequently
quarrelled with him whom she felt was an enemy, and whom she still
regarded but as her equal. Chenalls was a skilled farmer, and
hence was of considerable value to the Squire ; but although he
was endured for his farming knowledge and his business habits,
he was never a favourite with his employer. Penna, on the con-
trary, was an especial favourite, and the evidences of this were so
The Mermaid's Vengeance. 157
often brought strikingly under the observation of Chenalls, that
it increased the irritation of his hate, for it amounted to that.
For years things went on thus. There was the tranquil suffering
of an oppressed spirit manifested in Penna — the angry words
and actions of his wife towards the oppressor, — and, at the same
time, as she with much fondness studied to make their humble
home comfortable for her husband, she reviled him not unfre-
quently for the meek spirit with which he endured his petty, but
still trying, wrongs. The hind dared not venture on any positive
act of wrong towards those people, yet he lost no chance of an-
noying them, knowing that the Squire's partiality for Penna would
not allow him to venture beyond certain bounds, even in this
direction.
Penna's solace was his daughter. She had now reached her
eighteenth year, and with the well-developed form of a woman,
she united the simplicity of a child. Selina, as she was named,
was in many respects beautiful. Her features were regular, and
had they been lighted up with more mental fire, they would have
been beautiful ; but the constant repose, the want of animation,
left her face merely a pretty one. Her skin was beautifully white,
and transparent to the blue veins which traced their ways beneath
it, to the verge of that delicacy which indicates disease ; but it
did not pass that verge. Selina was full of health, as her well-
moulded form at once showed, and her clear blue eye distinctly
told. At times there was a lovely tint upon the cheek — not the
hectic of consumptive beauty, — but a pure rosy dye, suffused by
the healthy life stream, when it flowed the fastest.
The village gossips, who were always busy with their neigh-
bours, said strange things of this girl. Indeed, it was commonly
reported that the real child of the Pennas was a remarkably plain
child, in every respect a different being from Selina. The striking
difference between the infant and the woman was variously ex-
plained by the knowing ones. Two stories were, however, current
for miles around the country. One was, that Selina's mother was
constantly seen gathering dew in the morning, with which to wash
her child, and that the fairies on the Towens had, in pure malice,
aided her in giving a temporary beauty to the girl, that it might
lead to her betrayal into crime. Why this malice, was never
clearly made out.
The other story was, that Honour Penna constantly bathed the
child in a certain pool, amidst the arched rocks of Perran, which
was a favourite resort of the mermaids ; that on one occasion the
child, as if in a paroxysm of joy, leapt from her arms into the
1 58 Romances of the Mermaids.
water, and disappeared. The mother, as may well be supposed,
suffered a momentary agony of terror ; but presently the babe
swam up to the surface of the water, its little face more bright and
beautiful than it had ever been before. Great was the mother's
joy, and also — as the gossips say — great her surprise at the sudden
change in the appearance of her offspring. The mother knew no
difference in the child whom she pressed lovingly to her bosom,
but all the aged crones in the parish declared it to be a change-
ling. This tale lived its day ; but, as the girl grew on to woman-
hood, and showed none of the special qualifications belonging
either to fairies or mermaids, it was almost forgotten. The un-
complaining father had solace for all his sufferings in wandering
over the beautiful sands with his daughter. Whether it was when
the summer seas fell in musical undulations on the shore, or when,
stirred by the winter tempests, the great Atlantic waves came up
in grandeur, and lashed the resisting sands in giant rage, those two
enjoyed the solitude. Hour after hour, from the setting sun time,
until the clear cold moon flooded the ocean with her smiles of light,
would the father and child walk these sands. They seemed never
to weary of them and the ocean.
Almost every morning, throughout the milder seasons, Selina
was in the habit of bathing, and wild tales were told of the frantic
joy with which she would play with the breaking billows. Some-
times floating over, and almost dancing on the crests of the waves,
at other times rushing under them, and allowing the breaking waters
to beat her to the sands, as though they were loving arms, endeav-
ouring to encircle her form. Certain it is, that Selina greatly
enjoyed her bath, but all the rest must be regarded as the creations
of the imagination. The most eager to give a construction unfav-
ourable to the simple mortality of the maiden was, however, com-
pelled to acknowledge that there was no evidence in her general con-
duct to support their surmises. Selina, as an only child, fared the fate
of others who are unfortunately so placed, and was, as the phrase
is, spoiled. She certainly was allowed to follow her own inclinations
without any check. Still her inclinations were bounded to work-
ing in the garden, and to leading her father to the sea-shore.
Honour Penna, sometimes, it is true, did complain that Selina
could not be trusted with the most ordinary domestic duty. Be-
yond this, there was one other cause of grief, that was, the increas-
ing dislike which Selina exhibited towards entering a church. The
girl, notwithstanding the constant excuses of being sick, suffering
from headache, having a pain in her side, and the like, was often
taken, notwithstanding, by her mother to the church. It is said
The Mermaid's Vengeance. 159
that she always shuddered as she passed the church-stile, and
again on stepping from the porch into the church itself. When
once within the house of prayer she evinced no peculiar liking or
disliking, observing respectfully all the rules during the perform-
ance of the church-service, and generally sleeping, or seeming to
sleep, during the sermon. Selina Pennaluna had reached her
eighteenth year ; she was admired by many of the young men of
the parish, but, as if surrounded by a spell, she appeared to keep
them all at a distance from her. About this time, a nephew to
the Squire, a young soldier, — who had been wounded in the wars,
— came into Cornwall to heal his wounds, and recover health,
which had suffered in a trying campaign.
This young man, Walter Trewoofe, was a rare specimen of man-
hood. Even now, shattered as he was by the combined influences
of wounds, an unhealthy climate, and dissipation, he could not
but be admired for fineness of form, dignity of carriage, and
masculine beauty. It was, however, but too evident, that this
young man was his own idol, and that he expected every one to
bow down with him, and worship it. His uncle was proud of
Walter, and although the old gentleman could not fail to see many
faults, yet he regarded them as the follies of youth, and trusted to
their correction with the increase of years and experience. Walter,
who was really suffering severely, was ordered by his surgeon, at
first, to take short walks on the sea-shore, and, as he gained
strength, to bathe. He was usually driven in his uncle's pony-
carriage to the edge of the sands. Then dismounting he would
walk for a short time, and quickly wearing, return in his carriage
to the luxuriant couches at the manor-house.
On some of those occasions Walter had observed the father and
daughter taking their solitary ramble. He was struck with the
quiet beauty of the girl, and seized an early opportunity of stopping
Penna to make some general inquiry respecting the bold and beau-
tiful coast. From time to time they thus met, and it would have
been evident to any observer that Walter did not so soon weary of
the sands as formerly, and that Selina was not displeased with the
flattering things he said to her. Although the young soldier had
hitherto led a wild life, it would appear as if for a considerable period
the presence of goodness had repressed every tendency to evil in
his ill-regulated heart. He continued, therefore, for some time
playing with his own feelings and those of the childlike being who
presented so much of romance, combined with the most homely
tameness, of character. Selina, it is true, had never yet seen
Walter except in the presence of her father, and it is questionable
160 Romances of the Mermaids.
if she had ever for one moment had a warmer feeling than that of
the mere pleasure — a silent pride — that a gentleman, at once so
handsome, so refined, and the nephew of her father's master,
should pay her any attention. Evil eyes were watching with
wicked earnestness the growth of passion, and designing hearts
were beating quicker with a consciousness that they should event-
ually rejoice in the downfall of innocence. Tom Chenalls hoped
that he might achieve a triumph, if he could but once asperse the
character of Selina. He took his measures accordingly. Having
noticed the change in the general conduct of his master's nephew,
he argued that this was due to the refining influence of a pure mind,
acting on one more than ordinarily impressionable to either evil or
good.
Walter rapidly recovered health, and with renewed strength the
manly energy of his character began to develop itself. He de-
lighted in horse-exercise, and Chenalls had always the best horse
on the farms at his disposal. He was a good shot, and Chenalls
was his guide to the best shooting-grounds. He sometimes fished,
and Chenalls knew exactly where the choicest trout and the richest
salmon were to be found. In fact, Chenalls entered so fully into
the tastes of the young man, that Walter found him absolutely
necessary to him to secure the enjoyments of a country life.
Having established this close intimacy, Chenalls never lost an
opportunity of talking with Walter respecting Selina Penna. He
soon satisfied himself that Walter, like most other young men who
had led a dissipated life, had but a very low estimate of women
generally. Acting upon this, he at first insinuated that Selina's
innocence was but a mask, and at length he boldly assured Walter
that the cottage girl was to be won by him with a few words, and
that then he might put her aside at any time as a prize to some
low-born peasant. Chenalls never failed to impress on Walter the
necessity of keeping his uncle in the most perfect darkness, and of
blinding the eyes of Selina's parents. Penna was, — so thought
Chenalls, — easily managed, but there was more to be feared from
the wife. Walter, however, with much artifice, having introduced
himself to Honour Penna, employed the magic of that flattery,
which, being properly applied, seldom fails to work its way to the
heart of a weak-minded woman. He became an especial favourite
with Honour, and the blinded mother was ever pleased at the
attention bestowed with so little assumption, — as she thought, — of
pride, on her daughter, by one so much above them. Walter
eventually succeeded in separating occasionally, though not often,
Penna and his daughter. The witching whispers of unholy love
The Mermaid's Vengeance. 161
were poured into the trusting ear. Guileless herself, this child-
woman suspected no guile in others, least of all in one whom she
had been taught to look upon as a superior being to herself.
Amongst the villagers, the constant attention of Walter Trewoofe
was the subject of gossip, and many an old proverb was quoted by
the elder women, ill-naturedly, and implying that evil must come
of this intimacy. Tom Chenalls was now employed by Walter to
contrive some means by which he could remove Penna for a period
from home. He was not long in doing this. He lent every power
of his wicked nature to aid the evil designs of the young soldier,
and thus he brought about that separation of father and child which
ended in her ruin.
Near the Land's End the squire possessed some farms, and one
of them was reported to be in such a state of extreme neglect,
through the drunkenness and consequent idleness of the tenant,
that Chenalls soon obtained permission to take the farm from this
occupier, which he did in the most unscrupulous disregard for law
or right. It was then suggested that the only plan by which a
desirable occupier could be found, would be to get the farm and
farm-buildings into good condition, and that Penna, of all men,
would be the man to bring this quickly about. The squire was
pleased with the plan. Penna was sent for by him, and was proud
of the confidence which his master reposed in him. There was
some sorrow on his leaving home. He subsequently said that he
had had many warnings not to go, but he felt that he dared not
disoblige a master who had trusted him so far — so he went.
Walter needed not any urging on the part of Chenalls, though
he was always ready to apply the spur when there was the least
evidence of the sense of right asserting itself in the young man's
bosom. Week after week passed on. Walter had rendered him-
self a necessity to Selina. Without her admirer the world was cold
and colourless. With him all was sunshine and glowing tints.
Three months passed thus away, and during that period it had
only been possible for Penna to visit his home twice. The father
felt that something like a spirit of evil stood between him and his
daughter. There was no outward evidence of any change, but
there was an inward sense — undefined, yet deeply felt — like an
overpowering fear — that some wrong had been done. On part-
ing, Penna silently but earnestly prayed that the deep dread
might be removed from his mind. There was an aged fisherman,
who resided in a small cottage built on the sands, who possessed
all the superstitions of his class. This old man had formed a
father's liking for the simple-hearted maiden, and he^had persuaded
L
1 62 Romances of the Mermaids.
himself that there really was some foundation for the tales which
the gossips told. To the fisherman, Walter Trewoofe was an evil
genius. He declared that no good ever came' to him, if he met
Walter when he was about to go to sea. With this feeling he
curiously watched the young man and maiden, and he, in after
days, stated his conviction that he had seen " merry maidens "
rising from the depth of the waters, and floating under the billows,
to watch Selina and her lover. He has also been heard to say,
that on more than one occasion Walter himself had been terrified
by sights and sounds. Certain, however, it is, these were insufficient,
and the might of evil passions were more powerful than any of the
protecting influences of the unseen world.
Another three months had gone by, and Walter Trewoofe had
disappeared from Perranzabuloe. He had launched into the gay
world of the metropolis, and rarely, if ever, dreamed of the deep
sorrow which was weighing down the heart he had betrayed.
Penna returned home — his task was done — and Chenalls had no
reason for keeping him any longer from his wife and daughter.
Clouds gathered slowly but unremittingly around him. His
daughter retired into herself, no longer as of old reposing her
whole soul on her father's heart. His wife was somewhat changed
too — she had some secret in her heart which she feared to tell.
The home he had left was not the home to which he had returned.
It soon became evident that some shock had shaken the delicate
frame of his daughter. She pined rapidly ; and Penna was
awakened to a knowledge of the cause by the rude rejoicing of
Chenalls, who declared " that all people who kept themselves so
much above other people were sure to be pulled down." On one
occasion he so far tempted Penna with sneers, at his having hoped
to secure the young squire for a son-in-law, that the long-enduring
man broke forth and administered a severe blow upon his tor-
mentor. This was duly reported to the squire, and added thereto
was a magnified story of a trap which had been set by the Pennas
to catch young Walter j it was represented that even now they in-
tended to press their claims, on account of grievous wrongs upon
them, whereas it could be proved that Walter was guiltless — that
he was indeed the innocent victim of designing people, who thought
to make money out of their assumed misfortune. The squire made
his inquiries, and there were not a few who eagerly seized the
opportunity to gain the friendship of Chenalls by representing this
family to have been hypocrites of the deepest dye ; and the poor
girl especially was now loaded with a weight of iniquities of which
she had no knowledge. All this ended in the dismissal of Penna
The Mermaid 's Vengeance. 1 63
from the Squire's service, and in his being deprived of the cottage
in which he had taken so much pride. Although thrown out upon
the world a disgraced man, Penna faced his difficulties manfully.
He cast off, as it were, the primitive simplicity of his character,
and evidently worked with a firm resolve to beat down his sorrows.
He was too good a workman to remain long unemployed ; and
although his new home was not his happy home as of old, there
was no repining heard from his lips. Weaker and weaker grew
Selina, and it soon became evident to all, that if she came from a
spirit-world, to a spirit-world she must soon return. Grief filled
the hearts of her parents — it prostrated her mother, but the effects
of severe labour, and the efforts of a settled mind, appeared to
tranquillise the breast of her father. Time passed on, the wounds
of the soul grew deeper, and there lay, on a low bed, from which
she had not strength to move, the fragile form of youth with the
countenance of age. The body was almost powerless, but there
beamed from the eye the evidences of a spirit getting free from the
chains of clay.
The dying girl was sensible of the presence of creations other
than mortal, and with these she appeared to hold converse, and
to derive solace from the communion. Penna and his wife alter-
nately watched through the night hours by the side of their loved
child, and anxiously did they mark the moment when the tide
turned, in the full belief that she would be taken from them when
the waters of the ocean began to recede from the shore. Thus
days passed on, and eventually the sunlight of a summer morning
shone in through the small window of this humble cottage, — on a
dead mother — and a living babe.
The dead was buried in the churchyard on the sands, and the
living went on their ways, some rejoicingly and some in sorrow.
Once more Walter Trewoofe appeared in Perran-on-the-sands.
Penna would have sacrificed him to his hatred ; he emphatically
protested that he had lived only to do so ; but the good priest of
the Oratory contrived to lay the devil who had possession, and to
convince Penna that the Lord would, in His own good time, and
in His own way, avenge the bitter wrong. Tom Chenalls had his
hour of triumph ; but from the day on which Selina died every-
thing went wrong. The crops failed, the cattle died, hay-stacks
and corn-ricks caught fire, cows slipped their calves, horses fell
lame, or stumbled and broke their knees, — a succession of evils
steadily pursued him. Trials find but a short resting-place with
the good ; they may be bowed to the earth with tke weight of a
sudden sorrow, but they look to heaven, and their elasticity is
164 Romances of the Mermaids.
restored. The evil-minded are crushed at once, and grovel on
the ground in irremediable misery. That Chenalls fled to drink
in his troubles appeared but the natural result to a man of his
character. This unfitted him for his duties, and he was eventually
dismissed from his situation. Notwithstanding that the Squire
refused to listen to the appeals in favour of Chenalls, which were
urged upon him by Walter, and that indeed he forbade his nephew
to countenance " the scoundrel " in any way, Walter still con-
tinued his friend. By his means Tom Chenalls secured a small
cottage on the cliff, and around it a little cultivated ground, the
produce of which was his only visible means of support. That
lonely cottage was the scene, however, of drunken carousals, and
there the vicious young men, and the no less vicious young women,
of the district, went after nightfall, and kept " high carnival " of
sin. Walter Trewoofe came frequently amongst them ; and as his
purse usually defrayed the costs of a debauch, he was regarded
by all with especial favour.
One midnight, Walter, who had been dancing and drinking for
some hours, left the cottage wearied with his excesses, and
although not drunk, he was much excited with wine. His path-
way lay along the edge of the cliffs, amidst bushes of furze and
heath, and through several irregular, zigzag ways. There were
lateral paths striking off from one side of the main path, and
leading down to the sea-shore. Although it was moonlight, with-
out being actually aware of the error, Walter wandered into one
of those ; and before he was awake to his mistake, he found him-
self on the sands. He cursed his stupidity, and, uttering a blasphe-
mous oath, he turned to retrace his steps.
The most exquisite music which ever flowed from human lips
fell on his ear ; he paused to listen, and collecting his unbalanced
thoughts, he discovered that it was the voice of a woman singing
a melancholy dirge : —
" The stars are beautiful, when bright
They are mirror'd in the sea ;
But they are pale beside that light
Which was so beautiful to me.
My angel child, my earth-born girl,
From all your kindred riven,
By the base deeds of a selfish churl,
And to a sand-grave driven !
How shall I win thee back to ocean ?
How canst thou quit thy grave,
To share again the sweet emotion
Of gliding through the wave ? "
The Mermaid's Vengeance. 165
Walter, led by the melancholy song, advanced slowly along the
sands. He discovered that the sweet, soft sounds proceeded
from the other side of a mass of rocks, which project far out over
the sands, and that now, at low-water, there was no difficulty in
walking around it. Without hesitation he did so, and he beheld,
sitting at the mouth of a cavern, one of the most beautiful women
he had ever beheld. She continued her song, looking upwards
to the stars, not appearing to notice the intrusion of a stranger.
Walter stopped, and gazed on the lovely image before him with
admiration and wonder, mingled with something of terror. He
dared not speak, but fixed, as if by magic, he stood gazing on.
After a few minutes, the maiden, suddenly perceiving that a man
was near her, uttered a piercing shriek, and made as if to fly into
the cavern. Walter sprang forward and seized her by the arm,
exclaiming, " Not yet, my pretty maiden, not yet."
She stood still in the position of flight, with one arm behind
her, grasped by Walter, and turning round her head, her dark
eyes beamed with unnatural lustre upon him. Impressionable he
had ever been, but never had he experienced anything so
entrancing, and at the same time so painful, as that gaze. It was
Selina's face looking lovingly upon him, but it seemed to possess
some new power — a might of mind from which he felt it was im-
possible for him to escape. Walter slackened his hold, and
slowly allowed the arm to fall from his hand. The maiden turned
fully round upon him. " Go ! " she said. He could not move.
" Go, man ! " she repeated. He was powerless.
" Go to the grave where the sinless one sleepeth !
Bring her cold corse where her guarding one weepeth ;
Look on her, love her again, ay ! betray her,
And wreath with false smiles the pale face of her slayer 1
Go, go ! now, and feel the full force of my sorrow !
For the glut of my vengeance there cometh a morrow."
Walter was statue-like, and he awoke from this trance-like state
only when the waves washed his feet, and he became aware that
even now it was only by wading through the waters that he could
return around the point of rocks. He was alone. He called ;
no one answered. He sought wildly, as far as he now dared,
amidst the rocks, but the lovely woman was nowhere to be dis-
covered.
There was no rea^ danger on such a night as this ; therefore
Walter walked fearlessly through the gentle waves, and recovered
the pathway up from the sands. More than once he thought he
heard a rejoicing laugh, which was echoed in the rocks, but no
1 66 Romances of the Mermaids.
one was to be seen. Walter reached his home and bed, but he
found no sleep ; and in the morning he arose with a sense of
wretchedness which was entirely new to him. He feared to make
any one of his rough companions a confidant, although he felt this
would have relieved his heart. He therefore nursed the wound
which he now felt, until a bitter remorse clouded his existence.
After some days, he was impelled to visit the grave of the lost
one, and in the fulness of the most selfish sorrow, he sat on the
sands and shed tears. The priest of the Oratory observed him,
and knowing Walter Trewoofe, hesitated not to inquire into his
cause of sorrow. His heart was opened to the holy man, and
the strange tale was told — the only result being, that the priest
felt satisfied it was but a vivid dream, which had resulted from a
brain over-excited by drink. He, however, counselled the young
man, giving him some religious instruction, and dismissed him
with his blessing. There was relief in this. For some days
Walter did not venture to visit his old haunt, the cottage of
Chenalls. Since he could not be lost to his companions without
greatly curtailing their vicious enjoyments, he was hunted up by
Chenalls, and again enticed within the circle. His absence was
explained on the plea of illness. Walter was, however, an altered
man ; there was not the same boisterous hilarity as formerly. He
no longer abandoned himself without restraint to the enjoyments
of the time. If he ever, led on by his thoughtless and rough-
natured friends, assumed for a moment his usual mirth, it was
checked by some invisible power. On such occasions he would
turn deadly pale, look anxiously around, and fall back, as if ready
to faint, on the nearest seat. Under these influences, he lost
health. His uncle, who was really attached to his nephew,
although he regretted his dissolute conduct, became now seriously
alarmed. Physicians were consulted in vain ; the young man
pined, and the old gossips came to the conclusion that Walter
Trewoofe was ill-wished, and there was a general feeling that
Penna or his wife was at the bottom of it. Walter, living really
on one idea, and that one the beautiful face which was, and yet
was not, that of Selina, resolved again to explore the spot on
which he had met this strange being, of whom nothing could be
learned by any of the covert inquiries he made. He lingered long
ere he could resolve on the task ; but wearied, worn by the
oppression of one undefined idea, in which, an intensity of love
was mixed with a shuddering fear, he at last gathered sufficient
courage to seize an opportunity for again going to the cavern.
On this occasion, there being no moon, the night was dark, but
The Mermaid 's Vengeance. 1 67
the stars shone brightly from a sky, cloudless, save a dark mist
which hung heavily over the western horizon. Every spot of
ground being familiar to him, who, boy and man, had traced it
over many times, the partial darkness presented no difficulty.
Walter had scarcely reached the level sands, which were left hard
by the retiring tide, than he heard again the same magical voice
as before. But now the song was a joyous one, the burthen of it
being —
" Join all hands —
Might and main,
Weave the sands,
Form a chain,
He, my lover,
Comes again ! "
He could not entirely dissuade himself but that he heard this re-
peited by many voices ; but he put the thought aside, referring it,
as well he might, to the numerous echoes from the cavernous
openings in the cliffs.
He reached the eastern side of the dark mass of rocks, from the
point of which the tide was slowly subsiding. The song had ceased,
ani a low moaning sound — the soughing of the wind — passed along
the shore. Walter trembled with fear, and was on the point of re-
turiingjwhen a most flute-like murmur rose from the other side of the
rodcy barrier, which was presently moulded into words : —
" From your couch of glistering pearl,
Slowly, softly, come away ;
Our sweet earth-child, lovely girl,
Died this day, — died this day."
Memory told Walter that truly was it the anniversary of Selina
Pmnaluna's death, and to him every gentle wave falling on the shore
smg, or murmured —
" Died this day, — died this day."
The sand was left dry around the point of the rocks, and Walter
impelled by a power which he could not control, walked onward.
The moment he appeared on the western side of the rock, a wild
laugh burst into the air, as if from the deep cavern before him, at
the entrance of which sat the same beautiful being whom he had
formerly met. There was now an expression of rare joy on her
face, her eyes glistened with delight, and she extended her arms,
as if to welcome him.
" Was it ever your wont to move so slowly towards your loved
one ? "
1 68 Romances of the Mermaids.
Walter heard it was Selina's voice. He saw it was Selina's
features ; but he was conscious it was not Selina's form.
" Come, sit beside me, Walter, and let us talk of love." He
sat down without a word, and looked into the maiden's face with
a vacant expression of fondness. Presently she placed her hand
upon his heart ; a shudder passed through his frame ; but having
passed, he felt no more pain, but a rare intensity of delight. The
maiden wreathed her arm around his neck, drew Walter towards
her, and then he remembered how often he had acted thus towards
Selina. She bent over him and looked into his eyes. In his
mind's mirror he saw himself looking thus into the eyes of his be-
trayed one.
" You loved her once ?" said the maiden.
" I did indeed," answered Walter, with a sigh.
" As you loved her, so I love you," said the maiden, witt a
smile which shot like a poisoned dart through Walter's heart.
She lifted the young man's head lovingly between her hands, and
bending over him, pressed her lips upon and kissed his forehead,
Walter curiously felt that although he was the kissed, yet that ic
was the kisser.
" Kisses," she said, " are as true at sea as they are false Dn
land. You men kiss the earth-born maidens to betray them. The
kiss of a sea-child is the seal of constancy. You are mine :ill
death."
" Death ! " almost shrieked Walter.
A full consciousness of his situation now broke upon Walte-.
He had heard the tales of the gossips respecting the mermail
origin of Selina ; but he had laughed at them as an idle fane*".
.tie now felt they were true. For hours Walter was compelled 10
sit by the side of his beautiful tormentor, every word of assumed
love and rapture being a torture of the most exquisite kind to hin..
He could not escape from the arms which were wound around him.
He saw the tide rising rapidly. He heard the deep voice of the
winds coming over the sea from the far west. He saw that which
appeared at first as a dark mist, shape itself into a dense black
mass of cloud, and rise rapidly over the star-bedecked space above
him. He saw by the brilliant edge of light which occasionally
fringed the clouds that they were deeply charged with thunder.
There was something sublime in the steady motion of the storm ;
and now the roll of the waves, which had been disturbed in the
Atlantic, reached our shores, and the breakers fell thunderingly
within a few feet of Walter and his companion. Paroxysms of
terror shook him, and with each convulsion he felt himself grasped
The Mermaid 's Vengeance. 1 69
with still more ardour, and pressed so closely to the maiden's
bosom, that he heard her heart dancing of joy.
At length his terrors gave birth to words, and he implored her
to let him go.
" The kiss of the sea-child is the seal of constancy." Walter
vehemently implored forgiveness. He confessed his deep iniquity.
He promised a life of penitence.
" Give me back the dead," said the maiden bitterly, and she
planted another kiss, which seemed to pierce his brain by its
coldness, upon his forehead.
The waves rolled around the rock on which they sat ; they
washed their seat. Walter was still in the female's grasp, and she
lifted him to a higher ledge. The storm approached. Lightnings
struck down from the heavens into the sands, and thunders roared
along the iron cliffs. The mighty waves grew yet more rash, and
washed up to this strange pair, who now sat on the highest pinnacle
of the pile of rocks. Walter's terrors nearly overcame him ; but
he was roused by a liquid stream of fire, which positively hissed
by him, followed immediately by a crash of thunder, which shook
the solid earth. Tom ChenalFs cottage on the cliff burst into a
blaze, and Walter saw, from his place amidst the raging waters, a
crowd of male and female roisterers rush terrified out upon the
heath, to be driven back by the pelting storm. The climax of
horrors appeared to surround Walter. He longed to end it in
death, but he could not die. His senses were quickened. He saw
his wicked companion and evil adviser struck to the ground, a
blasted heap of ashes, by a lightning stroke, and at the same
moment he and his companion were borne off the rock on the top
of a mountainous wave, on which he floated ; the woman holding
him by the hair of his head, and singing in a rejoicing voice,
which was like a silver bell heard amidst the deep base bellowings
of the storm —
' ' Come away, come away,
O'er the waters wild !
Our earth-born child
Died this day, died this day.
" Come away, come away !
The tempest loud
Weaves the shroud
For him who did betray.
" Come away, come away !
Beneath the wave
Lieth the grave
Of him we slay, him we slay.
I/O Romances of the Mermaids.
" Come away, come away !
He shall not rest
In earth's own breast
For many a day, many a day.
" Come away, come away !
By billows tost
From coast to coast,
Like deserted boat
His corse shall float
Around the bay, around the bay. "
Myriads of voices on that wretched night were heard amidst the
roar of the storm. The waves were seen covered with a multi-
tudinous host, who were tossing from one to the other the dying
Walter Trewoofe, whose false heart thus endured the vengeance
of the mermaid, who had, in the fondness of her soul, made the
innocent child of humble parents the child of her adoption.
Appendix M.
THE ROCKS.
** Among these rocks and stones, methinks I see
More than the heedless impress that belongs
To lonely nature's casual work : they bear
A semblance strange of power intelligent,
And of design not wholly worn away."
.— WORDSWORTH.
ROMANCES OF THE ROCKS.
CROMLECH AND DRUID STONES.
" Surely there is a hidden power that reigns
'Mid the lone majesty of untamed nature,
Controlling sober reason."
— Caractacus. — WILLIAM MASON.
T T is a common belief amongst the peasantry over every part of
J- Cornwall, that no human power can remove any of those
stones which have been rendered sacred to them by traditionary
romance. Many a time have I been told that certain stones had
been removed by day, but that they always returned by night to
their original positions, and that the parties who had dared to
tamper with those sacred stones were punished in some way.
When the rash commander of a revenue cutter landed with a
party of his men and overturned the Logan Rock, to prove the
folly of the prevalent superstition, he did but little service in dis-
pelling an old belief, but proved himself to be a fool for his pains.
I could desire, for the preservation of many of our Celtic re-
mains, that we could impress the educated classes with a similar
reverence for the few relics which are left to us of an ancient and
a peculiar people, of whose history we know so little, and from
whose remains we might, by careful study, learn so much. Those
poised stones and perforated rocks must be of high antiquity, for
we find the Anglo-Saxons making laws to prevent the British people
from pursuing their old pagan practices.*
The geologist, looking upon the Logan stones and other
curiously -formed rock masses, dismisses at once from his mind
the idea of their having been formed by the hand of man, and
hastily sets aside the tradition that the Druid ever employed them,
or that the old Celt ever regarded them with reverence. There
* " Perforated stones must once have been common in England, and probably in
Scotland also, as the Anglo-Saxon laws repeatedly denounce similar superstitious
practices." — '1'he Archceology and Prehistoric Annals of Scotland ', p. 97. DANIEI
WILSON.
Cromlech and Druid Stones. 173
cannot be a doubt but that many huge masses of granite are, by
atmospheric causes, now slowly passing into the condition required
for the formation of a Logan rock. It is possible that in some
cases the " weathering " may have gone on so uniformly around
the stone, as to poise it so exactly that the thrust of a child will
shake a mass many tons in weight.
The result, however, of my own observations, made with much
curiosity and considerable care, has been to convince me, that in
by far the greatest number of instances the disintegration, though
general around the line of a " bed-way " or horizontal joint, has
gone on rapidly on the side exposed to the beat of the weather,
while the opposite extremity has been but slightly worn ; con-
sequently, the stones have a tendency to be depressed on the
sheltered side. With a little labour man could correct this natural
defect, and with a little skill make a poised stone. We have in-
controvertible evidence that certain poised stones have been re-
garded, through long periods of time, as of a sacred character.
Whether these stones were used by the Druids, or merely that the
ignorant people supposed them to have some peculiar virtue, I
care not. The earliest inhabitants of Cornwall, probably Celts,*
were possessed with some idea that these stones were connected
with the mysteries of existence ; and from father to son, for
centuries, notwithstanding the introduction of Christianity, these
stones have maintained their sacred character. Therefore, may
we not infer that the leaders of the people availed themselves
of this feeling ; and rinding many rocks of a gigantic size, upon
which nature had begun the work, they completed them, and used
the mighty moving masses to impress with terror — the principle
by which they ruled — the untaught, but poetically constituted,
minds of the people. Dr Borlase has been laughed at for finding
rock-basins, the works of the Druids, in every granitic mass. At
the same time, those who laugh have failed to examine those
rock-masses with unprejudiced care, and hence they have erred as
wildly as did the Cornish antiquary, but in a contrary direction.
Hundreds of depressions are being formed by the winds and rains
upon the faces of the granite rocks. With these no Druid ever
perplexed himself or his people. But there are numerous hollows
to be found in large flat rocks which have unmistakably been
formed, if not entirely, partly by the hands of man. The Sacri-
ficing Rock, or Cam Brea, is a remarkable example. The larger
* "A Celtic race, however, continued to occupy the primeval districts of Cornwall,
and preserved, almost to our own day, a distinct dialect of the Celtic tongue." — Pre-
historic Annals of Scotland, p. 195. DANIEL WILSON. See Apptndix N, The Celts.
1 74 Romances of the Rocks.
hollows on the Men-rock, in Constantine, several basins in the
Logan Rock group, and at Carn Boscawen, may be referred to
as other examples. With these remarks, I proceed to notice a few
of the most remarkable rock-masses with which tradition has
associated some tale.
M
THE LOGAN OR LOGING ROCK*
ODRED, in Mason's " Caractacus," addressing Vellinus and
Elidurus, says —
"Thither, youths,
Turn your astonish'd eyes ; behold yon huge
And unhewn sphere of living adamant,
Which, poised by magic, rests its central weight
On yonder pointed rock : firm as it seems,
Such is the strange and virtuous property,
It moves obsequious to the gentlest touch
Of him whose breath is pure ; but to a traitor,
Though even a giant's prowess nerved his arm,
It stands as fixed as Snowdon."
This faithfully preserves the traditionary idea of the purposes to
which this in every way remarkable rock was devoted.
Up to the time when Lieutenant Goldsmith, on the 8th of April
1824, slid the rock off from its support, to prove the falsehood of
Dr Borlase's statement, that " it is morally impossible that any
lever, or, indeed, force, however applied in a mechanical way, can
remove it from its present position," the Logan Rock was be-
lieved to cure children, who were rocked upon it at certain
seasons, of several diseases ; but the charm is broken, although
the rock is restored. t
* " It may be observed that I have always used the words Loging Rock for the cele-
brated stone at Trereen Dinas. Much learned research seems to have been idly expended
in the supposed name, 'Logan Rock.' To log is a verb in general use throughout
Cornwall for vibrating or rolling like a drunken man ; and an is frequently heard in
provincial pronunciation for ing, characteristic of the modern present participle.
The Loging Rock is, therefore, strictly descriptive of its peculiar motion." — Da-vies
Gilbert.
t When this great natural curiosity was, as it was thought, destroyed, the public
wrath was excited, and appeased only by the conciliatory spirit manifested by Mr
Davies Gilbert, who persuaded the Lords of the Admiralty to lend Lieutenant Goldsmith
the required apparatus for replacing it. Mr D. Gilbert found the money; and after
making the necessary arrangements, on the 2d of November 1824, Goldsmith "had the
glory of replacing this immense rock in its natural position." The glory of Goldsmith
and of Shrubsall, who overturned another large Logan Rock, is certainly one not to be
desired.
Zennor Coits. 175
MINCAMBER, MAIN-AMBER, OR AMBROSE'S
STONE.
A MIGHTY Logan Stone was poised and blessed by Ambrose
Merlin, not far from Penzance. " So great," says Drayton,
in his " Polyalbion," " that many men's united strength cannot
remove it, yet with one finger you may wag it."
Merlin proclaimed that this stone should stand until England
had no king ; and Scawen tells us —
" Here, too, we may add what wrong another sort of strangers
have done to us, especially in the civil wars, and in particular by
the destroying of Mincamber, a famous monument, being a rock
of infinite weight, which, as a burden, was laid upon other great
stones, and yet so equally thereon poised up by nature only, that
a little child could instantly move it, but no one man, or many,
remove it. This natural monument all travellers that came that
way desired to behold ; but in the time of Oliver's usurpation,
when all monumental things became despicable, one Shrubsall,
one of Oliver's heroes, then Governor of Pendennes, by labour
and much ado, caused to be undermined and thrown down, to the
great grief of the country, but to his own great glory, as he
thought ; doing it, as he said, with a small cane in his hand. I
myself have heard him to boast of this act, being a prisoner
under him." *
So was Merlin's prophecy fulfilled.
ZENNOR COITS.
C TAYLOR STEPHENS, lately deceased, who was for some
time the rural postman of Zennor, sought, in his poem,
" The Chief of Barat-Anac," to embody in a story some descrip-
tions of the Zennor coits and other rock curiosities.
I employed this man for some weeks to gather up for me all
that remained of legendary lore in Zennor and Morva. He did
his work well ; and from his knowledge of the people, he learned
more from them than any other man could have done. The
results of his labours are scattered through these volumes.
C. Taylor Stephens wrote me on the subject of the cromlechs as
follows : —
* "Ambers or Main Ambers, which signify anointed or consecrated stones."— C*. S
Gilbert, Historical Survey. See also Scawen's " Dissertation on the Cornish Lan-
guage," Stukeley's " Stonehenge," and Jabez Allies's "Worcestershire." Appendix O,
Ambrosia Petra.
1 76 Romances of the Rocks.
Superstitious Belief respecting the Quoits.
" I was in the neighbourhood of Zennor in 1859, and by accident came
across the Zennor cromlech, and was struck with the mode of its construc-
tion (not having heard of its existence before), and thinking it bore some
resemblance to the Druidical altars I had read of, I inquired of a group
of persons who were gathered round the village smithery, whether any one
could tell me anything respecting the heap of stones on the top of the hill.
Several were in total ignorance of their existence. One said, ' Tes caal'd
the gient's kite ; thas all I knaw.' At last, one more thoughtful, and one
who, I found out, was considered the wiseacre and oracle of the village,
looked up and gave me this important piece of information, — ' Them ere
rocks were put there afore you nor me was boern or thoft ov ; but who don
it es a puzler to everybody in Sunnur (Zennor). I de bleve theze put up
theer wen thes ere wurld wus maade ; but wether they wus or no don't
very much mattur by hal akounts. Thes I'd knaw, that nobody caant
take car em awa ; if anybody was too, they 'd be brot there agin. Hees
an ef they wus tuk'd awa wone nite, theys shur to be hal rite up top o'
th hil fust thing in morenin. But I caant tel ee s' much as Passen can ;
ef you 'd zea he, he 'd tel he hal about et. ' "
In one of the notes received from the poet and postman he gives
a curious instance of the many parts a man played in those remote
districts but a few years since : —
" My venerable grandpapa was well known by all the old people,
for he was not only a local preacher, but a charmer, a botanist, a
veterinary surgeon, a secretary to a burial and sick benefit society,
and, moreover, the blacksmith of the neighbourhood."
THE M&N-AN-TOL.
NOT more than two miles from Penzance stands the celebrated
cromlech of Lanyon — often pronounced Lanine. This,
like all the other cromlechs, marks, no doubt, the resting-place of
a British chieftain, many of whose followers repose within a short
distance of this, the principal monument.
Beyond the village of Lanyon, on a " furzy down/' stands the
Men-an-tol, or the " holed stone." For some purpose — it is in
vain to speculate on it now — the bardic priesthood employed this
stone, and probably the superstition which attaches to it may
indicate its ancient uses.
If scrofulous children are passed naked through the Me'n-an-tol
three times, and then drawn on the grass three times against the
sim, it is felt by the faithful that much has been done towards
insuring a speedy cure. Even men and women who have been
afflicted with spinal diseases, or who have suffered from scrofulous
taint, have been drawn through this magic stone, which all declare
still retains its ancient virtues.
The Dancing S tones > the Hurlers, etc. 177
If two brass pins are carefully laid across each other on the top
edge of this stone, any question put to the rock will be answered,
by the pins acquiring, through some unknown agency, a peculiat
motion.
THE CRICK STONE IN MORVA.
IF any one suffering from a " crick in the back " can pass
through this forked rock, on the borders of Zennor and
Morva, without touching the stone, he is certain of being cured.
This is but a substitute for the holed stone, which, it is admitted,
has much more virtue than the forked stone.
In various parts of the county there are, amongst the granitic
masses, rocks which have fallen across each other, leaving small
openings, or there are holes, low and narrow, extending under a
pile of rocks. In nearly every case of this kind, we find it is
popularly stated, that any one suffering from rheumatism or lum-
bago would be cured if he crawled through the openings. In some
cases, nine times are insisted on " to make the charm complete."
Mrs Bray, in her " Traditions of Devonshire," gives several
examples of the prevalence of this superstition over the granitic
district of Dartmoor.*
THE DANCING STONES, THE HURLERS, frc.
IN many parts of Cornwall we find, more or less perfect, circles
of stones, which the learned ascribe to the Druids. Tradi-
tion, and the common people, who have faith in all that their
fathers have taught them, tell us another tale. These stones are
everlasting marks of the Divine displeasure, being maidens or
men, who were changed into stone for some wicked profanation
of the Sabbath-day. These monuments of impiety are scattered
over the county ; they are to be found, indeed, to the extremity of
Old Cornwall, many of those circles being upon Dartmoor. It is
not necessary to name them all. Every purpose will be served if
the tourist is directed to those which lie more directly in the route
which is usually prescribed. In the parish of Burian are the
" Dawns Myin " or Men — the dancing stones — commonly called
" The Merry Maidens ; " and near them are two granite pillars,
named the " Pipers." One Sabbath evening some of the thought-
less maidens of the neighbouring village, instead of attending
* " Creeping under tolmens for the cure of diseases is still practised in Ireland, and
also in the East, as is shown by Mrs Colonel Elwood in her Travels."— Gentleman's
Magazine, July 1831.
M
1 78 Romances of the Rocks.
vespers, strayed into the fields, and two evil spirits, assuming the
guise of pipers, began to play some dance tunes. The young
people yielded to the temptation ; and, forgetting the holy day,
commenced dancing. The excitement increased with the exercise,
and soon the music and the dance became extremely wild j when,
lo ! a flash of lightning from the clear sky transfixed them all, the
tempters and the tempted, and there in stone they stand.
The celebrated circle of nineteen stones, — which is seen on the
road to the Land's End, — known as the " Boscawen-un Circle," is
another example. The " Nine Maids," or the " Virgin Sisters,"
in Stithians, and other " Nine Maids," or, as called in Cornish,
Naw-whoors, in St Colomb- Major parish, should also be seen, in
the hope of impressing the moral lesson they convey yet more
strongly on the mind.*
The three circles, which are seen on the moors not far from the
Cheesewring, in the parish of St Cleer, are also notable examples
of the punishment of Sabbath-breaking. These are called the
" Hurlers," and they preserve the position in which the several
parties stood in the full excitement of the game of hurling, when,
for the crime of profaning the Sabbath, they were changed into
stone, f
* The following quotations are from Davies Gilbert. It must not be forgotten that
this gentleman was President of the Royal Society, and therefore a sceptic in local
traditionary story I —
" On the south-west part of the parish of Stithians, towards Gwendron, are still to be
seen nine stones set perpendicularly erect in the earth, in a direct manner, about ten
feet apart, called the Nine Maids, probably set up there in memory of nine religious
sisters or nuns in that place before the fifth century ; not women turned into stone, as
the English name implies, and as the country people thereabout will tell you."
"The Nine Maids — in Cornish, Naw-voz, alias the nine sisters — in Cornish, Naw-
whoors — which very name informs us that they were sepulchral stones, erected in
memory either of nine natural or spiritual sisters of some religious house, and not so
many maids turned into stones for dancing on the Sabbath-day, as the country people
will tell you. Those stones are set in order by a line, as is such another monument, also
called the Nine Maids, in Gwendron, by the highway, about twenty-five feet distance
from each other."
f " With respect to the stones called the ' Hurlers ' being once men, I will say with
Hals, ' Did but the ball which these Hurlers used when flesh and blood appear directly
over them, immovably pendant in the air, one might be apt to credit some little of the
tale ; ' but as this is not the case, I must add my belief of their being erected by the
Druids for some purpose or other — probably a court of justice ; long subsequent to which
erection, however, they may have served as a goal for hurl-players." — Topographical
and Historical Sketches of the Boroughs of East and West Love, by Thomas Bond.
May we not address Mr Bond, " O ye of little faith ?" A very small amount of which
would have found the ball, fixed as a boulder of granite, not as it passed through the
air, but as it rolled along the ground.
That an ancient priesthood, endeavouring to reach the minds of an ignorant people
through their sensations, should endeavour to persuade the old Celtic population that
The Twelve-o'clock Stone. 179
THE NINE MAIDS, OR VIRGIN SISTERS.
NINE " Moor Stones " are set up near the road in the parish
of Gwendron, or Wendron, to which the above name is
given. The perpendicular blocks of granite have evidently been
placed with much labour in their present position. Tradition says
they indicate the graves of nine sisters. Hals appears to think
some nuns were buried here. From one person only I heard the
old story of the stones having been metamorphosed maidens.
Other groups of stone might be named, as Rosemedery, Tregaseal,
Boskednan, Botallack, Tredinek, and Crowlas, in the west, to
which the same story extends, and many others in the eastern
parts of the county ; but it cannot be necessary.
THE TWELVE-O'CLOCK STONE.
NUMBERS of people would formerly visit a remarkable Logan
stone, near Nancledrea, which had been, by supernatural
power, impressed with some peculiar sense at midnight. Although
it was quite impossible to move this stone during daylight, or in-
deed by human power at any other time, it would rock like a
cradle exactly at midnight. Many a child has been cured of
rickets by being placed naked at this hour on the twelve-o'clock
stone. If, however, the child was " misbegotten/' or, if it was the
offspring of dissolute parents, the stone would not move, and conse-
quently no cure was effected. On the Cuckoo Hill, eastward of
Nancledrea, there stood, but a few years since, two piles of rock
about eight feet apart, and these were united by a large flat stone
carefully placed upon them, — thus forming a doorway which was,
as my informant told me, " large and high enough to drive a
horse and cart through." It was formerly the custom to march in
procession through this " doorway" in going to the twelve-o'clock
stone.
The stone-mason has, however, been busy hereabout ; and every
mass of granite, whether rendered notorious by the Giants or
holy by the Druids, if found to be of the size required, has been
removed.*
God's vengeance had fallen on the Sabbath-breaker, is not to be wondered at. Up to a
very recent period, hurling matches usually came off on the Sunday.— See " Hurling,"
in the chapter on Cornish Customs.
* The following are a few of the interesting remains of old Cornwall which have
entirely disappeared from this neighbourhood within a few years :—
Between St Ivesand Zennor, on the lower road over Trsgarthen D9*viis, stood a Logan
180 Romances of the Rocks.
A
THE MEN-SCRYFA.
T the entrance to Penzance rises, rather abruptly, a hill,
crowned with a very remarkable earthwork. It is known
as Castle Lesgudzhek, or, the " Castle of the Bloody Field," to this
day.
Tradition, our only guide, tells us that this castle was one of the
strong places of a British king, in the third or fourth century ;
that a rival chieftain, from the eastern part of Danmonium, be-
sieged him. The defence was long and desperate. The besiegers,
wearying of the unsuccessful toil, retired at length to the plains of
Gulval ; and that the besieged left his castle, and gave his enemies
battle on the plain which extends from Penzance to Marazion.
The "bloody field" remained in possession of the chieftain oi
Lesgudzhek, and the leader of the eastern men was killed near
where he was buried. The Men-Scryfa, or inscribed stone, was
raised over his grave, — its height, nine feet, being the exact height
of the defeated warrior ?
RIALOBRAN CUNOVAL FIL
is engraven on the block ; thus handing to us the name of the
unfortunate warrior, who was probably the son of the hero from
whom Gulval draws its name ; and if so, may we not suppose
that he was but endeavouring to recover the possessions which
once belonged to his parent.
TABLE-MEN.
THE SAXON KINGS' VISIT TO THE LAND'S END.
AT a short distance from Sennen church, and near the end of
a cottage, is a block of granite, nearly eight feet long, and
about three feet high. This rock is known as the Table-men, or
rock. An old man, perhaps ninety years of age, told me he had often logged it, and that
it would make a noise which could be heard for miles.
At Balnoon, between Nancledrea and Knill's Steeple, some miners came upon "two
slabs of granite cemented together," which covered a walled grave three feet square — an
ancient kistvean. In it they found an earthenware vessel containing some black earth,
and a leaden spoon. The spoon was given to Mr Praed of Trevetha, and may possibly
be in the possession of the present proprietor. The kistvean was utterly destroyed.
At Brunnion, not far from St Ives, in the garden attached to the house which is
occupied by the Hoskings, is an arched doorway of carefully-worked granite. Tradition
saith this doorway belonged to an ancient church, and that the present garden was the
burial-ground. Close by, at Treverrack, is a field known as the " Chapel Field," in
which the plough is constantly turning up stones which have been carefully chiselled.
In Bospreuis Croft there was a very large coit or cromlech. It is said to have been
fifteen feet square, and not more than one foot thick in any part. This was broken in
two pal ts sonic years sinpe, and taken to Penzance to form the beds for two ovens.
Merlyiis Prophecies. 181
Table-main, which appears to signify the stone-table. At Bosa-
vern, in St Just, is a somewhat similar flat stone ; and the same
story attaches to each.
It is to the effect that some Saxon kings used the stone as a
dining-table. The number has been variously stated ; some tra-
ditions fixing on three kings, others on seven. Hals is far more
explicit ; for, as he says, on the authority of the chronicle of
Samuel Daniell, they were —
Ethelbert, 5th king of Kent ;
Cissa, 2d king of the South Saxons ;
Kingills, 6th king of the West Saxons ;
Sebert, 3d king of the East Saxons ;
Ethelfred, 7th king of the Northumbers ;
Penda, 5th king of the Mercians ;
Sigebert, 5th king of the East Angles, — who all flourished about
the year 600.
At a point where the four parishes of Zennor. Morvah, Gulval,
and Madron meet, is a flat stone with a cross cut on it. The
Saxon kings are also said to have dined on this.
The only tradition which is known amongst the peasantry of
Sennen is, that Prince Arthur and the kings who aided him against
the Danes, in the great battle fought near Vellan-Drucher, dined
on the Table-men, after which they defeated the Danes.
MERLYWS PROPHECIES.
"PROPHECIES by Merlyn are tolerably prevalent in Cornwall.
The character of these may be known by one or two ex-
amples—
" Aga syth tyer, war and meyne Merlyn
Ara neb syth Leskey Paul, Penzance hag Newlyn."
This has been translated —
" There shall land on the stone of Merlyn,
Those who shall burn Paul, Penzance, and Newlyn."
This prophecy is supposed to have been accomplished when the
Spaniards, in the reign of Elizabeth, landed at Mousehole, a fishing
village in the Mount's Bay. Near the pier at Mousehole is still a
rock called " Merlyn Car," or " Merlyn's Rock," and not far from
it another, called " the Spaniard."
THE LEVAN STONE.
This bisected mass of granite has been already noticed in con-
nection with St Levan.
1 82 Romances of the Rocks.
" When, with panniers astride,
A pack-horse can ride
Through the Levan Stone,
The world will be done."
THE RAME HEAD AND THE DODMAN.
Merlyn is said to have pronounced the following prophecy,
standing near St German's Grotto on the shores of Whitsand
Bay : —
" When the Rame Head and Dodman meet,
Man and woman will have cause to greet. "
THE ARMED KNIGHT.
"AT low water there is to be seen, off the Land's End, towards
^~*- the Scilly Island (probably so called from the abundance
of eel or conger fishes caught there, which are called sillys, or
lillis), for a mile or more, a dangerous strag of ragged rocks,
amongst which the Atlantic Sea and the waves of St George's
and the British Channel meeting, make a dreadful bellowing and
rumbling noise at half-ebb and half-flood, which let seamen take
notice of to avoid them.
" Of old, there was one of those rocks more notable than the
rest, which tradition saith was ninety feet above the flux and reflux
of the sea, with an* iron spire at the top thereof, which was over-
turned or thrown down in a violent storm, 1647, and the rock was
broken in three pieces. This iron spire, as the additions to
Camden's " Britannia " inform us, was thought to have been
erected by the Romans, or set up as a trophy there by King Athel-
stan, when he first conquered the Scilly Islands (which was in
those parts) ; but it is not very probable such a piece of iron, in
this salt sea and air, without being consumed by rust, could en-
dure so long a time. However, it is or was, certain I am it com-
monly was called in Cornish, An Marogeth Arvowed, i.e., the
Armed Knight ; for what reason I know not, except erected by
or in memory of some armed knight ; as also Carne-an-peul, i.e.,
the spile, spire, or javelin rock. Again, remember silly lilly, is in
Cornish and Armoric language a conger fish or fishes, from whence
Scilly Islands is probably denominated, as elsewhere noted." *
Mr Blight says this rock is also called Guela, or Guelaz, — the
" rock easily seen."
* Hals, in Gilbert's " History of Cornwall," vol. Hi. p. 43.
The Irish Lady. 183
THE IRISH LADY.
NEAR Pedn-men-dw, the " Headland of Black Rock? is a
curiously-shaped rock, known as the Irish Lady. In days
long ago some adventurous sailors from Ireland were shipwrecked
at night on this rock, and every soul perished, save a lady, who
was seen in the morning sitting on the top of the rock. The
storm was still raging, and it was quite impossible to render this
solitary sufferer any assistance. Days and nights passed away ;
the people watched the dying woman from the shore, but they
could not reach her. At length they saw that her sufferings were
at an end ; and at last the dead body was washed into the sea.
Often, when the winds and waves are high, the fishermen see a
lady tranquilly sitting on this rock, with a rose in her mouth ; to
show, it may be presumed, her perfect indifference to the ragings
of tempests.*
Sir Humphrey Davy wrote a poem on this tradition. The
following is an extract from it : —
" Where yon dark cliff + o'ershadows the blue main,
Theora died amidst the stormy waves,
And on its feet the sea-dews wash'd her corpse,
And the wild breath of storms shook her black locks.
Young was Theora ; bluer was her eye
Than the bright azure of the moonlight night ;
Fair was her cheek, as is the ocean cloud
Red with the morning ray.
" Amidst the groves,
And greens, and nodding rocks that overhang
The gray Killarney pass'd her morning days,
Bright with the beams of joy.
* This kind of tradition is not uncommon. The following is a Welsh form of it : —
GWENNO'S STEEPLE.
Among the numerous irregular caves at the western end of Ogofau is one which has
derived the name of Ffynnon Gwenno (the Well of Gwenno), from the following tradi-
tion, kindly given to us by Mr Johnes. The water which still occupies its lower part,
was, in days of yore, reputed to possess medicinal qualities, which attracted numerous
bathers from the surrounding districts. Among these a fair maid, named Gweullian, or,
for brevity, Gwenno, was induced, on an unfortunate day, to explore the recesses of the
cavern beyond a frowning rock, which had always been the prescribed limit to the pro-
gress of the bathers. She passed beneath it, and was no more seen. She had been
seized by some superhuman power, as a warning to others not to invade those mysterious
penetralia. And still, on stormy nights, the spirit of Gweullian is seen to hover over a lofty
crag which rises near the entrance of the now deserted cave, and bears the name of Cloch
ty Gwenno, or Gwenno's Steeple. — Note on the Gogofau, or Ogofau Mine. Memoirs of
Geological Survey, vol. i. p. 482.
t A rock near the Land's End called the " Irish Lady."
1 84 Romances of the Rocks.
" To solitude,
To nature, and to God, she gave her youth ;
Hence were her passions tuned to harmony.
Her azure eye oft glisten'd with the tear
Of sensibility, and her soft cheek
Glow'd with the blush of rapture. Hence she loved
To wander 'midst the green wood silver'd o'er
By the bright moonbeam. Hence she loved the rocks,
Crown'd with the nodding ivy, and the lake
Fair with the purple morning, and the sea
Expansive, mingling with the arched sky.
" Dark in the midnight cloud,
When the wild blast upon its pinions bore
The dying shrieks of Erin's injured sons,
She 'scaped the murderer's arm.*
" The British bark
Bore her across the ocean. From the west
The whirlwind rose, the fire-fraught clouds of heaven
Were mingled with the wave. The shatter'd bark
Sunk at thy feet, Bolerium, and the white surge
Closed on green Erin's daughter."
— PARIS'S Life of Sir Humphrey Davy, p. 38.
THE DEVIL'S DOORWAY.
IN the slate (Killas) formations behind Polperro is a good
example of a fault. The geologist, in the pride of his know-
ledge, refers this to some movement of the solid mass — a rending
of the rocks, produced either by the action of some subterranean
force lifting the earth-crust, or by a depression of one division of
the rocks. The gray-bearded wisdom of our grandfathers led
them to a conclusion widely different from this.
The mighty ruler of the realms of darkness, who is known to
have an especial fondness for rides at midnight, " to see how his
little ones thrive," ascending from his subterranean country, chose
this spot as his point of egress.
As he rose from below in his fiery car, drawn by a gigantic jet
black steed, the rocks gave way before him, and the rent at Pol-
perro remains to this day to convince all unbelievers. Not only
this, as his Satanic majesty burst through the slate rocks, his
horse, delighted with the airs of this upper world, reared in wild
triumph, and, planting again his hoof upon the ground, made these
* The Irish lady was shipwrecked at the Land's End about the time of the massacre
of the Irish Protestants by the Catholics, in the reign of Charles the First So says Davy
— the tradition is very old.
The Devil ' s Coits, etc. 1 8 5
islands shake as with an earthquake ; and he left the deep impres-
sion of his burning foot behind. There, any unbeliever may see
the hoof-shaped pool, unmistakable evidence of the wisdom of the
days gone by.
PIPER'S HOLE, SCILLY.
ON the banks of Peninnis, in St Mary's, is Piper's Hole, which
communicates, as tradition saith, with the island of Tresco,
where another orifice known by the same name is seen. Going
in at the orifice at Peninnis Banks in St Mary's, it is above man's
height, and of as much space in its breadth, but grows lower and
narrower farther in : a little beyond which entrance appear rocky
basins, or reservoirs, continually running over with fresh water,
descending as it distils from the sides of the rocky passage. By
the fall of water heard further in, it is probable there may be rocky
descents in the passage. The drippings from the sides have worn
the passage, as far as it can be seen, into very various angular
surfaces. Strange stories are related of this passage, of men going
so far in that they never returned ; of dogs going quite through,
and coming out at Tresco, with most of their hair off, and such
like incredibles. But its retired situation, where lovers retreat to
indulge their mutual passion, has made it almost as famous as the
cave wherein Dido and yEneas met of old. Its water is exceeding
good.*
THE DEVILS CO ITS, &c.
IN St Columb Major, not far from the ruins of what is generally
considered to be a British fortification, Castele-an-Dinas,
stands a tumulus known as the Devil's Coit. It is curious to find
one tradition directly contradicting another. We are told, on the
one hand, that —
The devil never came into Cornwall.
Because, when he crossed the Tamar, and made Torpoint for a
brief space his resting-place, he could not but observe that every-
thing, vegetable or animal, was put by the Cornish people into a
pie.
He saw and heard of fishy pie, star-gazy pie, conger pie, and
* Heath's " Scilly Isles." These stories of Piper's Hole are still told, and many of
the ignorant inhabitants regard it with superstitious dread. The Fugoe Hole, at the
Land's End, has yet to be spoken of in the Witch stories. Several who have attempted
to penetrate this hole have escaped only by great luck — " by the sk^n of their teeth," as
the saying is.
1 86 Romances of the Rocks.
indeed pies of all the fishes in the sea. Of parsley pie, and herby
pie, of lamy pie, and piggy pie, and pies without number. There-
fore, fearing they might take a fancy to a " devily pie," he took
himself back again into Devonshire.
On the other hand we find, amidst the rocks of the shore and
the hills, numerous devil's coits, plenty of devil's footsteps, with
devil's bellows, devil's frying-pans, devil's ovens, and devil's caves
in abundance. Of course, on Dartmoor, since the devil remained
in Devonshire, we might expect to find such evidences of his pre-
sence. The devil's frying-pan at Mistor is well known, and nearly
every granite Tor preserves some impression of this melancholy,
wandering wicked one.
KING ARTHUR'S STONE.
IN the western part of Cornwall, all the marks ot any peculiar
kind founo on the rocks are referred either to the giants or
the devil. In the eastern part of the county such markings are
almost always attributed to Arthur. Not far from the Devil's Coit
in St Columb, on the edge of the Gossmoor, there is a large stone,
upon which are deeply-impressed marks, which a little fancy may
convert into the marks of four horse-shoes. This is " King
Arthur's Stone," and these marks were made by the horse upon
which the British king rode when he resided at Castle Denis, and
hunted on these moors. King Arthur's beds, and chairs, and
caves, are frequently to be met with. The Giant's Coits, — and
many traditions of these will be found in the section devoted to
the giant romances — are probably monuments of the earliest types
of rock mythology. Those of Arthur belong to the period when
the Britons were so far advanced in civilisation as to war under
experienced rulers ; and those which are appropriated by the devil
are evidently instances of the influence of priestcraft on the minds
of an impressible people.*
* Another example of like stories in Wales may be interesting : —
" Five juvenile saints, on their pilgrimage to the celebrated shrine of St David,
emaciated with hunger, and exhausted with fatigue, here reclined themselves to rest, and
reposed their weary heads on this ponderous pillow ; their eyes were soon closed by the
powerful hand of sleep, and they were no longer able to resist, by the force of prayer, the
artifices of their foes. The sky was suddenly overwhelmed with clouds — the thunder
rolled — the lightning flashed, and the rain poured in torrents. The storm increased in
vehemence ; all nature became chilled with cold, and even Piety and Charity felt its
effects. The drops of rain were soon congealed into enormous hailstones, which, by the
force of the wind, were driven with so much violence against the heads of the weary
pilgrims as to affix them to their pillow, and the vestiges they left are still discernible.
Being borne away in triumph by the malignant sorcerer who inhabits the hollows of
Tfte Cock- Crow Stone. 187
THE COCK-CROW STONE.
A ROCK of white marble (?) with many rock basins on its sur-
face lies in Looe harbour, under Saunder's Lane, and is now
covered by every tide. This stone once stood on the top of an
elevated rock near it, and when in this position, whenever it heard
a cock crow in the neighbouring farmyard of Hay, it turned round
three times.
The topmost stone of that curious pile of rocks in the parish of
St Cleer known as the Cheesewring is gifted in like manner.
Even now the poultry -yards are very distant, but in ancient days
the cocks must have crowed most lustily, to have produced vibra-
tions on either the sensitive rock or the tympanum of man.
these hills, they were concealed in the innermost recesses of his cavern, where they are
destined to remain asleep, bound in the irrefragable chain of enchantment until that
happy period shall arrive when the diocese shall be blessed with a pious bishop, for when
that happens, no doubt Merlin himself, the enemy of malignant sorcerers, will be dis-
enchanted, and he will come and restore to liberty the dormant saints, when they will
immediately engage in the patriotic work of reforming the Welsh." — From the English
Works of the late Rev. Eleazor Williams, quoted by Wirington W. Smyth, M.A.
Memoirs of the Geological Survey, vol. L p. 480.
LOST CITIES.
Between Land's End and Scilly rocks
Sunk lies a town that ocean mocks.
Where breathes the man that would not weep
O'er such fine climes beneath the deep ? "
Historical Records of Ancient Cornwall,
—THOMAS HOGG-
ROMANCES OF LOST CITIES.
LOST LANDS.
I
" And oh ! how short are human schemes I
Here ended all our golden dreams."
—JONATHAN Swirr.
HPHE notion of cities and extensive tracts of cultivated country
J- being under the waters of the ocean and of lakes appears to
have existed from all time. In the " Arabian Nights," we have
constant references to lands under the sea ; and in the traditionary
stories of all Celtic people the same idea presents itself in some
form or other. Mr Campbell appears to confound stories of
mermaids with those traditions which have their origin in actual
physical changes. They appear to me to have little relation to
each other.*
In addition to the traditions given of large tracts of land which
have been lost in the sea, I have given those which relate to cities,
or towns, or churches which have been buried in the sands. These
traditions are of the same general character.
This subject deserves a much more careful investigation than it
has yet received. I hope simply to draw attention to the subject,
and to show that those dim traditions point to some buried truth.
They are like the buried lights which are supposed to indicate the
resting-places of the dead.
THE TRADITION OF THE LYONESSE OR
LETHOWSOW.
'"PHOSE who may stand on the extreme point of the Land's
JL End, and, looking over that space where the waters of the
Atlantic mix with those of the British Channel, see in the far
distance the Scilly Islands, will have to call upon their imagina-
* See West Highland Tales, by J. F. Campbell. Vol. iii. p. 410
190 Romances of Lost Cities.
tion to conceive that these broad waters roll over a country which
has existed within historic time.
A region of extreme fertility, we are told, once united the Scilly
Islands with Western Cornwall. A people, known as the Silures,
inhabited this tract, — which has been called the Lyonesse, or
sometimes Lethowsow, — who were remarkable for their industry
and their piety. No less than 140 churches stood over that
region, which is now a waste of waters ; and the rocks called the
Seven Stones are said to mark the place of a large city. Even
tradition is silent on the character of this great cataclysm. We
have only one hint — and we know not its value — which appears
to show that the deluge was comparatively gradual. One of the
ancestors of the Trevilians is said to have had time to remove his
family and his cattle ; but at last he had to fly himself with all
the speed which a fleet horse could give him. From this it might
appear that, though gradual at first, the waters, having broken
down the barriers, burst over the whole at last with uncontrolled
fury. A small, but very ancient, oratory, " Chapel Idne," or the
" Narrow Chapel," formerly stood in Sennen Cove. It is said to
have been founded by one Lord of Goonhilly, who owned a portion
of the Lyonesse, on the occasion of his escape from the flood.
By this war of waters several large towns were destroyed, and an
immense number of the inhabitants perished.
In the absence of full traditional evidence, it will not be un-
interesting to gather together the fragmentary statements which
exist in the writings of historians and others : —
" The number of parish churches lost is so astonishingly great as to
baffle the power of evidence, to preclude the possibility of conviction. I,
therefore, take upon me to reduce the number from 140 to 40, — to cut off
what any dash of Worcester's pen might casually have created, the first
figure." — Whitaker's Supplement to Polwhele's History of Cornwall.
The Saxon Chronicle says the Lionesse was destroyed on the nth of
November 1099.
"On the third of the Nones of November (1099) the sea overflowed the
shore, destroying towns and drowning many persons and innumerable oxen
and sheep." — The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester^ translated by Thomas
Forester i A.M. Bohn, 1854.
Solinus (cap 22) applies Siluria to the country lying west of the Land's
End. His words are, "Siluram quoque insulam ab ora quam gens Bri-
tanna Dunmonii tenent, terbidum fretum distinguit."
" There is a tradition that there formerly existed a large track of land
between the Land's End and the Scilly Islands, called the Lioness, which
was destroyed by an inundation of the sea. One of the family of Trevilian,
now residing in Somerset, but originally Cornish, saved himself by the
assistance of his horse at the time of this inundation ; and it is reported
The Tradition of the Lyonesse. 191
that the arms of this family were taken from his fortunate escape, to com-
memorate his providential preservation." — Drew and Hitchiris Cornwall.
" A cave is pointed out in Perranuthnoe, where the ancestor of the
Trevelyans is said to have been borne on shore, by the strength of his
horse, from the destruction of the Lionesse country west of the Land's
End. The Trevelyan family are too old, too honourable, and now too
much distinguished by science, for them to covet any addition of honour
through the medium of fabulous history.
" It is recorded in the Saxon Chronicle that, in the year 1099, there was
so very high a tide, and the damage so great in consequence, that men re-
membered not the like to have ever happened before, and the same day
was the first of the new moon. Stow, who wrote his History of England
about the year 1580, notices the great tide of 1099, when he says, 'The
sea brake in over the banks of the Thames and other ryvers, drowning
many towns and much people, with innumerable numbers of oxen and
sheepe ; at which time the lands in Kent, that sometime belonged to Duke
Godwyne, Earle of Kent, were covered with sandes and drowned, which'are
to this day called Godwyne Sandes.' On the slender foundation of these
alluvial catastrophes, Florence of Worcester either invented, or, with more
than monkish credulity, received the tale of a whole district being en-
gulfed, not at some remote geological period, but in what may be con-
sidered as the recent times of authentic history, after the existence _ of
systematic registers and records ; a district covered, as he states, by a city
and by a hundred and forty churches, with their accompanying villages,
farms, &c. , an event that must have shaken the whole of Europe ; and, to
increase the wonder, a gentleman, accidentally on horseback, is carried by
this animal to the neighbouring shore of Whitsand Bay, or twenty miles
further off, to Perranuthnoe, through a sea which had swallowed an entire
country, and from which the largest of modem vessels could not possibly
have escaped. This idle tale, related by one writer after another, has
almost reached our own times. The editor remembers a female relation of
a former vicar of St Erth who, instructed by a dream, prepared decoctions
of various herbs, and, repairing to the Land's End, poured them into the
sea, with certain incantations, expecting to see the Lionesse country rise
immediately out of the water, having all its inhabitants alive, notwithstand-
ing their long submersion. But
' Perchance some form was unobserved,
Perchance in prayer or faith she swerved.'
No country appeared, and although the love of marvellous events, and of
tales exciting the passions, seems not to have diminished in recent times,
yet the editor is unaware of any subsequent attempt having been made to
rescue those unfortunate people from their protracted state of suspended
animation." — The Parochial Historv of Cornwall, by Davies Gilbert, vol. iii.
pp. 109, no.
"Although a sweep of ocean, twenty-seven miles in breadth, separates
at present the Land's End from the Scilly Islands, there can yet be little
doubt of their having been heretofore united to each other by the main-
land. The records of history indeed do not rise so high as the era when
this disjunction was first effected ; but we have documents yet remaining
which prove to us that this strait must have been considerably widened,
and the number of the Scilly Islands greatly increased within the last six-
teen or seventeen centuries, by the waters of the Atlantic (receding pro-
1 92 Romances of Lost Cities.
bably from the coast of America) pressing towards this coast of Britain,
accumulating upon Bolerium, and overwhelming part of the western shores
of Cornwall.
" Strabo expressly tells us that the Cassiterides (so called from the Greek
name of tin, there produced) were in his time only ten in number ; where-
as they are now divided into a hundred and forty rocky islets. Solinus
also makes mention of a large and respectable island, called Silura, evi-
dently the Scilly of present times, lying on Damnonian or Cornish coast,
and separated from the mainland by a strait turbulent and dangerous — a
character which sufficiently marks the compression of its waters. And
William of Worcester, an author of our own country, thirteen centuries
after Solinus, states, with a degree of positive exactness, stamping authen-
ticity upon its recital, that between Mount's Bay and the Scilly Islands there
had been woods, and meadows, and arable lands, and a hundred and forty
parish churches, which before his time were submerged by the ocean.
Uninterrupted tradition since this period, which subsists to the present
day vigorous and particular, authenticates his account, and leaves no doubt
upon the mind that a vast track of land, which stretched anciently from the
eastern shore of Mount's Bay to the north-western rock of Scilly (with the
exception of the narrow strait flowing between the Long-ships and Land's
End), has, since the age of Strabo and Solinus, and previous to that of
William of Worcester, been overwhelmed and usurped by the waves of the
sea. . . . The depth of the water at the Land's End is about eleven
fathoms ; at the Long-ships, eight ; to the north of them, twenty ; to the
south, thirty ; and twenty-five, twenty, and fifteen fathoms between them
and the north-west of Scilly. The shallowest water occurs in the mid-
space between Cornwall and the Isles." — A Tour through Corn-wall in the
Autumn o/iSoS, by the Rev. Richard Warner.
"Yet the cause of that inundation, which destroyed much of these
Islands (the Scilly Islands), might reach also to the Cornish shores, is ex-
tremely probable, there being several evidences of a like subsidence of the
land in the Mount's Bay. The principal anchoring-place, called a lake, is
now a haven, or open harbour. The Mount, from its Cornish name, we
must conclude to have stood formerly in a wood, but now, at full tide, is
half a mile from the sea, and not a tree near it ; and in the sandy beach
betwixt the Mount and Penzance, where the sands have been dispersed by
violent high tides, I have seen the trunks of several large trees in their
natural position." — Borlase, Phil. Trans., vol. xlviii. part I.
" That Cornwall once extended further west may be inferred from hence,
that about midway between the Land's End and Scilly are rocks called in
Cornish Lethowsow ; by the English, Seven-stones.
"The Cornish call the places within the stones Tregva, — i.e., a dwelling;
— and it has been reported that windows and other stuff have been fished
up, and that fishermen still see tops of houses under water. From the
Land's End to Scilly, a tract of thirty miles, is an equal depth of water,
and the bottom of the sea a plain, level surface. St Michael's Mount is
called in Cornish, Careg cowse in dowse — i.e., the hoary rock in the wood.
Large trees with roots and bodies have been driven in by the sea of late
years between St Michael's Mount and Penzance ; and tradition says that
at the time of the inundation which made the separation, one Trevelyan
swam from thence on horseback ; and in memory thereof the family, now
in Somersetshire, bears gules a horse argent, from a less wavy argent, and
azure, issuing out of a sea proper." — Cough's Camden, vol. i. p. 15.
Cudden Point and the Silver Table. 193
" The flats, which stretched from one island to another, are plain evi-
dences of a former union subsisting between many now distinct islands.
The flats between Trescaw, Brehar, and Sampson are quite dry at a spring-
tide, and men easily pass dry-shod from one island to another over sand-
banks (where, upon the shifting of the sands, walls and ruins are fre-
quently discovered), upon which, at full sea, there are ten and twelve feet
of water. From the southern side of St Martin there stretches out a
large shoal towards Trescaw and St Mary's ; and from St Mary's a flat,
called Sandy-bar, shoots away to meet it ; and between these two shoals
there are but four feet of water in the channel called Crow Sound, — all
strong arguments that those islands were once one continued tract of land,
though now, as to their low lands, overrun with the sea and sand. * The
Isles Cassiterides ' (says Strabo, Geo., lib. 5) 'are ten in number, close
to one another. One of them is desert and unpeopled ; the rest are
inhabited.' But see how the sea has multiplied these islands ; there are
now one hundred and forty. Into so many fragments are they divided ;
and yet there are but six inhabited." — An Account of the Great Alteration
•which the Islands of Scylley have undergone, &*c., by the Rev. Wm. Borlase,
M.A., F.R.S., Phil. Trans., vol. xlviii. part I.
"The Cornish land, from Plymouth, discovers itself to be devoured
more and more to the westward, according to the aforesaid tradition of the
tract of the Lionesse, being encroached upon above half the present dis-
tance from the Land's End to Scilly ; whence it is probable that the low
isthmus once joining Scilly and the Lionesse was first encroached upon in
the same manner. The projecting land being exposed to the concurrence
of the tides from the Irish, the Bristol, and British Channels, by whose
violence and impetuosity, increased by the winds, the loose earth of the
Gulf-rock might be worn away, leaving the resistible substance behind,
standing as it is in the middle way betwixt Scilly and Cornwall." — A Na-
tural and Historical Account of the Islands of Scilly, by Robert Heath.
The following notices are gathered from other local traditions : —
" From Rame-head to the two Looes very fertile valleys are stated to
have extended at least a league southwards, over a tract now covered with
sea ; and around the coast in many places, we are assured, in twelve feet
of water, trees are to be seen in the sea. "
" The Black Rock in Falmouth Harbour is stated to have been a large
island, which was surrounded by the sea only at high- water."
" Six miles south of St Michael's Mount waved, from Clement's Isle to
Cudden Rock, a wood."
CUDDEN POINT AND THE SILVER TABLE
THIS point is situated in the parish of Perranuthnoe ; the
parish, it will be remembered, into which Trelawney escaped,
aided by the fleetness of his horse, from the deluge which buried
the lands between this and the Scilly Isles.
At the low-water of spring-tides, the children from all the neigh-
bourhood flock to the sands around this point, in the hope of
finding treasure, which they believe is buried in the sands beneath
the sea, and which is, it is said, occasionally discovered. Amongst
N
IQ4 Romances of Lost Cities.
other things, an especial search is made for a silver table, which
was lost by a very wealthy lord, by some said to be the old Lord
Pengerswick, who enriched himself by grinding down the poor.
On one occasion, when the calmness of summer, the clearness of
the skies, and the tranquillity of the waters invited the luxurious to
the enjoyments of the sea, this magnate, with a party of gay and
thoughtless friends, was floating in a beautiful boat lazily with the
tide, and feasting from numerous luxuries spread on a silver table.
Suddenly — no one lived to tell the cause — the boat sank in the
calm, transparent waters ; and, long after the event, the fishermen
would tell of sounds of revelry heard from beneath the waters, and
some have said they have seen these wicked ones still seated
around the silver table.
THE PADS TOW "HOBBY-HORSE." *
AT the time of the spring festival, which is observed at Helston
as a revel in honour, probably, of Flora, and hence called
the " Furry-day," and by the blowing of horns and gathering of
the " May " in St Ives and other places, the people of Padstow
were a few years since in the habit of riding the " hobby-horse "
to water. This hobby-horse was, after it had been taken round
the town, submerged in the sea. The old people said it was once
believed that this ceremony preserved the cattle of the inhabitants
from disease and death. The appearance of a white horse escap-
ing from the flood which buried the Lionesse, is told at several
points, on both the north and south coast, and the riding of the
hobby-horse probably belongs to this tradition. In support of this
idea, we must not forget the mermaid story associated with the
harbour of Padstow.
The water-horse is a truly Celtic tradition. We have it in the
" Arabian Nights," and in the stories of all countries in the south
of Europe. Mr Campbell, " West Highland Tales," says he finds
the horse brought prominently forward in the Breton legends, and
that animal figures largely in the traditions of Scotland and
Ireland.
Has the miners' phrase — " a horse in the lode," applied to a
mass of unproductive ground in the middle of a mineral lode ; or,
" Black Jack rides a good horse," signifying that zinc ore gives
good promise for copper — anything to do with these traditions ?
* See Appendix P.
St Michael's Mount. 195
ST MICHAEL'S MOUNT— THE WHITE ROCK IN THE
WOOD.
" An old legend of St Michael speaketh of a tounelet in this part (be-
tween Pensandes and Mousehole), now defaced, and lying under the water."
— Leland's Itinerary.
A LREADY it has been told how St Michael's Mount was built
^J^ by the giants. So much for its Titanic origin. The tradi-
tion that the Mount was formerly called in old Cornish, Careg-luz
en kuz* and that it rose from the midst of an extensive forest, is
very prevalent. " A forest is supposed to have extended along
the coast to St Michael's Mount, which was described as a ' hoare
rock in a wood/ and stood five or six miles from the sea. The
bay was said to have been a plain of five or six miles in extent,
formed into parishes, each having its church, and laid out in
meadows, corn-fields, and woods." f A similar tradition attaches
itself to Mont St Michel, in Normandy.
By and by, when the Saxon rule was extended into Cornwall,
this remarkable hill is seized upon, in common with many other
such hills, as the residence of some anchorite. This holy recluse
is visited by St Michael, who had an especial fondness for hill
churches, and the hermit is directed to build a church on the
summit, and dedicate it to St Michael.
" In evile howre thou hentst in hond,
Thus holy hills to blame ;
For sacred unto saints they stand,
And of them have their name.
St Michael's Mount, who does not know,
That wards the western coast."
— SPENSER.
Milton, in his delicately beautiful poem of " Lycidas," makes
especial illusion to this monkish legend : —
" Where'er thy bones are hurl'd,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,
Where thou, perhaps, under the whelming tide,
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world,
Or, whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,t
Where the great vision of the guarded mount,
Look towards Namancos, and Bayona's hold ;
* Or Careg Cowes in Cloivse.
t T. T. Blight.
t The name Bolerium has been especially given to the Land's End, but there is a
ccu'e near the Lizard now called Polurrian or Polerium.
196 Romances of Lost Cities.
Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth,
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. "
—MILTON'S Lycirfas.
Warner, in his " Tour through Cornwall," with much assumption
of learning, attempts to explain these lines. He tells us that the
Land's End was called Belleriiim, " so named from Bellerus, a
Cornish giant. No such giant ever existed in Cornish fable, as
far as can be ascertained. It is far more probable that Milton
used the poet's license, and, from the name of the Land's End,
Bellerium, created ' the fable of Bellerus old.' " What follows in
Warner is worth extracting : —
" We learn from ' Caston's Golden Legende,' under the history of
the Angel Michael, that, ' Th' apparacyon of this angell is many-
fold. The fyrst is when he appeared in Mount of Gargan, &c.,'
(edit. 1493, fol. cclxxxii. a). William of Worcester, who wrote
his travels over England about 1490, says, in describing St
Michael's Mount, there was an ' Apparicio Sancti Michaelis in
monte Tumba antea vocato Le Hore Rok in the Wodd' (Itinerar.,
edit. Cantab., 1778, p. 102). The Hoar Rock in the Woodis this
Mount or Rock of St Michael, anciently covered with thick wood,
as we learn from Dray ton and Carew. There is still a tradition,
that a vision of St Michael seated on this crag, or St Michael's
Chair, appeared to some hermits ; and that this circumstance
occasioned the foundation of the monastery dedicated to St
Michael. And hence this place was long renowned for its sanctity,
and the object of frequent pilgrimages. Carew quotes some old
rhymes much to our purpose, p. 154, ut supra : —
' Who knows not Mighel's Mount and Chaire,
The pilgrim's holy vaunt ? '
Nor should it be forgot that this monastery was a cell to another
on a St Michael's Mount in Normandy, where was also a vision
of St Michael. But to apply what has been said to Milton.
This great vision is the famous apparition of St Michael, whom
he, with much sublimity of imagination, supposes to be still
throned on this lofty crag of St Michael's Mount in Cornwall,
looking towards the Spanish coast. The guarded mount on which
this great vision appeared is simply the fortified mount, implying
the fortress above mentioned. And let us observe, that Mount is
the peculiar appropriated appellation of this promontory. So in
Daniel's Panegyricke on the King, st. 1 9, ' From Dover to the
Mount.'"— P. 1 80.
" In the very corner is MichaeVs Mount, which gives name to
St Michael's Mount. 197
the bay (the Mount's Bay) anciently called DINSOL, as in the book
of Landaff, called by the inhabitants Careg-Cowse, or the Gray
Rock — in Saxon, Mychelyroz, or Michael's Place." *
From Hals, Tonkin, and Gilbert, we learn yet further that " St
Michael's Mount is so called, because our fathers, the Britons,
believed that the appearance of the archangel St Michael in the
year of our Lord 495 was in this place ; though in other countries
they believe differently."
" Edward the Confessor, finding the place already celebrated for
its holiness, founded an abbey of Benedictine monks, A.D. 1044,
and also a chapel, which still stand, part of which is now con-
verted into a dwelling-house. Upon the tower of the chapel is the
celebrated Kader Migell, — i.e., Michael's Chair, — a seat artificially
cut in the stone, very dangerous in the access, therefore holy for
the adventure.
" * Who knows not Mighel's Mount and Chaire,
The pilgrim's holy vaunt ;
Both land and island twice a day,
Both fort and port of haunt? ' "
It is supposed by many persons to have been placed there for
the pilgrims to complete their devotions at the Mount, by sitting
in this chair, and showing themselves to the country around as
pilgrims. St Kenna, doubtless the same as St Keyna, once
visited this Mount, — although the time of her visitation is not
precisely known, — and she imparted the very same virtue to the
chair as she bestowed on St Keyna's Well. It is whichever, man
or wife, sits in this chair first shall rule through life, and as it
requires great resolution and steadiness of head to obtain the seat,
one may be inclined to anticipate the supposed effect with greater
certainty from its achievement, than from drinking water from St
Keyna's Well.
It is not pleasant to destroy the romance of ages, but honesty
compels me to pronounce this so-called chair to be nothing more
than the remains of a stone lantern, built at the south-western
angle of the tower. The good monks, without doubt, placing a
light therein, it could be seen by the fishermen far off at sea ; and
probably they received some tribute of either fish or money for the
support of this useful guide to the shore.
It is evident, from the following passage in Carew's Survey, that
the " chair " formerly was not within the building at all, but on
some rocks without the walls : —
* Cough's Camdeu's Lntannia, vol. i. p. 4
198 Romances of Lost Cities.
" A little without the castle there is a bad seat in a craggy
place called St Michael's Chaire, somewhat dangerous for accesse,
and therefore holy for the adventure." *
GWAVAS LAKE.
ON the western side of the Mount's Bay, between the fishing-
towns of Newlyn and Mousehole, is the well-known anchor-
ing-place known by the above name. It is not a little curious
that any part of the ocean should have been called a lake.
Tradition, however, helps us to an explanation. Between the
land on the western side of the bay, and St Michael's Mount on
the eastern side, there, at one time, extended a forest of beech-
trees. Within this forest, on the western side, was a large lake,
and on its banks a hermitage. The saint of the lake was celebrated
far and near for his holiness, and his small oratory was constantly
resorted to by the diseased in body and the afflicted in mind. None
ever came in the true spirit who failed to find relief. The prayers
of the saint and the waters of the lake removed the severest pains
from the limbs and the deepest sorrows from the mind. The
young were strengthened and the old revived by their influences.
The great flood, however, which separated the Islands of Scilly
from England, submerged the forest, and destroyed the lands
enclosing this lovely and almost holy lake, burying beneath the
waters church and houses, and destroying alike the people and
the priest. Those who survived this sad catastrophe built a
church on the hill and dedicated it to the saint of the lake — or in
Cornish, St Pol — modernised into St Paul.t
In support of this tradition, we may see, of a fine summer day,
when the tide is low and the waters clear, the remains of a forest
in the line passing from St Michael's Mount to Gwavas. At
neap-tides the author has gathered beech-nuts from the sands
below Chyandour, and cut the wood from the trees embedded in
the sand. J
* Carew, p. 154
t Gwavas Lake. It is said that within historic times, tithes, or an equivalent for
them, were collected from the land which surrounded this lake. I have been informed
that the parish books of St Paul record the collection of tithes from lands which have dis-
appeared. I applied for information on this point to the rector of the parish, but he has
not yet favoured me with a reply.
t I have passed in a boat from St Michael's Mount to Penzance on a summer day,
when the waters were very clear, and the tide low, and seen the black masses of trees in
the white sands extending far out into the bay. On one occasion, while I was at school at
Penzance, after a violent equinoctial gale, large trunks of trees were thrown up on the
shore, just beyond Chyandour, and then with the other boys I went, at the lowest of
The City of Langarrow. 199
THE CITY OF LANGARROW OR LANGONA*
WE cannot say how many years since, but once there stood
on the northern shores of Cornwall, extending over all
that country between the Gannell and Perranporth, a large city
called Langarrow or Langona. The sand-hills which now extend
over this part of the coast cover that great city, and the memory
of the sad and sudden catastrophe still lingers among the
peasantry. So settled is tradition, that no other time than 900
years since is ever mentioned as the period at which Langarrow
was buried. This city in its prime is said to have been the
largest in England, and to have had seven churches, which were
alike remarkable for their beauty and their size. The inhabitants
were wealthy, and according to received accounts, they drew their
wealth from a large tract of level land, thickly wooded in some
parts, and highly cultivated in others — from the sea, which was
overflowing with fish of all kinds — and from mines, which yielded
them abundance of tin and lead.
To this remote city, in those days, criminals were transported
from other parts of Britain. They were made to work in the
mines on the coast, in constructing a new harbour in the Gannell,
and c.earing it of sand, so that ships of large burden could in
those days sail far inland. Numerous curious excavations in the
rocks, on either side of this estuary, are still pointed out as being
evidences of the works of the convicts. This portion of the popu-
lation of Langarrow were not allowed to dwell within the city.
The :onvicts and their families had to construct huts or dig
caves on the wild moors of this unsheltered northern shore, and
to this day evidences of their existence are found under the sand,
in heaps of wood-ashes, amidst which are discovered considerable
quantities of mussel and cockle shells, which we may suppose was
the tide, far out over the sands, and saw scores of trees embedded in the sands. We
gathered nuts — they were beech-nuts — and leaves in abundance. It is not a little re-
markable,— if it be true, as I am informed it is, — that the trees found in the Pentuan
Stream Works, under some fifty or sixty feet of sand and silt, are beech-trees, and that
they vere destroyed when the fruit was upon them. I learn, that not far from Hull in
Yorkshire there exists a submerged forest, where also the beech-trees evidently perished
in the autumn. In Cardigan Bay a large tract of country is said to have been lost.
May not all these traditions and evidences relate to one great cataclysm? See "A
Week at the Land's End," by J. T. Blight, for an account of the submerged wood near
LarTggan Rocks, between Penzance and Newlyn.
' " The vicarage church of Crantock is commonly called Languna or Langona, — that
is to say, the hay temple or church, — and is suitable to its name, situate in a large hay
meadow of rich land, containing about three acres, where, by ancient custom, the
vicar's cattle all pasture over the dead bodies interred thereinto." — Hals, as given by
Gilbert. See Appendix Q.
2oo Romances of Lost Cities.
their principal food. As far as I know, these are the first indica-
tions of anything resembling the Kjokkenmoddings, or refuse-heaps
of Denmark, which have been discovered in this country.
For a long period this city flourished in its prime, and its in-
habitants were in the enjoyment of every luxury which industry
could obtain or wealth could purchase. Sin, in many of its worst
forms, was however present amongst the people. The convicts
sent to Langarrow were of the vilest. They were long kept widely
separated ; but use breeds familiarity, and gradually the more
designing of the convicts persuaded their masters to employ them
within the city. The result of this was, after a few years, an
amalgamation of the two classes of the population. The
daughters of Langarrow were married to the criminals, and
thus crime became the familiar spirit of the place. The progress
of this may have been slow — the result was, however, sure ; and
eventually, when vice was dominant, and the whole population
sunk in sensual pleasures, the anger of the Lord fell upon them.
A storm of unusual violence arose, and continued blowing, with-
out intermitting its violence for one moment, for three da/s and
nights. In that period the hills of blown sand, extending, with
few intervals, from Crantock to Perran were formed, burying the
city, its churches, and its inhabitants in a common grave. To the
present time those sand-hills stand a monument of God's vrath ;
and in several places we certainly find considerable quantkies of
bleached human bones, which are to many strong evidence of the
correctness of tradition.
Crantock was, according to tradition, once a trading town, and
it then had a religious house, with a dean and nine prebends.
The Gannell filling up ruined the town. This must have hap-
pened when Langarrow was destroyed.
On Gwithian Sands the remains of what is supposed to have
been a church has been discovered, and according to Hals and
Gilbert, a similar tradition exists here of a buried town. Gilbert
writes thus : —
" There has always existed a traditional account of the inundation of
sand in this parish, corroborated by the ecclesiastical valuations, which are
far too high for the actual extent of the land, and also said to be confimed
by documents preserved in the Arundel family, carrying back the com-
mencement of the evil nearly to the period of their acquiring the property.
" With respect to more recent inundations, Mr Hockin states to Mr
Lysons, that the Barton of Upton, one of the principal farms, was sud-
denly overwhelmed ; that his great-grandfather remembered the occupier
residing in the farmhouse, which was nearly buried in one night, tlie
family being obliged to make their escape through the chamber windows ;
The Sands at Lelant and P hillock* 201
and that in consequence of the wind producing a shifting of the sand, in
the winter of 1808-9, the house, after having disappeared for more than a
century, came again to view.
" The rector further stated that he himself remembered two fields being
lost at Gwithian, and that they are now covered with sand to the depth of
ten or twelve feet, and that the church-town would have been also lost, if
the parish officers had not promptly resorted to the expedient of planting
rushes. These stop the complete progress of sand, and greatly facilitate
the growth of other vegetation on the surface, so as to create a thm turf,
The hillocks of sand exhibit a model in miniature of the Alps." — Gilbert,
vol. ii. p. 149.
THE SANDS AT LELANT AND PHILLACK.
r~pHERE is a tradition that Lelant and Phillack towns were
JL all meadow land, and that the whole was covered with
sand in a single night. Also that the low tract of land extended
on both sides of Hayle far beyond the present bar, so that the sea
has swallowed up some hundreds of acres. The people say that
the sight of the ancient church and village of Lelant was some-
where seaward of the Black Rock ; — the ancient burial-ground
has been long washed away, — and that human teeth are still fre-
quently found on the shore after a great undertoe, that takes the
sand out to sea. Many circumstances seem to confirm the pro-
bability of the tradition. The sand was drifting inland at such a
rate before the reed-like plant called by the present inhabitants
the spire was planted, that the whole of the land about the village
would have been rendered worthless ere this, but for the stability
given to it. The land from which the sand has been cleared, on
the sea side of the church, has evidently been ploughed, as the
furrows are quite apparent between the ridges. They say that
there was a market held in Lelant when St Ives was scarcely a
village. Lelant being the mother church, would seem to prove
this. One can easily understand how a large tract of land of the
nature of that under Lelant sand-hills would be washed away in a
comparatively short time, as the soil at the low-water level is a
marly clay. This is constantly being washed down by high tides,
and carried away by the undercurrent, as it contains no stone to
form a pebbly beach, and therefore there is nothing left to protect
the shore.
« THE ISLAND? ST IVES.
THE so-called island is now a peninsular mass of clay slate
rocks, interpenetrated by very hard trappean masses.
Between this and the town of St Ives is a low neck of land,
2O2 Romances of Lost Cities.
which consists chiefly of sand and gravel, with some masses of
clay slate broken into small angular fragments. On either side
of this neck of land are good examples of raised beaches. Every-
thing, therefore, favours the tradition which is preserved in the
name.
One statement is, that "The Island" was brought in from the
sea ; another, that it rose out of the sea : —
" This town, as Mr Camden saith, was formerly called Pendenis or Pen-
dunes, the head fort, fortress, or fortified place, probably from the little
island here, containing about six acres of ground, on which there stands the
ruins of a little old fortification and a chapel." — Hals' 's Cornwall.
" On the island (or peninsula) work of St Ives standeth the ruins of an
old chapel, wherein God was duly worshipped by our ancestors the Britons,
before the Church of St Ives was erected or endowed." — Tonkin s Cornwall.
The beach on one side of the peninsula is called Porthmew,
that on the other Porthgwidden j and the name of the street be-
tween them is " Chyranchy," said to signify " the place of the
breach," pointing, it might appear, to the action of the sea in
wearing out the softer ground.
" Chyanchy " is another mode of pronouncing this name,
" Chyan " signifying a house. Hence the name, it is thought by
some, was given when two houses (chy-an-chy) stood alone on
the spot.*
THE CHAPEL ROCK, PERRAN-PORTH.
THIS is one of the rocks — of which many exist — around the
Cornish coast, upon which, at one time, there stood, in all
probability, a small chapel or oratory. This rock is left dry at every
tide, but stands far out in the sea at high-water. A curious fancy
exists with respect to it. It is said that this rock can be approached
on dry sand every day at eleven o'clock throughout the year.
There is no truth in this statement, but strangers are gravely
assured that this is the fact. From this rock to the sandy penin-
sula which runs out in the " porth," or port, is about five hundred
yards — those, it is said, were, at one time, connected by cultivated
land. From the circumstance that the evidences of a burial-place
have been found on the little peninsula, it appears highly probable
* Chyanwheal, the house on the mine, is near St Ives. Chyandour, the house by the
water, adjoins Penzance. Chyangnrrach, the house on the road. The water-elder is
called skowdoiver.
The Chapel- Rock of Perran-Forth. 203
that the island and it have been closely connected as church and
graveyard. Tradition refers the destruction of the land to certain
storms or convulsions which swept away the country, for a mile
or two out at sea, marked by a line drawn from the rocks off St
Agnes, known as " The Man and his Man," and " Carters' Rock/'
which is off Penhale Point.
FIRE WORSHIP.
" Safely hid
Beneath the purple pall of sacrifice
Did sleep our holy fire, nor saw the air,
Till to that pass we came, where whilom Brute
Planted his five hoar altars. To our rites
Then swift we hasted, and in one short moment
The rocky piles were clothed with livid flame."
Caractacus — WM. MASON, M.A
ROMANCES OF FIRE WORSHIP.
' An angel who at last in sight
Of both my parents all in flames ascended
From off the altar, where an offering burn'd,
As in a fiery column charioting
His god-like presence."
— Samson Agonistes — MILTON.
IT would not be profitable to pursue the inquiry into the value
of the numerous hypotheses which have been from time to
time raised in support of the assertion that a system of Fire Wor-
ship prevailed amongst the Britons of old Cornwall.
There can be no doubt but that the writings of Borlase, and
other earnest thinkers of his class, have done much to perpetuate
the belief in the existence of a Druidical priesthood in Cornwall,
who had their altars on the hills, — who made the huge piles of
granite rocks the instruments of their worship, — and who availed
themselves of the hollows formed in those rocks by nature, to
procure the unpolluted waters from heaven, with which to wash
away sins.
The antiquary has too frequently placed himself in the unfor-
tunate position of Jonathan Oldbuck amidst the ancient fortifica-
tions at the Kaim of Kinprunes, when he was so rudely checked
in his theory by Edie Ochiltree, who would insist on it that he did
" mind the biggin' o' V But the modern historian and philo-
sopher has gone as far wrong in the contrary direction. The
antiquaries formerly insisted that all the natural basins formed in
the granite rocks were of Druidic origin, and all the Logan stones
the result of Druid labours. The geologists and historians now
declare them, one and all, to be the result of disintegration, pro-
duced by ordinary atmospheric causes. Both are, I persume to
think, wrong. I am quite satisfied that I can point to rock-basins
upon which the hands of man have been busy, and to Logan stones
in which he has, for his own purposes, aided nature.
206 Romances of Fire Worship.
In the Sacrificing Rock on Carn Brae are a series of hollows
so deeply cut, and so entirely unlike anything seen on any of the
other rocks on that remarkable hill, although ordinary rock-basins
are numerous, that I am disposed to believe in the tradition which
gives it its name. On the Main or Men Rock in Constantine, I
see, in like manner, evidences of the works of man, side by side
with those of nature. The disintegration produced by the ac-
cumulation of water, at first in small quantities in a little hollow
on the face of a rock, is a curious process. The first action is
the separation of a few particles, or small crystals, of quartz or
mica. These repose beneath the small deposit of water, until, by
the beating of the rains and the action of the winds, they are
made to serve as grinding materials, and carry on the work of
weathering. The basins thus formed have a regular curvature,
which does not belong to those deeper basins to which I have re-
ferred. The question, however, before us is, Have we any evi-
dences, traditional or otherwise, which go to support the belief
that the Phoenicians, or any other people, introduced the worship
of fire into this country ?
The influences of education, and the zeal with which religious
teachers have penetrated into the remotest districts and taught the
truth, have banished nearly every relic of this ancient idolatry.
But still amidst the dead ashes a faint spark occasionally appears,
to tell us that at one time our forefathers did use the rocks as
altars, on which they kindled sacrificial fires ; and that they had
their periods of solemn feast, when every hill blazed with the
emblem of life and dissolution. A few examples of these pale
sparks will not be without value.
BAAL FIRES.
OF these Cornish Midsummer fires an account is given by a
correspondent in Hone's " Year Book," which I quote en-
tire, not because I can agree with the writer in all his views, but
because he places the main question in a fair light : —
" An immemorial and peculiar custom prevails on the sea-coast of the
western extremity of Cornwall, of kindling large bonfires on the Eve of
June 24 ; and on the next day the country people, assembling in great
crowds, amuse themselves with excursions on the water. I cannot help
thinking it the remains of an ancient Druidical festival, celebrated on Mid-
summer-day, to implore the friendly influence of Heaven on their fields,
compounded with that of the first of May, when the Druids kindled large
fires on all their sacred places, and on the tops of all their cairns, in honour
of Bel, or Belinus, the name by which they distinguished the sun, whose re-
Baal Fires. 207
volving course had again clothed the earth with beauty, and diffused joy
and gladness through the creation. Their water parties on the 24th prove
that they consider the summer season as now so fully established that they
are not afraid to commit themselves to the mercy of the waves. If we re-
flect on the rooted animosity which subsisted between the Romans and the
Druids, and that the latter, on being expelled from their former residences,
found, together with the miserable remnants of the Britons, an asylum in the
naturally fortified parts of the island, we shall not be surprised at their cus-
toms having been faintly handed down through such a long succession of
ages. That Cornwall was one of their retreats is sufficiently proved by the
numerous remains of their circular temples, cromlechs, cairns, &c. Even ut
the eleventh century, when Christianity was become the national religion,
the people were so attached to their ancient superstitions, that we find a
law of Canute the Great strictly prohibiting all his subjects from paying
adoration to the sun, moon, sacred groves and woods, hallowed hills and
fountains. If, then, this propensity to idolatry could not be rooted out of
those parts of the kingdom exposed to the continual influx of foreigners,
and the horrors of frequent war, how much more must it have flourished
in Cornwall and those parts where the Druids long preserved their au-
thority and influence ? It may therefore be fairly inferred that, from their
remote situation, and comparative insignificancy with the rest of England,
they preserved those religious ceremonies unmolested ; and, corrupted as
they must naturally be by long usage and tradition, yet are handed down
to us to this to-day with evident marks of a Druidical origin." *
In Hone's " Every-Day Book " will be found several accounts
of festivals which may be referred to Baal worship.
Mr Richard Edmonds, a native of Penzance, has given us a
very faithful description of the proceedings at Penzance on Mid-
summer-eve. Although that gentleman states his belief in the
true Celtic origin of this remarkable mode of celebrating the Mid-
summer festival, his description leads us to suppose that it is
distinctly Roman : —
"It is the immemorial usage in Penzance and the neighbouring towns
and villages to kindle bonfires and torches on Midsummer-eve ; and on
Midsummer-day to hold a fair on Penzance quay, where the country folks
assemble from the adjoining parishes in great numbers to make excursions
on the water. St Peter's-eve is distinguished by a similar display of bon-
fires and torches, although the ' quay-fair ' on St Peter's-day has been dis-
continued upwards of forty years.
" On these eves a line of tar-barrels, relieved occasionally by large bon-
fires, is seen in the centre of each of the principal streets in Penzance. On
either side of this line young men and women pass up and down swinging
round their heads heavy torches made of large pieces of folded canvas
steeped in tar, and nailed to the ends of sticks between three and four
feet long ; the flames of some of these almost equal those of the tar-barrels.
* In Ireland, May-day is called la na Bealtina, and the eve of May is men na Bealtina,
— the day and eve of Baal fires. Seeing the intimate relation of the inhabitants of Corn-
wall and those of Ireland, especially of the southern counties, may we not infer that the
bonfires of May and those of Midsummer have a similar origin?
208 Romances of Fire Worship.
Rows of lighted candles also, when the air is calm, are fixed outside the
windows or along the sides of the streets. In St Just and other mining
parishes the young miners, mimicking their fathers' employments, bore
rows of holes in the rocks, load them with gunpowder, and explode them
in rapid succession by trains of the same substance. As the holes are not
deep enough to split the rocks, the same little batteries serve for many
years. On these nights Mount's Bay has a most animating appearance,
although not equal to what was annually witnessed at the beginning of
the present century, when the whole coast, from the Land's End to
the Lizard, wherever a town or village existed, was lighted up with these
stationary or moving fire»s. In the early part of the evening, children may
be seen wearing wreaths of flowers, — a custom in all probability originating
from the ancient use of these ornaments when they danced around the
fires. At the close of the fireworks in Penzance, a great number of persons
of both sexes, chiefly from the neighbourhood of the quay, used always,
until within the last few years, to join hand in hand, forming a long string,
and run through the streets, playing ' thread the needle,' heedless of the fire-
works showered upon them, and oftentimes leaping over the yet glowing
embers. I have on these occasions seen boys following one another, jump-
ing through flames higher than themselves. But whilst this is now done
innocently in every sense of the word, we all know that the passing of
children through fire was a very common act of idolatry ; and the heathen
believed that all persons, and all living things, submitted to this ordeal,
would be preserved from evil throughout the ensuing year. A similar
blessing was supposed to be imparted to their fields by running around
them with flaming torches." — Richard Edmonds — The Land's End Dis-
trictt p. 66.
THE GARRICK ZANS, OR HOLY ROCK.
A FEW years — really but a few years — since, the stone altars
on which the first inhabitants of these islands lit their holy
fires had yet a place amongst us. In the village of Roskestall
stood one such altar ; in Treen was to be found another. These
huge masses of rock, rendered sacred by the memories surround-
ing them, have been wantonly removed, and employed in most
cases in furnishing pillars at the " grand entrances " of the houses
of the squire farmers of the Land's End district ; or they have
been yet more rudely served, and are to be found at the entrance
to a pigsty, or in the gate-posts to a potato-field.
The extinction of several of the old families is, to the present
day, ascribed by the peasantry to the unholy act of removing or
breaking up of the Garrick Zans in the village of Escols. The
rock in the village of May on was called indifferently table-may on
(m5n), or the Garrack Zans. Within our memory is the gather-
ing- of the villagers around the Holy Rock. It was their custom,
when anything was stolen, or a misdemeanour committed, to light
a fire on this altar, and when the fagots were in full blaze, all
Fire Ordeal for the Cure of Disease. 209
those who sought to prove their innocence took a burning stick
from the rock and spat on the blazing end. If they could ex-
tinguish the fire by spitting on the stick, they were declared
innocent; but if the mouth was so dry as not to generate
sufficient moisture to be heard " frizzing " on it, that unfortunate
individual was suspected, if not declared, to be guilty.* The
Midsummer bonfire was first lighted on the rock in Escols, next
on the Chapel Hill ; then all the other beacon hills were soon
ablaze. Many superstitious rites were formerly performed on the
Garrack Zans, which are only found now as the amusements of
young people on the eves of St Agnes and Midsummer.
FIRE ORDEAL FOR THE CURE OF DISEASE.
A MINER, who was also a small farmer, living in Zennor, once
consulted me on the condition of his daughter, a little girl
about five or six years of age. This child was evidently suffering
from some scrofulous taint. She was of a delicate complexion,
with, usually, a hectic flush on her cheeks ; the skin being par-
ticularly fine, and so transparent that the course of the veins was
marked by deep blue lines. This little girl had long suffered
from indolent tumours, forming on the glands in various parts of
the body ; and, as her father said, " they had taken her to all
the doctors in the country round, and the child got worse and
worse."
I prescribed for this child ; and for two or three weeks she was
brought into Penzance on the market-day, that I might observe
the influence of the remedial agent which I was employing.
Right or wrong, however, the little girl was evidently benefited by
the medicine I recommended.
Suddenly my patient was removed from my care, and many
months passed away without my seeing either the child or the
father. Eventually I met the parent in the market-place, and
after some commonplace remarks, he informed me, on my in-
quiring for his daughter, that she was cured. I expressed satis-
faction at hearing this, and inquired why he had not brought the
child to me again. After some hesitation he said he had dis-
covered what ailed the child — " she was overlooked" Requiring
some explanation of this, I got possession of his story, which was
to the following purpose : —
* Boys at school, to prove the truth or falsehood of any charge, will take a stick from the
fire and practise upon it in the same manner. May not the custom of joining hands
and passing through the embers of a dying bonfire, for good luck, be a vestige of the
same ritual ?
O
2io Romances of Fire Worship.
At a short distance from their farm there resided an old woman
who was feared by her neighbours, owing to her savage and un-
controllable temper, and who hated all around her in consequence
of the system of ill-usage to which during a long life she had been
subjected.
I have visited this miserable creature in her home. A stone-
built hut in the wildest part of the bleak coast, forming but one
room, was her dwelling. The door was rotten through age, and
the two small windows, neither of them more than eighteen inches
long by twelve inches wide, which had once been glazed, had been
broken to pieces, and the holes were filled in with old rags. Con-
sequently, when the door was closed, the hovel would have been
dark, but for the light which descended through the hole in the
roof, which we must call a chimney, and that which gained admis-
sion through the cracks in the door — these gave a tolerable amount
of illumination.
A low truckle-bed in one corner, with very scanty, dirty, and
ragged covering, — a small round table, roughly made and stand-
ing on four square legs, — a log of wood, and a three-legged stool,
formed, with one exception, all the furniture in the place. This
exception was the "dresser." Those who are not acquainted
with western England will require to be told that no dwelling,
however poor, is regarded as complete without the set of framed
shelves and drawers which constitute the dresser.
This old woman's dresser was painted white and blue, and on
its shelves were cups and saucers, a few plates, one or two dishes,
and some mugs. Here was an orderly arrangement, and a
tolerably clean display, strangely contrasting with the dirt and dis-
order of everything around. At the period of my visit this old
woman was seated on the block of wood, with her naked arms
folded before her, rocking herself to and fro. Margery Penwarne,
for so she was called, though usually spoken of as " An'," or Aunt
" Madge," must have been nearly eighty years old. Her hair
was an iron gray, and it struggled out from under a cotton cap,
which had once been white, in long thin locks. Her eyebrows
were long enough to fall over her disagreeable gray eyes ; and
this, with the accumulation of long hair around her toothless
mouth, gave her a most repulsive appearance. There were still
living two or three old people who had known Margery in her
youth, and they spoke of her as having been a pretty girl. The
general idea evidently being that she had sold her soul to the
devil, and that it was the influence of her evil mind which gave
her so wretched an aspect-
Fire Ordeal for the Cure of Disease. 211
From Margery I had a long story of the wrongs she suffered,
and I believe this sad example of humanity may be regarded as
an instance of the reaction of uncontrolled passion. Ignorant in
the extreme herself, and dwelling amongst a class of people who
were at that time but little superior to her in any respect, Margery
succeeded in exerting much power over them by her violence. In
addition to this, she was more industrious than her neighbours, of
which her small farm bore the evidences. Violence begat its like,
and where Margery, by her energy, became the apparent con-
queror, she called into play all kinds of low cunning against her-
self, and was always, in the end, the sufferer. Her crops were
injured, her pigs died suddenly, her fowls were killed, and even
her donkeys were lamed.
As age crept op, the power to provide the necessities of life
failed her, and she had, at the time I speak of, been receiving pay
from the parish for many years. With age Margery's infirmities
of temper increased. She had long been used by the mothers of
the parish as a means for frightening the children. Their tears
were stopped more readily by a threat, " I '11 give 'e to An*
Madge," than by any other means ; and good conduct was in-
sured if An' Madge was to be sent for " to tak 'e away." From
this state she passed into another stage. Margery, from being a
terror to the young, became the fear of the old. No one would
dare refuse her a drop of milk, a few potatoes, or any of those
trifles which she almost demanded from her neighbours, every
one trembling lest she should exert her evil eye, or vent her curses
upon them.
This was the being who had "overlooked" the miner's daughter.
He told me that the cause of this was that he caught Margery
stealing some straw, and that he " kicked her out of the yard."
The gossips of the parish had for some time insisted upon the
fact that the child had been ill-wished, and that she never would
be better until " the spell was taken off her." The father, who was
in many respects a sensible man, would not for a long period hear
of this, but the reiteration of the assertion at length compelled
him to give way, and he consulted some " knowing man " in the
parish of St Just.
It was then formally announced that the girl could never re-
cover unless three burning sticks were taken from the hearth of the
" overlooker," and the child was made to walk three times over
them when they were laid across on the ground, and then quench
the fire with water.
The father Had no doubt respecting the %" overlooker," his
212 Romances of Fire Worship.
quarrel with Madge determined this in his mind ; but there were
many difficulties in carrying out the prescribed means for effecting
the cure. Without exposing themselves to the violence of the old
woman it was impossible, and there was some fear that in forcibly
entering her dwelling they might be brought " under the law,"
with which Margery had often threatened the people.
It was found, however, that nothing could be done for the
child if they neglected this, and the father and two or three
friends resolved to brave alike the old woman and the law.
One evening, the smoke, mixed with sparks, arising from the
hole in the roof of Margery's cottage, informed them that the evil
crone was preparing her supper, and as she evidently was burning
dry furze, now was the time to procure the three blazing sticks.
Accordingly three men and the little girl hurried to the hoveL
The door was closed, but, not being secured on the inside, the
father opened it. As they had planned, his two companions
rushed in, and, without a word, seized the old woman, who fell
from her block to the floor, to which, with unnecessary violence,
they pinned her, she screaming with "the shriek of a gos-
hawk." In the meantime the parent dragged three blazing
pieces of furze from the hearth, hastened to the door, laid them
one across the other, and then, without losing a moment, forced
the trembling child across the fire three times, and compelled her
to perform the other necessary portion of the ordeal by which the
spell was to be broken.
Margery, weak, aged, and violent, was soon exhausted, and she
probably fainted. I was, however, informed by the man, that as
the fire was quenched in the sticks, the flames which appeared to
kindle in her eyes gradually died away ; that all the colour for-
sook her lips, and that at last she murmured, " My heart ! my
heart ! bring me the girl, and I '11 purge her of the spell ; " upon
which they left her as though dead upon the rough earth floor on
which she had fallen.
Many other examples might have been given of the existence of
a belief in the " virtue of fire," as I have heard it expressed.
BURNING ANIMALS ALIVE.
THERE can be no doubt but that a belief prevailed, until a
very recent period, amongst the small farmers in the dis-
tricts remote from towns, in Cornwall, that a living sacrifice
But ning A nimals A live. 2 1 3
appeased the wrath of God. This sacrifice must be by fire ; and I
have heard it argued that the Bible gave them warranty for this
belief.
The accompanying notes, from Hone's " Every-Day Book,"
and from Drew and Kitchen's " Cornwall," prove the prevalence —
at least at the commencement of this century — of this idea. I
have lately been informed that within the last few years a calf
has been thus sacrificed by a farmer, in a district where churches,
chapels, and schools abound.
The burning of blood, drawn from a deceased animal, has been
a very common mode of appeasing the spirits of disease.
" There are too many obvious traces of the fact to doubt its truth, that
the making of bonfires, and the leaping through them, are vestiges of the
ancient worship of the heathen god Bal ; and therefore it is, with propriety,
that the editor of " Time's Telescope " adduces a recent occurrence from
Drew and Hitchin's " History of Cornwall," as a probable remnant of
pagan superstition in that country. He presumes that the vulgar notion
which gave rise to it was derived from the Druidical sacrifice of beasts :
' An ignorant old farmer in Cornwall, having met with some severe losses
in his cattle about the year 1 800, was much afflicted with his misfortunes.
To stop the growing evil, he applied to the farriers in his neighbourhood,
but unfortunately he applied in vain. The malady still continuing, and
all remedies failing, he thought it necessary to have recourse to some ex-
traordinary measure. Accordingly, on consulting with some of his neigh-
bours, equally ignorant with himself, and evidently not less barbarous, they
recalled to their recollections a tale, which tradition had handed down
from remote antiquity, that the calamity would not cease until he had
actually burned alive the finest calf which he had upon his farm j but that,
when this sacrifice was made, the murrain would afflict his cattle no more.
The old farmer, influenced by this counsel, resolved immediately on re-
ducing it to practice ; that, by making the detestable experiment, he might
secure an advantage which the whisperers of tradition and the advice of his
neighbours had conspired to assure him would follow. He accordingly
called several of his friends together on an appointed day, and having
lighted a large fire, brought forth his best calf, and without ceremony or
remorse, pushed it into the flames. The innocent victim, on feeling the
intolerable heat, endeavoured to escape ; but this was in vain. The bar-
barians that surrounded the fire were armed with pitchforks, or pikes, as in
Cornwall they are generally called ; and, as the burning victim endeavoured
to escape from death, with these instruments of cruelty the wretches pushed
back the tortured animal into the flames. In this state, amidst the wounds
of pitchforks, the shouts of unfeeling ignorance and cruelty, and the
corrosion of flames, the dying victim poured out its expiring groan, and
was consumed to ashes. It is scarcely possible to reflect on this instance
of superstitious barbarity without tracing a kind of resemblance between it
and the ancient sacrifices of the Druids. This calf 'was sacrificed to fortune,
or good luck, to avert impending calamity, and to insure future prosperity,
and was selected by the farmer as the finest among his herd.' Every
intelligent native of Cornwall will perceive that tfcis extract from the
214 Romances of Fire Worship.
history of his county is here made for the purpose of shaming the brutally
ignorant, if it be possible, into humanity. " *
The remarks in Drew and Hitchin are as follows : —
' ' There is a tradition in Cornwall, which has been handed down from
remote antiquity, that farmers may prevent any calamity by burning alive
the finest calf they possess. This was so fully believed, that even as late
as the year 1800, an ignorant old farmer, having met with some severe
losses in his cattle, determined on being advised by some neighbours, not
less barbarous than himself, to try this remedy. He accordingly, on an
appointed day, called his friends together, lighted a large fire, brought
forth his best calf, and without ceremony or remorse, pushed it into the
flames."
[While correcting these sheets, I am informed of two recent
instances of this superstition. One of them was the sacrifice of a
calf by a farmer near Portreath, for the purpose of removing a
disease which had long followed his horses and his cows. The
other was the burning of a living lamb, to save, as the farmer
said, " his flock from spells which had been cast on 'em."J
* Burning a Calf Alive.— Hone's " Every-Day Book," June 24, p. 4.11.
DEMONS AND SPECTRES.
" A ghost, shrouded and folded up
In its own formless horror."
The Cenci— SHELLEY.
*' I woke ; it was the midnight hour,
The clock was echoing in the tower ;
But though my slumber was gone by,
This dream it would not pass away —
It seems to live upon my eye ! "
Christabd— COLERIDGE.
ROMANCES OF DEMONS, SPECTRES,
ETC.
THE HOOTING CAIRN.
" On either hand, to left to right,
Heath, pasture, stream, and lake,
Glanced dazzling by, too swift for sight ;
The thundering bridges quake.
' Dost fear, my love ? The moon shines bright
Hurrah 1 The dead ride swift to-night ;
And art thou of the dead afraid ? '
' Oh no ! but name them not— the dead.' "
—BURGER'S Leonora, HerscheVs Translation.
CAIRN Kenidzhek, pronounced Kenidjack, signifying Hooting
Cairn, is on the north road from St Just to Penzance, and
is strikingly distinguished from other hills by its rugged character.
Hoary stones, bleached by the sunshine of ages, are reared in fan-
tastic confusion. The spirits of the Celts, possibly the spirits of a
yet older people, dwell amidst those rocks. Within the shadow of
this hill are mounds and barrows, and mystic circles, and holed
stones, and rude altars, still telling of the past. The dead hold
undisputed possession of all around ; no ploughshare has dared to
invade this sacred spot, and every effort made by modern man to
mark his sway is indicated by its ruin. Nothing but what the
Briton planted remains, and, if tales tell true, it is probable long
years must pass before the Englishman can banish the Celtic
powers who here hold sovereign sway.
" A weird tract is that of Kenidzhek and the Gump, and of ill
repute. The old, half-starved horses on the common, with their
hides grown rusty brown, like dried and withered grass, by expo-
sure, are ridden by the archfiend at night. He is said to hunt
lost souls over this heath ; and an old stile hard by bears an evil
name, for there the souls are sure to be caught, none being able
The Hooting Cairn. 217
to get over it. The people tell of midnight fights by demons,
and of a shadowy form holding a lantern to the combatants."
—Blight.
One of the tales which I have heard may be given as a strange
mixture of the Celtic and the monastic legend.
Two miners who had been working in one of the now abandoned
mines in Morvah, had, their labours being over, been, as was
common, " half-pinting " in the public-house in Morvah Church-
town. It was after dark, but not late ; they were very quiet men,
and not drunk. They had walked on, talking of the prospects of
the mine, and speculating on the promise of certain " pitches,"
and were now on the Common, at the base of the Hooting Cairn.
No miner ever passed within the shadow of Cairn Kenidzhek who
dared to indulge in any frivolous talk : at least, thirty years since,
the influence akin to fear was very potent upon all.
Well, our two friends became silent, and trudged with a firm, a
resolved footstep onward.
There was but little wind, yet a low moaning sound came from
the cairn, which now and then arose into a hoot. The night was
dark, yet a strange gleaming light rendered the rocks on the cairn
visible, and both the miners fancied they saw gigantic forms passing
in and about the intricate rocks. Presently they heard a horse
galloping at no great distance behind them. They turned and
saw, mounted on a horse which they knew very well, since the
bony brute had often worked the " whim " on their mine, a dark
man robed in a black gown, and a hood over his head, partly
covering his face.
" Hallo ! hallo ! " shouted they, fearing the rider would ride
over them.
" Hallo to you/' answered a gruff voice.
" Where be'st goen then ? " asked the bravest of the miners.
" Up to the cairn to see the wrastling," answered the rider ;
" come along ! come along ! "
Horse and rider rushed by the two miners, and, they could
never tell why, they found themselves compelled to follow.
They did not appear to exert themselves, but without much
effort they kept up with the galloping horse. Now and then the
dark rider motioned them onward with his hand, but he spoke not.
At length the miners arrived at a mass of rocks near the base of
the hill, which stopped their way ; and, since it was dark, they
knew not how to get past them. Presently they saw the rider
ascending the hill, regardless of the masses of rock ; passing
unconcernedly over all, and, as it seemed to them, the man, the
2 1 8 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
horse, and the rocks were engaged in a " three man's song," * the
chorus to which was a piercing hoot. A great number of uncouth
figures were gathering together, coming, as it seemed, out of the
rocks themselves. They were men of great size and strength,
with savage faces, rendered more terrible by the masses of
uncombed hair which hung about them, and the colours with
which they had painted their cheeks. The plain in front of the
rocks which had checked the miners' progress was evidently
to be the wrestling ground. Here gathered those monstrous-
looking men, all anxiety, making a strange noise. It was not
long ere they saw the rider, who was now on foot, descending the
hill with two giants of men, more terrible than any they had yet
seen.
A circle was formed ; the rider, who had thrown off his black
gown, and discovered to the miners that he was no other than Old
Nick, placed the two men, and seated himself in a very odd
manner upon the ground.
The miners declared the wrestlers were no other than two
devils, although the horns and tail were wanting. There was a
shout, which, as if it indicated that the light was insufficient, was
answered by the squatting demon by flashing from his eyes two
beams of fire, which shed an unearthly glow over everything. To
it the wrestlers went, and better men were never seen to the west
of Penzance. At length one of them, straining hard for the
mastery, lifted his antagonist fairly high in the air, and flung him
to the ground, a fair back fall. The rocks trembled, and the
ground seemed to thunder with the force of the fall. Old Nick
still sat quietly looking on, and notwithstanding the defeated
wrestler lay as one dead, no one went near him. All crowded
around the victor, and shouted like so many wild beasts. The
love of fair play was strong in the hearts of the miners ; they
scorned the idea of deserting a fallen foe ; so they scrambled over
the rocks, and made for the prostrate giant, for so, for size, he
might well be called. He was in a dreadful strait. Whether his
bones were smashed or not by the fall, they could not tell, but he
appeared " passing away." The elder miner had long been a pro-
fessor of religion. It is true he had fallen back ; but still he
knew the right road. He thought, therefore, that even a devil
might repent, and he whispered in the ear of the dying man the
Christian's hope.
If a thunderbolt had fallen amongst them, it could not have
* " They have also Cornish three men's songs, cunningly contrived for the ditty, and
pleasant for the note." — Carew, p. 72.
Jago's Demon. 219
produced such an effect as this. The rocks shook with an earth-
quake ; everything became pitchy dark ; there was a noise of
rushing hither and thither, and all were gone, dying man and all,
they knew not whither. The two miners, terrified beyond mea-
sure, clung to each other on their knees ; and, while in this posi-
tion, they saw, as if in the air, the two blazing eyes of the demon
passing away into the west, and at last disappear in a dreadfully
black cloud. These two men were, although they knew the
ground perfectly well, inextricably lost ; so, after vainly endea-
vouring to find the right road off the Common, they lay down in
each other's arms under a mass of granite rock, praying that they
might be protected till the light of day removed the spell which
was upon them.
JAGO'S DEMON.
THE vicar of Wendron, who "Bore the name of Jago, appears
to have had strange intercourse with the invisible world ;
or, rather, the primitive people of this district believe him to have
possessed supernatural powers. Any one visiting the parish of
Wendron will be struck with many distinguishing features in its
inhabitants. It would appear as if a strange people had settled
down amidst the races already inhabiting the spot, and that they
had studiously avoided any intimate connection with their neigh-
bours. The dialect of the Wendron people is unlike any other in
Cornwall, and there are many customs existing amongst them
which are not found in any other part of the county. Until of
late years, the inhabitants of Wendron were quite uneducated ; —
hence the readiness with which they associate ancient superstitions
with comparatively modern individuals.
The Reverend Mr Jago was no doubt a man who impressed
this people with the powers of his knowledge. Hence we are told
that no spirit walking the earth could resist the spells laid upon
him by Jago. By his prayers — or powers — many a night wanderer
has been put back into his grave, and so confined that the poor
ghost could never again get loose. To the evil-disposed Mr Jago
was a terror. All Wendron believed that every act was visible to
the parson at the moment it was done — day or night it mattered
not. He has been known to pick a thief at once out of a crowd,
and criminal men or women could not endure the glance of his
eye. Many a person has at once confessed to guilty deeds of
which they have been suspected the moment they have been
brought before Mr Jago.
22O Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
We are told that he had spirits continually waiting upon him,
though invisible until he desired them to appear. The parson
rode far and wide over the moorland of his parish. He never
took a groom with him ; for, the moment he alighted from his
horse, he had only to strike the earth with his whip, and up came
a demon-groom to take charge of the steed.
PETER THE DEVIL.
THE church at Altarnun is said to have been built from the
remains of an ancient nunnery which had been founded
in the early days of Christianity by the saint to whom it was
dedicated.
There was a peculiar sanctity about all that surrounded this
little church and its holy well, and few were unfaithful enough to
scoff at any of the holy traditions of the sacred place.
About the time of Charles II., an under-clerk or deacon of this
church was called Peter, and he is said to have been a man of
exceedingly bad character. He scoffed at holy things, and —
unless he was belied — he made use of his position for merely tem-
poral benefit, and was not remarkable for his honesty. He was,
moreover, the terror of the neighbourhood. Common report
insisting on it that Peter had been known to disentomb the dead,
whether for the purpose of stealing rings and other trinkets which
may have been buried, as some said, or for the purpose of
renewing his youth, as others suggested, by mysterious contact
with the dead, was not clearly made out. He was invariably
called Peter Jowle, or Joule — that is, Peter the Devil. At the age
of a hundred he was a gray-headed, toothless man ; but then, by
some diabolical incantation, he is said to have caused new black
hairs to spring forth amongst those which were white with age,
and then also new teeth grew in his jaws. Peter is said to
have died when he was more than a hundred and fifty years
old.
DANDO AND HIS DOGS.
IN the neighbourhood of the lovely village of St Germans
formerly lived a priest connected with the old priory church
of this parish, whose life does not appear to have been quite con-
sistent with his vows.
He lived the life of the traditional "jolly friar." He ate and
drank of the best the land could give him, or money buy ; and it
is said that his indulgences extended far beyond the ordinary
Dando and his Dogs. 221
limits of good living. The priest Dando was, notwithstanding all
his vices, a man liked by the people. He was good-natured, and
therefore blind to many of their sins. Indeed, he threw a cloak
over his own iniquities, which was inscribed " charity," and he
freely forgave all those who came to his confessional.
As a man increases in years he becomes more deeply dyed with
the polluted waters through which he may have waded. It rarely
happens that an old sinner is ever a repentant one, until the
decay of nature has reduced him to a state of second childhood.
As long as health allows him to enjoy the sensualities of life, he
continues to gratify his passions, regardless of the cost. He
becomes more selfish, and his own gratification is the rule of his
existence. So it has ever been, and so was it with Dando.
The sinful priest was a capital huntsman, and scoured the
country far and near in pursuit of game, which was in those days
abundant and varied, over this well-wooded district. Dando, in
the eagerness of the chase, paid no regard to any kind of property.
Many a corn-field has been trampled down, and many a cottage
garden destroyed by the horses and dogs which this impetuous
hunter would lead unthinkingly over them. Curses deep, though
not loud, would follow the old man, as even those who suffered by
his excesses were still in fear of his priestly power.
Any man may sell his soul to the devil without going through
the stereotyped process of signing a deed with his blood. Give up
your soul to Satan's darling sins, and he will help you for a
season, until he has his chains carefully wound around you, when
the links are suddenly closed, and he seizes his victim, who has
no power to resist.
Dando worshipped the sensual gods which he had created, and
his external worship of the God of truth became every year more
and more a hypocritical lie. The devil looked carefully after his
prize. Of course, to catch a dignitary of the church was a thing
to cause rejoicings amongst the lost ; and Dando was carefully
lured to the undoing of his soul. Health and wealth were secured
to him, and by and by the measure of his sins was full, and he was
left the victim to self-indulgences — a doomed man. With in-
creasing years, and the immunities he enjoyed, Dando became
more reckless. Wine and wassail, a board groaning with dishes
which stimulated the sated appetite, and the company of both
sexes of dissolute habits, exhausted his nights. His days were
devoted to the pursuits of the field ; and to maintain the required
excitement, ardent drinks were supplied him by his wicked com-
panions. It mattered not to Dando, — provided the day was an
222 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
auspicious one, if the scent would lie on the ground, — even on the
Sabbath, horses and hounds were ordered out, and the priest
would be seen in full cry.
One Sabbath morning, Dando and his riotous rout were hunt-
ing over the Earth estate ; game was plenty, and sport first-rate.
Exausted with a long and eager run, Dando called for drink. He
had already exhausted the flasks of the attendant hunters.
" Drink, I say ; give me drink," he cried.
" Whence can we get it ? " asked one of the gang.
" Go to hell for it, if you can't get it on Earth," said the priest,
with a bitter laugh at his own joke on the Earth estate.
At the moment, a dashing hunter, who had mingled with the
throng unobserved, came forward, and presented a richly-mounted
flask to Dando, saying, —
" Here is some choice liquor distilled in the establishment you
speak of. It will warm and revive you, I '11 warrant. Drink deep,
friend, drink."
Dando drank deep ; the flask appeared to cling to his lips.
The strange hunter looked on with a rejoicing yet malignant ex-
pression, a wicked smile playing over an otherwise tranquil face.
By and by Dando fetched a deep sigh, and removed the flask,
exclaiming, " By hell ! that was a drink indeed. Do the gods
drink such nectar ? "
" Devils do," said the hunter.
" An they do, I wish I were one," said Dando, who now rocked
to and fro in a state of thorough intoxication ; " methinks the drink
is very like" The impious expression died upon his lips.
Looking round with a half-idiotic stare, Dando saw that his new
friend had appropriated several head of game. Notwithstanding
his stupid intoxication, his selfishness asserted its power, and he
seized the game, exclaiming, in a guttural, half-smothered voice,
" None of these are thine."
" What I catch I keep," said the hunter.
" By all the devils they 're mine," stammered Dando.
The hunter quietly bowed.
Dando's wrath burst at once into a burning flame, uncontrolled
by reason. He rolled himself off his horse, and rushed, staggering
as he went, at the steed of his unknown friend, uttering most
frightful oaths and curses.
The strange hunter's horse was a splendid creature, black as
night, and its eyes gleamed like the brightest stars with unnatural
lustre. The horse was turned adroitly aside, and Dando fell to
the earth with much force. The fall appeared to add to his
The Devil and his Dandy- Dogs. 223
fury, and he roared with rage. Aided by his attendants, he was
speedily on his legs, and again at the side of the hunter, who
shook with laughter, shaking the game in derision, and quietly
uttering, " They 're mine."
" I '11 go to hell after them, but I '11 get them from thee,"
shouted Dando.
" So thou shalt," said the hunter ; and seizing Dando by the
collar, he lifted him from the ground, and placed him, as though
he were a child, before him on the horse.
With a dash, the horse passed down the hill, its hoofs striking
fire at every tread, and the dogs, barking furiously, followed im-
petuously. These strange riders reached the banks of the Lynher,
and with a terrific leap, the horse and its riders, followed by the
hounds, went out far in its waters, disappearing at length in a
blaze of fire, which caused the stream to boil for a moment, and
then the waters flowed on as tranquilly as ever over the doomed
priest. All this happened in the sight of the assembled peasantry.
Dando never more was seen, and his fearful death was received as
a warning by many, who gave gifts to the church. One amongst
them carved a chair for the bishop, and on it he represented
Dando and his dogs, that the memory of his wickedness might be
always renewed. There, in St German's Church, stands to this
day the chair, and all who doubt the truth of this tradition may
view the story carved in enduring oak. If they please, they can
sit in the chair until their faith is so far quickened that they be-
come true believers. On Sunday mornings early, the dogs of the
priest have been often heard as if in eager pursuit of game.
Cheney's hounds and the Wish hounds of Dartmoor are but other
versions of the same legend.*
Mr T. Q. Couch, in his " Folk Lore of a Cornish Village," tells
the story in a somewhat different form : —
THE DEVIL AND HIS DANDY-DOGS.
" A POOR herdsman was journeying homeward across the moors one
1JL windy night, when he heard at a distance among the Tors the bay-
ing of hounds, which he soon recognised as the dismal chorus of the
dandy-dogs. It was three or four miles to his house ; and very much
alarmed, he hurried onward as fast as the treacherous nature of the soil
and the uncertainty of the path would allow ; but, alas ! the melancholy
yelping of the hounds, and the dismal holloa of the hunter came nearer and
nearer. After a considerable run, they had so gained upon him, that on
looking back, — oh horror ! he could distinctly see hunter and dogs. The
* See p .ige IAS, and Appendix (H)f The Bargest.
224 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
former was terrible to look at, and had the usual complement of sattccr~eyest
horns, and tail, accorded by common consent to the legendary devil. He
was black, of course, and carried in his hand a long hunting-pole. The
dogs, a numerous pack, blackened the small patch of moor that was visible ;
each snorting fire, and uttering a yelp of indescribably frightful tone. No
cottage, rock, or tree was near to give the herdsman shelter, and nothing
apparently remained to him but to abandon himself to their fury, when a
happy thought suddenly flashed upon him and suggested a resource. Just
as they were about to rush upon him, he fell on his knees in prayer.
There was strange power in the holy words he uttered ; for immediately,
as if resistance had been offered, the hell-hounds stood at bay, howling
more dismally than ever, and the hunter shouted, ' Bo Shrove,' which (says
my informant) means in the old language, ' The boy prays? at which they all
drew off on some other pursuit and disappeared."
THE SPECTRAL COACH*
*' You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know
The superstitious, idle-headed eld
Received and did deliver to our age
This tale of Herne the Hunter for a truth."
— MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.
THE old vicarage-house at Talland, as seen from the Looe
road, its low roof and gray walls peeping prettily from be-
tween the dense boughs of ash and elm that environed it, was as
picturesque an object as you could desire to see. The seclusion
of its situation was enhanced by the character of the house itself.
It was an odd-looking, old-fashioned building, erected apparently
in an age when asceticism and self-denial were more in vogue
than at present, with a stern disregard of the comfort of the in-
habitant, and in utter contempt of received principles of taste. As
if not secure enough in its retirement, a high wall, enclosing a
courtelage in front, effectually protected its inmates from the pry-
ing passenger, and only revealed the upper part of the house, with
its small Gothic windows, its slated roof, and heavy chimneys
partly hidden by the evergreen shrubs which grew in the enclosure.
Such was it until its removal a few years since ; and such was it
as it lay sweetly in the shadows of an autumnal evening one
hundred and thirty years ago, when a stranger in the garb of a
country labourer knocked hesitatingly at the wicket-gate which
conducted to the court. After a little delay a servant-girl appeared,
and finding that the countryman bore a message to the vicar,
admitted him within the walls, and conducted him along a paved
passage to the little, low, damp parlour where sat the good man.
The Rev. Mr Dodge was in many respects a remarkable man.
* Contributed by T. Q. Couch, Esq.
The Spectral Coach. 22$
You would have judged as much of him as he sat before the fire
in his high-back chair, in an attitude of thought, arranging, it
may have been, the heads of his next Sabbath's discourse. His
heavy eyebrows throwing into shade his spacious eyes, and indeed
the whole contour of his face, marked him as a man of great firm-
ness of character and of much moral and personal courage. His
suit of sober black and full-bottomed periwig also added to his
dignity, and gave him an appearance of greater age. He was
then verging on sixty. The time and the place gave him abundant
exercise for the qualities we have mentioned, for many of his
parishioners obtained their livelihood by the contraband trade, and
were mostly men of unscrupulous and daring character, little likely
to bear with patience reflections on the dishonesty of their calling.
Nevertheless, the vicar was fearless in reprehending it, and his
frank exhortations were, at least, listened to on account of the
simple honesty of the man, and his well-known kindness of heart.
The eccentricity of his life, too, had a wonderful effect in procuring
him the respect, not to say the awe, of a people superstitious in a
more than ordinary degree. Ghosts in those days had more freedom
accorded them, or had more business with the visible world, than
at present ; and the parson was frequently required by his parish-
ioners to draw from the uneasy spirit the dread secret which
troubled it, or by the aid of the solemn prayers of the Church to
set it at rest for ever. Mr Dodge had a fame as an exorcist,
which was not confined to the bounds of his parish, nor limited to
the age in which he lived.
"Well, my good man, what brings you hither?" said the
clergyman to the messenger.
" A letter, may it please your reverence, from Mr Mills of Lan-
reath," said the countryman, handing him a letter.
Mr Dodge opened it and read as follows : —
" MY DEAR BROTHER DODGE, — I have ventured to trouble you, at the
earnest request of my parishioners, with a matter, of which some particu-
lars have doubtless reached you, and which has caused, and is causing,
much terror in my neighbourhood. For its fuller explication, I will be
so tedious as to recount to you the whole of this strange story as it has
reached my ears, for as yet I have not satisfied my eyes of its truth. It
has been told me by men of honest and good report (witnesses of a portion
of what they relate), with such strong assurances that it behoves us to look
more closely into the matter. There is in the neighbourhood of this
village a barren bit of moor which had no owner, or rather more than one,
for the lords of the adjoining manors debated its ownership between them-
selves, and both determined to take it from the poor, who have for many
years past regarded it as a common. And truly, it is little to the credit of
P
226 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
these gentlemen, that they should strive for a thing so worthless as scarce
to bear the cost of law, and yet of no mean value to poor labouring people.
The two litigants, however, contested it with as much violence as if it
had been a field of great price, and especially one, an old man (whose
thoughts should have been less set on earthly possessions, which he was
soon to leave), had so set his heart on the success of his suit, that the loss
of it, a few years back, is said to have much hastened his death. Nor, in-
deed, after death, if current reports are worthy of credit, does he quit his
claim to it ; for at night-time his apparition is seen on the moor, to the
great terror of the neighbouring villagers. A public path leads by at no
great distance from the spot, and on divers occasions has the labourer, re-
turning from his work, been frightened nigh unto lunacy by sight and
sounds of a very dreadful character. The appearance is said to be that of
a man habited in black, driving a carriage drawn by headless horses.
This is, I avow, very marvellous to believe, but it has had so much credible
testimony, and has gained so many believers in my parish, that some steps
seem necessary to allay the excitement it causes. I have been applied to
for this purpose, and my present business is to ask your assistance in this
matter, either to reassure the minds of the country people, if it be only a
simple terror ; or, if there be truth in it, to set the troubled spirit of the
man at rest. My messenger, who is an industrious, trustworthy man,
will give you more information if it be needed, for, from report, he is
acquainted with most of the circumstances, and will bring back your advice
and promise of assistance.
'* Not doubting of your help herein, I do, with my very hearty com-
mendation, commit you to God's protection and blessing, and am,
" Your very loving brother,
"ABRAHAM MILLS."
This remarkable note was read and re-read, while the country-
man sat watching its effects on the parson's countenance, and was
surprised that it changed not from its usual sedate and settled
character. Turning at length to the man, Mr Dodge inquired,
" Are you, then, acquainted with my good friend Mills ? "
" I should know him, sir," replied the messenger, " having been
sexton to the parish for fourteen years, and being, with my family,
much beholden to the kindness of the rector."
" You are also not without some knowledge of the circumstances
related in this letter. Have you been an eye-witness to any of
those strange sights ? "
" For myself, sir, I have been on the road at all hours of the
night and day, and never did I see anything which I could call
worse than myself. One night my wife and I were awoke by the
rattle of wheels, which was also heard by some of our neighbours,
and we are all assured that it could have been no other than the
black coach. We have every day such stories told in the villages
by so many creditable persons, that it would not be proper in a
plain, ignorant man like me to doubt it."
The Spectral Coach* 227
" And how far," asked the clergyman, " is the moor from Lan-
reath ? "
" About two miles, and please your reverence. The whole parish
is so frightened, that few will venture far after nightfall, for it has
of late come much nearer the village. A man who is esteemed a
sensible and pious man by many, though an Anabaptist in prin-
ciple, went a few weeks back to the moor ('tis called Blackadon)
at midnight, in order to lay the spirit, being requested thereto by
his neighbours, and he was so alarmed at what he saw, that he
hath been somewhat mazed ever since."
" A fitting punishment for his presumption, if it hath not quite
demented him," said the parson. " These persons are like those
addressed by St Chrysostom, fitly called the golden-mouthed, who
said, ' Miserable wretches that ye be ! ye cannot expel a flea,
much less a devil ! ' It will be well if it serves no other purpose
but to bring back these stray sheep to the fold of the Church. So
this story has gained much belief in the parish ? "
" Most believe it, sir, as rightly they should, what hath so many
witnesses," said the sexton, " though there be some, chiefly young
men, who set up for being wiser than their fathers, and refuse to
credit it, though it be sworn to on the book."
" If those things are disbelieved, friend," said the parson, " and
without inquiry, which your disbeliever is ever the first to shrink
from, of what worth is human testimony ? That ghosts have re-
turned to the earth, either for the discovery of murder, or to make
restitution for other injustice committed in the flesh, or compelled
thereto by the incantations of sorcery, or to communicate tidings
from another world, has been testified to in all ages, and many
are the accounts which have been left us both in sacred and pro-
fane authors. Did not Brutus, when in Asia, as is related by
Plutarch, see "
Just at this moment the parson's handmaid announced that a
person waited on him in the kitchen, — or the good clergyman
would probably have detailed all those cases in history, general
and biblical, with which his reading had acquainted him, not much,
we fear, to the edification and comfort of the sexton, who had to
return to Lanreath, a long and dreary road, after nightfall. So,
instead, he directed the girl to take him with her, and give him
such refreshment as he needed, and in the meanwhile he prepared
a note in answer to Mr Mills, informing him that on the morrow
he was to visit some sick persons in his parish, but that on the
following evening he should be ready to proceed with him to the
moor.
228 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
On the night appointed the two clergymen left the Lanreath
rectory on horseback, and reached the moor at eleven o'clock.
Bleak and dismal did it look by day, but then there was the dis-
tant landscape dotted over with pretty homesteads to relieve its
desolation. Now, nothing was seen but the black patch of sterile
moor on which they stood, nothing heard but the wind as it swept
in gusts across the bare hill, and howled dismally through a stunted
grove of trees that grew in a glen below them, except the occasional
baying of dogs from the farmhouses in the distance. That they
felt at ease, is more than could be expected of them ; but as it
would have shown a lack of faith in the protection of Heaven,
which it would have been unseemly in men of their holy calling to
exhibit, they managed to conceal from each other their uneasiness.
Leading their horses, they trod to and fro through the damp fern
and heath with firmness in their steps, and upheld each other by
remarks on the power of that Great Being whose ministers they
were, and the might of whose name they were there to make mani-
fest. Still slowly and dismally passed the time as they conversed,
and anon stopped to look through the darkness for the approach
of their ghostly visitor. In vain. Though the night was as dark
and murky as ghost could wish, the coach and its driver came
not.
After a considerable stay, the two clergymen consulted together,
and determined that it was useless to watch any longer for that
night, but that they would meet on some other, when perhaps it
might please his ghostship to appear. Accordingly, with a few
words of leave-taking, they separated, Mr Mills for the rectory,
and Mr Dodge, by a short ride across the moor, which shortened
his journey by half a mile, for the vicarage at Talland.
The vicar rode on at an ambling pace, which his good mare
sustained up hill and down dale without urging. At the bottom
of a deep valley, however, about a mile from Blackadon, the ani-
mal became very uneasy, pricked up her ears, snorted, and moved
from side to side of the road, as if something stood in the path
before her. The parson tightened the reins, and applied whip and
spur to her sides, but the animal, usually docile, became very un-
ruly, made several attempts to turn, and, when prevented, threw
herself upon her haunches. Whip and spur were applied again
and again, to no other purpose than to add to the horse's terror.
To the rider nothing was apparent which could account for the
sudden restiveness of his beast. He dismounted, and attempted
in turns to lead or drag her, but both were impracticable, and
attended with no small risk of snapping the reins. She was re-
The Spectral Coach. 229
mounted with great difficulty, and another attempt was made to
urge her forward, with the like want of success. At length the
eccentric clergyman, judging it to be some special signal from
Heaven, which it would be dangerous to neglect, threw the reins
on the neck of his steed, which, wheeling suddenly round, started
backward in a direction towards the moor, at a pace which
rendered the parson's seat neither a pleasant nor a safe one. In
an astonishingly short space of time they were once more a
Blackadon.
By this time the bare outline of the moor was broken by a large
black group of objects, which the darkness of the night prevented
the parson from defining. On approaching this unaccountable
appearance, the mare was seized with fresh fury, and it was with
considerable difficulty that she could be brought to face this new
cause of fright. In the pauses of the horse's prancing, the vicar
discovered to his horror the much-dreaded spectacle of the black
coach and the headless steeds, and, terrible to relate, his friend
Mr Mills lying prostrate on the ground before the sable driver.
Little time was left him to call up his courage for this fearful
emergency ; for just as the vicar began to give utterance to the
earnest prayers which struggled to his lips, the spectre shouted,
" Dodge is come ! I must begone ! " and forthwith leaped into
his chariot, and disappeared across the moor.
The fury of the mare now subsided, and Mr Dodge was enabled
to approach his friend, who was lying motionless and speechless,
with his face buried in the heather.
Meanwhile the rector's horse, which had taken fright at the
apparition, and had thrown his rider to the ground on or near the
spot where we have left him lying, made homeward at a furious
speed, and stopped not until he had reached his stable door.
The sound of his hoofs as he galloped madly through the village
awoke the cottagers, many of whom had been some hours in their
beds. Many eager faces, staring with affright, gathered round the
rectory, and added, by their various conjectures, to the terror and
apprehensions of the family.
The villagers, gathering courage as their numbers increased,
agreed to go in search of the missing clergyman, and started off in
a compact body, a few on horseback, but the greater number on
foot, in the direction of Blackadon. There they discovered their
rector, supported in the arms of Parson Dodge, and recovered so
far as to be able to speak. Still there was a wildness in his eye,
and an incoherency in his speech, that showed that his reason
was, at least, temporarily unsettled by the fright. In this con-
230 Romances oj Demons, Spectres, etc.
dition he was taken to his home, followed by his reverend com-
panion.
Here ended this strange adventure ; for Mr Mills soon com-
pletely regained his reason, Parson Dodge got safely back to
Talland, and from that time to this nothing has been heard or
seen of the black ghost or his chariot*
SIR FRANCIS DRAKE AND HIS DEMON.
SIR FRANCIS DRAKE — who appears to have been especially
befriended by his demon — is said to drive at night a black
hearse drawn by headless horses, and urged on by running devils
and yelping, headless dogs, through Jump, on the road from
Tavistock to Plymouth.
Sir Francis, according to tradition, was enabled to destroy the
Spanish armada by the aid of the devil. The old admiral went
to Devil's Point, a well-known promontory jutting into Plymouth
Sound. He there cut pieces of wood into the water, and by the
power of magic and the assistance of his demon these became at
once well-armed gunboats.
The Queen, Elizabeth, gave Sir Francis Drake Buckland
Abbey ; and on every hand we hear of Drake and his familiars.
An extensive building attached to the abbey — which was no
doubt used as barns and stables after the place had been deprived
of its religious character — was said to have been built by the devil
in three nights. After the first night, the butler, astonished at the
work done, resolved to watch and see how it was performed.
Consequently, on the second night, he mounted into a large tree,
and hid himself between the forks of its five branches. At mid-
night the devil came, driving several teams of oxen ; and as some
of them were lazy, he plucked this tree from the ground and used
* The Parson Dodge, whose adventure is related, was vicar of Talland from 1713 till
his death. So that the name as well as the story is true to tradition. Bond (" History
of East and West Love ") says of him : " About a century since the Rev. Richard
Dodge was vicar of this parish of Talland, and was, by traditionary account, a very
singular man. He had the reputation of being deeply skilled in the black art, and
would raise ghosts, or send them into the Dead Sea, at the nod of his head. The
common people, not only in his own parish, but throughout the neighbourhood, stood in
the greatest awe of him, and to meet him on the highway at midnight produced the utmost
horror ; he was then driving about the evil spirits ; many of them were seen, in all sorts
of shapes, flying and running before him, and he pursuing them with his whip in a most
daring manner. Not unfrequently he would be seen in the churchyard at dead of night
to the terror of passers-by. He was a worthy man, and much respected, but had his
eccentricities."
The Parson and Clerk. 231
it as a goad. The poor butler lost his senses, and never recovered
them.
Drake constructed the Channel, carrying the waters from Dart-
moor to Plymouth. Tradition says he went with his demon to
Dartmoor, walked into Plymouth, and the waters followed him.*
Even now, — as old Betty Donithorne, formerly the housekeeper
at Buckland Abbey, told me, — if the warrior hears the drum which
hangs in the hall of the abbey, and which accompanied him round
the world, he rises and has a revel.
Some few years since a small box was found in a closet which
had been long closed, containing, it is supposed, family papers.
This was to be sent to the residence of the inheritor of this pro-
perty. The carriage was at the abbey door, and a man easily
lifted the box into it. The owner having taken his seat, the
coachman attempted to start his horses, but in vain. They would
not — they could not move. More horses were brought, and then the
heavy farm-horses, and eventually all the oxen. They were power-
less to start the carriage. At length a mysterious voice was heard,
declaring that the box could never be moved from Buckland
Abbey. It was taken from the carriage easily by one man, and a
pair of horses galloped off with the carriage.
THE PARSON AND CLERK.
NEAR Dawlish stand, out in the sea, two rocks, of red sand-
stone conglomerate, to which the above name is given.
Seeing that this forms a part of Old Cornwall, I do not go
beyond my limits in telling the true story of these singular
rocks.
The Bishop of Exeter was sick unto death at Dawlish. An
ambitious priest, from the east, frequently rode with his clerk to
make anxious inquiries after the condition of the dying bishop. It
is whispered that this priest had great hopes of occupying the
bishop's throne in Exeter Cathedral.
The clerk was usually the priest's guide ; but somehow or other,
on a particularly stormy night, he lost the road, and they were
wandering over Haldon. Excessively angry was the priest, and
very provoking was the clerk. He led his master this way
and that way, but they were yet upon the elevated country ot
Haldon.
* " Here Sir Francis Drake first extended the point of that liquid line wherewith
(as an emulator of the sunnes glorie) he encompassed the world." — The Survey oj
Cornwall, Care<w,
232 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
At length the priest, in a great rage, exclaimed, " I would
rather have the devil for a guide than you." Presently the clatter
of horse's hoofs were heard, and a peasant, on a moor pony, rode
up. The priest told of his condition, and the peasant volunteered
to guide them. On rode peasant, priest, and clerk, and presently
they were at Dawlish. The night was tempestuous, the ride had
quickened the appetite of the priest, and he was wet through,
— therefore, when his friend asked him to supper, as they ap-
proached an old ruined house, through the windows of which
bright lights were shining, there was no hesitation in accepting
the invitation.
There were a host of friends gathered together — a strange, wild-
looking lot of men. But as the tables were laden with substantial
dishes, and black-jacks were standing thick around, the parson,
and the clerk too, soon made friends with all.
They ate and drank, and became most irreligiously uproarious.
The parson sang hunting songs, and songs in praise of a certain
old gentleman, with whom a priest should not have maintained
any acquaintance. These were very highly appreciated, and every
man joined loudly in the choruses. Night wore away, and at last
news was brought that the bishop was dead. This appeared to
rouse up the parson, who was only too eager to get the first in-
telligence, and go to work to secure the hope of his ambition. So
master and man mounted their horses, and bade adieu to their
hilarious friends.
They were yet at the door of the mansion — somehow or other
the horses did not appear disposed to move. They were whipped
and spurred, but to no purpose.
" The devil 's in the horses," said the priest.
" I b'lieve he is," said the clerk.
" Devil or no devil, they shall go," said the parson, cutting his
horse madly with his heavy whip.
There was a roar of unearthly laughter.
The priest looked round — his drinking friends were all turned
into demons, wild with glee, and the peasant guide was an arch little
devil, looking on with a marvellously curious twinkle in his eyes.
The noise of waters was around them ; and now the priest dis-
covered that the mansion had disappeared, and that waves beat
heavy upon his horse's flanks, and rushed over the smaller horse
of his man.
Repentance was too late.
In the morning following this stormy night, two horses were
The Spectre Bridegroom. 233
found straying on the sands at Dawlish ; and clinging with the
grasp of death to two rocks, were found the parson and the clerk.
There stand the rocks to which the devil had given the forms of
horses — an enduring monument to all generations.
THE HAUNTED WIDOWER.
A LAB CURING man, very shortly after his wife's death,
sent to a servant girl, living at the time in a small ship-
ping port, requesting her to come to the inn to him. The girl
went, and over a " ha' pint " she agreed to accept him as her
husband.
All went on pleasantly enough for a time. One evening the
man met the girl. He was silent for some time and sorrowful,
but at length he told her his wife had come back.
" What do'st mean ? " asked the girl ; " have 'e seen hur ? ''
" Naw, I han't seed her."
" Why, how do'st knaw it is her then ? "
The poor man explained to her, that at night, when in bed, she
would come to the side of it, and " flop " his face ; and there was
no mistaking her " flop."
"So you knawed her flop, did 'e ? " asked the girl.
" Ay, it couldn't be mistook."
" If she do hunt thee," said the girl, « she '11 hunt me ; and if
she do flop 'e, she '11 flop me, — so it must be off atween us."
The unifortunate flop of the dead wife prevented the man from
securing a living one.
THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM.
T ONG, long ago a farmer named Lenine lived in Boscean.
J — ' He had but one son, Frank Lenine, who was indulged into
waywardness by both his parents. In addition to the farm ser-
vants, there was one, a young girl, Nancy Trenoweth, who espe-
cially assisted Mrs Lenine in all the various duties of a small
farmhouse.
Nancy Trenoweth was very pretty, and although perfectly unedu-
cated, in the sense in which we now employ the term education,
she possessed many native graces, and she had acquired much
knowledge, really useful to one whose aspirations would probably
never rise higher than to be mistress of a farm of a few acres. Edu-
cated by parents who had certainly never seen the world beyond
Penzance, her ideas of the world were limited to a, few miles around
234 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
the Land's End. But although her book of nature was a small one,
it had deeply impressed her mind with its influences. The wild
waste, the small but fertile valley, the rugged hills, with their
crowns of cairns, the moors rich in the golden furze and the purple
heath, the sea-beaten cliffs, and the silver sands, were the pages
she had studied, under the guidance of a mother who conceived,
in the sublimity of her ignorance, that everything in nature was
the home of some spirit form. The soul of the girl was imbued
with the deeply religious dye of her mother's mind, whose religion
was only a sense of an unknown world immediately beyond our
own. The elder Nancy Trenoweth exerted over the villagers
around her considerable power. They did not exactly fear her.
She was too free from evil for that ; but they w ere conscious of a
mental superiority, and yielded without complaining to her sway.
The result of this was, that the younger Nancy, although com-
pelled to service, always exhibited some pride, from a feeling that
her mother was a superior woman to any around her.
She never felt herself inferior to her master and mistress, yet
she complained not of being in subjection to them. There were so
many interesting features in the character of this young servant girl
that she became in many respects like a daughter to her mistress.
There was no broad line of division in those days, in even the
manorial hall, between the lord and his domestics, and still less
defined was the position of the employer and the employed in a
small farmhouse. Consequent on this condition of things, Frank
Lenine and Nancy were thrown as much together as if they had
been brother and sister. Frank was rarely checked in anything
by his over-fond parents, who were especially proud of their son,
since he was regarded as the handsomest young man in the parish.
Frank conceived a very warm attachment for Nancy, and she was
not a little proud of her lover. Although it was evident to all the
parish that Frank and Nancy were seriously devoted to each
other, the young man's parents were blind to it, and were taken by
surprise when one day Frank asked his father and mother to con-
sent to his marrying Nancy.
The Lenines had allowed their son to have his own way from
his youth up ; and now, in a matter which brought into play the
strongest of human feelings, they were angry because he refused to
bend to their wills.
The old man felt it would be a degradation for a Lenine to
marry a Trenoweth, and, in the most unreasoning manner, he
resolved it should never be.
The first act was to send Nancy home to Alsia Mill, where
The Spectre Bridegroom. 235
her parents resided ; the next was an imperious command to his
son never again to see the girl.
The commands of the old are generally powerless upon the
young where the affairs of the heart are concerned. So were they
upon Frank. He, who was rarely seen of an evening beyond the
garden of his father's cottage, was now as constantly absent from
his home. The house, which was wont to be a pleasant one, was
strangely altered. A gloom had fallen over all things ; the father
and son rarely met as friends — the mother and her boy had
now a feeling of reserve. Often there were angry altercations
between the father and son, and the mother felt she could not
become the defender of her boy in his open acts of disobedience,
his bold defiance of his parents' commands.
Rarely an evening passed that did not find Nancy and Frank
together in some retired nook. The Holy Well was a favourite
meeting-place, and here the most solemn vows were made. Locks
of hair were exchanged ; a wedding-ring, taken from the finger
of a corpse, was broken, when they vowed that they would be
united either dead or alive ; and they even climbed at night the
granite-pile at Treryn, and swore by the Logan Rock the same
strong vow.
Time passed onward thus unhappily, and, as the result of the
endeavours to quench out the passion by force, it grew stronger
under the repressing power, and, like imprisoned steam, eventually
burst through all restraint.
Nancy's parents discovered at length that moonlight meetings
between two untrained, impulsive youths, had a natural result, and
they were now doubly earnest in their endeavours to compel Frank
to marry their daughter.
The elder Lenine could not be brought to consent to this, and
he firmly resolved to remove his son entirely from what he con-
sidered the hateful influences of the Trenoweths. He resolved to
go to Plymouth, to take his son with him, and, if possible, to send
him away to sea, hoping thus to wean him from his folly, as he
considered this love-madness. Frank, poor fellow, with the best
intentions, was not capable of any sustained effort, and con-
sequently he at length succumbed to his father ; and, to escape
his persecution, he entered a ship bound for India, and bade adieu
to his native land.
Frank could not write, and this happened in days when letters
could be forwarded only with extreme difficulty, consequently
Nancy never heard from her lover.
A baby had been born into a troublesome world, and the infant
236 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
became a real solace to the young mother. As the child grew, it
became an especial favourite with its grandmother ; the elder
Nancy rejoiced over the little prattler, and forgot her cause of
sorrow. Young Nancy lived for her child, and on the memory
of its father. Subdued in spirit she was, but her affliction had
given force to her character, and she had been heard to declare
that wherever Frank might be she was ever present with him ;
whatever might be the temptations of the hour, that her influence
was all-powerful over him for good. She felt that no distance
could separate their souls, that no time could be long enough to
destroy the bond between them.
A period of distress fell upon the Trenoweths, and it was
necessary that Nancy should leave her home once more, and go
again into service. Her mother took charge of the babe, and she
found a situation in the village of Kimyall, in the parish of Paul.
Nancy, like her mother, contrived by force of character to main-
tain an ascendancy amongst her companions. She had formed
an acquaintance, which certainly never grew into friendship, with
some of the daughters of the small farmers around. These girls
were all full of the superstitions of the time and place.
The winter was coming on, and nearly three years had passed
away since Frank Lenine left his country. As yet there was no
sign. Nor father, nor mother, nor maiden had heard of him, and
they all sorrowed over his absence. The Lenines desired to have
Nancy's child, but the Trenoweths would not part with it. They
went so far even as to endeavour to persuade Nancy to live again
with them, but Nancy was not at all disposed to submit to their
wishes.
It was All-hallows Eve, and two of Nancy's companions per-
suaded her — no very difficult task — to go with them and sow
hemp-seed.
At midnight the three maidens stole out unperceived into Kim-
yall town-place to perform their incantation. Nancy was the first
to sow, the others being less bold than she.
Boldly she advanced, saying, as she scattered the seed, —
" Hemp -seed I sow thee,
Hemp-seed grow thee ;
And he who will my true love be,
Come after me
And shaw thee."
This was repeated three times, when, looking back over her
left shoulder, she saw Lenine ; but he looked so angry that she
The Spectre Bridegroom 237
shrieked with fear, and broke the spell. One of the other girls,
however, resolved now to make trial of the spell, and the result
of her labours was the vision of a white coffin. Fear now fell on
all, and they went home sorrowful, to spend each one a sleepless
night.
November came with its storms, and during one terrific night
a large vessel was thrown upon the rocks in Bernowhall Cliff,
and, beaten by the impetuous waves, she was soon in pieces.
Amongst the bodies of the crew washed ashore, nearly all of whom
had perished, was Frank Lenine. He was not dead when found,
but the only words he lived to speak were begging the people to
send for Nancy Trenoweth, that he might make her his wife before
he died.
Rapidly sinking, Frank was borne by his friends on a litter to
Boscean, but he died as he reached the town-place. His parents,
overwhelmed in their own sorrows, thought nothing of Nancy, and
without her knowing that Lenine had returned, the poor fellow
was laid in his last bed, in Burian Churchyard.
On the night of the funeral, Nancy went, as was her custom,
to lock the door of the house, and as was her custom too, she
looked out into the night. At this instant a horseman rode up in
hot haste, called her by name, and hailed her in a voice that made
her blood boil.
The voice was the voice of Lenine. She could never forget
that ; and the horse she now saw was her sweetheart's favourite
colt, on which he had often ridden at night to Alsia.
The rider was imperfectly seen ; but he looked very sorrowful,
and deadly pale, still Nancy knew him to be Frank Lenine.
He told her that he had just arrived home, and that the first
moment he was at liberty he had taken horse to fetch his loved
one, and to make her his bride.
Nancy's excitement was so great, that she was easily persuaded
to spring on the horse behind him, that they might reach his home
before the morning.
When she took Lenine's hand a cold shiver passed through her,
and as she grasped his waist to secure herself in her seat, her arm
became as stiff as ice. She lost all power of speech, and suffered
deep fear, yet she knew not why. The moon had arisen, and
now burst out in a full flood of light, through the heavy clouds
which had obscured it. The horse pursued its journey with great
rapidity, and whenever in weariness it slackened its speed, the
peculiar voice of the rider aroused its drooping energies. Beyond
this no word was spoken since Nancy had mounted behind her
238 Romances of Demons •, Spectres, etc.
lover. They now came to Trove Bottom, where there was no
bridge at that time ; they dashed into the river. The moon shone
full in their faces. Nancy looked into the stream, and saw that
the rider was in a shroud and other grave-clothes. She now
knew that she was being carried away by a spirit, yet she had no
power to save herself ; indeed, the inclination to do so did not
exist.
On went the horse at a furious pace, until they came to the
blacksmith's shop near Burian Church-town, when she knew by
the light from the forge fire thrown across the road that the smith
was still at his labours. She now recovered speech. " Save me !
save me ! save me ! " she cried with all her might. The smith
sprang from the door of the smithy, with a red-hot iron in his
hand, and as the horse rushed by, caught the woman's dress and
pulled her to the ground. The spirit, however, also seized Nancy's
dress in one hand, and his grasp was like that of a vice. The horse
passed like the wind, and Nancy and the smith were pulled down
as far as the old Almshouses, near the churchyard. Here the
horse for a moment stopped. The smith seized that moment, and
with his hot iron burned off the dress from the rider's hand, thus
saving Nancy, more dead than alive ; while the rider passed over
the wall of the churchyard, and vanished on the grave in which
Lenine had been laid but a few hours before.
The smith took Nancy into his shop, and he soon aroused some
of his neighbours, who took the poor girl back to Alsia. Her
parents laid her on her bed. She spoke no word, but to ask for
her child, to request her mother to give up her child to Lenine's
parents, and her desire to be buried in his grave. Before the
morning light fell on the world, Nancy had breathed her last
breath.
A horse was seen that night to pass through the Church-town
like a ball from a musket, and in the morning Lenine's colt was
found dead in Bernowhall Cliff, covered with foam, its eyes forced
from its head, and its swollen tongue hanging out of its mouth.
On Lenine's grave was found the piece of Nancy's dress which
was left in the spirit's hand when the smith burnt her from his
grasp.
It is said that one or two of the sailors who survived the wreck
related after the funeral, how, on the 3oth of October, at night,
Lenine was like one mad ; they could scarcely keep him in the
ship. He seemed more asleep than awake, and, after great excite-
ment, he fell as if dead upon the deck, and lay so for hours.
When he came to himself, he told them that he had been taken
Duffy and the Devil. 239
to the village of Kimyall, and that if he ever married the woman
who had cast the spell, he would make her suffer the longest day
she had to live for drawing his soul out of his body.
Poor Nancy was buried in Lenine's grave, and her companion
in sowing hemp-seed, who saw the white coffin, slept beside her
within the year.
This story bears a striking resemblance to the " Lenore " of
Burger, which remarkable ballad can scarcely have found its way,
even yet, to Boscean.
DUFFY AND THE DEVIL*
MANY ot the superstitions of our ancestors are preserved in
quaint, irregular rhymes, the recitation of which was the
amusement of the people in the long nights of winter. These
were sung, or rather said, in a monotone, by the professional
Drolls, who doubtless added such things as they fancied would
increase the interest of the story to the listeners. Especially were
they fond of introducing known characters on the scene, and of
mixing up events which had occurred within the memory of the
old people, with the more ancient legend. The following story,
or rather parts of it, formed the subject of one of the Cornish
Christmas plays. When I was a boy, I well remember being
much delighted with the coarse acting of a set of Christmas
players, who exhibited in the " great hall " of a farmhouse at
which I was visiting, and who gave us the principal incidents of
Duffy and the Devil Terry top ; one of the company doing the part
of Chorus, and filling up by rude descriptions — often in rhyme —
the parts which the players could not represent.
It was in cider-making time. Squire Lovel of Trove, or more
correctly, Trewoof, rode up to Burian Church-town to procure
help. Boys and maidens were in request, some to gather the
* The incidents of this story are strikingly similar to those in " Rumpel-stilzchen."
The maiden in that tale has to spin straw into gold thread, and she, like Duffy, has to
discover the name of the spirit who has befriended her.
Mr Robert Chambers, in his " Popular Rhymes of Scotland," has a fairy tale in which
the fairy threatens the mother that she will have her "lad bairn " unless "ye can tell
me my right name." The anxious mother takes a walk in the wood, and she hears the
fairy singing —
" Little kens our gude dame at hame
That ' Whuppity Stoorie ' is my name."
Of course, when the fairy comes to claim the "lad bairn," she is addressed as
"Whuppity Stoorie," and she at once disappears.
In " Who Built Reynir Church ? " in the " Icelandic Legends " of Jon Arnason, the
•tory turns on the discovery of the name of the builder. — Icelandic Legtnds, p. 49.
240 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
apples from the trees, others to carry them to the cider-mill. Pass-
ing along the village as hastily as the dignity of a squire would
allow him, his attention was drawn to a great noise — scolding in
a shrill treble voice, and crying — proceeding from Janey Chyg-
win's door. The squire rode up to the cottage, and he saw the
old woman beating her step -daughter Duffy about the head with
the skirt of her swing-tail gown, in which she had been carrying
out the ashes. She made such a dust, that the squire was nearly
choked and almost blinded with the wood ashes.
" What cheer, Janey ? " cries the squire ; " what 7s the to-do
with you and Duffy ? "
" Oh, the lazy hussy ! " shouts Janey, " is all her time coursey-
ing and courranting with the boys ! she will never stay in to boil
the porridge, knit the stockings, or spin the yarn."
" Don't believe her, your honour," exclaims Duffy ; " my knit-
ting and spinning is the best in the parish."
The war of tongues continued in this strain for some time, the
old squire looking calmly on, and resolving in his mind to take
Duffy home with him to Trove, her appearance evidently pleasing
him greatly. Squire Lovel left the old and young woman to do
the best they could, and went round the village to complete his
hiring. When he returned, peace had been declared between
them ; but when Lovel expressed his desire to take Duffy home to
his house to help the housekeeper to do the spinning, " A pretty
spinner she is ! " shouted old Janey at the top of her voice. " Try
me, your honour," said Duffy, curtsying very low ; " my yarns are
the best in the parish."
" We '11 soon try that," said the squire ; " Janey will be glad to
get quits of thee, I see, and thou 'It be nothing loath to leave her ;
so jump up behind me, Duffy."
No sooner said than done. The maid Duffy, without ceremony,
mounted behind the squire on the horse, and they jogged silently
down to Trove.
Squire Level's old housekeeper was almost blind — one eye
had been put out by an angry old wizard, and through sympathy
she was rapidly losing the power of seeing with the other.
This old dame was consequently very glad of some one to help
her in spinning and knitting.
The introduction over, the housekeeper takes Duffy up into
the garret where the wool was kept, and where the spinning
was done in the summer, and requests her to commence her
work.
The truth must be told ; Duffy was an idle slut, she could
Duffy and the Devil. 241
neither knit nor spin. Well, here she was left alone, and, of
course, expected to produce a good specimen of her work.
The garret was piled from the floor to the key-beams with fleeces
of wool. Duffy looked despairingly at them, and then sat herself
down on the " turn " — the spinning-wheel — and cried out,
" Curse the spinning and knitting ! The devil may spin and
knit for the squire for what I care."
Scarcely had Duffy spoken these words than she heard a rustling
noise behind some woolpacks, and forth walked a queer-looking
little man, with a remarkable pair of eyes, which seemed to send
out flashes of light. There was something uncommonly knowing
in the twist of his mouth, and his curved nose had an air of
curious intelligence. He was dressed in black, and moved
towards Duffy with a jaunty air, knocking something against the
floor at every step he took.
" Duffy dear," said this little gentleman, " I '11 do all the spin-
ning and knitting for thee."
" Thank }e" says Duffy, quite astonished.
" Duffy dear, a lady shall you be."
" Thank 'e, your honour," smiled Duffy.
" But, Duffy dear, remember," coaxingly said the queer little
man, — " remember, that for all this, at the end of three years,
you must go with me, unless you can find out my name."
Duffy was not the least bit frightened, nor did she hesitate
long, but presently struck a bargain with her kind but unknown
friend, who told her she had only to wish, and her every wish
should be fulfilled ; and as for the spinning and knitting, she
would find all she required under the black ram's fleece.
He then departed. How, Duffy could not tell, but in a moment
the queer little gentleman was gone.
Duffy sung in idleness, and slept until it was time for her to
make her appearance. So she wished for some yarns, and look-
ing under the black fleece she found them.
Those were shown by the housekeeper to the squire, and both
declared " they had never seen such beautiful yarns."
The next day Duffy was to knit this yarn into stockings. Duffy
idled, as only professed idlers can idle ; but in due time, as if she
had been excessively industrious, she produced a pair of stockings
for the old squire.
If the yarn was beautiful, the stockings were beyond all praise.
They were as fine as silk, and as strong as leather.
Squire Lovel soon gave them a trial ; and when he came home
at night after hunting, he declared he would never wear any
Q
242 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
other than Duffy's stockings. He had wandered all day through
brake and briar, furze and brambles ; there was not a scratch on
his legs, and he was as dry as a bone. There was no end to his
praise of Duffy's stockings.
Duffy had a rare time of it now — she could do what she pleased,
and rove where she willed.
She was dancing on the mill-bed half the day, with all the
gossiping women who brought their grist to be ground.
In those " good old times " the ladies of the parish would take
their corn to mill, and serge the flour themselves. When a few
of them met together, they would either tell stories or dance
whilst the corn was grinding. Sometimes the dance would be
on the mill-bed, sometimes out on the green. On some occasions
the miller's fiddle would be in request, at others the " crowd " *
was made to do the duty of a tambourine.
So Duffy was always finding excuses to go to mill, and many
" a round " would she dance with the best people in the parish.
Old Bet, the miller's wife, was a witch, and she found out
who did Duffy's work for her. Duffy and old Bet were always the
best of friends, and she never told any one about Duffy's knitting
friend, nor did she ever say a word about the stockings being
unfinished. There was always a stitch down.
On Sundays the people went to Burian Church, from all parts,
to look at the squire's stockings ; and the old squire would stop
at the Cross, proud enough to show them. He could hunt
" Through brambles and furze in all sorts of weather ;
His old shanks were as sound as if bound up in leather."
Duffy was now sought after by all the young men of the country ;
and at last the squire, fearing to lose a pretty girl, and one who
was so useful to him, married her himself, and she became,
according to the fashion of the time and place, Lady Lovel ;
but she was commonly known by her neighbours as the Duffy
Lady.
Lady Lovel kept the devil hard at work. Stockings, all sorts
of fine underclothing, bedding, and much ornamental work, the
like of which was never seen, was produced at command, and
passed oft" as her own.
Duffy passed a merry time of it, but somehow or other she was
never happy when she was compelled to play the lady. She
passed much more of her time with the old crone at the mill,
than in the drawing-room at Trove. The squire sported and
* Crowd,— a sieve covered with sheep-skin.
Duffy and the Devil. 243
drank, and cared little about Duffy, so long as she provided him
with knitted garments.
The three years were nearly at an end. Duffy had tried every
plan to find out the devil's name, but had failed in all.
She began to fear that she should have to go off with her
queer friend, and Duffy became melancholy. Old Bet en-
deavoured to rouse her, persuading her that she could from her
long experience and many dealings with the imps of darkness, at
the last moment put her in the way of escaping her doom.
Duffy went day after day to her garret, and there each day was
the devil gibing and jeering till she was almost mad.
There was but another day. Bet was seriously consulted now,
and, as good as her word, she promised to use her power.
Duffy Lady was to bring down to the mill that very evening
a jack of the strongest beer she had in the cellar. She was
not to go to bed until the squire returned from hunting, no
matter how late, and she was to make no remark in reply to
anything the squire might tell her.
The jack of beer was duly carried to the mill, and Duffy
returned home very melancholy to wait up for the squire.
No sooner had Lady Lovel left the mill than old Bet came
out with the " crowd " over her shoulders, and the blackjack
in her hand. She shut the door, and turned the water off
the mill-wheel, — threw her red cloak about her, and away.
She was seen by her neighbours going towards Boleit. A man
saw the old woman trudging past the Pipers, and through the
Dawnse Main into the downs, but there he lost sight of her, and
no one could tell where old Bet was gone to at that time of night.
Duffy waited long and anxiously. By and by the dogs came
home alone. They were covered with foam, their tongues were
hanging out of their mouths, and all the servants said they must
have met the devil's hounds without heads.
Duffy was seriously alarmed. Midnight came but no squire.
At last he arrived, but like a crazy, crack-brained man, he kept
singing, —
"Here's to the devil,
With his wooden pick and shovel."
He was neither drunk nor frightened, but wild with some strange
excitement. After a long time Squire Lovel sat down, and began,
" My dear Duffy, you haven't smiled this long time ; but now I'll
tell 'e something that would make ye laugh if ye 're dying. If you'd
seen what I 've seen to-night, ha, ha, ha \
244 Romances of Demons -, Spectres^ etc*
'Here's to the devil.
With his wooden pick and shovel.'"
True to her orders, Duffy said not a word, but allowed the
squire to ramble on as he pleased. At length he told her the
following story of his adventures, with interruptions which have not
been retained, and with numerous coarse expressions which are
best forgotten : —
THE SQUIRE'S STORY OF THE MEETING OF THE WITCHES IN THE
FUGOE HOLE.
" Duffy dear, I left home at break of day this morning. I
hunted all the moors from Trove to Trevider, and never started a
hare all the livelong day. I determined to hunt all night, but that
I 'd have a brace to bring home. So, at nightfall I went down
Lemorna Bottoms, then up Brene Downses, and as we passed the
Dawnse Main up started a hare, as fine a hare as ever was seen.
She passed the Pipers, down through the Reens, in the mouth of
the dogs half the time, yet they couldn't catch her at all. As fine
a chase as ever was seen, until she took into the Fugoe Hole.* In
went the dogs after her, and I followed, the owls and bats flying
round my head. On we went, through water and mud, a mile or
more, I 'm quite certain. I didn't know the place was so long
before. At last we came to a broad pool of water, when the dogs
lost the scent, and ran back past me howling and jowling, terrified
almost to death ! A little farther on I turned round a corner, and
saw a glimmering fire on the other side the water, and there were
St Leven witches in scores. Some were riding on ragwort, some
on brooms, some were floating on their three-legged stools, and
some, who had been milking the little good cows in Wales, had
come back astride of the largest leeks they could find. Amongst
the rest there was our Bet of the Mill, with her * crowd ' in her
hand, and my own blackjack slung across her shoulders.
" In a short time the witches gathered round the fire, and
blowed it up, after a strange fashion, till it burned up into a
* There is a tradition, firmly believed on the lower side of Burian, that the Fugoe Hole
extends from the cliffs underground so far that the end of it is under the parlour of the
Tremewen's house in Trove, which is the only remaining portion of the old mansion of
the Lovels.
Here the witches were in the habit of meeting the devil, and holding their Sabbath.
Often his dark Highness has been heard piping, while the witches danced to his music.
A pool of water some distance from the entrance prevents any adventurer from ex-
ploring the " Hole " to its termination.
Hares often take refuge in. th? Fugoe Hole, from which they have never been knowa
Duffy and the Devil. 245
brilliant blue flame. Then I saw amongst the rest a queer little
man in black, with a long forked tail, which he held high in the
air, and twirled around. Bet struck her ' crowd ' as soon as he
appeared, and beat up the tune, —
' Here 's to the devil.
With his wooden pick and shovel,
Digging tin by the bushel,
With his tail cock'd up ! '
Then the queer little devil and all danced like the wind, and went
faster and faster, making such a clatter, ' as if they had on each
foot a pewter platter/
" Every time the man in black came round by old Bet, he took
a good pull from my own blackjack, till at last, as if he had been
drinking my best beer, he seemed to have lost his head, when he
jumped up and down, turned round and round, and roaring with
laughter, sung, —
' Duffy, my lady, you'll never know — what ? —
That my name is Terrytop, Terrytop — top ! ' "
When the squire sung those lines, he stopped suddenly, thinking
that Duffy was going to die. She turned pale and red, and pale
again. However, Duffy said nothing, and the squire proceeded : —
" After the dance, all the witches made a ring around the fire,
and again blew it up, until the blue flames reached the top of the
* Zawn.' * Then the devil danced through and through the fire,
and springing ever and anon amongst the witches, kicked them
soundly. At last — I was shaking with laughter at the fun — I
shouted, ' Go it, Old Nick ! ' and, lo, the lights went out, and I
had to fly with all my speed, for every one of the witches were
after me. I scampered home somehow, and here I am. Why
don't you laugh, Duffy?" Duffy did laugh, and laugh right
heartily now, and when tired of their fun, the squire and the lady
went to bed.
The three years were up within an hour. Duffy had willed for
an abundant supply of knitted things, and filled every chest in the
house. She was in the best chamber trying to cram some more
stockings into a big chest, when the queer little man in black ap-
peared before her.
" Well, Duffy, my dear/' said he, " I have been to my word,
and served you truly for three years as we agreed, so now I hope
you will go with me, and make no objection." He bowed very
* Zawn,— a cavernous gorge.
246 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
obsequiously, almost to the ground, and regarded Duffy Lady with
a very offensive leer.
" I fear," smiled Duffy, " that your country is rather warm, and
might spoil my fair complexion."
" It is not so hot as some people say, Duffy," was his reply ;
" but come along, I Ve kept my word, and of course a lady of
your standing will keep your word also. Can you tell me my
name ? "
Duffy curtsied, and smilingly said, " You have behaved like a
true gentlemen ; yet I wouldn't like to go so far." The devil
frowned, and approached as if he would lay forcible hands upon
her. " Maybe your name is Lucifer ? "
He stamped his foot and grinned horridly. " Lucifer ! Lucifer !
He 's no other than a servant to me in my own country." Suddenly
calming again, he said, quietly, " Lucifer ! I would scarcely be
seen speaking to him at court. But come along. When I spin
for ladies I expect honourable treatment at their hands. You Ve
two guesses more. But they 're of little use ; my name is not
generally known on earth."
" Perhaps," smiled Duffy again, " my lord's name is Beel-
zebub ? "
How he grinned, and his sides shook with convulsive joy.
" Beelzebub ! " says he ; " why, he 's little better than the other,
a common devil he. I believe he 's some sort of a cousin — a
Cornish cousin, you know."
" I hope your honour," curtsied Duffy, " will not take offence.
Impute my mistake to ignorance/'
Our Demon was rampant with joy ; he danced around Duffy
with delight, ana was, seeing that she hesitated, about to seize her
somewhat roughly.
" Stop ! stop ! " shouts Duffy ; " perhaps you will be honest
enough to admit that your name is Terry top."
The gentleman in black looked at Duffy, and she steadily looked
him in the face. " Terrytop ! deny it if you dare," says she.
" A gentleman never denies his name," replied Terrytop, draw-
ing himself up with much dignity. " I did not expect to be beaten
by a young minx like you, Duffy ; but the pleasure of your com-
pany is merely postponed." With this Terrytop departed in fire
and smoke, and all the devil's knitting suddenly turned to ashes.
Squire Lovel was out hunting, away far on the moors ; the day
was cold and the winds piercing. Suddenly the stockings dropped
from his legs and the homespun from his back, so that he came
home with nothing on but his shirt and his shoes, almost dead
The Lovers of Porthangwartha. 247
with cold. All this was attributed by the squire to the influence
of old Bet, who, he thought, had punished him for pursuing her
with his dogs when she had assumed the form of a hare.
The story, as told by the Drolls, now rambles on. Duffy can-
not furnish stockings. The squire is very wroth. There are
many quarrels — mutual recriminations. Duffy's old sweetheart
is called in to beat the squire, and eventually peace is procured, by
a stratagem of old Bet's, which would rather shock the sense of
propriety in these our days.
THE LOVERS OF PORTHANGWARTHA*
r~PHE names of the youth and maiden who fixed the term of
-L the Lover's Cove upon this retired spot have passed from
the memory of man. A simple story, however, remains, the mere
fragment, without doubt, of a longer and more ancient tale.
The course of love with this humble pair did not run smooth.
On one side or the other the parents were decidedly opposed to
the intimacy which existed, and by their persecutions, they so far
succeeded, that the young man was compelled to emigrate to some
far distant land.
In this cove the lovers met for the last time in life, and vowed
under the light of the full moon, that living or dead they would
meet at the end of three years.
The young woman remained with her friends — the young man
went to the Indies. Time passed on, and the three years, which
had been years of melancholy to both, were expiring.
One moonlight night, when the sea was tranquil as a mirror, an
old crone sat on the edge of the cliff " making her charms." She
saw a figure — she was sure it was a spirit, very like the village
maiden — descend into the cove, and seat herself upon a rock,
around two-thirds of which the light waves were rippling. On this
rock sat the maiden, looking anxiously out over the sea, until, from
the rising of the tide, she was completely surrounded. The old
woman called ; but in vain — the maiden was unconscious of any
voice. There she sat, and the tide was rising rapidly around her.
The old woman, now seeing the danger in which she was, resolved
to go down into the cove, and, if possible, awaken the maiden to a
sense of her danger. To do this, it was necessary to go round a
projecting pile of rocks. While doing this, she lost sight of the
object of her interest, and much was her surprise, when she again
saw the maiden, to perceive a young sailor by her side, with his
* This is said to mean the Lover's Cove.
248 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc,
arm around her waist. Conceiving that help had arrived, the old
woman sat herself down on the slope of the descending path, and
resolved patiently to await the arrival of the pair on shore, and
then to rate the girl soundly.
She sat watching this loving and lovely pair, lighted as they
were on the black rock by a full flood of moonshine. There they
sat, and the tide rose and washed around them. Never were boy
and girl so mad, and at last the terrified old woman shrieked with
excitement. Suddenly they appeared to float off upon the waters.
She thought she heard their voices ; but there was no sound of
terror. Instead of it a tranquil murmuring music, like the voice
of doves, singing, —
" I am thine,
Thou art mine,
Beyond control ;
In the wave
Be the grave
Of heart and soul."
Down, down into the sea passed the lovers. Awestruck, the
old woman looked on, until, as she said, " At last they turned
round, looked me full in the face, smiling like angels, and, kissing
each other, sank to rise no more."
They tell us that the body of the young woman was found a day
or two after in a neighbouring cove, and that intelligence eventually
reached England that the young man had been killed on this
very night.
THE GHOST OF ROSEWARNE.
" T7 ZEKIEL GROSSE, gent., attorney-at-law," bought the lands
•*— * of Rosewarne from one of the De Rosewarnes, who had
become involved in difficulties, by endeavouring, without sufficient
means, to support the dignity of his family. There is reason for be-
lieving that Ezekiel was the legal adviser of this unfortunate Rose-
warne, and that he was not over-honest in his transactions with his
client. However this may be, Ezekiel Grosse had scarcely made
Rosewarne his dwelling-place, before he was alarmed by noises, at
first of an unearthly character, and subsequently, one very dark
night, by the appearance of the ghost himself in the form of a worn
and aged man. The first appearance was in the park, but he sub-
sequently repeated his visits in the house, but always after dark.
Ezekiel Grosse was not a man to be terrified at trifles, and for some
time he paid but slight attention to his nocturnal visitor. Howbe-
The Ghost of Rosewarne. 249
' it, the repetition ot visits, and certain mysterious indications on the
part of the spectre, became annoying to Ezekiel. One night,
when seated in his office examining some deeds, and being rather
irritable, having lost an important suit, his visitor approached him,
making some strange indications which the lawyer could not
understand. Ezekiel suddenly exclaimed, " In the name of God,
what wantest thou ? "
" To show thee, Ezekiel Grosse, where the gold for which thou
longest lies buried."
No one ever lived upon whom the greed of gold was stronger
than on Ezekiel, yet he hesitated now that his spectral friend had
spoken so plainly, and trembled in every limb as the ghost slowly
delivered himself in sepulchral tones of this telling speech.
The lawyer looked fixedly on the spectre, but he dared not
utter a word. He longed to obtain possession of the secret, yet he
feared to ask him where he was to find this treasure. The spectre
looked as fixedly at the poor trembling lawyer, as if enjoying the
sight of his terror. At length, lifting his finger, he beckoned
Ezekiel to follow him, turning at the same time to leave the room.
Ezekiel was glued to his seat ; he could not exert strength enough
to move, although he desired to do so.
" Come ! " said the ghost, in a hollow voice. The lawyer was
powerless to come.
" Gold ! " exclaimed the old man, in a whining tone, though in
a louder key.
" Where ? " gasped Ezekiel.
" Follow me, and I will show thee," said the ghost. Ezekiel
endeavoured to rise, but it was in vain.
" I command thee, come ! " almost shrieked the ghost. Ezekiel
felt that he was compelled to follow his friend ; and by some super-
natural power rather than his own, he followed the spectre out of
the room, and through the hall, into the park.
They passed onward through the night — the ghost gliding be-
fore the lawyer, and guiding him by a peculiar phosphorescent
light, which appeared to glow from every part of the form, until
they arrived at a little dell, and had reached a small cairn formed
of granite boulders. By this the spectre rested ; and when
Ezekiel had approached it, and was standing on the other side of
the cairn, still trembling, the aged man, looking fixedly in his face,
said, in low tones —
" Ezekiel Grosse, thou longest for gold, as I did. I won the
glittering prize, but I could not enjoy it. Heaps of treasure are
buried beneath those stones ; it is thine, if thou diggest for it
250 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
Win the gold, Ezekiel. Glitter with the wicked ones of the
world ; and when thou art the most joyous, I will look in upon
thy happiness." The ghost then disappeared, and as soon as
Grosse could recover himself from the extreme trepidation, — the
result of mixed feelings, — he looked about him, and finding himself
alone, he exclaimed, " Ghost or devil, I will soon prove whether or
not thou liest ! " Ezekiel is said to have heard a laugh, echoing
between the hills, as he said those words.
The lawyer noted well the spot ; returned to his house ;
pondered on all the circumstances of his case ; and eventually
resolved to seize the earliest opportunity, when he might do so un-
observed, of removing the stones, and examining the ground
beneath them.
A few nights after this, Ezekiel went to the little cairn, and by
the aid of a crowbar, he soon overturned the stones, and laid the
ground bare. He then commenced digging, and had not pro-
ceeded far when his spade struck against some other metal. He
carefully cleared away the earth, and he then felt — for he could
not see, having no light with him — that he had uncovered a
metallic urn of some kind. He found it quite impossible to lift it,
and he was therefore compelled to cover it up again, and to replace
the stones sufficiently to hide it from the observation of any chance
wanderer.
The next night Ezekiel found that this urn, which was of
bronze, contained gold coins of a very ancient date. He loaded
himself with his treasure, and returned home. From time to time,
at night, as Ezekiel found he could do so withcut exciting the sus-
picions of his servants, he visited the urn, and thus by degrees
removed all the treasure to Rosewarne house. There was nothing
in the series of circumstances which had surrounded Ezekiel which
he could less understand than the fact that the ghost of the old
man had left off troubling him from the moment when he had dis-
closed to him the hiding-place of this treasure.
The neighbouring gentry could not but observe the rapid im-
provements which Ezekiel Grosse made in his mansion, his
grounds, in his personal appearance, and indeed in everything by
which he was surrounded. In a short time he abandoned the
law, and led in every respect the life of a country gentleman.
He ostentatiously paraded his power to procure all earthly enjoy-
ments, and, in spite of his notoriously bad character, he succeeded
in drawing many of the landed proprietors around him.
Things went well with Ezekiel. The man who could in those
days visit London in his own carriage and four was not without a
The Ghost of Rosewarne. 251
large circle of flatterers. The lawyer who had struggled hard, in
the outset of life, to secure wealth, and who did not always employ
the most honest means for doing so, now found himself the centre
of a circle to whom he could preach honesty, and receive from
them expressions of the admiration in which the world holds the
possessor of gold. His old tricks were forgotten, and he was put
in places of honour. This state of things continued for some
time ; indeed, Grosse's entertainments became more and more
splendid, and his revels more and more seductive to those he
admitted to share them with him. The Lord of Rosewarne was
the Lord of the West. To him every one bowed the knee : he
walked the Earth as the proud possessor of a large share of the
planet.
It was Christmas eve, and a large gathering there was at Rose-
warne. In the hall the ladies and gentlemen were in the full
enjoyment of the dance, and in the kitchen all the tenantry and
the servants were emulating their superiors. Everything went
joyously ; and when mirth was in full swing, and Ezekiel felt to
the full the influence of wealth, it appeared as if in one moment
the chill of death had fallen over every one. The dancers paused,
and looked one at another, each one struck with the other's pale-
ness ; and there, in the middle of the hall, every one saw a strange
old man looking angrily, but in silence, at Ezekiel Grosse, who was
fixed in terror, blank as a statue.
No one had seen this old man enter the hall, yet there he was
in the midst of them. It was but for a minute, and he was gone.
Ezekiel, as if a frozen torrent of water had thawed in an instant,
roared with impetuous laughter.
" What do you think of that for a Christmas play ? There was
an old Father Christmas for you ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! How
frightened you all look ! Butler, order the men to hand round
the spiced wines ! On with the dancing, my friends ! It was
only a trick, ay, and a clever one, which I have put upon you.
On with your dancing, my friends ! "
Notwithstanding his boisterous attempts to restore the spirit of
the evening, Ezekiel could not succeed. There was an influence
stronger than any which he could command ; and one by one,
framing sundry excuses, his guests took their departure, every one
of them satisfied that all was not right at Rosewarne.
From that Christmas eve Grosse was a changed man. He
tried to be his former self ; but it was in vain. Again and again
he called his gay companions around him ; but at every feast
there appeared one more than was desired. An aged man —
252 Romances of Demons, Spectres \ etc.
weird beyond measure — took his place at the table in the middle
of the feast ; and although he spoke not, he exerted a miraculous
power over all. No one dared to move ; no one ventured to
speak. Occasionally Ezekiel assumed an appearance of courage,
which he felt not ; rallied his guests, and made sundry excuses
for the presence of his aged friend, whom he represented as
having a mental infirmity, as being deaf and dumb. On all such
occasions the old man rose from the table, and looking at the
host, laughed a demoniac laugh of joy, and departed as quietly as
he came.
The natural consequence of this was that Ezekiel Grosse's friends
fell away from him, and he became a lonely man, amidst his vast
possessions — his only companion being his faithful clerk, John
Call.
The persecuting presence of the spectre became more and more
constant ; and wherever the poor lawyer went, there was the aged
man at his side. From being one of the finest men in the county,
he became a miserably attenuated and bowed old man. Misery
was stamped on every feature — terror was indicated in every
movement. At length he appears to have besought his ghostly
attendant to free him of his presence. It was long before the
ghost would listen to any terms ; but when Ezekiel at length
agreed to surrender the whole of his wealth to any one whom the
spectre might indicate, he obtained a promise that upon this being
carried out, in a perfectly legal manner, in favour of John Call,
that he should no longer be haunted.
This was, after numerous struggles on the part of Ezekiel to
retain his property, or at least some portion of it, legally settled,
and John Call became possessor of Rosewarne and the adjoining
lands. Grosse was then informed that this evil spirit was one of
the ancestors of the Rosewarne, from whom by his fraudulent
dealings he obtained the place, and that he was allowed to visit
the earth again for the purpose of inflicting the most condign punish-
ment on the avaricious lawyer. His avarice had been gratified,
his pride had been pampered to the highest ; and then he was
made a pitiful spectacle, at whom all men pointed, and no one
pitied. He lived on in misery, but it was for a short time. He
was found dead : and the country people ever said that his death
was a violent one ; they spoke of marks on his body, and some
even asserted that the spectre of De Rosewarne was seen rejoicing
amidst a crowd of devils, as they bore the spirit of Ezekiel over
Carn Brea.
The Suicide's Spearman. 253
Hals thus quaintly tells this story : —
" Rosewarne, in this parish, gave to its owner the name of De Rosewarne,
one of which tribe sold those lands, temp. James I., to Ezekiel Grosse, gent.,
attorney-at-law, who made it his dwelling, and in this place got a great es-
tate by the inferior practice of the law ; but much more, as tradition saith,
by means of a spirit or apparition that haunted him in this place, till he
spake to it (for it is notable that sort of things called apparitions are such
proud gentry, that they never -speak first) ; whereupon it discovered to him
where much treasure lay hid in this mansion, which, according to the (honest)
ghost's direction, he found, to his great enriching. After which, this phan-
tasm or spectrum became so troublesome and direful to him, day and night,
that it forced him to forsake this place (as rich, it seems, as this devil could
make him), and to quit his claim thereto, by giving or selling it to his clerk,
John Call ; whose son, John Call, gent., sold it again to Robert Hooker,
gent., attorney-at-law, now in possession thereof. The arms of Call were,
in a field three trumpets — in allusion to the name in English ; but in Corn-
ish-British, ' call,' ' cal,' signifies any hard, flinty, or obdurate matter or
thing, and 'hirgorue' is a trumpet.'1*
THE SUICIDE'S SPEARMAN.
A FAMILY of the name of Spearman has lived in Cornwall for
many ages, their native centre having been somewhere be-
tween Ludgvan and St Ives.
Years long ago, an unfortunate man, weary of life, destroyed
himself ; and the rude laws of a remote age. carrying out, as they
thought, human punishments even after death, decreed that the
body should be buried at the four cross-roads, and quicklime
poured on the corpse.
Superstition stepped in, and somewhat changed the order of
burial. To prevent the dead man from " walking," and becoming
a terror to all his neighbours, the coffin was to be turned upside
down, and a spear was to be driven through it and the body, so
as to pin it to the ground.
It was with some difficulty that a man could be found to per-
form this task. At length, however, a blacksmith undertook it.
He made the spear ; and after the coffin was properly placed, he
drove his spear-headed iron bar through it. From that day he
was called " the spearman," and his descendants have never lost
the name.
In making a new road not many years since, the coffin and
spear were found, and removed. From that time several old men
and women have declared that the self-murderer " walks the earth."
* See Gilbert's " Parochial History of Cornwall," 1838, vol. i. p. 162.
254 Romances of Demons, Spectres •, etc.
THE SUICIDE'S GHOST.
ON the bleak road between Helston and Wendron Church-town,
at its highest and wildest spot, three roads meet about a
quarter of a mile from the latter place. Here, at " Three Cross,"
as the place is called, years ago, when the Downs being unenclosed,
it was more desolate than it is even now, a poor suicide, named
" Tucker," was buried. Few liked to pass up Row's Lane, leading
there, after nightfall ; for Tucker's shade had more than once been
seen. One man, however, valiant in his cups, on his return from
Helston market, cracked his whip, and shouted lustily, " Arise,
Tucker ! " as he passed the place. It is said Tucker did arise,
and fixed himself on the saddle behind the man as he rode on
horseback, and accompanied him — how far it is not said. This
was often repeated, until the spirit, becoming angry, refused any
more to quit his disturber, and continued to trouble him, till
" Parson Jago " was called in to use his skill, which was found
effectual, in "laying" Tucker's spirit to rest.
THE "HA-AF" A FACE.
JAMES BERRYMAN said, " Fa-ather took a house doun to
Lelant, whear we lived for a bra' bit. Very often after I ben
in bed, our ould cat wud tear up, coover its ars like a ma-aged
thing, jump uppon the bed, and dig her ould hed under the clothes,
as if she wud git doun to bottom, and jest after, a man's face,
with a light round un, wud cum in ; 'twas ha-af a face like, and it
wud stop at the bottom of the bed. I Ve sen it many times ; and
fa-ather, though he didn't say nothin', was glad enough to leave
the place. I was tould that the house belonged to an ould man,
and that two rich gentlemen, brothers, who lived close by, wanted
the place, and put on law, and got the place from the poor ould
man. When they war goin' to turn un out, the poor fellow stopped
and looked round crying, and then fell down in a fit, was put to
bed, and died in the house ; and 'twas he, they said, that used to
come back."
THE WARNING.
r"PHE following instance is given me, as from the party to whom
-L it happened, " a respectable person, of undoubted veracity."
" When a young man, fearing and caring for no one, I was in the
habit of visiting Sancreed from Penzance, and of returning in the
Laying a Ghost. 255
evening. One night I took up my hat to return, and went out at
the door. It was a most beautiful night, when, without the most
remote assignable reason, I was seized in a manner I never ex-
perienced either before or since. I was absolutely ' terror-stricken/
so that I was compelled to turn back to the house, a thing I had
never done before, and say, ' I must remain here for the night.'
I could never account for it ; and without caring to be called
superstitious, have regarded it as a special interposition of Provi-
dence. It was reported that shortly before, a lad, who had driven
home a farmer's daughter to her father's house in the neighbour-
hood, had suddenly been missed, and no clue to his whereabouts
had ever been found. About four or six weeks after my adventure,
a gang of sheep-stealers who had carried on their depredations for
a long time previous, were discovered in the neighbourhood ; their
abode, indeed, adjoined the road from Sancreed to Penzance, and
I cannot help believing it probable, that had I returned that night
I should have encountered the gang, and perhaps lost my life.
Years afterwards, one of the gang confessed that the boy had come
suddenly upon them during one of their nefarious expeditions.
He was seized, and injudiciously said, ' Well, you may get off
once or twice, but you 're sure to be hanged in the end/ ' Thee
shan't help to do it,' said one, and the poor boy was murdered,
and his body thrown into a neighbouring shaft."
LAYING A GHOST.
" npO the ignorance of men in our age in this particular and
JL mysterious part of philosophy and religion, — namely, the
communication between spirits and men, — not one scholar out of
ten thousand, though otherwise of excellent learning, knows any-
thing of it, or the way how to manage it. This ignorance breeds
fear and abhorrence of that which otherwise might be of incom-
parable benefit to mankind."
Such is the concluding paragraph of " An Account of an
Apparition, attested by the Rev. Wm. Ruddell, Minister at Laun-
ceston, in Cornwall," 1665.
A schoolboy was haunted by Dorothy Dingley ; we know not
why, but the boy pined. He was thought to be in love ; but
when, at the wishes of his friends, the parson questioned him, he
told him of his ghostly visitor, and he took the parson to the field
in which he was in the habit of meeting the apparition ; and the
reverend gentleman himself saw the spectral Dorothy, and after-
256 Romances of Demons > Spectres, etc.
wards he showed her to the boy's father and mother. Then comes
the story of the laying. " The next morning being Thursday, I
went out very early by myself, and walked for about an hour's
space in meditation and prayer in the field next adjoining to the
Quartiles. Soon after five, I stepped over the stile into the dis-
turbed field, and had not gone above thirty or forty paces before
the ghost appeared at the further stile. I spoke to it with a loud
voice, in some such sentences as the way of these dealings directed
me ; whereupon it approached, but slowly, and when I came near
it it moved not. I spoke again, and it answered again in a voice
which was neither very audible nor intelligible. I was not the least
terrified, therefore I persisted until it spake again and gave me
satisfaction. But the work could not be finished at this time ;
wherefore the same evening, an hour after sunset, it met me again,
near the same place, and after a few words on each side it quietly
vanished, and neither doth appear since, nor ever will more to any
man's disturbance." *
A FLYING SPIRIT.
ABOUT the year 1761 a pinnacle was thrown down, by light-
ning, from the tower of the church at Ludgvan. The effect
was then universally imputed to the vengeance of a perturbed
spirit, exorcised from Treassow, and passing eastward, towards
the usual place of banishment — THE RED SEA.
The following story is given as a remarkable example of the
manner in which very recent events become connected with exceed-
ingly old superstitious ideas. The tales of Tregeagle have shown
us how the name of a man who lived about two centuries since is
made to do duty as a demon belonging to the pagan times. In
this stoiy we have the name of a woman who lived about the com-
mencement of the present century, associated with a legend belong-
ing to the earliest ages.
THE EXECUTION AND WEDDING.
A WO MAN, who had lived at Ludgvan, was executed at Bodmin
for the murder of her husband. There was but little doubt
that she had been urged on to the diabolical deed by a horse-
dealer, known as Yorkshire Jack, with whom, for a long period,
she was generally supposed to have been criminally acquainted.
* " Historical Survey of Cornwall," C. S. Gilbert.
The Execution and Wedding. 257
Now, it will be remembered that this really happened within
the present century. One morning, during my residence in
Penzance, an old woman from Ludgvan called on me with some
trifling message. While she was waiting for my answer, I made
some ordinary remark about the weather.
" It 's all owing to Sarah Polgrain," said she.
" Sarah Polgrain !" said I ; " and who is Sarah Polgrain ? "
Then the voluble old lady told me the whole story of the
poisoning, with which we need not, at present, concern ourselves.
By and by the tale grew especially interesting, and there I resume
it.
Sarah had begged that Yorkshire Jack might accompany her
to the scaffold when she was led forth to execution. This was
granted ; and on the dreadful morning, there stood this unholy
pair, the fatal beam on which the woman's body was in a few
minutes to swing, before them.
They kissed each other, and whispered words passed between
them.
The executioner intimated that the moment of execution had
arrived, and that they must part. Sarah Polgrain, looking
earnestly into the man's eyes, said,
" You will ? "
Yorkshire Jack replied, " I will ! " and they separated. The
man retired amongst the crowd, the woman was soon a dead corpse,
pendulating in the wind.
Years passed on. Yorkshire Jack was never the same man as
before, his whole bearing was altered. His bold, his dashing air
deserted him. He walked, or rather wandered, slowly about the
streets of the town, or the lanes of the country. He constantly
moved his head from side to side, looking first over one, and then
over the other shoulder, as though dreading that some one was
following him.
The stout man became thin, his ruddy cheeks more pale, and
his eyes sunken.
At length he disappeared, and it was discovered — for Yorkshire
Jack had made a confidant of some Ludgvan man — that he had
pledged himself, " living or dead, to become the husband of Sarah
Polgrain, after the lapse of years."
To escape, if possible, from himself, Jack had gone to sea in
the merchant service.
Well, the period had arrived when this unholy promise was to be
fulfilled. Yorkshire Jack was returning from the Mediterranean
in a fruit-ship. He was met by the devil and Sarah Polgrain far
R
258 Romances of Demons, Spectres, etc.
out at sea, off the Land's-End. Jack would not accompany them
willingly ; so they followed the ship for days, during all which time
she was involved in a storm. Eventually Jack was washed from
the deck, by such a wave as the oldest sailor had never seen ; and
presently, amidst loud thunders and flashing lightnings, riding as
it were in a black cloud, three figures were seen passing onward.
These were the devil, Sarah Polgrain, and Yorkshire Jack; and
this was the cause of the storm.
" It is all true, as you may learn if you will inquire," said the
old woman ; " for many of her kin live in Church-town."
THE LUGGER OF CROFT PASCO POOL.
IN the midst of the dreary waste of Gornhilly, which occupies a
large portion of the Lizard promontory, is a large piece of
water known as " Croft Pasco Pool," where it is said at night the
form of a ghostly vessel may be seen floating with lug-sails spread.
A more dreary, weird spot could hardly be selected for a witches'
meeting ; and the Lizard folks were always — a fact — careful to be
back before dark, preferring to suffer inconvenience, to risking a
sight of the ghostly lugger. Unbelieving people attributed the
origin of the tradition to a white horse seen in a dim twilight
standing in the shallow water ; but this was indignantly rejected
by the mass of the residents.
ROMANCES AND SUPERSTITIONS
OF
HISTORIC TIMES.
SECOND SERIES.
THE SAINTS.
With great pretended spiritual motions,
And many fine whimsical notions,
With blind zeal and large devotions."
SAMUEL BUTLKR.
me lining men, were
POPULAR ROMANCES AND SUPERSTITIONS
OF THE WEST OF ENGLAND.
LEGENDS OF THE SAINTS.
" This ilke monk let olde thinges pace,
And held after the newe world the trace.
He gave not of the text a pulled hen,
That saith, that hunters be not holy men,
Ne that a monk, when he is reckeless,
Is like to a fish that is waterless ;
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister,
This ilkS text held he not worth an oyster,
And I say his opinion was good."
—The Canterbury Tales— CHAUCER.
* I "HE process through which a man, who has made himself re-
•JL markable to his ignorant fellow-men, is passed after death
— first, into the hero performing fabulous exploits, and eventually
into the giant — is not difficult to understand.
.The remembrance of great deeds, and the memory of virtues, —
even in modern days, when the exaggerations of votaries are sub-
dued by the influence of education, — ever tends to bring them out
in strong contrast with the surrounding objects. The mass of men
form the background, as it were, of the picture, and the hero or the
saint stands forth in all his brightness of colour in the fore-
ground.
Amidst the uneducated Celtic population who inhabited Old
Cornwall, it was the practice, as with the Celts of other countries,
to exalt their benefactors with all the adornments of that hyperbole
which distinguishes their songs and stories. When the first
Christian missionaries dwelt amongst this people, they impressed
them with the daring which they exhibited by the persecution which
they uncomplainingly endured and the holy lives they led.
Those who were morally so superior to the living men, were
262 Legends of the Saints*
represented as physically so to their children, and every generation
adorned the relation which it had received with the ornaments
derived from their own imaginations, which had been tutored
amidst the severer scenes of nature ; and consequently the
warrior, or the holy man, was transmuted into the giant.
If to this we add the desire which was constantly shown by the
earlier priesthood to persuade the people of their miraculous powers
— of the direct interference of Heaven in their behalf — and of the
violent conflicts which they were occasionally enduring with the
enemy of the human race, there will be no difficulty in marking
out the steps by which the ordinary man has become an extra-
ordinary hero. When we hear of the saints to whose memories
the parish churches are dedicated, being enabled to hurl rocks of
enormous size through the air, to carry them in their pockets, and
indeed to use them as playthings, we perceive that the traditions
of the legitimate giants have been transferred to, and mixed up
with, the memories of a more recent people.
In addition to legends of the Titanic type, this section will
include a few of the true monastic character. The only purpose
I have in giving these is to preserve, as examples, some curious
superstitions which have not yet entirely lost their hold on the
people.
THE CROWZA STONES.
ST JUST, from his home in Pen with, being weary of having
little to do, except offering prayers for the tinners and fisher-
men, went on a visit to the hospitable St Keverne, who had fixed
his hermitage in a well-selected spot, not far from the Lizard
headland. The holy brothers rejoiced together, and in full feeding
and deep drinking they pleasantly passed the time. St Just gloried
in the goodly chalice from which he drank the richest of wines,
and envied St Keverne the possession of a cup of such rare value.
Again and again did he pledge St Keverne ; their holy bond of
brotherhood was to be for ever; Heaven was to witness the purity
of their friendship, and to the world they were to become patterns
of ecclesiastical love.
The time came when St Just felt he must return to his flock ;
and repeating over again his vows, and begging St Keverne to
return his visit, he departed — St Keverne sending many a blessing
after his good brother.
The Saint of the west had not left his brother of the south
many hours before the latter missed his cup. Diligent search was
The Crowza Stones. 263
made in every corner of his dwelling, but no cup could be found.
At length St Keverne could not but feel that he had been robbed
of his treasure by his western friend. That one in whom he had
placed such confidence — one to whom he had opened his heart,
and to whom he had shown the most unstinting hospitality — should
have behaved so treacherously, overcame the serenity of the good
man. His rage was excessive. After the first burst was over,
and reason reasserted her power, St Keverne felt that his wisest
course was to pursue the thief, inflict summary punishment on him,
and recover his cup. The thought was followed by a firm resolve,
and away St Keverne started in pursuit of St Just. Passing over
Crowza Down, some of the boulders of " Ironstone " which are
scattered over the surface caught his eye, and presently he whipped
a few of these stone pebbles into his pockets, and hastened onward.
When he drew near Tre-men-keverne he spied St Just. St
Keverne worked himself up into a boiling rage, and toiled with in-
creased speed up the hill, hallooing to the saintly thief, who pursued
his way for some time in the well-assumed quiet of conscious
innocence.
Long and loud did St Keverne call on St Just to stop, but the
latter was deaf to all calls of the kind — on he went, quickening,
however, his pace a little.
At length St Keverne came within a stone's throw of the dis-
sembling culprit, and calling him a thief — adding thereto some of
the most choice epithets from his holy vocabulary — taking a stone
from his pocket, he let it fly after St Just.
The stone falling heavily by the side of St Just convinced him
that he had to deal with an awkward enemy, and that he had best
make all the use he could of his legs. He quietly untied the
chalice, which he had fastened to his girdle, and let it fall to the
ground. Then, still as if unconscious of his follower, he set off to
run as fast as his ponderous body would allow his legs to carry
him. St Keverne came up to where his cup glistened in the
sunshine. He had recovered his treasure, he should get no good
out of the false friend, and he was sadly jaded with his long run.
Therefore he took, one by one, the stones from his pockets — he
hurled them, fairly aimed, after the retreating culprit, and cursed
him as he went.
There the pebbles remained where they fell, — the peculiarity of
the stone being in all respects unlike anything around, but being
clearly the Crowza stones, — attesting the truth of the legend ; and
their weights, each one being several hundred pounds, proving the
power of the giant saint.
264 Legends of the Saints.
Many have been the attempts made to remove these stones.
They are carried away easily enough by day, but they ever return
to the spot on which they now repose, at night.
THE LONGSTONE.
THE GIANT'S HAT AND STAFF.
SOME say it was St Roach, others refer it to St Austell ; but
all agree in one thing, that the Longstone was once the staff
of some holy man, and that its present state is owing to the
malignant persecution of the demon of darkness. It happened
after this manner. The good saint who had been engaged in some
mission was returning to his cell across St Austell Downs. The
night had been fine, the clearness of the sky and the brightness ot
the stars conduced to religious thoughts, and those of the saint
fled heavenwards. The devil was wandering abroad that night,
and maliciously he resolved to play a trick upon his enemy. The
saint was wrapt in thought. The devil was working his dire spells.
The sky became black, the stars disappeared, and suddenly a terrific
rush of wind seized the saint, whirled him round and round, and
at last blew his hat high into the air. The hat went ricochetting
over the moor and the saint after it, the devil enjoying the sport.
The long stick which the saint carried impeded his progress in the
storm, and he stuck it into the ground. On went the hat, speedily
followed the saint over and round the moor, until thoroughly
wearied out, he at length gave up the chase. He, now exposed
to the beat of the tempest bareheaded, endeavoured to find his
way to his cell, and thought to pick up his staff on the way. No
staff could be found in the darkness, and his hat was, he thought,
gone irrecoverably. At length the saint reached his cell, he quieted
his spirit by prayer, and sought the forgetfulness of sleep, safe
under the protection of the holy cross, from all the tricks of the
devil. The evil one, however, was at work on the wild moor, and
by his incantations he changed the hat and the staff into two rocks.
Morning came, the saint went abroad seeking for his lost covering
and support. He found them both — one a huge circular boulder,
and the other a long stone which remains to this day.*
The Saint's, or, as it was often called, the Giant's Hat was removed
in 1798 by a regiment of soldiers who were encamped near it.
They felt satisfied that this mysterious stone was the cause of the
* Another tradition affirms that one of the sons of Cyrus lies buried beneath the
Longstone.
Legends of St Leven. 265
wet season which rendered their camp unpleasant, and consequently
they resolved to remove the evil spell by destroying it.
ST SENNEN AND ST JUST.
r~PHESE saints held rule over adjoining parishes ; but, like
J- neighbours, not unfrequently they quarrelled. We know
not the cause which made their angry passions rise ; but no doubt
the saints were occasionally exposed to the influences of the evil
principle, which appears to be one of the ruling powers of the
world. It is not often that we have instances of excess of passion
in man or woman without some evidence of the evil resulting from
it. Every tempest in the physical world leaves its mark on the
face of the earth. Every tempest in the moral world, in a similar
manner, leaves some scar to tell of its ravages on the soul. A
most enduring monument in granite tells us of the rage to which
those two holy men were the victims. As we have said, there is
no record of the origin of the duel which was fought between St
Just and St Sennen ; but, in the fury of their rage, they tore each
a rock from the granite mass, and hurled it onwards to destroy his
brother. They were so well aimed that both saints must have
perished had the rocks been allowed to travel as intended. A
merciful hand guided them, though in opposite directions, in
precisely the same path. The huge rocks came together ; so
severe was the blow of impact that they became one mass, and
fell to the ground, to remain a monument of the impotent rage of
two giants.
LEGENDS OF ST LEVEN.
I. — THE SAINT AND JOHANA.
THE walls of what are supposed to be the hut of St Leven are
still to be seen at Bodellen. If you walk from Bodellen to
St Leven Church, on passing near the stile in Rospletha you will
see a three-cornered garden. This belonged to a woman who is
only known to us as Johana. Johana's Garden is still the name
of the place. One Sunday morning St Leven was passing over
the stile to go as usual to his fishing-place below the church, to
catch his dinner. Johana was in the garden picking pot-herbs at
the time, and she lectured the holy man for fishing on a Sunday.
They came to high words, and St Leven told Johana that there
was no more sin in taking his dinner from the sea than she her-
self committed in taking hers from the garden. The saint called
266 Legends of the Saints.
her foolish Johana, and said if another of her name was christened
in his well she should be a bigger fool than Johana herself. From
that day to this no child called Johana has been christened in St
Leven. All parents who desire to give that name to their
daughters, dreading St Leven's curse, take the children to Sennen.
n. — THE SAINT'S PATH.
The path along which St Leven was accustomed to walk from
Bodellen, by Rospletha, on to St Leven's Rocks, as they are still
called, may be yet seen ; the grass grows greener wherever the
good priest trod than in any other part of the fields through which
the footpath passes.
III. — THE ST LEVEN STONE.
On the south side of the church, to the east of the porch, is a
rock known by the above name. It is broken in two, and the
fissure is filled in with ferns and wild flowers, while the grass
grows rank around it. On this rock St Leven often sat to rest
after the fatigue of fishing ; and desiring to leave some enduring
memento of himself in connection with this his rude but favourite
seat, he one day gave it a blow with his fist and cracked it through.
He prayed over the rock and uttered the following prophecy : —
" When, with panniers astride,
A pack-horse one can ride
Through St Leven's Stone,
The world will be done."
This stone must have been venerated for the saint's sake when
the church was built, or it would certainly have been employed
for the building. It is more than fifty years since I first made
acquaintance, as a child, with the St Leven Stone, and it may be
a satisfaction to many to know that the progress of separation is
an exceedingly slow one. I cannot detect the slightest difference
in the width of the fissure now and then. At the present slow
rate of opening, the pack-horse and panniers will not be able to
pass through the rock for many thousands of years to come. We
need not, therefore, place much reliance on those prophecies which
give but a limited duration to this planet.*
IV. THE TWO BREAMS.
Although in common with many of the churches in the remote
districts of Cornwall, "decay's effacing fingers" have been allowed
* See p. 181.
Legends of St Lev en. 267
to do their work in St Leven Church, yet there still remains some
of the ornamental work which once adorned it. Much of the
carving is irremediably gone ; but still the inquirer will find that
it once told the story of important events in the life of the good St
Leven. Two fishes on the same hook form the device, which
appears at one time to have prevailed in this church. These are
to commemorate a remarkable incident in St Leven's life. One
lovely evening about sunset, St Leven was on his rocks fishing.
There was a heavy pull upon his line, and drawing it in, he found
two breams on the same hook. The good saint, anxious to serve
both alike, to avoid, indeed, even the appearance of partiality,
took both the fishes off the hook, and cast them back into the sea.
Again they came to the hook, and again were they returned to
their native element. The line was no sooner cast a third time
than the same two fishes hooked themselves once more. St Leven
thought there must be some reason unknown to him for this
strange occurrence, so he took both the fishes home with him.
When the saint reached Bodellen, he found his sister, St Breage,*
had come to visit him with two children. Then he thought he
saw the hand of Providence at work in guiding the fish to his
hook.
Even saints are blind when they attempt to fathom the ways oi
the Unseen. The fish were, of course, cooked for supper ; and
the saint having asked a blessing upon their savory meal, all sat
down to partake of it. The children had walked far, and they
were ravenously hungry. They ate their suppers with rapidity,
and, not taking time to pick out the bones of the fish, they were
both choked. The apparent blessing was thus transformed into
a curse, and the bream has from that day forward ever gone by
the name, amongst fishermen, of " choke children."
There are many disputes as to the fish concerned in this legend.
Some of the fishermen of St Leven parish have insisted upon their
* St Breock or Briock, a bishop of a diocese in Armorica, is said to have !been the
patron saint of St Breage. But there is a Cornish distich, " Germow Mathern, Breaga
Lavethas." Germoe was a king, Breaga a midwife, which rather favours the state-
ment that St Breage was a sister of St Leven. Breage and Germoe are adjoining
parishes, having the shores of the Mount's Bay for their southern boundaries. When the
uncultivated inhabitants of this remote region regarded a wreck as a "God-send," and
plundered without hesitation every body, living or dead, thrown upon the shore, these
parishes acquired a melancholy notoriety. The sailors' popular prayer being,
" God keep us from rocks and shelving sands,
And save us from Breage and Germoe men's lands."
Happily those days are almost forgotten. The ameliorating influences of the Christian
faith, which was let in upon a most benighted people by John Wesley, like a sunbeam,
dispelled those evil principles, and gave birth to pure and simple jprtues.
268
Legends of the Saints.
being " chad " (the shad, clupeida alosa] ; while others, with the
strong evidence afforded by the bony structure of the fish, will
have it to have been the bream (cyprinus drama}. My young
readers, warned by the name, should be equally careful in eating
either of those fish.
SAINT KEYNE.
T) RAGHAN, or Brechan, was a king in Wales, and the builder
-D of the town of Brecknock. This worthy old king and saint
was the happy father of twenty-six children, or, as some say,
twenty-four. Of these, fourteen or fifteen were sainted for their
holiness, and their portraits are preserved within a fold of the
kingly robe of the saint, their father, in the window at St Neot's
Church, bearing the inscription, " Sante Brechane, cum omnibus
sanctis, ora pro nobis," and known as the young women's
window.
Of the holy children settled in Cornwall, we learn that the
following gave their names to Cornish churches : — .
I. John, giving name to the Church of St Ive.
Endellient,
"\. Menfre,
4. Tethe,
5. Mabena,
6. Merewenna,
7. Wenna,
8. KEYNE,
9. Yse,
jo. Morwenna
11. Cleder,
12. Keri,
13. Helie,
14. Ad went,
15. Lanent,
Endellion.
St Minver.
St Teath.
St Mabyn.
Marham.
St Wenn.
ST KEYNE.
St Issey.
Morwinstow.
St Clether.
Egloskerry.
Egloshayle.
Advent.
Lelant.*
Of this remarkable family St Keyne stands out as the brightest
star. Lovely beyond measure, she wandered over the country safe,
even in lawless times, from insult, by " the strength of her purity."
We find this virtuous woman performing miracles wherever she
went. The district now known by the name of Keynsham, in
Somersetshire, was in those days infested with serpents. St Keyne,
rivalling St Hilda of the Northern Isle, changed them all into coils
of stone, and there they are in the quarries at the present time to
attest the truth of the legend. Geologists, with more learning
* Leland, cited by William of Worcester from the Cornish Calendar at St Michael's
Mount. Michell's " Parochial History of Saint Neot's."
St Dennis's Blood. 269
than poetry, term them Ammonites, deriving their name from the
horn of Jupiter Ammon, as if the Egyptian Jupiter was likely to
have charmed serpents in England. We are satisfied to leave the
question for the consideration of our readers. After a life spent in
the conversion of sinners, the building of churches, and the per-
formance of miracles, this good woman retired into Cornwall, and
in one of its most picturesque valleys she sought and found that
quiet which was conducive to a happy termination of a well-spent
life. She desired, above all things, " peace on earth ; " and she
hoped to benefit the world, by giving to woman a chance of being
equal to her lord and master. A beautiful well of water was
near the home of the saint, and she planted, with her blessing,
four trees around it — the withy, the oak, the elm, and the ash.
When the hour of her death was drawing near, St Keyne caused
herself to be borne on a litter to the shade which she had formed,
and soothed by the influence of the murmur of the flowing fountain,
she blessed the waters, and gave them their wondrous power,
thus quaintly described by Carew : — " Next, I will relate to you
another of the Cornish natural wonders — viz., St Keyne's Well ;
but lest you make wonder, first at the sainte, before you notice the
well, you must understand that this was not Kayne the Manqueller,
but one of a gentler spirit and milder sex — to wit, a woman. He
who caused the spring to be pictured, added this rhyme for an
explanation : —
' In name, in shape, in quality,
This well is very quaint ;
The name to lot of Kayne befell,
No over-holy saint.
The shape, four trees of divers kind,
Withy, oak, elm, and ash,
Make with their roots an arched roof,
Whose floor this spring does wash.
The quality, that man or wife,
Whose chance or choice attains,
First of this sacred stream to drink,
Thereby the mastery gains.' " *
ST DENNIS'S BLOOD.
THE patron saint of the parish church of St Dennis was born
in the city of Athens, in the reign of Tiberius. His name
and fame have full record in the " History of the Saints of the
Church of Rome." How his name was connected with this remote
parish is not clearly made out. We learn, however, that the good
* Carew's Survey, Lord Dedunstanville's edition, p. 305. See "The Well of St
270 Legends of the Saints.
man was beheaded at Montmartre, and that he walked after his
execution, with his head under his arm, to the place in Paris which
still bears his name. At the very time when the decapitation took
place in Paris, blood fell on the stones of this churchyard in Cornwall.
Previously to the breaking out of the plague in London, the stains
of the blood of St Dennis were again seen ; and during our wars
with the Dutch, the defeat of the English fleet was foretold by the
rain of gore in this remote and sequestered place. Hals, the
Cornish historian, with much gravity, informs us that he had seen
some of the stones with blood upon them. Whenever this phe-
nomenon occurs again we may expect some sad calamity to be
near.
Some years since a Cornish gentleman was cruelly murdered
and his body thrown into a brook. I have been very lately shown
stones taken from this brook with bright red spots of some vege-
table growth on them. It is said that ever since the murder the
stones in this brook are spotted with gore, whereas they never
were so previously to this dreadful deed.
ST KEA'S BOAT.
ST KEA, a young Irish saint, stood on the southern shores of
Ireland and saw the Christian missionaries departing to carry
the blessed Word to the heathens of Western England. He
watched their barks fade beneath the horizon, and he felt that he
was left to a solitude which was not fitted to one in the full energy
of young life, and burning with zeal.
The saint knelt on a boulder of granite lying on the shore, and
he prayed with-fervour that Heaven would order it so that he might
diffuse his religious fervour amongst the barbarians of Cornwall.
He prayed on for some time, not observing the rising of the tide.
When he had poured out his full soul, he awoke to the fact, not only
that the waves were washing around the stone on which he knelt,
but that the stone was actually floating on the water. Impressed
with the miracle, St Kea sprang to his feet, and looking towards
the setting sun, with his cross uplifted, he exclaimed, " To Thee,
and only to Thee, my God, do I trust my soul ! "
Onward floated the granite, rendered buoyant by supernatural
power. Floated hither and thither by the tides, it swam on ;
Keyne," by Robert Southey, in his " Ballads and Metrical Tales," voL i. ; or of Southey's
collected works, vol. vi.
St Keyne, or St Kenna, is said to have visited St Michael's Mount, and imparted this
peculiar virtue to a stone chair on the ower.
St German's Well. 271
blown sometimes in one direction, and sometimes in another, by
the varying winds, days and nights were spent upon the waters.
The faith of St Kea failed not ; three times a day he knelt in
prayer to God. At all other times he stood gazing on the heavens.
At length the faith of the saint being fairly tried, the moorstone
boat floated steadily up the river, and landed at St Kea, which
place he soon Christianised ; and there stands to this day this
monument of St Kea's sincere belief.
ST GERMAN'S WELL.
THE good St German was, it would appear, sent into Cornwall
in the reign of the Emperor Valentinian, mainly to suppress
the Pelagian heresy. The inhabitants of the shores of the Tamar
had long been schooled into the belief in original sin, and they
would not endure its denial from the lips of a stranger. In this
they were supported by the monks, who had already a firm footing
in the land, and who taught the people implicit obedience to their
religious instructors, faith in election, and that all human efforts
were unavailing, unless supported by priestly aid. St German was
a man with vast powers of endurance. He preached his doctrines
of freewill, and of the value of good works, notwithstanding the
outcry raised against him. His miracles were of the most re-
markable character, and sufficiently impressive to convince a large
body of the Cornish people that he was an inspired priest. St
German raised a beautiful church, and built a monastic house for
the relief of poor people. Yet notwithstanding the example of the
pure life of the saint, and his unceasing study to do good, a large
section of the priests and the people never ceased to persecute
him. To all human endurance there is a limit, and even that of
the saint weakened eventually, before the never-ceasing annoyances
by which he was hemmed in.
One Sabbath morning the priest attended as usual to his
Christian duties, when he was interrupted by a brawl amongst the
outrageous people, who had come in from all parts of the country
with a determination to drive him from the place of his adoption.
The holy man prayed for his persecutors, and he entreated them
to calm their angry passions and listen to his healing words. But
no words could convey any healing balm to their stormy hearts.
At length his brethren, fearing that his life was in danger, begged
him to fly, and eventually he left the church by a small door near
the altar, while some of the monks endeavoured to tranquillise the
people. St German went, a sad man, to the cliffs at the Rame
272 Legends of the Saints.
head, and there alone he wept in agony at the failure of his labours.
So intense was the soul-suffering of this holy man, that the rocks
felt the power of spirit-struggling, and wept with him. The eyes
of man, a spiritual creation, dry after the outburst of sorrow, but
when the gross forms of matter are compelled to sympathise with
spiritual sorrow, they remain for ever under the influence ; and
from that day the tears of the cliffs have continued to fall, and the
Well of St German attests to this day of the saint's agony. The
saint was not allowed to remain in concealment long. The crowd
of opposing priests and the peasantry were on his track. Hundreds
were on the hill, and arming themselves with stones, they descended
with shouts, determined to destroy him. St German prayed to
God for deliverance, and immediately a rush, as of thunder, was
heard upon the hills — a chariot surrounded by flames, and flashing
light in all directions, was seen rapidly approaching. The crowd
paused, fell back, and the flaming car passed on to where St
German knelt. There were two bright angels in the chariot ; they
lifted the persecuted saint from the ground, and placing him be-
tween them, ascended into the air.
" Curse your persecutors," said the angels. The saint cursed
them ; and from that time all holiness left the church he had built.
The saint was borne to other lands, and lived to effect great good.
On the rocks the burnt tracts of the chariot wheels were long to be
seen, and the Well of Tears still flows.
HOW S7 PIRAN REACHED CORNWALL.
(~* OOD men are frequently persecuted by those whom they have
V_T benefited the most. The righteous Piran had, by virtue of
his sanctity, been enabled to feed ten Irish kings and their armies
for ten days together with three cows. He brought to life by his
prayers the dogs which had been killed while hunting the elk and
the boar, and even restored to existence many of the warriors who
had fallen on the battle-field. Notwithstanding this, and his incom-
parable goodness, some of these kings condemned him to be cast
off a precipice into the sea, with a millstone around his neck.
On a boisterous day, a crowd of the lawless Irish assembled on
the brow of a beetling cliff, with Piran in chains. By great labour
they had rolled a huge millstone to the top of the hill, and Piran was
chained to it. At a signal from one of the kings, the stone and
the saint were rolled to the edge of, and suddenly over, the cliff
into the Atlantic. The winds were blowing temptestuously, the
heavens were dark with clouds, and the waves white with crested
St Ferrari, the Miners' Saint. 273
foam. No sooner was Piran and the millstone launched into space,
than the sun shone out brightly, casting the full lustre of its beams
on the holy man, who sat tranquilly on the descending stone.
The winds died away, and th<* waves became smooth as a
mirror. The moment the millstone touched the water, hundreds
were converted to Christianity who saw this miracle. St Piran
floated on safely to Cornwall ; he landed on the 5th of March on
the sands which bear his name. He lived amongst the Cornish
men until he attained the age of 206 years.*
ST P ERR AN, THE MINERS' SAINT.
ST PIRAN, or St Perran, has sometimes gained the credit of
discovering tin in Cornwall ; yet Usher places the date of
his birth about the year 352 ; and the merchants of Tyre are said
to have traded with Cornwall for tin as early as the days of King
Solomon.
There are three places in Cornwall to which the name of Perran
is given ; —
Perran- Aworthall — i.e., Perran on the noted River.
Perran-Uthno — i.e., Perran the Little.
Perran-Zabuloe — i.e., Perran in the Sands.
This sufficiently proves that the saint, or some one bearing
that name, was eminently popular amongst the people ; and in St
Perran we have an example — of which several instances are
given — of the manner in which a very ancient event is shifted for-
ward, as it were, for the purpose of investing some popular hero
with additional reasons for securing the devotion of the people,
and of drawing them to his shrine, t
Picrous, or Piecras, is another name which has been floating by
tradition, down the stream of time, in connection with the discovery
of tin ; and in the eastern portion of Cornwall, Picrous-day, the
second Thursday before Christmas-day, is kept as the tinners'
holiday.
* See Gilbert, vol. iii. p. 329. See Appendix R. The name of this saint is written
Piran, Peran, and Perran.
t See Perran-Zabuloe, with an Account of the Past and Present State of the Oratory
of St Piran in the Sands, and Remarks on its Antiquity. By the Rev. Wm. Haslam
B.A., and by the Rev. Collins Trelawney.
St Kieran, the favourite Celtic saint, reached Scotland from Ireland, the precursor of
St Columba (565 A.D.). "The cave of St Kieran is still shown in Kintyre, where the
first Christian teacher of the Western Highlands is believed to have made his abode." —
Wilson's Prehistoric Annals.
There is a curious resemblance between the deeds and the names of those two saints.
S
274 Legends of the Saints.
The popular story of the discovery of tin is, however, given with
all its anachronisms.
THE DISCOVERY OF TIN.
St Piran, or St Perran, leading his lonely life on the plains
which now bear his name, devoted himself to the study of the
objects which presented themselves to his notice. The good saint
decorated the altar in his church with the choicest flowers, and his
cell was adorned with the crystals which he could collect from the
neighbouring rocks. In his wanderings on the sea-shore, St Perran
could not but observe the numerous mineral veins running through
the slate-rocks forming the beautiful cliffs on this coast. Examples
of every kind he collected ; and on one occasion, when preparing
his humble meal, a heavy black stone was employed to form a part
of the fireplace. The fire was more intense than usual, and a
stream of beautiful white metal flowed out of the fire. Great was
the joy of the saint ; he perceived that God, in His goodness, had
discovered to him something which would be useful to man. St
Perran communicated his discovery to St Chiwidden.* They ex-
amined the shores together, and Chiwidden, who was learned in
the learning of the East, soon devised a process for producing this
metal in large quantities. The two saints called the Cornish men
together. They told them of their treasures, and they taught them
how to dig the ore from the earth, and how, by the agency of fire,
to obtain the metal. Great was the joy in Cornwall, and many
days of feasting followed the announcement. Mead and metheg-
lin, with other drinks, flowed in abundance; and vile rumour
says the saints and their people were rendered equally unstable
thereby. " Drunk as a Perraner," has certainly passed into a
proverb from that day.
The riot of joy at length came to an end, and steadily, seriously,
the tribes of Perran and St Agnes set to work. They soon
accumulated a vast quantity of this precious metal ; and when they
carried it to the southern coasts, the merchants from Gaul eagerly
purchased it of them. The noise of the discovery, even in those
days, rapidly extended itself; and even the cities of Tyre learned
that a metal, precious to them, was to be obtained in a country far
to the west. The Phoenician navigators were not long in finding
out the Tin Islands ; and great was the alarm amidst the Cornish
Britons lest the source of their treasure should be discovered.
Then it was they intrenched the whole of St Agnes beacon ; then
it was they built the numerous hill castles which "nave puzzled the
antiquarian ; then it was that they constructed the rounds, —
* See Appendix S.
S/ Neot, the Pigmy. 27$
amongst which the Perran Round remains as a remarkable ex-
ample,— all of them to protect their tin ground. So resolved were
the whole of the population of the district to preserve the tin work-
ings, that they prevented any foreigner from landing on the main-
land, and they established tin markets on the islands on the coast.
On these islands were hoisted the standard of Cornwall, a white
cross on a black ground, which was the device of St Perran and
St Chiwidden, symbolising the black tin ore and the white metal.*
ST NEOT, THE PIGMY.
WHENCE came the saint, or hermit, who has given his name
to two churches in England, is not known.
Tradition, however, informs us that he was remarkably small
in stature, though exquisitely formed. He could not, according
to all accounts, have been more than fifteen inches high. Yet,
though so diminutive a man, he possessed a soul which was giant-
like in the power of his faith. The Church of St Neot, which has
been built on the ancient site of the hermit's cell, is situated in a
secluded valley, watered by a branch of the river Fowey. The
surrounding country is, even now, but very partially cultivated,
and it must have been, a few centuries since, a desert waste ; but
the valley is, and no doubt ever has been, beautifully wooded.
Not far from the church is the holy well, in which the pious
anchorite would stand immersed to his neck, whilst he repeated
the whole Book of Psalms. Great was the reward for such an
exercise of devotion and faith. Out of numerous miracles we
select only a few, which have some especial character about them.
ST NEOT AND THE FOX.
One day the holy hermit was standing in his bath chanting the
Psalms, when he heard the sound of huntsmen approaching.
Whether the saint feared ridicule or ill-treatment, we know not ;
but certainly he left some psalms unsung that day, and hastily
gathering up his clothes, he fled to his cell.
In his haste the good man lost his shoe, and a hungry fox
having escaped the hunters, came to the spring to drink. Having
quenched the fever of thirst, and being hungry, he spied the saint's
shoe, and presently ate it. The hermit despatched his servant to
look for his shoe ; and, lo, he found the fox cast into a deep sleep,
and the thongs of the shoe hanging out of his vile mouth. Of
* See Appendix T
276 Legends of the Saints.
course the shoe was pulled out of his stomach, and restored to the
saint.
ST NEOT AND THE DOE.
Again, on another day, when the hermit was in his fountain, a
lovely doe, flying from the huntsmen, fell down on the edge of the
well, imploring, with tearful eyes and anxious pantings, the aid of
St Neot. The dogs followed in full chase, ready to pounce on the
trembling doe, and eager to tear her in pieces. They saw the
saint, and one look from his holy eyes sent them flying back into
the wood, more speedily, if possible, than the> rushed out of it.
The huntsman too came on, ready to discharge his arrow into
the heart of the doe ; but, impressed with the sight he saw, he fell
on his knees, cast away his quiver, and became from that day a
follower of the saint's, giving him his horn to hang, as a memorial,
in the church, where it was long to be seen. The huntsman be-
came eventually one of the monks of the neighbouring house of St
Petroch.
ST NEOT AND THE THIEVES.
When St Neot was abbot, some thieves came by night and
stole the oxen belonging to the farm of the monastery. The
weather was most uncertain, — the seed-time was passing away, —
and a fine morning rendered it imperative that the ploughs should
be quickly employed. There were no oxen. Great was the diffi-
culty, and earnest were the abbot's prayers. In answer to them,
the wild stags came in from the forests, and tamely offered their
necks to the yoke. When unyoked in the evening, they resorted
to their favourite pastures, but voluntarily returned each morning
to their work. The report of this event reached the ears of the
thieves. They became penitent, and restored the oxen to the
monastery. Not only so, but they consecrated their days to de-
votional exercises. The oxen being restored, the stags were dis-
missed ; but they bore for ever a white ring, like a yoke about
their necks, and they held a charmed life, safe from the shafts of
the hunters.
ST NEOT AND THE FISHES.
On one occasion, when the saint was at his devotions, an angel
appeared unto him, and showing him three fishes in the well,
he said, " These are for thee ; take one each day for thy daily
food, and the number shall never grow less : the choice of one
of three fishes shall be thine all the days of thy life." Long
time passed by, and daily a fish was taken from the well, and three
Probus and Grace. 277
awaited his coming every morning. At length the saint, who
shared in human suffering, notwithstanding his piety, fell ill ; and
being confined to his bed, St Neot sent his servant Barius to fetch
him a fish for his dinner. Barius, being desirous of pleasing, if
possible, the sick man's taste, went to the well and caught two
fishes. One of these he broiled, and the other he boiled. Nicely
cooked, Barius took them on a dish to his master's bedside, who
started up alarmed for the consequences of the act of his servant,
in disobedience to the injunctions of the angel. So good a man
could not allow wrath to get the mastery of him ; so he sat up in
his bed, and, instead of eating, he prayed with great earnestness
over the cooked fish. At last the spirit of holiness exerted its full
power. St Neot commanded Barius to return at once and cast
the fish into the well. Barius went and did as his master had told
him to do ; and, lo, the moment the fishes fell into the water they
recovered life, and swam away with the third fish, as if nothing
had happened to them.
All these things, and more, are recorded in the windows of St
Neot's Church.*
PROBUS AND GRACE.
EVERY one is acquainted with the beautiful tower of Probus
Church. If they are not, they should lose no time in visiting
it. Various are the stories in connection with those two saints,
who are curiously connected with the church, and one of the fairs
held in the Church-town. A safe tradition tells us that St Probus
built the church, and failing in the means of adding a tower to his
building, he petitioned St Grace to aid him. Grace was a wealthy
lady, and she resolved at her own cost to build a tower, the like of
which should not be seen in the " West Countrie." Regardless of
the expense, sculptured stone was worked by the most skilful
masons, and the whole put together in the happiest of proportions.
When the tower was finished, St Probus opened his church with
every becoming solemnity, and took to himself all the praise which
was lavished on the tower, although he had built only a plain
church. When, however, the praise of Probus was at the highest,
a voice was heard slowly and distinctly exclaiming,
"Saint Probus and Grace,
Not the first, but the last ; "
and thus for ever have Probus and Grace been united as patron
saints of this church.
* See Appendix U.
278 Legends of the Saints.
Mr Davies Gilbert remarks, however, in his "Parochial
History : " " Few gentlemen's houses in the west of Cornwall were
without the honour of receiving Prince Charles during his residence
in the county about the middle part of the civil wars ; and he is
said to have remained for a time longer than usual with Mr
Williams, who, after the Restoration, waited on the king with
congratulations from the parish ; and, on being complimented by
him with the question whether he could do anything for his friends,
answered that the parish would esteem themselves highly honoured
and distinguished by the grant of a fair, which was accordingly
done for the lyth of September. This fair coming the last in
succession after three others, has acquired for itself a curious
appellation, derived from the two patron saints, and from the
peculiar pronunciation in that neighbourhood of the word ' last/
somewhat like laest, —
' Saint Probus and Grace,
Not the first, but the last,' —
and from this distinction it is usually called Probus and Grace
Fair." We are obliged, therefore, to lean on the original tradition
for the true meaning of this couplet.
ST NECTAN >S KIEVE AND THE LONELY SISTERS.
FAR up the deep and rocky vale of Trevillet, in the parish of
Tintagel,* stands on a pile of rocks the little chapel of the
good St Nectan. No holy man ever selected a more secluded, or
a more lovely spot in which to pass a religious life. From the
chapel rock you look over the deep valley full of trees. You see
here and there the lovely trout- stream running rapidly towards the
sea ; and, opening in the distance, there rolls the mighty ocean
itself. Although this oratory is shut in amongst the woods, so as to
be invisible to any one approaching it by land, until they are close
upon it, it is plainly seen by the fishermen or by the sailor far off
at sea ; and in olden time the prayers of St Nectan were sought
by all whose business was in the " deep waters."
The river runs steadily along within a short distance of St
Nectan's Chapel, and then it suddenly leaps over the rock — a
beautiful fall of water — into St Nectan's Kieve. This deep rock-
* TINTAGEL is the usual name. Gilbert, in his "Parochial History," has it
"DUNDAGELL, alias DYNDAGELL, alias BOSITHNEY;" in "Doomsday-book" it is
called "DUNECHEINE." Tonkin writes "Dindagel or Daundagel," and sometimes
DUNGIOGEL. "A King Nectan, or St Nectan, is said to have built numerous churches
in several parts of Scotland, as well as in other parts of the kingdom of the Northern
Picis." — Wilson' 's Prehistoric Annals oj Scotland.
5/ Nectan s Kieve. 279
basin, brimming with the clearest water, overflows, and another
waterfall carries the river to the lower level of the valley. Standing
here within a circular wall of rocks, you see how the falling fluid
has worked back the softer slate-rock until it has reached the
harder masses, which are beautifully polished by the same agent.
Mosses, ferns, and grasses decorate the fall, fringing every rock
with a native drapery of the most exquisite beauty. Here is one
of the wildest, one of the most untrained, and, at the same time,
one of the most beautiful spots in Cornwall, full of poetry,
and coloured by legend. Yet here comes prosaic man, and by
one stroke of his every-day genius, he adds, indeed, a colour to
the viclet. You walk along the valley, through paths trodden out
of the undergrowth, deviously wandering up hill, or down hill, as
rock or tree has interposed. Many a spot of quiet beauty solicits
you to loiter, and loitering, you feel that there are places from
which the winds appear to gather poetry. You break the spell, or
the ear, catching the murmur of the waters, dispels the illusions
which have been created by the eye, and you wander forward,
anxious to reach the holy " Kieve/' — to visit the saint's hermitage.
Here, say you, is the place to hold " commune with Nature's
works, and view her charms unrolled," when, lo, a well-made door,
painted lead colour, with a real substantial lock, bars your way,
and Fancy, with everything that is holy, flies away before the
terrible words which inform you that trespassers will be punished,
and that the key can be obtained at . Well was it that
Mr Wilkie Collins gave " up the attempt to discover Nighton's
Kieve ; "* for had he, when he had found it, discovered this
evidence of man's greedy soul, it would have convinced him that
the " evil genius of fairy mythology," who so cautiously hid " the
nymph of the waterfall," was no other than the farmer, who, as he
told me, " owns the fee," and one who is resolved also to pocket
the fee before any pilgrim can see the oratory and the waterfall of
St Nectan. Of course this would have turned the placid current
of the thoughts of " the Rambler beyond Railways," which now flow
so pleasantly, into a troubled stream of biliary bitterness.
St Nectan placed in the little bell-tower of his secluded chapel
a silver bell, the notes of which were so clear and penetrating
that they could be heard far off at sea. When the notes came
through the air, and fell on the ears of the seamen, they knew that
St Nectan was about to pray for them, and they prostrated them-
selves before Heaven for a few minutes, and thus endeavoured to
win the blessing.
* It is called indifferently Nectan, Nathan, Nighton, or Kniphton's Kieve.
280 Legends of the Saints.
St Nectan was on the bed of death. There was strife in the
land. A severe struggle was going on between the Churchmen,
and endeavours were being made to introduce a new faith.
The sunset of life gave to the saint the spirit of prophecy, and
he told his weeping followers that the light of their religion would
grow dim in the land ; but that a spark would for ever live amidst
the ashes, and that in due time it would kindle into a flame, and
burn more brightly than ever. His silver bell, he said, should
never ring for others than the true believer. He would enclose
it in the rock of the Kieve ; but when again the true faith revived,
it should be recovered, and rung, to cheer once more the land.
One lovely summer evening, while the sun was slowly sinking
towards the golden sea, St Nectan desired his attendants to carry
him to the bank which overhung the " Kieve," and requested them
to take the bell from the tower and bring it to him. There he lay
for some time in silent prayer, waiting as if for a sign, then slowly
raising himself from the bed on which he had been placed, he
grasped the silver bell. He rang it sharply and clearly three times,
and then he dropped it into the transparent waters of the Kieve.
He watched it disappear, and then he closed his eyes in death. On
receiving the bell the waters were troubled, but they soon became
clear as before, and the bell was nowhere to be seen.
St Nectan died, and two strange ladies from a foreign land
came and took possession of his oratory, and all that belonged
unto the holy man. They placed — acting, as it was believed,
on the wishes of the saint himself — his body, all the sacramental
plate, and other sacred treasures, in a large oak chest. They
turned the waters of /the fall aside, and dug a grave in the river
bed, below the Kieve, in which they placed this precious chest.
The waters were then returned to their natural course, and they
murmur ever above the grave of him who loved them. The silver
bell was concealed in the Kieve, and the saint with all that be-
longed to his holy office rested beneath the river bed. The
oratory was dismantled, and the two ladies, women evidently of
high birth, chose it for their dwelling. Their seclusion was per-
fect. " Both appeared to be about the same age, and both were
inflexibly taciturn. One was never seen without the other. If
they ever left the house, they only left it to walk in the more un-
frequented parts of the wood ; they kept no servant ; they never
had a visitor ; no living soul but themselves ever crossed the door
of their cottage." * The berries of the wood, a few roots which
* Rambles beyond Railways. By Wilkie Collins. Mr Collins was curiously misled
by those who told him the tradition. The building which these strange solitary women
St Nectan 's Kieve. 2 8 1
they cultivated, with snails gathered from the rocks and walls, and
fish caught in the stream, served them for food. Curiosity was
excited; the mystery which hung around this solitary pair became
deepened by the obstinate silence which they observed in every-
thing relating to themselves. The result of all this was an
anxious endeavour, on the part of the superstitious and ignorant
peasantry, to learn their secret. All was now conjecture, and the
imagination commonly enough filled in a wild picture : devils or
angels, as the case might be, were seen ministering to the solitary
ones. Prying eyes were upon them, but the spies could glean no
knowledge. Week, month, year passed by, and ungratified curiosity
was dying through want of food, when it was discovered that one
of the ladies had died. The peasantry went in a body to the
chapel ; no one forbade their entering it now. There sat a silent
mourner leaning over the placid face of her dead sister. Hers
was, indeed, a silent sorrow — no tear was in her eye, no sigh hove
her chest, but the face told all that a remediless woe had fallen on
her heart. The dead body was eventually removed, the living
sister making no sign, and they left her in her solitude alone. Days
passed on ; no one heard of, no one probably inquired after, the
lonely one. At last a wandering child, curious as children are,
clambered to the window of the cell and looked in. There sat
the lady ; her handkerchief was on the floor, and one hand hung
strangely, as if endeavouring to pick it up, but powerless to do so.
The child told its story — the people again flocked to the chapel,
and they found one sister had followed the other. The people
buried the last beside the first, and they left no mark to tell us
where, unless the large flat stone which lies in the valley, a short
distance from the foot of the fall, and beneath which, I was told,
" some great person was buried," may be the covering of their
tomb. No trace? of the history of these solitary women have ever
been discovered.
Centuries have passed away, and still the legends of the buried
bell and treasure are preserved. Some long time since a party of
men resolved to blast the " Kieve," and examine it for the silver
bell. They were miners, and their engineering knowledge, though
rude, was sufficient to enable them to divert the course of the
river}above the falls, and thus to leave the " Kieve " dry for them
inhabited was St Nectan's, or, as he and many others write it, St Nighton's, Chapel,
and not a cottage. They died, as Mr Collins describes it : but either he, or those from
whom he learned the tale, has filled in the picture from imagination. I perceive, on re-
ferring to Mr Walter White's admirable little book, "A Londoner's Walk to the Land's-
End," that he has made the same mistake about the cottag.fr.
282 Legends of the Saints.
to work on when they had emptied it, which was an easy task.
The " borer " now rung upon the rock, holes were pierced, and,
being charged, they were blasted. The result was, however, any-
thing but satisfactory, for the rock remained intact. Still they
persevered, until at length a voice was heard amidst the ring of
the iron tools in the holes of the rock. Every hand was stayed,
every face was aghast, as they heard distinctly the ring of the
silver bell, followed by a clear solemn voice proclaiming, " The
child is not yet born who shall recover this treasure."
The work was stopped, and the river restored to its old channel,
over which it will run undisturbed until the day of which St Nectan
prophesied shall arrive.
When, in the autumn 0^1863, I visited this lovely spot, my guide, the
proprietor, informed me that very recently a gentleman residing, I believe,
in London, dreamed that an angel stood on a little bank of pebbles, forming
a petty island, at the foot of a waterfall, and pointing to a certain spot,
told him to search there and he would find gold and a mummy. This
gentleman told his dream to a friend, who at once declared the place indi-
cated to be St Nectan's waterfall. Upon this, the dreamer visited the
West, and, upon being led by the owner of the property to the fall, he at
once recognised the spot on which the angel stood.
A plan was then and there arranged by which a search might be again
commenced, it being thought that as an angel had indicated the spot, the
time for the recovery of the treasure had arrived.
Let us hope that the search may be deferred, lest the natural beauties
of the spot should be destroyed by the meddling of men, who can threaten
trespassers, — fearing to lose a sixpence, — and who have already endeavoured
to improve on nature, by cutting down some of the rock and planting
rhododendrons.
The Rev. R. S. Hawker, of Morwenstow, has published in his " Echoes
of Old Cornwall " a poem on this tradition, which, as it is but little known,
and as it has the true poetic ring, I transcribe to adorn the pages of my
Appendix.*
THEODORE, KING OF CORNWALL.
TD IVIERE, near Hayle, now called Rovier, was the palace of
•EN- Theodore, the king, to whom Cornwall appears to have been
indebted for many of its saints. This Christian king, when the
pagan people sought to destroy the first missionaries, gave the
saints shelter in his palace, St Breca, St Iva, St Burianna, and
many others, are said to have made Riviere their residence. It is
not a little curious to find traditions existing, as it were, in a state
of suspension between opinions. I have heard it said that there
* Appendix X.
Theodore, King of Cornwall. 283
was a church at Rovier — that there was once a great.palace there ;
and again, that Castle Cayle was one vast fortified place, and
Rovier another. Mr Davies Gilbert quotes Whitaker on this
point : —
" Mr Whitaker, who captivates every reader by the brilliancy of his style,
and astonishes by the extent of his multifarious reading, draws, however,
without reserve, on his fertile imagination, for whatever facts may be re-
quisite to construct the fabric of a theory. He has made Riviere the
palace and residence of Theodore, a sovereign prince of Cornwall, and
conducts St Breca, St Iva, with several companions, not only into Hayle
and to this palace, after their voyage from Ireland, but fixes the time of
their arrival so exactly, as to make it take place in the night. In recent
times the name of Riviere, which had been lost in the common pronuncia-
tion, Rovier, has revived in a very excellent house built by Mr Edwards on
the farm, which he completed in 1791."*
* Parochial History, vol. iii. p. 42$.
HOLY WELLS.
A well there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen."
ROBERT SOUTHEV
SUPERSTITIONS OF THE
WELLS.
WELL- WORSHIP,
"One meek cell,
Built by the fathers o'er a lonely wel1,
Still breathes the Baptist's sweet remembrance round
A spring of silent waters."
Echoes from Old Cornwall— R. S. HAWKER.
A SPRING of water has always something about it which
gives rise to holy feelings. From the dark earth there
wells up a pellucid fluid, which in its apparent tranquil joyous-
ness gives gladness to all around. The velvet mosses, the sword-
like grasses, and the feathery ferns, grow with more of that light and
vigorous nature which indicates a fulness of life, within the charmed
influence of a spring of water, than they do elsewhere.
The purity of the fluid impresses itself, through the eye, upon
the mind, and its power of removing all impurity is felt to the
soul. " Wash and be clean," is the murmuring call of the waters, as
they overflow their rocky basins, or grassy vases ; and deeply sunk
in depravity must that man be who could put to unholy uses one
of nature's fountains. The inner life of a well of waters, bursting
from its grave in the earth, may be religiously said to form a type
of the soul purified by death, rising into a glorified existence and
the fulness of light. The tranquil beauty of the rising waters,
whispering the softest music, like the healthful breathing of asleep-
ing infant, sends a feeling of happiness through the soul of the
thoughtful observer, and the inner man is purified by its influence,
as the outer man is cleansed by ablution.
Water cannot be regarded as having an inanimate existence.
Its all-pervading character and its active nature, flowing on for
ever, resting never, removes it from the torpid elements, and
places it, like the air, amongst those higher creations which belong
286 Superstitions of the Wells.
to the vital powers of the earth. The spring of water rises from
the cold dark earth, it runs, a silver cord glistening in the sunshine,
down the mountain-side. The rill (prettily called by Drayton "a
rillet") gathers rejoicingly other waters unto itself, and it grows
into a brooklet in its course. At length, flowing onward and in-
creasing in size, the brook state of being is fairly won ; and then,
by the gathering together of some more dewdrops, the full dignity
of a stream is acquired. Onwards the waters flow, still gleaming
from every side, and wooing new runlets to its bosom, eager as it
were to assume the state which, in America, would be called a
" run " of water. Stream gathers on stream, and run on run ; the
union of waters becomes a river ; rolling in its maturity, swelling
in its pride, it seeks the ocean, and there is absorbed in the
eternity of waters. Has ever poet yet penned a line which in any
way conveys to the mind a sense of the grandeur, the immensity
of the sea ? I do not remember a verse which does not prove the
incapacity of the human mind to embrace in its vastness the
gathering together of the waters in the mighty sea. Man's mind
is tempered, and his pride subdued, as he stands on the sea-side
and looks on the undulating expanse to which, to him, there is no
end. A material eternity of rain-drops gathered into a mass which
is from Omnipotence and is omnipotent. The influences of heaven
falling on the sheeted waters, they rise at their bidding and float
in air, making the skies more beautiful or more sublime, according
to the spirit of the hour. Whether the clouds float over the earth,
illumined by sun-rays, like the cars of loving angels ; or rush wildly
onward, as if bearing demons of vengeance, they are subdued by the
mountains, and fall reluctantly as mists around the rocks, condense
solemnly as dews upon the sleeping flowers, sink to earth resignedly
as tranquil rains, or splash in tempestuous anger on its surface.
The draught, in whatever form it comes, is drank with avidity, and,
circulating through the subterranean recesses of the globe, it
does its work of re-creation, and eventually reappears a bubbling
spring, again to run its round of wonder-working tasks.
Those minds which saw a God in light, and worshipped a
Creator in the sun, felt the power of the universal solvent, and saw
in the diffusive nature of that fluid which is everywhere something
more than a type of the regenerating Spirit, which all, in their
holier hours, feel necessary to clear off the earthiness of life. Man
has ever sought to discover the spiritual in the material, and, from
the imperfections of human reason, he has too frequently reposed
on the material, and given to it the attributes which are purely
spiritual. Through all ages the fountains of the hills and valleys
The Well of St Constantine. 287
have claimed the reverence of men ; and waters presenting them-
selves, under aspects of beauty, or of terror, have been regarded
with religious feelings of hope or of awe.
As it was of old, so is it to-day. It was but yesterday that I
stood near the font of Royston Church, and heard the minister
read with emphasis, " None can enter into the kingdom of God
except he be regenerate and born anew of water." Surely the
simple faith of the peasant mother who, on a spring morning,
takes her weakly infant to some holy well, and three times dipping
it in its clear waters, uttering an earnest prayer at each immersion,
is but another form of the prescribed faith of the educated church-
man.
Surely the practice of consulting the waters of a sacred spring,
by young men and maidens, is but a traditional faith derived from
the early creeds of Greece — a continuance of the Hydromancy
which sought in the Castalian fountain the divination of the
future.
THE WELL OF ST CONSTANTINE.
IN the parish of St Merran, or Meryn, near Padstow, are the
remains of the Church of St Constantine, and the holy well
of that saint. It had been an unusually hot and dry summer, and
all the crops were perishing through want of water. The people
inhabiting the parish had grown irreligious, and many of them
sadly profane. The drought was a curse upon them for their
wickedness. Their church was falling into ruin, their well was
foul, and the arches over it were decayed and broken. In their
distress, the wicked people who had reviled the Word of God,
went to their priest for aid.
" There is no help for thee, unless thou cleansest the holy
well."
They laughed him to scorn.
The drought continued, and they suffered want.
To the priest they went again.
" Cleanse the well," was his command, " and see the power of
the blessing of the first Christian emperor." That cleansing a
dirty well should bring them rain, they did not believe. The
drought continued, the rivers were dry, the people suffered thirst.
" Cleanse the well — wash, and drink," said the priest, when
they again went to him.
Hunger and thirst made the people obedient. They went to
the task. Mosses and weeds were removed, and the filth cleansed.
To the surprise of all, beautifully clear water welled forth. They
288 Superstitions of the Wells.
drank the water and prayed, and then washed themselves, and
were refreshed. As they bathed their bodies, parched with heat,
in the cool stream which flowed from the well, the heavens clouded
over, and presently rain fell, turning all hearts to the true faith.
THE WELL OF ST LUDGVAN.
ST LUDGVAN, an Irish missionary, had finished his work.
On the hill-top, looking over the most beautiful of bays, the
church stood with all its blessings. Yet the saint, knowing human
nature, determined on associating with it some object of a miracu-
lous character, which should draw people from all parts of the
world to Ludgvan. The saint prayed over the dry earth, which
was beneath him, as he knelt on the church stile. His prayer was
for water, and presently a most beautiful crystal stream welled up
from below. The holy man prayed on, and then, to try the virtues
of the water, he washed his eyes. They were rendered at once
more powerful, so penetrating, indeed, as to enable him to see
microscopic objects. The saint prayed again, and then he drank
of the water. He discovered that his powers of utterance were
greatly improved, his tongue formed words with scarcely any effort
of his will. The saint now prayed, that all children baptized in
the waters of this well might be protected against the hangman
and his hempen cord ; and an angel from heaven came down into
the water, and promised the saint that his prayers should be
granted. Not long after this, a good farmer and his wife brought
their babe to the saint, that it might derive all the blessings be-
longing to this holy well. The priest stood at the baptismal font,
the parents, with their friends around. The saint proceeded with
the baptismal ceremonial, and at length the time arrived when he
took the tender babe into his holy arms. He signed the sign of
the cross over the child, and when he sprinkled water on the face
of the infant its face glowed with a divine intelligence. The priest
then proceeded with the prayer ; but, to the astonishment of all,
whenever he used the name of Jesus, the child, who had received
the miraculous power of speech, from the water, pronounced dis-
tinctly the name of the devil, much to the consternation of all
present. The saint knew that an evil spirit had taken possession
of the child, and he endeavoured to cast him out ; but the devil
proved stronger than the saint for some time. St Ludgvan was
not to be beaten ; he knew that the spirit was a restless soul,
which had been exorcised from Treassow, and he exerted all his
energies in prayer. At length the spirit became obedient, and left
The Well of St Ludgvan* 289
the child. He was now commanded by the saint to take his flight
to the Red Sea. He rose, before the terrified spectators, into a
gigantic size ; he then spat into the well ; he laid hold of the
pinnacles of the tower, and shook the church until they thought it
would fall. The saint was alone unmoved. He prayed on, until,
like a flash of lightning, the demon vanished, shaking down a
pinnacle in his flight. The demon, by spitting in the water, de-
stroyed the spells of the water upon the eyes * and the tongue too ;
but it fortunately retains its virtue of preventing any child baptized
in it from being hanged with a cord of hemp. Upon a cord of
silk it is stated to have no power.
This well had nearly lost its reputation once — a Ludgvan
woman was hanged, under the circumstances told in the following
narrative : —
A small farmer, living in one of the most western districts of
the county, died some years back of what was supposed at that
time to be " English cholera." A few weeks after his decease his
wife married again. This circumstance excited some attention
in the neighbourhood. It was remembered that the woman had
lived on very bad terms with her late husband, that she had on
many occasions exhibited strong symptoms of possessing a very
vindictive temper, and that during the farmer's lifetime she had
openly manifested rather more than a Platonic preference for the
man whom she subsequently married. Suspicion was generally
excited ; people began to doubt whether the first husband had died
fairly. At length the proper order was applied for, and his body
was disinterred. On examination, enough arsenic to have poisoned
three men was found in the stomach. The wife was accused of
murdering her husband, was tried, convicted on the clearest
evidence, and hanged. Very shortly after she had suffered capital
punishment horrible stories of a ghost were widely circulated.
Certain people declared that they had seen a ghastly resemblance
of the murderess, robed in her winding-sheet, with the black mark
of the rope round her swollen neck, standing on stormy nights
upon her husband's grave, and digging there with a spade, in
hideous imitation of the actions of the men who had disinterred
the corpse for medical examination. This was fearful enough ;
nobody dared go near the place after nightfall. But soon another
circumstance was talked of in connection with the poisoner, which
affected the tranquillity of people's minds in the village where she
had lived, and where it was believed she had been born, more
* It is curious that the farm over which some of this water flows is called " Collurian "
to this day.
T
290 Superstitions of the Wells.
seriously than even the ghost story itself. The well of St Ludgvan,
celebrated among the peasantry of the district for its one remark-
able property, that every child baptized in its water (with which
the church was duly supplied on christening occasions) was secure
from ever being hanged.
No one doubted that all the babies fortunate enough to be born
and baptized in the parish, though they might live to the age of
Methuselah, and might during that period commit all the capital
crimes recorded in the " Newgate Calendar," were still destined
to keep quite clear of the summary jurisdiction of Jack Ketch.
No one doubted this until the story of the apparition of the murder-
ess began to be spread abroad; then awful misgivings arose in the
popular mind.
A woman who had been born close by the magical well, and
who had therefore in all probability been baptized in its water,
like her neighbours of the parish, had nevertheless been publicly
and unquestionably hanged. However, probability is not always
the truth. Every parishioner determined that the baptismal register
of the poisoner should be sought for, and that it should be thus
officially ascertained whether she had been christened with the well
water or not. After much trouble, the important document was
discovered — not where it was at first looked after, but in a neigh-
bouring parish. A mistake had been made about the woman's
birthplace ; she had not been baptized in St Ludgvan Church, and
had therefore not been protected by the marvellous virtue of the
local water. Unutterable was the joy and triumph at this discovery.
The wonderful character of the parish well was wonderfully vindi-
cated ; its celebrity immediately spread wider than ever. The
peasantry of the neighbouring districts began to send for the
renowned water before christenings ; and many of them actually
continue, to this day, to bring it corked up in bottles to their
churches, and to beg particularly that it may be used whenever
they present their children to be baptized.*
GULVAL WELL.
A YOUNG woman, with a child in her arms, stands by the side
of Gulval Well, in Fosses Moor. There is an expression
of extreme anxiety in her interesting face, which exhibits a con-
siderable amount of intelligence. She appears to doubt, and yet
be disposed to believe in, the virtues of this remarkable well. She
* See another story of this wretched woman in the sect^a devoted to Demons and
Spectres, p 256.
Gulval Well. 291
pauses, looks at her babe, and sighs. She is longing to know
something of the absent, but she fears the well may indicate the
extreme of human sorrow. While she is hesitating, an old woman
advances towards her, upon whom the weight of eighty years was
pressing, but not over-heavily ; and she at once asked the young
mother if she wished to ask the well after the health of her husband.
" Yes, Aunt Alcie," she replied ; "I am so anxious. I have
not heard of John for six long months. I could not sleep last
night, so I rose with the light, and came here, determined to ask
the well ; but I am afraid. O Aunt Alcie, suppose the well should
not speak, I should die on the spot ! "
" Nonsense, cheeld," said the old woman ; " thy man is well
enough ; and the well will boil, if thee 'It ask it in a proper spirit."
" But, Aunt Alcie, if it sends up puddled water, or if it remains
quiet, what would become of me ? "
" Never be foreboding, cheeld ; troubles come quick without
running to meet 'em. Take my word for it, the fayther of thy
little un will soon be home again. Ask the well ! ask the well ! "
" Has it told any death or sickness lately ? " asked the young
mother.
" On St Peter's eve Mary Curnew questioned the water about
poor Willy."
" And the water never moved ? "
" The well was quiet ; and verily I guess it was about that time
he died."
" Any sickness, Aunt Alcie ? "
" Jenny Kelinach was told, by a burst of mud, how ill her
old mother was ; but do not be feared, all is well with Johnny
Thomas."
Still the woman hesitated ; desire, fear, hope, doubt, superstition,
and intelligence struggled within her heart and brain.
The old creature, who was a sort of guardian to the well, used
all her rude eloquence to persuade Jane Thomas to put her question,
and at length she consented. Obeying the old woman's directions,
she knelt on the mat of bright green grass which grew around,
and leaning over the well so as to see her face in the water, she
repeated after her instructor,
" Water, water, tell me truly,
Is the man I love duly
On the earth, or under the sod,
Sick or well, — in the name of God ? "
Some minutes passed in perfect silence, and anxiety was rapidly
turning cheeks and lips pale, when the colour vapidly returned.
292 Superstitions of the Wells.
There was a gush of clear water from below, bubble rapidly
followed bubble, sparkling brightly in the morning sunshine. Full
of joy, the young mother rose from her knees, kissed her child,
and exclaimed, " I am happy now ! " *
THE WELL OF ST KEYNE.
ST KEYNE came to this well about five hundred years before
the Norman Conquest, and imparted a strange virtue to
its waters — namely, that whichever of a newly-married couple
should first drink thereof, was to enjoy the sweetness of domestic
sovereignty ever after.
Situated in a thickly-wooded district, the well of St Keyne pre-
sents a singularly picturesque appearance. " Four trees of divers
kinds" grow over the well, imparting a delightful shade, and its
clear waters spread an emerald luxuriance around. Once, and
once only, have I paid a visit to this sacred spot. Then and there
I found a lady drinking of the waters from her thimble, and
eagerly contending with her husband that the right to rule was
hers. The man, however, mildly insisted upon it that he had had
the first drink, as he had rushed before his wife, and dipping his
fingers into the water had sucked them. This the lady contended
was not drinking, and she, I have no doubt, through life had the
best of the argument.
Tonkin says, in his " History of Cornwall," " Did it retain this
wondrous quality, as it does to this day the shape, I believe there
would be to it a greater resort of both sexes than either to Bath or
Tunbridge ; for who would not be fond of attaining this longed-for
sovereignty ? " He then adds, " Since the writing of this, tht
trees were blown down by a violent storm, and in their place Mr
* Hals, speaking of Gulval Well, thus describes it and its virtues : — "In Fosses Moor
part of this manor of Lanesly, in this parish, is that well-known fountain called Gulval
Well. To which place great numbers of people, time out of mind, have resorted for
pleasure and profit of their health, as the credulous country people do in these days,
not only to drink the waters thereof, but to inquire after the life or death of their absent
friends ; where, being arrived, they demanded the question at the well whether such a
person by name be living, in health, sick, or dead. If the party be living and in health,
the still quiet water of the well-pit, as soon as the question is demanded, will instantly
bubble or boil up as a pot, clear crystalline water ; if sick, foul and puddled waters ;
if the party be dead, it will neither bubble, boil up, nor alter its colour or still motion.
However, I can speak nothing of the truth of those supernatural facts from my own sight
or experience, but write from the mouths of those who told me they had seen and
proved the veracity thereof. Finally, it is a strong and courageous fountain of water,
kept neat and clean by an old woman of the vicinity, to accommodate strangers, for
her own advantage, by blazing the virtues and divine qualities of those waters." — Hals,
quoted by Gilbert^ Parochial History of Cornwall^ vol. ii. p. 121.
Maddern or Madron Well. 293
Rashleigh, in whose land it is, has planted two oaks, an ash, and
an elm, which thrive well ; but the wonderful arch is destroyed."
The author can add to this that (as he supposes, owing to the
alteration made in the trees) the sovereign virtues of the waters
have perished.
Southey's ballad will be remembered by most readers : —
"A well there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen ;
There is not a wife in the west country
But has heard of the Well of St Keyne.
"An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.1'
It has been already stated that, sitting in St Michael's Chair,
on the tower of the church of St Michael's Mount, has the same
virtue as the waters of this well ; and that this remarkable power
was the gift of the same St Keyne who imparted such wonderful
properties to this well.
MADDERN OR MADRON WELL.
" Plunge thy right hand in St Madron's spring,
If true to its troth be the palm you bring ;
But if a false digit thy fingers bear,
Lay them at once on the burning share."
OF the holy well at St Maddern, Carne * writes thus : —
" It has been contended that a virgin was the patroness of
this church — that she was buried at Minster — and that many
miracles were performed at her grave. A learned commentator,
however, is satisfied that it was St Motran, who was one of the
large company that came from Ireland with St Buriana, and he
was slain at the mouth of the Hayle ; the body was begged,
and afterwards buried here. Near by was the miraculous Well of
St Maddern, over which a chapel was built, so sacred was it held.
(This chapel was destroyed by the fanaticism of Major Ceely in
the days of Cromwell.) It stood at no great distance on the
moor, and the soil around it was black and boggy, mingled with a
gray moorstone. . . .
" The votaries bent awfully and tremblingly over its sedgy bank,
and gazed on its clear bosom for a few minutes ere they proved
the fatal ordeal • then an imploring look was cast towards the
* " Tales of the West," by the author oi " Letters froin the East."
294 Superstitions of the We Us.
figure of St Motran, many a crossing was repeated, and at last
the pin or pebble held aloof was dropped into the depth beneath.
Often did the rustic beauty fix her eye intently on the bubbles that
rose, and broke, and disappeared ; for in that moment the lover
was lost, or the faithful husband gained. It was only on par-
ticular days, however, according to the increase or decrease of the
moon, that the hidden virtues of the well were consulted." *
MADRON WELL.
Of this well we have the following notice by William Scawen, Esq.,
Vice- Warden of the Stannaries. The paper from which we extract it was
first printed by Davies Gilbert, Esq., F.R.S., as an appendix to his
"Parochial History of Cornwall." Its complete title is, "Observations
on an Ancient Manuscript, entitled ' Passio Christo,' written in the Cornish
Language, and now preserved in the Bodleian Library ; with an Account ot
the Language, Manners, and Customs of the People of Cornwall, (from
a Manuscript in the Library of Thomas Artie, Esq., 1777)" : —
"Of St Mardren's Well (which is a parish west to the Mount), a fresh
true story of two persons, both of them lame and decrepit, thus recovered
from their infirmity. These two persons, after they had applied them-
selves to divers physicians and chirurgeons, for cure, and rinding no success
by them, they resorted to St Mardren's Well, and according to the ancient
custom which they had heard of, the same which was once in a year — to
wit, on Corpus Christi evening — to lay some small offering on the altar
there, and to lie on the ground all night, drink of the water there, and in
the morning after to take a good draught more, and to take and carry away
some of the water, each of them in a bottle, at their departure. This
course these two men followed, and within three weeks they found the
effect of it, and, by degrees their strength increasing, were able to move
themselves on crutches. The year following they took the same course
again, after which they were able to go with the help of a stick ; and at
length one of them, John Thomas, being a fisherman, was, and is at this
day, able to follow his fishing craft. The other, whose name was William
Cork, was a soldier under the command of my kinsman, Colonel William
Godolphin (as he has often told me), was able to perform his duty, and
died in the service of his majesty King Charles. But herewith take also
this :—
" One Mr Hutchens, a person well known in those parts, and now lately
dead, being parson of Ludgvan, a near neighbouring parish to St Mardren's
Well, he observed that many of his parishioners often frequented this
well superstitiously, for which he reproved them privately, and sometimes
publicly, in his sermons ; but afterwards he, the said Mr Hutchens, meet-
ing with a woman coming from the well with a bottle in her hand, desired
her earnestly that he might drink thereof, being then troubled with colical
pains, which accordingly he did, and was eased of his infirmity. The
latter story is a full confutation of the former ; for, if the taking the water
accidently thus prevailed upon the party to his cure, as it is likely it did,
then the miracle which was intended to be by the ceremony of lying on
the ground and offering is wholly fled, and it leaves the virtue of the water
to be the true cause of the cure. And we have here, as in many places
* The tale of "The Legend of Pacorra."
Maddern or Madron Well. 295
of the land, great variety of salutary springs, which have diversity of oper-
ations, which by natural reason have been found to be productive of good
effects, and not by miracle, as the vain fancies of monks and friars have
been exercised in heretofore."
Bishop Hale, of Exeter, in his "Great Mystery of Godliness," says : —
"Of which kind was that noe less than miraculous cure, which, at St
Maddern's Well, in Cornwall, was wrought upon a poore cripple ; where-
of, besides the attestation of many hundreds of the neighbours, I tooke a
strict and impartial examination in my last triennial visitation there. This
man, for sixteen years, was forced to walke upon his hands, by reason of
the sinews of his leggs were soe contracted that he cold not goe or walke
on his feet, who upon monition in a dream to wash in that well, which
accordingly he did, was suddainly restored to the use of his limbs ; and
I sawe him both able to walk and gett his owne maintenance. I found
here was neither art nor collusion, — the cure done, the author our invisible
God," &c.
In Madron Well — and, I have no doubt, in many others — may be found
frequently the pins which have been dropped by maidens desirous of
knowing "when they were to be married." I once witnessed the whole
ceremony performed by a group of beautiful girls, who had walked on a
May morning from Penzance. Two pieces of straw, about an inch long
each, were crossed and the pin run through them. This cross was then
dropped into the water, and the rising bubbles carefully counted, as they
marked the number of years which would pass ere the arrival of the happy
day. This practice also prevailed amongst the visitors to the well at the
foot of Monacuddle Grove, near St Austell.
On approaching the waters, each visitor is expected to throw in a crooked
pin ; and, if you are lucky, you may possibly see the other pins rising from
the bottom to meet the most recent offering. Rags and votive offerings to
the genius of the waters are hung around many of the wells. Mr Couch
says : — " At Madron Well, near Penzance, I observed the custom of hang-
ing rags on the thorns which grew in the enclosure."
Crofton Croker tells us the same custom prevails in Ireland ; and Dr
O'Connor, in his "Travels in Persia," describes the prevalence of this
custom.
Mr Campbell,* on this subject, writes : — " Holy healing wells are com-
mon all over the Highlands, and people still leave offerings of pins and
nails, and bits of rag, though few would confess it. There is a well in
Islay where I myself have, after drinking, deposited copper caps amongst
a hoard of pins and buttons, and similar gear, placed in chinks in the
rocks and trees at the edge of the ' Witches' Well. ' There is another well
with similar offerings freshly placed beside it. in an island in Loch
Maree, in Ross-shire, and many similar wells are to be found in other
places in Scotland. For example, I learn from Sutherland that ' a well in
the Black Isle of Cromarty, near Rosehaugh, has miraculous healing powers.
A country woman tells me, that about forty years ago, she remembers it
being surrounded by a crowd of people every first Tuesday in June, who
bathed and drank of it before sunrise. Each patient tied a string or rag to
one of the trees that overhung it before leaving. It was sovereign for
headaches. Mr remembers to have seen a well here, called Mary's
Well, hung round with votive rags.' "
* " Popular Tales of the West Highlands," by J. F. Campbell. (See page 134, vol. ii.)
296 Superstitions of the Wells.
Well-worship is mentioned by Martin. The custom, in his day, in the
Hebrides, was to walk south round about the well.
Sir William Betham, in his "Gael and Cymbri" (Dublin: W. Curry,
Jun., & Co., 1834), says, at page 235 : — " The Celtse were much addicted
to the worship of fountains and rivers as divinities. They had a deity
called Divona, or the river-god."
THE WELL AT ALTAR-NUN.
CURE OF INSANITY.
A MONGST the numerous holy wells which exist in Cornwall,
*x that of Alternon, or Altar-Nun, is the only one, as far as I
can learn, which possessed the virtue of curing the insane.
We are told that Saint Nunne or Nuanita was the daughter of
an Earl of Cornwall, and the mother of St David ; that the holy
well, which is situated about a mile from the cathedral of St
David, was dedicated to her ; and that she bestowed on the waters
of the Cornish well those remarkable powers, which were not given
to the Welsh one, from her fondness for the county of her birth.
Carew, in his " Survey of Cornwall," thus describes the
practice : —
" The water running from St Nun's well fell into a square and
enclosed walled plot, which might be filled at what depth they
listed. Upon this wall was the frantic person put to stand, his
back towards the pool, and from thence, with a sudden blow in
the breast, tumbled headlong into the pond ; where a strong fellow,
provided for the nonce, took him, and tossed him up and dov/n,
alongst and athwart the water, till the patient, by foregoing his
strength, had somewhat forgot his fury. Then was he conveyed
to the church, and certain masses said over him ; upon which
handling, if his right wits returned, St Nun had the thanks ; but
if there appeared small amendment, he was bowssened again and
again, while there remained in him any hope of life or recovery."
The 2d of March is dedicated to St Nun, and the influence of
the water is greatly exalted on that day.
Although St Nun's well has been long famous, and the celebrity
of its waters extended far, yet there was a belief prevailing amidst
the uneducated, that the sudden shock produced by suddenly
plunging an insane person into water was most effective in pro-
ducing a return to reason.
On one occasion, a woman of weak mind, who was suffering
under the influence of a religious monomania, consulted me on the
benefit she might hope to receive from electricity. The burden of
her ever-melancholy tale was, that " she had lost her God ; " and
The Well at Altar-Nun. 297
she told me, with a strange mixture of incoherence and reason,
that her conviction was, that a sudden shock would cure her. She
had herself proposed to her husband and friends that they should
take her to a certain rock on St Michael's Mount, stand her on it,
with her back to the sea, when " the waters were the strongest, at
the flowing of the tide ; " and after having prayed with her, give
her the necessary blow on the chest, and thus plunge her into the
waters below. I know not that the experiment was ever made in
the case of this poor woman, but I have heard of several instances
where this sudden plunge had been tried as a cure for insanity.
Mr T. Q. Couch thus describes the present condition of this
well in a paper on " Well-Worship : " — *
" On the western side of the beautiful valley through which
flows the Trelawney River, and near Hobb's Park, in the parish
of Pelynt, Cornwall, is St Nun's, or St Ninnie's Well. Its position
was, until lately, to be discovered by the oak-tree matted with ivy,
and the thicket of willow and bramble which grew upon its roof.
The front of the well is of a pointed form, and has a rude entrance
about four feet high, and spanned above by a single flat stone,
which leads into a grotto with arched roof. The walls on the in-
terior are draped with luxuriant fronds of spleenwort, hart's-tongue,
and a rich undercovering of liverwort. At the further end of the
floor is a round granite basin, with a deeply moulded brim, and
ornamented on its circumference with a series of rings, each en-
closing a cross or a ball. The water weeps into it from an opening
at the back, and escapes again by a hole in the bottom. This
interesting piece of antiquity has been protected by a tradition
which we could wish to attach to some of our cromlechs and
circles in danger of spoliation."
According to the narrative given by Mr Bond in his " History
of Looe," the sacred protection given must have been limited in
time, as the following story will prove : —
" KIPPISCOMBE LANE,
Probably so called from a consecrated well on the right hand side
of the road. The titular saint of this well is supposed to have
been St Cuby, now corrupted into Keby's Well. The spring flows
into a circular basin or reservoir of granite, or of some stone like
it, two feet four inches at its extreme diameter at top, and about
two feet high. It appears to have been neatly carved and orna-
mented in its lower part with the figure of a griffin, and round the
edge with dolphins, now much defaced. The water was formerly
* Notes and Queries.
298 Superstitions of the Wells.
carried off by a drain or hole at the bottom, like those usually seen
in fonts and piscinas. This basin (which I take to be an old font)
was formerly much respected by the neighbours, who conceived
some great misfortune would befall the person who should attempt
to remove it from where it stood, and that it required immense
power to remove it. A daring fellow, however (says a story), once
went with a team of oxen for the express purpose of removing it.
On his arrival at the spot, one of the oxen fell down dead, which
so alarmed the fellow that he desisted from the attempt he was
about to make. There are several loose stones scattered round
this basin or reservoir, perhaps the remains of some building which
formerly enclosed it — a small chapel likely. The last time I saw
this reservoir, it had been taken many feet from where it used to
stand, and a piece of the brim of it had been recently struck off."
ST GUNDRED'S WELL AT ROACH ROCK.
CAREW, in his "Survey of Cornwall," p. 139 (p. 324, Lord
Dunstanville's edit.), tells us, " near this rock there is another
\vliich, having a pit in it, containeth water which ebbs and flows
as the sea does. I was thereupon very curious to inspect this
matter, and found it was only a hole artificially cut in a stone,
about twelve inches deep and six broad ; wherein after rain, a
pool of water stands, which afterwards with fair weather vanisheth
away, and is dried up ; and then, again, on the falling of rain, water
is replenished accordingly, which with dry weather abates as
aforesaid (for upon those occasions I have seen it to have water in
its pit, and again to be without it), which doubtless gave occasion
to the feigned report that it ebbs and flows as the sea : " of all
which premisses thus speaks Mr Carew further, out of the Cornish
" Wonder Gatherer " :—
" You neighbour scorners, holy, proud,
Goe people Roache's cell,
Far from the world and neer to the heavens ;
There hermitts may you dwell.
" Ts 't true the springe in rock hereby
Doth tidewise ebb and flowe?
Or have we fooles with lyars met ?
Fame says it 's ; be it soe."
The last tradition of this hermitage chapel is, that when it was
kept in repair, a person diseased with a grievous leprosy was
either placed or fixed himself therein, where he lived until the time
of his death, to avoid infecting others. He was daily attended
Rickety Children. 299
with meat, drink, and washing by his daughter, named Gunnett
or Gundred, and the well hereby from whence she fetched water
for his use is to this day shown, and called by the name of St
Gunnett's Well, or St Gundred's Well.
It is not possible to give even the names of the wells which are
still thought to have " some healing virtue " in them. The typical
wells have alone been mentioned j and to these brief notices of a
few others may be added.
ST CUTHBERT'S OR CUBERT'S WELL.
HAL thus describes this famous place : — " In this parish is
that famous and well-known spring of water called Holy-
well (so named, the inhabitants say, for that the virtues of this
water was first discovered on All-hallows day). The same stands
in a dark cavern of the sea-cliff rocks, beneath full sea-mark on
spring tides, from the top of which cavern falls down or distils
continually drops of water from the white, blue, red, and green
veins of those rocks. And accordingly, in the place where those
drops of water fall, it swells to a lump of considerable bigness,
and there petrifies to the hardness of ice, glass, or freestone, of the
several colours aforesaid, according to the nature of those veins in
the rock from whence it proceeds, and is of a hard, brittle nature,
apt to break like glass.
" The virtues of this water are very great. It is incredible what
numbers in summer season frequent this place and waters from
counties far distant." *
RICKETY CHILDREN.
THE practice of bathing rickety children on the first three
Wednesdays in May is still far from uncommon in the out-
lying districts of Cornwall. The parents will walk many miles for
the purpose of dipping the little sufferers in some well, from which
the "healing virtue" has not entirely departed. Among these
holy wells, Cubert, just named, is far-famed. To this well the
peasantry still resort, firm in the faith that there, at this especial
season, some mysterious virtue is communicated to its waters.
On these occasions, only a few years since, the crowd assembled
was so large, that it assumed the character of a fair.
* Gilbert, vol. i. p. 291.
3OO Superstitions of the Wells.
CHAPELL UNY.
ON the first three Wednesdays in May, children suffering from
mesenteric diseases are dipped three times in this well,
against the sun, and dragged three times around the well on the
grass, in the same direction.
PERRAN WELL.
/CHILDREN were cured of several diseases by being bathed
V— ' in this well. They were also carried to the sea-shore, and
passed through a cleft in a rock on the shore at Perranzabalo.
In the autumn of 1863 I sought for these holy waters. I was
informed that some miners, in driving an adit, had tapped the
spring and drained it. There is not, therefore, a trace of this once
most celebrated well remaining. It was with difficulty that its site
could be discovered. I have since learned that the cut stone-work
which ornamented this holy place, was removed to Chiverton, for
the purpose of preserving it.
RED RUTH WELL.
NO child christened in this well has ever been hanged. Saint
Ruth, said to have been called Red Ruth, because she
always wore a scarlet cloak, especially blessed, to this extent, those
waters. I believe the population in this large parish cares but
little now whether their children be baptized with this well water
or any other ; but, half a century since, it was very different
Then, many a parent would insist on seeing the water taken from
the well and carried to the font in the church.
HOLY WELL AT LITTLE CON AN.
ON Palm Sunday the people resorted to the well sacre4 to
" Our Lady of Nants," with a cross of palm, and after
making the priest a present, they were allowed to throw the cross
into the well ; if it swam the thrower was to outlive the year, if it
sank he was not.*
THE PRESERVATION OF HOLY WELLS.
IT is a very common notion amongst the peasantry, that a just
retribution overtakes those who wilfully destroy monuments,
such as stone circles, crosses, wells, and the like. Mr Blight
* Carcw.
The Preservation of Holy Wells. 301
writes me — " Whilst at Boscaswell, in St Just, a few weeks since,
an old man told me that a person who altered an old Holy Well
there, was drowned the next day in sight of his home, and that
a person who carried away the stones of an ancient chapel, had
his house burned down that very night." We hope the certainty
of punishment will prevent any further spoliation. Cannot we do
something towards the preservation of our antiquities ? I quote
from a local paper the following : —
" If the attention of the members of the Penzance Antiquarian Society
were directed to the state of the ' Holy Well ' at Laneast, and the remains
of the Old Chapel Park, St Clether, they might perhaps induce the pro-
prietors of these ' remnants of antiquity' to bestow a little care on the same,
and arrest their further ruin and destruction. Many other 'objects of
interest ' are in a sad state of neglect, and fast ' fading away.' Slaughter
Bridge, near Camelford, has completely vanished. This is much to be
regretted, and is a double loss — first, to those who delight in these ' me-
morials of the past,' and also to the town and neighbourhood, depriving
them of an attraction that has induced many strangers of taste to pay them
a visit."
KING ARTHUR.
' There is a place within
The winding shore of Severne sea
On mids of rock, about whose foote
The tydes turne — keeping play.
A towery-topped castle here,
Wide blazeth over all,
Which Corineus ancient broode
Tintagel Castle call."
Old Poet— Translated by CAMDEN.
ROMANCES OF ARTHUR.
ARTHUR LEGENDS.
" For there was no man knew from whence he came;
But after tempest, when the long wave broke
All down the thundering shores of Bude and Boss,
There came a day as still as heaven, and then
They found a naked child upon the sands
Of wild Dundagil by the Cornish sea;
And that was Arthur."
Idyls of the King — TENNYSON.
THE scarcity of traditions connected with King Arthur is not a
little remarkable in Cornwall, where he is said to have been
born, and where we believe him to have been killed. In the
autumn of last year (1863) I visited Tintagel and Camelford. I
sought with anxiety for some stories of the British king, but not
one could be obtained The man who has charge of the ruins of
the castle was very sorry that he had lent a book which he once
had, and which contained many curious stories, but he had no
story to tell me.
We hear of Prince Arthur at the Land's-End, and of his fights
with the Danes in two or three other places. Merlin, who may be
considered as especially associated with Arthur, has left indications
of his presence here and there, in prophetic rhymes not always
fulfilled ; but of Arthur's chieftains we have no folk-lore. All the
rock markings, or rock peculiarities, which would in West Cornwall
have been given to the giants, are referred to King Arthur in the
eastern districts.
Jack the Giant Killer and Thomas Thumb — the former having
been tutor, in his own especial calling, to King Arthur's only son,*
and the latter the king's favourite dwarf t— are, except in story-
" Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales," by James O. Halliwell.
t See "Thomas of the Thumb, or Tomas na Kordaig" Tale Ixix. "Popular Tales
of the West Highlands," by J. F. Campbell
304 Romances of A rtltur.
books, unknown. Jack Hornby,* — if he ever lived near the Land's.
End, unless he is the same with " Little Jack Horner," — has been
so long a stranger, that his name is forgotten.
The continuance of a fixed belief in the existence of Arthur is
easily explained. The poets and the romance writers have made
the acheivements of a British chieftain familiar to all the people ;
and Arthur has not only a name, but a local habitation, given to
him equally in Scotland, England, Wales, and Ireland.
Mr Campbell, in his "West Highland Tales," gives a "Genealogy
Abridgment of the very ancient and noble family of Argyle, 1779."
The writer says this family began with Constantine, grandfather
to King Arthur ; and he informs us that Sir Moroie Mor, a son of
King Arthur, of whom great and strange things are told in the
Irish Traditions — who was born at Dumbarton Castle, and who
was usually known as " The Fool of the Forest" — was the real
progenitor of " Mac Callen Mor." From this Moroie Mor was
derived the mighty Diarmaid, celebrated in many a Gaelic lay
— " to whom all popular traditions trace the Campbell clan."
" Arthur and Diarmaid," writes Mr Campbell, " primeval Celtic
worthies, whose very existence the historian ignores, are thus
brought together by a family genealogist."
" Was the Constantine grandfather to Arthur one of the five
tyrants named by Gildas ? " — I quote from Camdenf and Milton.;};
Constantinus. son of Cador, Duke of Cornwall, Arthur's half-
brother by the mother's side, " a tyrannical and bloody king."
Aurelius Conanus, who " wallowed in murder and adultery."
Vorlipore, " tyrant of the Dimeta."
Cuneglas, " the yellow butcher."
Maglocunes, " the island dragon."
It is curious to find a Scotch genealogist uniting in one bond
the Arthur of Dundagel and the ancestors of the Argyles of Dum-
barton.
May we not after this venture to suggest that, in all probability,
the parish of Constantine (pronounced, however, Cus-ten-ton\
between Helstone and Penryn, may derive its name from this
Constantinus, rather than from the first Christian emperor ?
Again, the family of Cossentine has been often said to be offsets
* "Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales," by James O. Halliwell.
t Camden's " Britannica," by Gough, vol. i., p. 139. From this author we do not
learn much. Indeed he says — "As to that Constantine, whom Gildas calls 'that
tyrannical whelp of the impure Danmonian lioness,' and of the disforesting of the whole
country under King John, before whose time it was all forest, let historians tell— it is
not to my purpose." — Vol. i. p. 8.
t Milton's "History of Britain," edit. 1678, p. 155.
The Battle of Vellan-Druchar. 305
from Constantine, the descendant of the Greek emperors, who was
buried in Landulph Church. Seeing that the name has been
known for so long a period in Cornwall, may not this family rather
trace their origin up to this Constantine the Tyrant ?
THE BATTLE OF VELLAN-DRUCHAR*
THE Sea Kings, in their predatory wanderings, landed in
Genvor Cove, and, as they had frequently done on previous
occasions, they proceeded to pillage the little hamlet of Escols.
On one occasion they landed in unusally large numbers, being
resolved, as it appeared, to spoil many of the large and wealthy
towns of Western Cornwall, which they were led to believe were
unprotected. It fortunately happened that the heavy surf on
the beach retarded their landing, so that the inhabitants had notice
of their threatened invasion.
That night the beacon-fire was lit on the chapel hill, another
was soon blazing on Castle-an-Dinas, and on Trecrobben. Carn
Brea promptly replied, and continued the signal-light, which also
blazed lustrously that night on St Agnes Beacon. Presently the
fires were seen on Belovely Beacon, and rapidly they appeared on
the Great Stone, on St Bellarmine's Tor, and Cadbarrow, and then
the fires blazed out on Roughtor and Brownwilly, thus rapidly
conveying the intelligence of war to Prince Arthur and his • brave
knights, who were happily assembled in full force at Tintagel to
do honour to several native Princes who were at that time on a
visit to the King of Cornwall. Arthur, and nine other kings, by
forced marches, reached the neighbourhood of the Land's -End at
the end of two days. The Danes crossed the land down through
the bottoms to the sea on the northern side of the promontory,
spreading destruction in their paths. Arthur met them on their
return, and gave them battle near Vellan-Druchar. So terrible
was the slaughter, that the mill was worked with blood that day.
Not a single Dane of the vast army that had landed escaped. A
few had been left in charge of the ships, and as soon as they learned
the fate of their brethren, they hastened to escape, hoping to
return to their own northern land. A holy woman, whose name
has not been preserved to us, " brought home a west wind " by
emptying the Holy Well against the hill, and sweeping the church
from the door to the altar. Thus they were prevented from
escaping, and were all thrown by the force of a storm and the
currents either on the rocky shore, or on the sands, where they
* Vellan (mill), druchar (wheel).
U
306 Romances of A rthur.
were left high and dry. It happened on the occasion of an extra-
ordinary spring-tide, which was yet increased by the wind, so that
the ships lay high up on the rocks, or on the sands ; and for years
the birds built their nests in the masts and rigging.
Thus perished the last army of Danes who dared to land upon
our western shores.
King Arthur and the nine kings pledged each other in the holy
water from St Sennen's Well, they returned thanks for their victory
in St Sennen's Chapel, and dined that day on the Table-men.
Merlin, the prophet, was amongst the host, and the feast being
ended, he was seized with the prophetic afflatus, and in the hearing
of all the host proclaimed —
" The northmen wild once more shall land,
And leave their bones on Escol's sand.
The soil of Vellan-Druchar's plain
Again shall take a sanguine stain ;
And o'er the mill-wheel roll a flood
Of Danish mix'd with Cornish blood.
When thus the vanquish'd find no tomb,
Expect the dreadful day of doom."
ARTHUR AT THE LAND'S-END.
BOLERIUM, or Sellerium, is the name given by the ancients
to the Land's-End. Diodorus writes Belerium ; Ptolemy,
Bolerium. Milton adopts this name in his " Lycidas," and leads
his readers to infer that it was derived from the Giant Bellerus.
It is quite possible that in Milton's time the name of one of the
numerous giants who appear to have made the Land's-End district
their dwelling-place, might have still lived in the memories of men.
Certain it is no such giant is remembered now.*
In a map of Saxon England we find the Land's-End called
Penjiifcj* ceojir, and in some early English books this promontory
is named P enrhin-guard, and Penrlien-gard, said to signify the
"Headland of Blood." f The old Cornish people called this
promontory " Pen-von-las," the " End of the Earth," hence we
derive the name of the Land's-End. May not this sanguinary
name have been derived from a fact, and that actually several
battles were fought by the Britons under the command of Arthur,
* Carew says, 'a promontory (by Pomp. Mela, called Bolerium ; by Diodorus,
Velerium ; by Volaterane, Helenium ; by the Cornish, Pedn an laaz ; and by the English,
the Land's-End)." — Survey of Cornwall,
t Penjllftj*teojlt. — The name of the Land's-End in the Saxon map ; in the text,
Camden prints Penjlihrp reop*.
Traditions of the Danes in Cornwall. 307
with the Saxons or the Danes, in this neighbourhood ? We have
not far off the Field of Slaughter, " Bollait," where the ancient
people of Cornwall made their final stand against the Saxons. On
this field flint arrow-heads have frequently been found. The
tradition of Vellan-Druchar, which is but one of several I have
heard of a similar character, points to the same idea. Arthur,
according to one story, held possession of Trereen Castle for some
time. Another castle on the north coast is said to have been
occupied by him. An old man living in Pendean once told me
that the land at one time " swarmed with giants, until Arthur, the
good king, vanished them all with his cross -sword."
TRADITIONS OF THE DANES IN CORNWALL.
HPHE Danes are said to have landed in several places around
J- the coast, and have made permanent settlements in some
parts. We have already spoken of the battle of Vellan-Druchar.
In Sennen Cove there was for a long period a colony of red-haired
people, — indeed, I am informed some of them still live on the
spot, — with whom the other inhabitants of the district refused to
marry. Up to a very recent period, in several of the outlying
villages, a red-haired family was " looked down " upon. " Oh,
he or she is a red-haired Daane," was a common expression of
contempt.
There are several hills which bear the names of Danes' Castles
— as Castle-an-Dinas, near Penzance, and another in St Columb.*
Another very remarkable earthwork in Perran-Zabula ( Caer-Dane)
is described by Hals.t
* " CASTLE-AN-DINAS. — In the parish of C.I,>mb Major stands a castle of this name.
Near this castle, by the highway, stands th^ Coyt, a stony tumulus so called, of which
sort there are many in Wales and Wiltshire, as is mentioned in the 'Additions to
Camden's Britannia,' in these places, commonly called the Devil's Coyts. It consists of
four long stones of great bigness, perpendicularly pitched in the earth contiguous with
each other, leaving only a small vacancy downwards, but meeting together at the top ;
over all which is laid a flat stone of prodigious bulk and magnitude, bending towards the
east in way of adoration (as Mr Lhuyd concludes of all those Coyts elsewhere), as the
person therein under it interred did when in the land of the living ; but how or by what
art this prodigious flat stone should be placed on the top of the others, amazeth the wisest
mathematicians, engineers, or architects to tell or conjecture. Colt, in Belgic-British,
is a cave, vault, or cott-house, of which coyt might possibly be a corruption." — Gilbert's
Parochial History.
f In the Manor of Lambourn is an ancient barrow, called Creeg Mear, the Great
Barrow, which was cut open by a labourer in search of stones to build a hedge. He came
upon a small hollow, in which he found nine urns filled with ashes ; the man broke them,
supposing they wer« only old pitchers, good for nothing ; but Tonkin, who saw them
308 Romances of A rthur,
Eventually the Danes are said to have made permanent settle-
ments in Cornwall, and to have lived on friendly terms with the
Britons.
The Danes and the Cornish are reported to have concentrated
their forces to oppose Egbert the Saxon. In 835 the combined
body are reported to have met, and fought a pitched battle on
Hengistendane (now Hengistondown), near Callington. The
Cornish were so totally routed, that Egbert obliged the Danes to
retire to their ships, and passed a law " that no Briton should in
future cross the Tamar, or set foot on English ground, on pain of
death." *
In 997 the Danes, sailing about Penwrith-steort, landed in
several places, foraged the country, burnt the towns, and destroyed
the people, t
Many of the traditions which are given in different parts of these
volumes have much of the Danish element in them. J
KING ARTHUR IN THE FORM OF A CHOUGH.
I QUOTE the following as it stands : — §
" In Jarvis's translation of ' Don Quixote/ book ii. chap, v.,
the following passage occurs : —
" ' Have you not read, sir/ answered Don Quixote, ' the annals
and histories of England, wherein are recorded the famous exploits
of King Arthur, whom, in our Castilian tongue, we always call King
Artus ; of whom there goes an old tradition, and a common one,
all over that kingdom of Great Britain, that this king did not die,
but that, by magic art, he was turned into a raven ; and that, in
process of time, he shall reign again and recover his kingdom and
sceptre, for which reason it cannot be proved that, from that time
to this, any Englishmen has killed a raven ? '
believes them to have been Danish, containing the ashes of some chief commanders slain
in battle ; and, says he, on a small hill just under this barrow is a Danish encampment,
called Castle Caer Dane, vttlgo Castle Caer Don, — i.e., the Danes' Camp, — consisting
of three entrenchments finished, and another begun, with an intent to surround the inner
three, but not completed ; and opposite to this, about a bowshot, the river only running
between, on another hill is another camp or castle, called Castle Kaerkief, castrum
simile, from Kyfel similis, alike alluding to Castle Caer Dane. But this is but just
begun, and not finished in any part, from which I guess there were two different parties,
the one attacking the other before the entrenchments were finished.
* C. S. Gilbert's Historical Survey. t Gilbert.
t See Popular Tales from the Norse. By George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L. Legends
of Iceland, collected by Jon Arnason. Translated by George E. J. Powell and Eirekur
Magnusso
I Note and Queries^ vol viii. p. 618.
Slaughter Bridge. 309
" My reason for transcribing this passage is to record the curious
fact that the legend of King Arthur's existence in the form of a
raven was still repeated as a piece of folk-lore in Cornwall about
sixty years ago. My father, who died about two years since, at
the age of eighty, spent a few years of his youth in the neighbour-
hood of Penzance. One day he was walking along Marazion
Green with his fowling-piece on his shoulder, he saw a raven at a
distance, and fired at it. An old man who was near immediately
rebuked him, telling him that he ought on no account to have shot
at a raven, for that King Arthur was still alive in the form of that
bird. My father was much interested when I drew his attention
to the passage which I have quoted above.
" Perhaps some of your Cornish or Welsh correspondents may
be able to say whether the legend is still known among the people
of Cornwall or Wales. EDGAR MACCULLOCH.
"GUERNSEY."
I have been most desirous of discovering if any such legend as
the above exists. I have questioned people in every part of
Cornwall in which King Arthur has been reported to have dwelt
or fought, and especially have I inquired in the neighbourhood of
Tintagel, which is reported to have been Arthur's stronghold.
Nowhere do I find the raven associated with him, but I have been
told that bad luck would follow the man who killed a Chough, for
Arthur was transformed into one of these birds.
THE CORNISH CHOUGH.
THE tradition relative to King Arthur and his transformation
into a raven, is fixed very decidedly on the Cornish Chough,
from the colour of its beak and talons. The —
" Talons and beak all red with blood "
are said to mark the violent end to which this celebrated chieftain
came.
SLAUGHTER BRIDGE.
HISTORIANS and poets have made the world familiar with
King Arthur. We know how Merlin deceived, by his
magic, the beautiful Igerna, so that she received King Uter as her
husband. We know also that Uter Pendragon died, and that his
son, by Igerna, reigned King of Britain. How Arthur ruled, and
3 1 0 Romances of A rthur.
how he slaughtered all the enemies of Britain, is told in the
chronicles. But even at Tintagel * all is silent respecting the king
or his celebrated Round Table.
" In the days of King Arthur the Mount of Cornwall was kept
by a monstrous giant," is familiar to us all ; and it is curious to
find a tradition that the extirpation of these Titans was due to
Arthur and Christianity, as already related. At Slaughter Bridge
I heard the story, but it did not sound like a tradition ; the true
native character was not in the narrative, — That in 824 the
Cornish and Saxons fought so bloody a battle that the river ran
red with blood. On Slaughter Bridge Arthur is said to have
killed his nephew, Modred, but that, previously to this last fight,
Modred wounded his uncle with a poisoned sword, nearly in front
of Worthy vale House. A single stone laid over a stream, having
some letters cut on its lower surface, is believed to mark the exact
spot where Arthur received his death-wound.
CAMELFORD AND KING ARTHUR.
AT the head of this river Alan is seated Camelford, otherwise
written Galleford, a small town. It was formerly called
Kambton, according to Leland, who tells us that " Arthur, the
British Hector," was slain here, or in the valley near it. He adds,
in support of this, that " pieces of armour, rings, and brass furni-
ture for horses are sometimes digged up here by the countrymen ;
and after so many ages, the tradition of a bloody victory in this
place is still preserved." There are also extant some verses of a
Middle Age poet about " Camels " running with blood after the
battle of Arthur against Modred.f
" Camulus is another name of the god of war, occurring in two
of Gruter's inscriptions." J
Seeing that Arthur's great battles were fought near this town,
and on the banks of the river, may not the names given to the
town and river be derived from Camulus ?
* " I shall offer i conjecture touching the name of this place, which I will not say is
right, but only probable. Tin is the same as Din, Dinas, and Direth, deceit; so that
Tindixel, turned, for easie; pronunciation, to Tintagel, Dindagel, or Daundagel,
signifies Castle of Deceit, which nane might be aptly given to it from the famous deceit
practised here by Uter Pendragon by the help of Merlin's enchantment." — Tonkin.
"Mr Hals says this place is called Donecheniv in 'Domesday Survey.' Dunechine
would mean the fortress of the chasm, corresponding precisely with its situation."—
Da-vies Gilbert.
t Gilbert, vol. ii. p. 402, et seq.
1 Gruter's Collection of Ancient Inscriptions, quoted by J. C Pritchard.
Dameliock Castle. 31
" O'er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roar'd,
High the screaming sea-mew soar'd ;
On Tintagel's topmost tower
Darksome fell the sleety shower ;
Round the rough castle shrilly sung
The whirling blast, and wildly flung
On each tall rampart's thundering side
The surges of the tumbling tide :
When Arthur ranged his red cross ranks
On conscious Camlan's crimson'd banks."
The Grave of King Arthur — WHARTON.
In a Welsh poem it is recited that Arthur, after the battle of
Camlan in Cornwall, was interred in the Abbey of Glastonbury,
before the high altar, without any external mark. Henry II. is
said to have visited the abbey, and to have ordered that the spot
described by the bard should be opened. We are told that at
twenty feet deep they found the body deposited under a large stone,
with Arthur's name inscribed thereon.
Glastonbury Abbey is said to have been founded by Joseph of
Arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of Avolmia
or Avolon.
Bale, in his " Acts of English Votaries," attests to the finding of
the remains of Arthur : —
" In Avallon, anno 1191, there found they the flesh bothe of
Arthur and of hys wyfe Guenever turned all into duste, wythin
theyr comnes of strong oke, the bones only remaynynge. A monke
of the same abbeye, standyng and behouldyng the fine broydinges
of the wommanis heare as yellow as golde there still to remayne.
As a man ravyshed, or more than halfe from his wyttes, he leaped
into the graffe, xv fote depe, to have caugte them sodenlye. But
he fayled of his purpose. For so soon as they were touched they
fell all to powder."
DAMELIOCK CASTLE.
THIS ancient British castle once stood in savage grandeur a
rival to Tintagel. Its ruins, which can scarcely be traced,
are in the parish of St Tudy. Here Gothlois of the Purple Spear,
Earl of Cornwall, fortified himself against Uter Pen dragon's soldiery,
and here he was slain. Gothlois, or Gothlouis, was the husband
of Igerna, who was so cruelly deceived by Uter, and who became
the mother of Arthur.
312 Romances of A rthur.
CARLIAN IN KEA.
ONE of the most celebrated of Arthur's knights, Sir Tristram,
is said to have been born in this parish. A tradition of
this is preserved in the parish, but it is probably derived from the
verses of Thomas of Erceldoune, better known as Thomas the
Rhymer.
SORCERY AND WITCHCRAFT.
And, wow ! Tarn saw an unco sight-
Warlocks and witches in a dance/'
Tarn o'
ROMANCES OF WITCHES, ETC.
THE " CUNNING MAN."
" And as he rode over the more,
Hee see a lady where shee sate
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen ;
She was cladd in red scarlett
" Then there as shold have stood her mouth.
Then there was sett her eye ;
The other was in her forehead fast,
The way that she might see.
" Her nose was crook'd and turn'd outward,
Her mouth stood foule awry ;
A. worse-form'd lady then shee was,
Never man saw with his eye."
The Marriage of Sir Gawaine.
a deep-rooted belief in the power of the witch still
JL lingers in the remote districts of Cornwall, cannot be denied.
A gentleman, who has for many years been actively engaged in a
public capacity, gives me, in reply to some questions which I put
to him relative to a witch or conjurer, much information, which is
embodied in this section.
A " cunning man " was long resident in Bodmin, to whom the
people from all parts of the country went to be relieved of spells,
under the influence of which either themselves or their cattle were
supposed to be suffering. Thomas , who resided at Nans-
tallan, not far from the town of Bodmin, was waylaid, robbed, and
well thrashed on his way home from market. This act, which
was accompanied by some appearance of brutality, was generally
referred to one of the dupes of his cunning. Howbeit, Thomas
appears to have felt that the place was getting too hot for
him, for he migrated to one of the parishes on the western side of
the Fowey river. Numerous instances are within my knowledge
of the belief which existed amongst the peasantry that this man
really possessed the power of removing the effects of witchcraft.
The "Cunning Man" 3 1 5
Thomas took up his abode for some time with a small farmer,
who had lost some cattle. These losses were attributed to the
malign influences of some evil-disposed person ; but as Thomas
failed to detect the individual, he with the farmer made many
journeys to Exeter, to consult the "White Witch," who resided
in that city. Whether the result was satisfactory or otherwise, I
have never learned. Thomas , it must be remembered, was
only a " witch." The term is applied equally to men as to women.
I never heard any uneducated person speak of a "wizard." There
appears to be, however, some very remarkable distinctions between
a male and a female witch. The former is almost always employed
to remove the evil influences exerted by the latter. Witches, such
as Thomas, had but limited power. They could tell who had
been guilty of ill-wishing, but they were powerless to break the
spell and " unbewitch " the sufferer. This was frequently accom-
plished by the friends of the bewitched, who, in concert with
Thomas , would perform certain ceremonies, many of then?
of an obscene, and usually of a blasphemous character. The
" White Witch " was supposed to possess the higher power of
removing the spell, and of punishing the individual by whose
wickedness the wrong had been inflicted.
Jenny Harris was a reputed witch. This woman, old, poor,
and, from the world's ill-usage, rendered malicious, was often
charged with the evils which fell upon cattle, children, or, indeed,
on men and women. On one occasion, a robust and rough-handed
washerwoman, who conceived that she was under the spell of
Jenny Harris, laid violent hands on the aged crone, being resolved
to " bring blood from her." The witch's arm was scratched and
gouged from the elbow to the wrist, so that a sound inch of skin
did not exist. This violent assault became the subject of inquiry
before the magistrates, who fined the washerwoman five pounds
for the assault.
My correspondent writes : — " I was also present at a magis-
trates' meeting at the Porcupine Inn, near Tywardreath, some
years ago, when an old woman from Golant was brought up for
witchcraft. One farmer, who appeared against her, stated that
he had then six bullocks hanging up in chains in his orchard, and
he attributed their disease and death to the poor old woman's
influence. The case was dismissed, but it afforded a good deal
of merriment. There was a dinner at the inn after the meeting,
and some of the farmers present were disposed to ridicule the
idea of witchcraft. I said, well knowing their real views and
opinions, * Gentleman, it is all well enough to l^ugh, but it appears
316 Romances of Witches, etc.
to me to be a serious matter/ Upon which Mr , a farmer of
, said, ' You are right, Mr ; I '11 tell of two cases in
which one family suffered severely,' and he gave us the details of
the cases. All the others present had a case or two, each one
within his own experience to vouch for, and the whole afternoon
was spent telling witch stories."
The extent to which this belief was carried within a compara-
tively recent period, may be inferred from the fact that, on one
occasion when the visitors were assembled at the county asylum,
a man residing at Callington came with the mother of a poor
imbecile patient, and sent his card to the boardroom. This was
inscribed with his name and M.A. Upon being asked how he
became a Master of Arts, he replied that he was a " Master of Black
Arts." The object of this fellow's visit was, having persuaded the
mother of his power, to propose to the visitors that they should
place the imbecile girl in his care, upon his undertaking, on their
paying him five pounds, to cure her. Of course this was not
listened to. This fellow imposed upon people to such an extent
that he was eventually tried at the sessions, under an almost
forgotten Act of Parliament, for witchcraft. The impression on the
mind of my informant is tfot tne case broke down.
NOTES ON WITCHCRAFT.
IN confirmation of the melancholy facts related of the continuance
of the belief in witchcraft, I would give the accompanying
cuttings from the West Briton newspaper of a very recent
date : —
GROSS SUPERSTITION.
" During the week ending Sunday list, a 'wise man ' from Illogan has
been engaged with about half-a-dozen witchcraft cases, one a young trades-
man, and another a sea-captain. It appears that the 'wise man' was in
the first place visited at his home by these deluded people at different
times, and he declared the whole of them to be spell-bound. In one case
he said that if the person had not coine so soon, in about a fortnight he
would have been in the asylum ; another would have had his leg broken ;
and in every case something very direful would have happened. Numer-
ous incantations have been perfonnef • In the case of a captain of a
vessel, a visit was paid to the sea-side?> and while the ' wise man uttered
some unintelligible gibberish, the car^ain had to throw a stone mro the
sea. So heavy was the spell under Which he laboured, and which imme-
diately fell upon the 'wise man,' that the latter pretended that he could
scarcely walk back to Hayle. The m'ost abominable part of the incanta-
tions is performed during the hours of midnight, and for that purpose the
wretch sleeps with his victims, and for five nights following he had five
Witchcraft. 317
different bed-fellows. Having no doubt reaped a pretty good harvest
during the week, he returned to his home on Monday ; but such was the
pretended effect produced by the different spells and witchcraft that tell
upon him from his many dupes, that two of the young men who had been
under his charge were obliged to obtain a horse and cart and carry him to
the Hayle station. One of the men, having had 'two spells ' resting on
him, the ' wise man ' was obliged to sleep with him on Saturday and
Sunday nights, having spent the whole of the Sunday in his diabolical
work. It is time that the police, or some other higher authorities, should
take the matter up, as the person alluded to is well known, and frequently
visited by the ignorant and superstitious."
THE CASE OF GROSS SUPERSTITION AT HAYLE.
" In the West Briton of the 27th ult. we gave some particulars of several
cases of disgraceful fraud and delusion which had been practised by a pre-
tended ' wise man ' from Illogan, and of gross superstition and gullibility
on the part of his dupes. A correspondent has furnished us with the fol-
lowing particulars relative to the antecedents of the pretended conjurer.
He states that James Thomas, the conjurer from the parish of Illogan,
married some time since the late celebrated Tammy Blee, of Redruth, who
afterwards removed to Helston and carried on as a fortune-teller, but
parted from her husband, James Thomas, on account of a warrant for his
apprehension having been issued against him by the magistrates of St Ives,
for attempting to take a spell from Mrs Paynter, through her husband,
William Paynter, who stated before the magistrates that he wanted to
commit a disgraceful offence. Thomas then absconded, and was absent
from the west of Cornwall for upwards of two years. His wife then stated
that the virtue was in her and not in him ; that she was of the real ' Pellar '
blood ; and that he could tell nothing but through her. His greatest dupes
have been at St Just and Hayle, and other parts of the west of Cornwall.
He has been in the habit of receiving money annually for keeping witch-
craft from vessels sailing out of Hayle. He slept with several of his dupes
recently ; and about a fortnight since he stated that he must sleep with
certain young men at Copperhouse, Hayle, in order to protect them from
something that was hanging over them, one of them being a mason and
another a miner, the two latter lately from St Just. He said himself this
week at Truro that he had cured a young man of St Erth, and was going
on Saturday again to take a spell from the father, a tin-smelter. He has
caused a great disturbance amongst the neighbours, by charging some
with having bewitched others. He is a drunken, disgraceful, beastly fellow,
and ought to be sent to the treadmill. One of the young men is now
thoroughly ashamed of himself to think he has been duped so by this scoun-
drel. We have purposely withheld the names of a number of Thomas's
egregious dupes, with which our correspondent has furnished us, believ-
ing that the badgering which they have doubtless received from their friends
has proved a sufficient punishment to them, and that their eyes are now
thoroughly opened to the gross and disgraceful imposture that has been
practised upon them."
The following is from the Western Morning News : —
CALLING A WOMAN A WITCH.
" At the Liskeard police court, on Monday, Harriet King appeared be-
318 Romanes of Witches, etc.
fore the sitting magistrates charged with an assault on Elizabeth Welling-
ton. The complainant had called the mother of defendant a witch, and
said she had ill-wished a person, and the ill wish fell on the cat, and the
cat died. This annoyed the daughter, who retaliated by bad words and
blows. The magistrates expressed surprise at the cause of the assault, but
as that had been proved, they fined defendant is. and the costs, £i in ail."
ILL-WISHING.
I GIVE the following notices as I receive them : — " I caant
altogether exackly bleve in wiches at al," said a good dame
to us ; " but this I can tell ee, our John's wife quarrelled once with
her next door neighbor's wife, and when John come home, like a
husband always should, he took up for his wife, ' northin but
natYl chiel was a.' Well, the woman took a nif, and for a long
time never spoke to our John ; at laast, after a bit, she used to
speak to un, and like as if a was all over, and she used to speak
quite sochebl' like. Well, John alleas was very well when he used
to meet her, but as soon as ever he got underground, he was
tooken ill to wonce ; when a dedn't meet her, a was well enuf.
Well, John was advised to go to the ' Peller/ and off he went to
Helstun sure nuf, and the ' Peller/ towld un to come so many
times in three months, and do something anorther, and towld un
who a was that hoverlooked un, and a was that vere woman.
Well, the « Peller ' towld John that if a dedn't do it, a would very
likely die sudden. Our John, dear fellow, came home, and got
unbelieving, and dedn't do as a v/as towld. Wat was the konsi-
kense ? Why, in less than three months a was a dead man.
Not as I believe the woman 's a witch — no, not I ; but she had a
evil mind, and what 's so bad as a evil mind ? "
" I used to have a woman meeting me," said a fisherman,
" when I went a-fishing ; and she used to wish me * a good
catch ' every time she seed me, and I was always sure to have no
luck whenever I met her; luck used to be good enough other
times. Well, I went to the ' Peller,' and done what he told me I
done, and the woman came and begged my pardon, and my luck
was good enough after that." To what purpose he had been
lucky I could not divine, for he was miserably clad, and I learned
that his family were, like himself, miserable and degraded.
In a certain cordwainer's workshop, which we could name, the
following important information was afforded by a lady customer.
The worthy tradesman was bewailing the loss of a good-sized pig
that had sickened, and being afraid it would die, he had drowned
The«Petter: 319
it, to make its death easier: — "If thee 'st only towld me
afore, tha peg wud a bean wel enuf in a week, I knaw. That peg
wus begruged thee, thas the way a wudn' thrive. I '11 tel ee wat
mi faathur dun wonse. He wont hof to pausans * an' bot a bra
purty letle peg, an' as a wus cumin horn wed'en, a wumun seed
un, an' axed faathur to sell un to hur fur five shelins fur his bargin.
Shaan't sell un, saze faathur. Mite sa wel, saze she, an' off she
went. Faathur tendud un an' tendud un, an' a wudn' grough a
mossel. Wy ? A was begruged, thas wot a was. Wel, faathur
wen' off, an' he wos towld to go horn an fill a botel with waater, an'
berd un in the cawl. Faathur dun so, an' a wuden long afore the
wumun caame to faathur an' axed un wat had a dun by hur, for
she suffered agonies ; an' if heed only forgive hur, she 'd nevur
do so nevur no mure. So faathur went to the cawl hus, an' brok
the botel. She was at wonse relieved, an' the peg got wel enuf
aftur. I can tel ee, ef thee's honle dun that, a wud ben wel enuf,
if a wusn'd pisind."
" Well," said one of the company, " I believe I was ill-wished
once. I had a great beautiful cage, full of pretty canaries. I
hung them out one Sunday morning, and a woman came along
and asked me to let her have one of my birds. ' Yes,' said I,
' for half-a-crown.' She said she shouldn't buy none. I told her
I would not give her one, and off she went. That day week I had
not a bird left ; everybody said they was bethought me, and I
suppose they were ; but this I do know, I lost all my canaries."
Carne, in his " Legend of Pacorra," well expresses the belief in
the power of ill wishes : — " Thriven ! " said the woman, with a
bitter laugh ; " not if my curse could avail, should they thrive ! and
it has availed," she continued, in a lower tone. " You know the
wasting illness that 's fallen on all that cruel faggot, Dame Tredray's
children, that said they ought to thraw me from the head of Tol-
y-pedden, and that I should neither be broken nor drowned ; and
the hard squire of Pendine, that would ha' had me burned in the
great bonfire upon the bicking,t because King Harry had a son
born, — has he ever left his bed since, or will he ever again, ken
ye?"
THE "PELLER."
A MAN who has resided at several places on the south coast
was known by this name. He is said to be in possession
of no end of charms, and to possess powers, of no common order,
over this and the other world. " He is able," writes a friend, " to
* The Parson's. T '1 he Beacon.
320 Romances of Witches, etc.
put ghosts, hobgoblins, and, I believe, even Satan himself, to rest.
I have known farmers well informed in many other matters, and
members of religious bodies, go to the ( Peller ' to have the ' spirits
that possessed the calves ' driven out ; for they, the calves, * were so
wild, they tore down all the wooden fences and gates, and must be
possessed with the devil/
" The ' Peller ' always performs a cure ; but as the evil spirits
must go somewhere, and as it is always to be feared that they may
enter into other calves or pigs, or, it may be, even possess the
bodies of their owners themselves, the * Peller ' makes it imperative
that a stone wall shall be built around the calves, to confine them
for three times seven days, or until the next moon is as old as the
present one. This precaution always results in taming the devils
and the calves, and consequently in curing them — the ' Peller '
usually sending the spirits to some very remote region, and chain-
ing them down under granite rocks."
An old woman had long suffered from debility ; but she and
her friends were satisfied that she had been ill-wished. So she
went to the " Peller." He told her to buy a bullock's heart, and
get a packet of pound pins. She was to stick the heart as full of
pins as she could, and "the body that ill-wished her felt every
pin run into the bullock's heart same as if they had been run into
her." The spell was taken off, and the old woman grew strong.
An old man living on Lady Downs had a lot of money stolen
from his house. He, too, went to the " Peller." In this case the
magician performed the spells, and the man was told the money
would be returned. After a few days, it was so ; the money,
during the night, was tied to the handle of the door, and found
there by the owner in the morning.
BEWITCHED CATTLE.
A FARMER, who possessed broad acres, and who was in many
respects a sensible man, was greatly annoyed to find that his
cattle became diseased in the spring. Nothing could satisfy him but
that they were bewitched, and he was resolved to find out the
person who had cast the evil eye on his oxen. According to an
anciently-prescribed rule, the farmer took one of his bullocks and
bled it to death, catching all the blood on bundles of straw. The
bloody straw was then piled into a heap, and set on fire. Burning
with a vast quantity of smoke the farmer expected to see the witch,
either in reality or in shadow, amidst the smoke.
In this particular case he was to some extent gratified. An old
Cornish Sorcerers. 321
woman who lived in the adjoining village noticing the fire and
smoke, — with all a woman's curiosity, — went to Farmer 's field
to see what was going on. She was instantly pounced on by
this superstitious man, and he would no doubt have seriously ill-
treated her, had not the poor, and now terrified, old soul, who roused
her neighbours by her cries, been rescued by them. Every person
knew this poor woman to be a most inoffensive and good creature,
and consequently the farmer was only laughed at for sacrificing
thus foolishly one of his oxen.
Another farmer living in one of the western parishes was con-
stantly losing his cattle in the spring. Many persons said this was
because they were nearly starved during the winter, but he insisted
upon it that he was ill-wished, and that a blight was upon him.
At length, to break the spell, and discover the witch, he betook
himself to a conjurer (white witch) who lived near the Lizard Point.
This learned person, of whom several other facts are told in these
pages, told the farmer to bleed the next animal when taken ill, and
to receive the blood upon straw, being careful not to lose any of
it. Then the straw and blood were to be burnt, and whilst the
blood was burning he would be certain of seeing the witch pass
through the smoke.
A young steer fell ill first ; it was bled as ordered, the blood
caught upon the straw, and both carefully burnt. While this was
going on, female curiosity induced a poor weak old woman to go
into the field and see what was going on. She was well known to
all, and as guiltless as a child of ill -wishing anybody, but she was
seen through the smoke, darted upon by the farmer, and cruelly
ill-treated.
HOW TO BECOME A WITCH.
POUCH a Logan stone nine times at midnight, and any woman
J- will become a witch. A more certain plan is said to be —
To get on the Giant's Rock at Zennor Church-town nine times
without shaking it. Seeing that this rock was at one time a very
sensitive Logan stone, the task was somewhat difficult.
CORNISH SORCERERS.
THE powers of the sorcerer appear to have been passed on from
father to son through a long succession of generations.
There are many families — the descendants from the ancient Cornish
people — who are even yet supposed to possess remarkable powers of
one kind or another. Several families, which have become extinct,
x
322 Romances of Witclies, etc.
are more especially reputed by tradition to have had dealings with
the bad spirits, and man} of them to have made compacts with the
Evil One himself. Amongst the most curious of the stories once
told, — I believe they are nearly all forgotten, — are those connected
with Pengerswick Castle. A small tower alone remains to note
the site of a once famous fortified place. This castle was said to
have been occupied, in the time of Henry VIII., by a man who
had committed some great crime ; but long previous to that period
the place was famous for its wickedness.*
HOW PENGERSWICK BECAME A SORCERER.
'T^HE first Pengerswick, by whom the castle, which still bears
-L his name, was built, was a proud man, and desired to ally
himself with some of the best families of Cornwall. He wished his
son to wed a lady who was very much older than himself, who is
said to have been connected with the Godolphin family. This
elderly maiden had a violent desire either for the young man or the
castle — it is not very clear which. The young Pengerswick gave
her no return for the manifestations of love which she lavished
upon him. Eventually, finding that all her attempts to win the young
man's love were abortive, and that all the love-potions brewed for
her by the Witch of Fraddam were of no avail, she married the old
lord — mainly, it is said, to be revenged on the son.
The witch had a niece who, though poor, possessed considerable
beauty ; she was called Bitha. This young girl was frequently
employed by her aunt and the lady of Godolphin to aicr them in
their spells on the young Pengerswick, and, as a natural conse-
quence, she fell desperately in love with him herself. Bitha
ingratiated herself with the lady of Pengerswick, now the stepmother
of the young man, and was selected as her maid. This gave her
many opportunities of seeing and speaking to young Pengerswick,
and her passion increased. The old stepdame was still passionately
fond of the young man, and never let a chance escape her which
she thought likely to lead to the excitement of passion in his heart
towards her. In all her attempts she failed. Her love was turned
to hate ; and having seen her stepson in company with Bitha, this
hate was quickened by the more violent jealousy. Every means
which her wicked mind could devise were employed to destroy the
young man. Bitha had learned from her aunt, the Witch of
Fraddam, much of her art, and she devoted herself to counteract
the spells of her mistress.
* See Appendix Y.
The Lord of Pengerswick an Enchanter. 323
The stepmother failing to accomplish her ends, resolved to ruin
young Pengerswick with his father. She persuaded the old man
that his son really entertained a violent passion for her, and that
she was compelled to confine herself to her tower in fear. The
aged woman prevailed on Lord Pengerswick to hire a gang of
outlandish sailors to carry his son away and sell him for a slave,
giving him to believe that she should herself in a short time present
him with an heir.
The young Pengerswick escaped all their plots, and at his own
good time he disappeared from the castle, and for a long period
was never heard of.
The mistress and maid plotted and counter-plotted to secure the
old Pengerswick's wealth ; and when he was on his death-bed,
Bitha informed him of the vile practices of his wife, and consoled
him with the information that he was dying from the effects of
poison given him by her.
The young lord, after long years, returned from some Eastern
lands with a princess for his wife, learned in all the magic sciences
of those enchanted lands. He found his stepmother shut up in
her chamber, with her skin covered with scales like a serpent,* from
the effects of the poisons which she had so often been distilling for
the old lord and his son. She refused to be seen, and eventually
cast herself into the sea, to the relief of all parties.
Bitha fared not much better. She lived on the Downs in St
Hilary ; and from the poisonous fumes she had inhaled, and from
her dealings with the devil, her skin became of the colour of that
of a toad.
THE LORD OF PENGERSWICK AN ENCHANTER.
HP HE Lord of Pengerswick came from some Eastern clime,
-L bringing with him a foreign lady of great beauty. She was
considered by all an " outlandish " woman ; and by many declared
to be a " Saracen." t No one, beyond the selected servants, was
ever allowed within the walls of Pengerswick Castle ; and they, it
was said, were bound by magic spells. No one dared tell of any-
thing transacted within the walls ; consequently all was conjecture
amongst the neighbouring peasantry, miners, and fishermen.
Certain it was, they said, that Pengerswick would shut himself up
for days together in his chamber, burning strange things, which
sent their strong odours, — not only to every part of the castle, —
* See Appendix Z. t See Append^ AA.
324 Romances of W itches ^ etc.
but for miles around the country. Often at night, and especially
in stormy weather, Pengerswick was heard for hours together
calling up the spirits, by reading from his books in some unknown
tongue. On those occasions his voice would roll through the halls
louder than the surging waves which beat against the neighbouring
rocks, the spirits replying like the roar of thunder. Then would
all the servants rush in fright from the building, and remain crowded
together, even in the most tempestuous night, in one of the open
courts. Fearful indeed would be the strife between the man and
the demons ; and it sometimes happened that the spirits were too
powerful for the enchanter. He was, however, constantly and
carefully watched by his wife ; and whenever the strife became too
serious, her harp was heard making the softest, the sweetest music.
At this the spirits fled ; and they were heard passing through the
air towards the Land's-End, moaning like the soughing of a depart-
ing storm. The lights would then be extinguished in the enchanter's
tower, and all would be peace. The servants would return to their
apartments with a feeling of perfect confidence. They feared their
master, but their mistress inspired them with love. Lady Pengers-
wick was never seen beyond the grounds surrounding the castle.
She sat all day in lonely state and pride in her tower, the
lattice-window of her apartment being high on the seaward side.
Her voice accompanying the music of her harp was rarely heard,
but when she warbled the soft love strains of her Eastern land.
Often at early dawn the very fishes of the neighbouring bay would
raise their heads above the surface of the waters, enchanted by the
music and the voice ; and it is said that the mermaids from the
Lizard, and many of the strange spirits of the waters, would come
near to Pengerswick cove, drawn by the same influence. On
moonlight nights the air has often seemed to be full of sound,
and yet the lady's voice was seldom louder than that of a warbling
bird. On these occasions, men have seen thousands of spirits
gliding up and down the moonbeams, and floating idly on the
silvered waves, listening to, and sometimes softly echoing, the
words which Lady Pengerswick sang. Long did this strange
pair inhabit this lonely castle ; and although the Lord ot
Pengerswick frequently rode abroad on a most magnificent horse
— which had the reputation of being of Satanic origin, it was
at once so docile to its master and so wild to any other
person, — yet he made no acquaintance with any of the neighbour-
ing gentry. He was feared by all, and yet they respected him
for many of the good deeds performed by him. He completely
enthralled the Giants of the Mount ; and before he disappeared
The Lord of Pengerswick an Enchanter. 325
from Cornwall, they died, owing, it was said, to grief and want
of food.
Where the Lord of Pengerswick came from, no one knew ; he,
with his lady, with two attendants, who never spoke in any but an
Eastern tongue, which was understood by none around them, made
their appearance one winter's day, mounted on beautiful horses,
evidently from Arabia or some distant land.
They soon — having gold in abundance — got possession of a
cottage ; and in a marvellously short time the castle, which yet
bears his name, was rebuilt by this lord. Many affirm that the
lord by the force of his enchantments, and the lady by the spell
of her voice, compelled the spirits of the earth and air to work
for them ; and that three nights were sufficient to rear an enormous
pile, of which but one tower now remains.
Their coming was sudden and mysterious ; their going was
still more so. Years had rolled on, and the people around were
familiarised with those strange neighbours, from whom also they
derived large profits, since they paid whatsoever price was
demanded for any article which they required. One day a stranger
was seen in Market-Jew, whose face was bronzed by long exposure
to an Eastern sun. No one knew him ; and he eluded the
anxious inquiries of the numerous gossips, who were especially
anxious to learn something of this man, who, it was surmised by
every one, must have some connection with Pengerswick or his
lady ; yet no one could assign any reason for such a supposition.
Week after week passed away, and the stranger remained in the
town, giving no sign. Wonder was on every old woman's lips,
and expressed in every old man's eyes ; but they had to wonder
on. One thing, it was said, had been noticed ; and this seemed
to confirm the suspicions of the people. The stranger wandered
out on dark nights — spent them, it was thought on the sea-shore ;
and some fishermen said they had seen him seated on the rock at
the entrance of the valley of Pengerswick. It was thought that
the lord kept more at home than usual, and of late no one had
heard his incantation songs and sounds ; neither had they heard
the harp of the lady. A very tempestuous night, singular for its
gloom — when even the ordinary light, which, on the darkest night,
is evident to the traveller in the open country, did not exist —
appears to have brought things to their climax. There was a
sudden alarm in Market-Jew, a red glare in the eastern sky, and
presently a burst of flames above the hill, and St Michael's Mount
was illuminated in a remarkable manner. Pengerswick Castle
was on fire ; the servants fled in terror ; but neither the lord nor
326 Romances of Witches, etc.
his lady could be found. From that day to the present they were
lost to all.
The interior of the castle was entirely destroyed ; not a vestige
of furniture, books, or anything belonging to the " Enchanter "
could be found. He and everything belonging to him had vanished,
and, strange to tell, from that night the bronzed stranger was
never again seen. The inhabitants of Market-Jew naturally
crowded to the fire ; and when all was over they returned to their
homes, speculating on the strange occurrences of the night. Two
of the oldest people always declared that, when the flames were at
the highest, they saw two men and a lady floating in the midst of
the fire, and that they ascended from amidst the falling walls,
passed through the air like lightning, and disappeared.
THE WITCH OF FRADDAM AND THE ENCHANTER
OF PENGERS WICK.
AGAIN and again had the Lord of Pengerswick reversed the
spells of the Witch of Fraddam, who was reported to be
the most powerful weird woman in the west country. She had
been thwarted so many times by this " white witch," that she
resolved to destroy him by some magic more potent than anything
yet heard of. It is said that she betook herself to Kynance
Cove, and that there she raised the devil by her incantations, and
that she pledged her soul to him in return for the aid he promised.
The enchanter's famous mare was to be seduced to drink from a
tub of poisoned water placed by the road-side, the effect of which
was to render her in the highest degree restive, and cause her to
fling her rider. The wounded Lord of Pengerswick was, in his
agony, to be drenched by the old witch, with some hell-broth,
brewed in the blackest night, under the most evil aspects of the
stars ; by this he would be in her power for ever, and she might
torment him as she pleased. The devil felt certain of securing
the soul of the witch of Fraddam, but he was less certain of secur-
ing that of the enchanter. They say, indeed, that the sorcery
which Pengerswick learned in the East was so potent, that the
devil feared him. However, as the proverb is, he held with the
hounds and ran with the hare. The witch collected with the
utmost care all the deadly things she could obtain, with which to
brew her famous drink. In the darkest night, in the midst of the
wildest storms, amidst the flashings of lightnings and the bellow-
ings of the thunder, the witch was seen riding on her black ram-
oat over the moors and mountains in search ot her poisons. At
The Witch of Fraddam. 327
length all was complete — the horse-drink was boiled, the hell-
broth was brewed. It was in March, about the time of the
equinox ; the night was dark, and the King of Storms was abroad.
The witch planted her tub of drink in a dark lane, through which
she knew the Lord of Pengerswick must pass, and near to it she
sat, croning over her crock of broth. The witch-woman had not
long to wait ; amidst the hurrying winds was heard the heavy
tramp of the enchanter's mare, and soon she perceived the outline
of man and horse defined sharply against the line of lurid light
which stretched along the western horizon. On they came ; the
witch was scarcely able to contain herself — her joy and her fears,
struggling one with the other, almost overpowered her. On came
the horse and her rider : they neared the tub of drink ; the mare
snorted loudly, and her eyes flashed fire as she looked at the black
tub by the road-side. Pengerswick bent him over the horse's neck
and whispered into her ear ; she turns round, and flinging out
her heels, with one kick she scattered all to the wild winds. The
tub flew before the blow ; it rushed against the crock, which it
overturned, and striking against the legs of the old Witch of
Fraddam, she fell along with the tub, which assumed the shape
of a coffin. Her terror was extreme : she who thought to have
unhorsed the conjurer, found herself in a carriage for which she
did not bargain. The enchanter raised his voice and gave utter-
ance to some wild words in an unknown tongue, at which even
his terrible mare trembled. A whirlwind arose, and the devil was
in the midst of it. He took the coffin in which lay the terrified
witch high into the air, and the crock followed them. The
derisive laughter of Pengerswick, and the savage neighing of the
horse, were heard above the roar of the winds. At length, with a
satisfied tone, he exclaimed, " She is settled till the day of doom,"
gave the mare the spurs, and rode rapidly home.
The Witch of Fraddam still floats up and down, over the seas,
around the coast, in her coffin, followed by the crock, which seems
like a punt in attendance on a jolly-boat. She still works
mischief, stirring up the sea with her ladle and broom till the
waves swell into mountains, which heave off from their crests so
much mist and foam, that these wild wanderers of the winds can
scarcely be seen through the mist. Woe to the mariner who
sees- the witch !
The Lord of Pengerswick alone had power over her. He had
but to stand on his tower, and blow three blasts on his trumpet,
to summon her to the shore, and compel her to peace.
328 Romances of Witches, etc.
TREWA, OR TREWE, THE HOME OF WITCHES.
AS we walk from Nancledrea Bottoms towards Zennor we pass
Trewa (pronounced Truee), which is said to have been
the place where at Midsummer all the witches of the west met.
Here are the remains of very ancient tin stream works, and these,
I was informed, " were the remains of bals which had been worked
before the deluge ; there was nothing so old anywhere else in
Cornwall." Around us, on the hill-sides and up the bottoms,
huge boulders of granite are most fantastically scattered. All
these rocks sprang from the ground at the call of the giants. At
Embla Green we still see the ruins of the Giant's House, but all
we know of this Titan is that he was the king. On one side we
have the « Giant's Well," and not far off the "Druid's Well/' and
a little before us is Zennor coit or cromlech.
From this point the scenery is of the wildest description. The
granite cairns are spread around in every direction, and many of
those masses are so strangely fashioned by the atmospheric
influences ever acting on them, that fancy can readily fashion
them into tombs and temples. Rock basins abound on these
hills, and of ruined cromlechs there are many. Whatever the
local historians may say, local traditions assure us that on Mid-
summer Eve all the witches in Penwith gathered here, and that
they lit fires on every cromlech, and in every rock basin, until the
hills were alive with flame, and renewed their vows to the evil
ones from whom they derived their power. Hence, to this day
this place is called Burn Downs. Amidst these rock masses there
was one pile remarkable amidst all the others for its size, and —
being formed of cubical masses — for its square character. This was
known as the Witches' Rock, and here it was said they assembled
at midnight to carry on their wicked deeds. This rock has been
removed, and with it the witches have died ; the last real witch
in Zennor having passed away, as I have been told, about thirty
years since, and with her, some say, the fairies fled. I have,
however, many reasons for believing that our little friends have
still a few haunts in this locality. There is but one reason why
we should regret the disappearance of the Witches' Rock. Any
one touching this rock nine times at midnight was insured against
bad luck.
The Witches of the Logan Stone. 329
KENIDZHEK WITCH.
ON the tract called the " Gump," near Kenidzhek, is a beauti-
ful well of clear water, not far from which was a miner's
cot, in which dwelt two miners with their sister. They told her
never to go to the well after daylight ; they would fetch the water
for her. However, on one Saturday night she had forgotten to get
in a supply for the morrow, so she went off to the well. Passing
by a gap in a broken-down hedge (called a gurgo} near the well,
she saw an old woman sitting down, wrapped in a red shawl ; she
asked her what she did there at that time of night, but received
no reply ; she thought this rather strange, but plunged her pitcher
in the well ; when she drew it up, though a perfectly sound vessel,
it contained no water ; she tried again and again, and, though she
saw the water rushing in at the mouth of the pitcher, it was sure
to be empty when lifted out. She then became rather frightened ;
spoke again to the old woman, but receiving no answer, hastened
away, and came in great alarm to her brothers. They told her
that it was on account of this old woman they did not wish her
to go to the well at night. What she saw was the ghost of old
Moll, a witch who had been a great terror to the people in her
lifetime, and had laid many fearful spells on them. They said
they saw her sitting in the gap by the wall every night when going
to bed.
THE WITCHES OF THE LOGAN STONE.
WHO that has travelled into Cornwall but has visited the
Logan Stone ? Numerous Logan rocks exist on the
granite hills of the county, but that remarkable mass which is
poised on the cubical masses forming its Cyclopean support, at
Trereen, is beyond all others " The Logan Stone."
A more sublime spot could not have been chosen by the Bar-
dic priesthood for any ordeal connected with their worship ; and
even admitting that nature may have disposed the huge mass to
wear away, so as to rest delicately poised on a pivot, it is highly
probable that the wild worship of the untrained tribes, who had
passed to those islands from the shores of the Mediterranean Sea,
may have led them to believe that some superhuman power be-
longed to such a strangely -balanced mass of rock.
Nothing can be more certain than that through all time, pass-
ing on from father to son, there has been a wild reverence of this
mass of rock ; and long after the days when the Druid ceased to be
33O Romances of Witches, etc.
there is every reason for believing that the Christian priests, if they
did not encourage, did not forbid, the use of this and similar rocks
to be used as places of ordeal by the uneducated and superstitious
people around.
Hence the mass of rock on which is poised the Logan Stone
has ever been connected with the supernatural. To the south of
the Logan Rock is a high peak of granite, towering above the
other rocks ; this is known as the Castle Peak.
No one can say for how long a period, but most certainly for
ages, this peak has been the midnight rendezvous for witches.
Many a man, and woman too, now sleeping quietly in the church-
yard of St Levan, would, had they the power, attest to have seen
the witches flying into the Castle Peak on moonlight nights,
mounted on the stems of the ragwort (SenScio Jacobaza Linn.\
and bringing with them the things necessary to make their
charms potent and strong.
This place was long noted as the gathering place of the army
of witches who took their departure for Wales, where they would
luxuriate at the most favoured seasons of the year upon the milk
of the Welshmen's cows. From this peak many a struggling ship
has been watched by a malignant crone, while she has been brew-
ing the tempest to destroy it ; and many a rejoicing chorus has
been echoed, in horror, by the cliffs around, when the witches
have been croaking their miserable delight over the perishing
crews, as they have watched man, woman, and child drowning,
whom they were presently to rob of the treasures they were bring-
ing home from other lands.
Upon the rocks behind the Logan Rock it would appear that
every kind of mischief which can befall man or beast was once
brewed by the St Levan witches.
MADGY FIGGY'S CHAIR.
ALL those who have visited the fine piles of rocks in the
vicinity of the so-called " St Levan," Land's-End, called
Tol-Pedden-Penwith, — and infinitely finer than anything immedi-
ately surrounding the most western promontory itself, — cannot
have failed to notice the arrangement of cubical masses of granite
piled one upon the other, known as the Chair Ladder.
This remarkable pile presents to the beat of the Atlantic waves
a sheer face of cliff of very considerable height, standing up like
a huge basaltic column, or a pillar built by the Titans, the hori-
zontal joints representing so many steps in the so-called " Ladder,"
Madgy Piggy's Chair. 331
On the top is placed a stone of somewhat remarkable shape, which
is by no great effort of the imagination converted into a chair.
There it was that Madgy Figgy, one of the most celebrated of the
St Levan and Burian witches, was in the habit of seating herself
when she desired to call up to her aid the spirits of the storm.
Often has she been seen swinging herself to and fro on this dizzy
height when a storm has been coming home upon the shores,
and richly-laden vessels have been struggling with the winds.
From this spot she poured forth her imprecations on man and
beast, and none whom she had offended could escape those
withering spells ; and from this " chair," which will ever bear
her name, Madgy Figgy would always take her flight. Often,
starting like some huge bird, mounted on a stem of ragwort,
Figgy has headed a band of inferior witches, and gone off rejoicing
in their iniquities to Wales or Spain.
This old hag lived in a cottage not far from Raftra, and she
and all her gang, which appears to have been a pretty numerous
crew, were notorious wreckers. On one occasion, Madgy from
her seat of storms lured a Portuguese Indiaman into Perloe Cove,
and drowned all the passengers. As they were washed on shore,
the bodies were stripped of everything valuable, and buried by
Figgy and her husband in the green hollow, which may yet be
seen just above Perloe Cove, marking the graves with a rough
stone placed at the head of the corpse. The spoils on this occa-
sion must have been large, for all the women were supplied for
years with rich dresses, and costly jewels were seen decking the
red arms of the girls who laboured in the fields. For a long time
gems and gold continued to be found on the sands. Howbeit,
amongst the bodies thrown ashore was one of a lady richly dressed,
with chains of gold about her. " Rich and rare were the gems
she wore/' and not only so, but valuable treasure was fastened
around her, she evidently hoping, if saved, to secure some of her
property. This body, like all the others, was stripped ; but Figgy
said there was a mark on it which boded them evil, and she
would not allow any of the gold or gems to be divided, as it would
be sure to bring bad luck if it were separated. A dreadful
quarrel ensued, and bloodshed was threatened ; but the diabolical
old Figgy was more than a match for any of the men, and the
power of her impetuous will was superior to them all.
Everything of value, therefore, belonging to this lady was
gathered into a heap, and placed in a chest in Madgy Figgy's hut.
They buried the Portuguese lady the same evening ; and after
dark a light was seen to rise from the grave, pas^ along the cliffs,
332 Romances of Witches, etc.
and seat itself in Madgy's chair at Tol-Pedden. Then, after some
hours, it descended, passed back again, and, entering the cottage,
rested upon the chest. This curious phenomenon continued for
more than three months, — nightly, — much to the alarm of all but
Figgy, who said she knew all about it, and it would be all right in
time. One day a strange-looking and strangely-attired man
arrived at the cottage. Figgy's man (her husband) was at home
alone. To him the stranger addressed himself by signs, — he could
not speak English, so he does not appear to have spoken at all,
— and expressed a wish to be led to the graves. Away they went,
but the foreigner did not appear to require a guide. He at once
selected the. grave of the lady, and sitting down upon it, he gave
vent to his pent-up sorrows. He sent Figgy's man away, and re-
mained there till night, when the light arose from the grave more
brilliant than ever, and proceeded directly to the hut, resting as
usual on the chest, which was now covered up with old sails, and
all kinds of fishermen's lumber.
The foreigner swept these things aside, and opened the chest.
He selected everything belonging to the lady, refusing to take any
of the other valuables. He rewarded the wreckers with costly
gifts, and left them — no one knowing from whence he came nor
whither he went. Madgy Figgy was now truly triumphant. " One
witch knows another witch, dead or living," she would say ; " and
the African would have been the death of us if we hadn't kept
the treasure, whereas now we have good gifts, and no gainsaying
;em." Some do say they have seen the light in Madgy Figgy's
chair since those times.
OLD MADGE FIGGEY AND THE PIG.
MADGE FIGGEY once lived in St Leven, but she removed
to Burian Church-town. She had a neighbour, Tom
Trenoweth, who had a very fine sow, and the old creature took it
into her head to desire this sow. The pig was worth a pound of
any man's money, but Madge offered Tom five shillings for it.
" No," says Tom, " I shan't sell the sow to you, nor to anybody
else. I am going to put her in the house, and feed her for myself
against winter."
" Well," said old Madge, nodding her head, and shaking her
finger at Tom, " you will wish you had."
From that time the sow ceased to "goody" (thrive). The
more corn the sow ate, the leaner she became. Old Madge came
again, " Will ye sell her now, Tom ? "
Old Madge Figgey and the Pig. 333
" No ! and be to you," said Tom.
" Arreah, Tom ! you will wish you had, before another week is
ended, I can tell ye."
By next week the sow was gone to skin and bone, yet eating all
the time meat enough for three.
At last Tom took the sow out of the house, and prepared to
drive her to Penzance market, and sell her for what she would
fetch.
The rope was put round her leg, but more for fashion's sake
than anything else. The poor pig could scarcely stand on her
legs, consequently there was little chance of her running away.
Well, Tom and his pig were no sooner on the highroad than the
sow set off like a greyhound, and never stopped, racing over hedges
and ditches, until she reached Leah Lanes. Tom kept hold of
the rope till his arm was almost dragged from his body, and he
was fairly " out of breath." He dropped the rope, piggy went on
" as quiet as a lamb," but only the way which pleased her best. At
last Tom and the sow arrived at Tregenebris Downs. At the
corner of the roads, where they divide, — one going to Sancreed,
and the other to Penzance, — Tom again laid hold of the rope, and
said to himself, " I '11 surely get thee to Penzance yet."
The moment they came to the market-road, the sow made a
bolt, jerked the rope out of Tom's hand, and ran off at full speed,
never stopping until she got in under Tregenebris Bridge. Now
that bridge is more like a long drain — locally a bolt — than anything
else, and is smallest in the middle ; so when the sow got half way
in, she stuck fast ; she couldn't go forward — she wouldn't come
back. Tom fired all the stones he could find — first at the pig's
head, and then at her tail — and all he got for his pains was a grunt.
There he stopped, watching the sow till near sunset ; he had eaten
nothing since five in the morning, and was starving. He saw no
chance of getting the sow out, so he swore at her, and prepared
to go home, when who should come by but old Madge Figgey,
with her stick in one hand and basket in the other.
" Why, Tom, is that you ? What in the world are ye doing
here at this time o' day ? "
" Well," says Tom, " I 'm cussed if I can tell ; look under the
bridge, if you 're a mind to know."
" Why, I hear the sow grunting, I declare. What will ye sell
her for now ? "
" If you can get her out, take her," says Tom; " but hast anything
to eat in your basket ? "
Madge gave him a twopenny loaf.
334 Romances of Witches, etc.
11 Thank ye," says Tom. " Now the devil take the both of
ye!"
" Cheat ! cheat ! cheat ! " says Madge. Out came the sow,
and followed her home like a dog.
MADAM NOY AND OLD JOAN.
THEY say that, a long time since, there lived an old witch
down by Alsia Mill, called Joan. Everybody feared to
offend the old woman, and gave her everything she looked for,
except Madam Noy, who lived in Pendrea.
Madam Noy had some beautiful hens of a new sort, with "cops"
on their heads.
One morning early, Joan comes up to Pendrea, so as to catch
Madam Noy going out into the farmyard, with her basket of corn
to feed her poultry, and to collect the eggs.
Joan comes up nodding and curtsying every step. " Good
morrow to your honour ; how well you are looking, Madam Noy !
and, oh, what beautiful hens ! I ;ve got an old hen that I do want
to set ; will you sell me a dozen of eggs ? Those with the ' cops '
I 'd like to have best."
Madam turned round half offended, and said, " I have none to
sell, neither with the cops nor yet without the cops, whilst I have so
many old clucking hens about, and hardly an egg to be found."
" You surely wouldn't send me home empty as I came, madam
dear ? "
" You may go home the same way you came, for you aren't
wanted here."
" Now," croaked Joan, hoarse with passion, " as true as I tell
you so, if you don't sell me some eggs, you will wish your cakes
dough."
As the old witch said this, she perched herself on the stile,
shaking her ringer and " nodling " her head.
Madam Noy was a bit of a virago herself, so she took up a
stone and flung it at Joan ; it hit her in the face, and made her
jaws rattle.
As soon as she recovered, she spinned forth : —
" Madam Noy, you ugly old bitch,
You shall have the gout, the palsy, and itch ;
All the eggs your hens lay henceforth shall be addle ;
All your hens have the pip, and die with the straddle;
And ere I with the mighty fine madam have done,
Of her favourite ' coppies' she shan't possess one."
The Witch of Treva. 335
From that day forward, madam was always afflicted. The doctor
from Penzance could do little for her. The fowls' eggs were
always bad ; the hens died, and madam lost all her " coppies."
This is the way it came about — in the place of cops the brains
came out — and all by the spells of old Joan.
This forms the subject of one of the old Cornish drolls, which
ran in an irregular jingle, such as the above, and was half sung,
half said by the droll-teller.
THE WITCH OF TREVA.
ONCE on a time, long ago, there lived at Treva, a hamlet in
Zennor, a wonderful old lady deeply skilled in necromancy.
Her charms, spells, and dark incantations made her the terror of
the neighbourhood. However, this old lady failed to impress her
husband with any belief in her supernatural powers, nor did he fail
to proclaim his unbelief aloud.
One day this sceptic came home to dinner, and found, being
exceedingly hungry, to his bitter disappointment, that not only
was there no dinner to eat, but that there was no meat in the
house. His rage was great, but all he could get from his wife
was, " I couldn't get meat out of the stones, could I ? " It was in
vain to give the reins to passion, the old woman told him, and he
must know " that hard words buttered no parsnips." Well, at
length he resolved to put his wife's powers to the proof, and he
quietly but determinedly told her that he would be the death of
her if she did not get him some dinner ; but if in half an hour she
gave him some good cooked meat, he would believe all she had
boasted of her power, and be submissive to her for ever. St Ives,
the nearest market-town, was five miles off ; but nothing doubting,
the witch put on her bonnet and cloak, and started. Her husband
watched her from their cottage door, down the hill ; and at the
bottom of the hill, he saw his wife quietly place herself on the
ground and disappear. In her place a fine hare ran on at its full
speed.
He was not a little startled, but he waited, and within the half-
hour in walked his wife with " good flesh and taties all ready for
aiting." There was no longer any doubt, and the poor husband
lived in fear of the witch of Treva to the day of her death.
This event took place after a few years, and it is said the room
was full of evil spirits, and that the old woman's shrieks were
awful to hear. Howbeit, peace in the shape of pale-faced death
336 Romances of Witches, etc.
came to her at last, and then a black cloud rested over the house
when all the heavens were clear and blue.
She was borne to the grave by six aged men, carried, as is
the custom, underhand. When they were about half way between
the house and the church, a hare started from the roadside and
leaped over the coffin. The terrified bearers let the corpse fall to
the ground, and ran away. Another lot of men took up the coffin
and proceeded. They had not gone far when puss was suddenly
seen seated on the coffin, and again the coffin was abandoned.
After long consultation, and being persuaded by the parson to carry
the old woman very quickly into the churchyard, while he walked
before, six others made the attempt, and as the parson never
ceased to repeat the Lord's Prayer, all went on quietly. Arrived
at the church stile, they rested the corpse, the parson paused to
commence the ordinary burial service, and there stood the hare,
which, as soon as the clergyman began " I am the resurrection
and the life," uttered a diabolical howl, changed into a black, un-
shapen creature, and disappeared.
HOW MR LENINE GAVE UP COURTING.
MR LENINE had been, as was his wont, spending his even-
ing hours with the lady of his love. He was a timid man,
and always returned to Tregenebris early. Beyond this, as the
lady was alone, she deemed it prudent to let the world know that
Mr Lenine left her by daylight.
One evening, it was scarcely yet dark, and our lover was re-
turning home through Leah Lanes. His horse started at an old
woman, who had crept under the hedge for shelter from a passing
shower. As Mr Lenine saw a figure moving in the shade he was
terrified.
" Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho," sang an owl.
" It 's only me — Mr Lenine of Tregenebris/' said he, putting
the spurs to his horse.
Something followed him, fast as he might go, and he forced
his horse up the hill by Leah vean.
" Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho," sang the owl.
" It 's only me — Aunt Betty Foss," screamed the old woman.
" Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho, ho," sang the owl again.
" Don't ye be afeared, Mr Lenine," shrieked Aunt Betty, almost
out of breath.
" Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho, ho, ho," also shrieked the owl.
The Witch and the Toad. 337
" Oh, it Js only John Lenine of Tregenebris," stammered the
frightened lover, who had, however, reached home.
He went no more a-courting. He was fully persuaded that
either a highwayman and his crew, or the devil and his imps, were
upon him. He died a bachelor, and the charming lady became a
peevish old maid, and died in solitude ; all owing to the hooting
owl.
Some do say Betty Foss was a witch, and the owl her familiar.
THE WITCH AND THE TOAD.
AN old woman called Alsey — usually Aunt Alsey — occupied a
small cottage in Anthony, one of a row which belonged to
a tradesman living in Dock — as Devonport was then designated
to distinguish it from Plymouth. The old woman possessed a
very violent temper, and this, more than anything else, fixed upon
her the character of being a witch. Her landlord had frequently
sought his rent, and as frequently he received nothing but abuse.
He had, on the special occasion to which our narrative refers,
crossed the Tamar and walked to Anthony, with the firm resolve
of securing his rent, now long in arrear, and of turning the old
termagant out of the cottage. A violent scene ensued, and. the
vicious old woman, more than a match for a really kind-hearted
and quiet man, remained the mistress of the situation. She seated
herself in the door of her cottage and cursed her landlord's wife,
" the child she was carrying," and all belonging to him, with so
devilish a spite that Mr owned he was fairly driven away in
terror.
On returning home, he, of course, told his wife all the circum-
stances ; and while they were discoursing on the subject, — the
whole story being attentively listened to by their daughter, then a
young girl, who is my informant, — a woman came into the shop
requiring some articles which they sold.
" Sit still, father," said Mrs to her husband ; " you must be
tired. I will see to the shop."
So she went from the parlour into the shop, and, hearing the
wants of her customer, proceeded to supply them; gossiping
gaily, as was her wont, to interest the buyer.
Mrs was weighing one of the articles required, when some-
thing falling heavily from the ceiling of the shop, struck the beam
out of her hand, and both — the falling body and the scales — came
together with much noise on to the counter. A^the same instant
Y
338 Romances of Witches, etc.
both women screamed ; — the shopkeeper calling also " Father !
father ! " — meaning her husband thereby — with great energy.
Mr and his daughter were in the shop instantly, and there,
on the counter, they saw an enormous and most ugly toad sprawl-
ing amidst the chains of the scales. The first action of the man
was to run back to the parlour, seize the tongs, and return to the
shop. He grasped the swollen toad with the tongs, the vicious
creature spitting all the time, and, without a word, he went back
and flung it behind the block of wood which was burning in the
grate. The object of terror being removed, the wife, who was
shortly to become the mother of another child, though usually a
woman who had great command over her feelings, fainted.
This circumstance demanding all their attention, the toad was
forgotten. The shock was a severe one ; and although Mrs was
restored in a little time to her senses, she again and again became
faint. Those fits continuing, her medical attendant, Dr was
sent for, and on his arrival he ordered that his patient should be
immediately placed in bed, and the husband was informed that he
must be prepared for a premature birth.
The anxiety occasioned by these circumstances, and the desire
to afford every relief to his wife, so fully occupied Mr , that for
an hour or two he entirely forgot the cause of all this mischief ; or,
perhaps satisfying himself that the toad was burnt to ashes, he had
no curiosity to look after it. He was, however, suddenly summoned
from the bedroom, in which he was with his wife, by his daughter
calling to him, in a voice of terror —
" O father, the toad, the toad ! "
Mr rushed down -stairs, and he then discovered that the
toad, though severely burnt, had escaped destruction. It must have
crawled up over the log of wood, and from it have fallen down
amongst the ashes. There it was now making useless struggles to
escape, by climbing over the fender.
The tongs were again put in requisition, with the intention
this time of carrying the reptile out of the house. Before, how-
ever, he had time to do so, a man from Anthony came hastily into
the shop with the information that Aunt Alsey had fallen into the
fire, as the people supposed, in a fit, and that she was nearly burnt
to death. This man had been sent off with two commissions —
one to fetch the doctor, and the other to bring Mr with him,
as much of the cottage had been injured by fire, communicated to
it by the old woman's dress.
In as short a time as possible the parish surgeon and Mr
were at Anthony, and too truly they found the old woman most
The Sailor Wizard. 339
severely burnt — so seriously, indeed, there was no chance that
one so aged could rally from the shock which her system must have
received. However, a litter was carefully prepared, the old woman
was placed in it, and carried to the workhouse. Every attention
was given to her situation, but she never recovered perfect con-
sciousness, and during the night she died.
The toad, which we left inside the fender in front of a blazing
fire, was removed from a position so trying to any cold-blooded
animal, by the servant, and thrown, with a " hugh " and a shudder,
upon one of the flower-beds in the small garden behind the house.
There it lay the next morning dead, and when examined by
Mr , it was found that all the injuries sustained by the toad
corresponded with those received by the poor old wretch, who had
no doubt fallen a victim to passion.
As we have only to deal with the mysterious relation which
existed between the witch and the toad, it is not necessary that
we should attend further to the innocent victim of an old woman's
vengeance, than to say that eventually a babe was born — that that
babe grew to be a handsome man, was an officer in the navy, and
having married, went to sea, and perished, leaving a widow with
an unborn child to lament his loss. Whether this was a result of
the witch's curse, those who are more deeply skilled in witchcraft
than I am may perhaps tell.
THE SAILOR WIZARD,
HPHIS appears to have been, and it may still be, a very common
J- superstition. I have lately received from Mr T. Q. Couch
of Bodmin the story of some sailors, who had reason to suspect
that one of their body was a wizard. This was eventually proved
to have been the case, by circumstances in every way resembling
those of our old witch. There had been a quarrel, and revenge
had been talked of. The sailors were all grouped together in the
forepart of the ship, except the suspected one, and a toad fell
sprawling amongst them. One of the men flung the creature into
the fire in the caboose. It struggled for a moment in the fire, and
then by a convulsive effort flung itself out. Immediately the tcad
was caught up by one of the men, and flung into the sea.
In the course of some little time the absent sailor made his ap-
pearance dripping wet. In a drunken frolic he had first fallen into
the fire at a low beer shop or " Kiddle-e-wink," and subsequently
he fell out of the boat into the sea.
THE MINERS.
* To us our Queen, who, in the central earth,
Midst fiery lavas or basaltine seas,
Deep-throned the illimitable waste enjoys,
Enormous solitude, has given these
Her subterraneous realms ; bids us dwell here,
In the abyss of darkness, and exert
Immortal alchymy.
" Each devious cleft, each secret cell explore,
And from its fissures draw the ductile ore."
The Mine: a Dramatic Poem —
JOHN SARGENT.
ROMANCES OF THE MINERS.
TRADITIONS OF TINNERS.
" An ancient story I Ml tell you anon,
Which is older by far than the days of King John ;
But this you should know, that that red-robed sinner
Robb'd the Jew of the gold he had made as a tinner."
Old Cornish Song.
THERE is scarcely a spot in Cornwall where tin is at present
found, that has not been worked over by the " old men," as
the ancient miners are always called.
Every valley has been " streamed " — that is, the deposits have
been washed for tin ; over every hill where now a tin mine appears,
there are evidences, many of them most extensive, of actual min-
ing operations having been carried on to as great a depth as was
possible in the days when the appliances of science were unknown.
Wherever the " streamer " has been, upon whatever spot the
old miner has worked, there we are told the " Finician " (Phoeni-
cian] has been, or the Jew has mined.*
There is much confusion in these traditions. The Jew, and the
Saracen, and the Phoenician are regarded as terms applied to the
same people. Whereas the Phoenicians, who are recorded to have
traded with the Cornish Britons for tin, and the Jews, who were
the great tin miners and merchants in the days of King John, are
separated by wide periods of time ; and the " Saracens/' whom
some suppose to have been miners who came from Spain when
that country was under the dominion of the Moors, occupy a very
undefined position. Tradition, however, tells us that the old
Cornish miners shipped their tin at several remarkable islands
* "They maintaine these works to have been verie auncient, and first wrought by the
Jewes with Pickaxes of Holme-Boxe and Hartshorne. They prove this l>y the name of
those places yet enduring, to wit, Attall Sarazin> in English, the Jetves Offcast, and by
those tooles daily found amongst the rubble of such workes." — Survey of Cornwall.
Carew. (Appendix, AA.)
342 Romances of the Miners.
round the coast. St Michael's Mount has been especially noticed,
but this arises from the circumstance that it still retains the pecu-
liar character which it appears to have possessed when Diodorus
wrote. But Looe Island, St Nicholas's Island in Plymouth Sound,
the island at St Ives, the Chapel Rock at Perran, and many other
insular masses of rock, which are at but a short distance from the
coast, are said to have been shipping-places.
Tradition informs us that the Christian churches upon Dart-
moor, which are said to have been built about the reign of John,
were reared by the Jews. Once, and once only, I heard the story
told in more detail. They, the Jews, did not actually work in the
tin streams and mines of the Moor, but they employed tinners,
who were Christians ; and the king imposed on the Jew merchants
the condition that they should build churches for their miners.
That the Phoenicians came to Cornwall to buy tin has been so
often told that there is little to be added to the story. It was
certainly new, however, to be informed by the miners in Gwennap
— that there could be no shade of doubt but that St Paul himself
came to Cornwall to buy tin, and that Creekbraws — a mine still in
existence — supplied the saint largely with that valuable mineral.
Gwennap is regarded by Gwennap men as the centre of Chris-
tianity. This feeling has been kept alive by the annual meeting
of the Wesleyan body in Gwennap Pit — an old mine-working —
on Whitmonday. This high estate and privilege is due, says tradi-
tion, to the fact that St Paul himself preached in the parish.*
I have also been told that St Paul preached to the tinners on
Dartmoor, and a certain cross on the road from Plympton to
Princes-Town has been indicated as the spot upon which the saint
stood to enlighten the benighted miners of this wild region. Of
St Piran or Perran we have already spoken as the patron saint of
the tinners, and of the discovery of tin a story has been told (p.
274) ; and we have already intimated that another saint, whose
name alone is preserved, St Picrous, has his feast-day amongst
the tinners of eastern Cornwall, on the second Thursday before
Christmas.
Amidst the giant stories we have the very remarkable Jack the
Tinker, who is clearly indicated as introducing the knowledge of
tin, or of the dressing of tin, to the Cornish. This is another
version of Wayland Smith, the blacksmith of Berkshire. The
blacksmith of the Berkshire legend reappears in a slightly altered
* Is this supported by the statement of Dr Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, who says,
"The Christian religion was planted in the Island of Great Britain during the time of the
•Pistles, and probably by St Paul"?
Traditions of Tinners. 343
character in Jack the Tinker. In Camden's " Britannia " we read,
relative to Ashdown, in Berkshire : —
" The burial-place of Baereg, the Danish chief who was slain in this fight
(the fight between Alfred and the Danes), is distinguished by a parcel of
stones, less than a mile from the hill, set on edge, enclosing a piece of
ground somewhat raised. On the east side of the southern extremity stand
three squarish flat stones, of about four or five feet over either way, support-
ing a fourth, and now called by the vulgar, WAYLAND SMITH, from an
idle tradition about an invisible smith replacing lost horse-shoes there." —
Goug/i's Camden.
See " Kenilworth," by Sir Walter Scott, who has appropriated Wayland
Smith with excellent effect.
"The Berkshire legend of Wayland Smith ('Wayland Smith,' by W.S.
Singer) is probably but a prototype of Daedalus, Tubal Cain, &c." — Wil-
son's Prehistoric Annals of Scotland.
See also Mr Thomas Wright's Essay on Wayland Smith.
The existence of the terms " Jews' houses," " Jews' tin," " Jews'
leavings," or " attall," and " attall Saracen," prove the connection
of strangers with the Cornish tin mines. The inquiry is too large
to be entered on here. I reserve it for another and more fitting
place. I may, however, remark in passing, that I have no doubt
the Romans were active miners during the period of their posses-
sion ; and many relics which have been found and ascribed to the
Britons are undoubtedly Roman. See further remarks on p. 346,
" Who are the Knockers ? "
Mr Edmonds supposes that he found in a bronze vessel dis-
covered near Marazion a caldron in which tin was refined. In the
first place, a bronze vessel would never have been used for that
purpose — chemical laws are against it ; and in the second place,
it is more than doubtful if ever the " Jews' tin " was subjected to
this process. In all probability, the bronze vessel discovered was
a " Roman camp -kettle." A very full description of bronze
caldrons of this description will be found in "The Archaeology
and Prehistoric Annals of Scotland," by Daniel Wilson, p. 274.
It may not be out of place to insert here the tradition of a very
important application of this metal.
The use of tin as a mordant, for which very large quantities are
now used, is said to have been thus discovered : —
Mr Crutchy, Bankside, married a Scotchwoman. This lady often
told her husband that his scarlet was not equal to one she could
dye. He set her to work. She dyed a skein of worsted in a sauce-
pan, using the same material as her husband, but produced a better
colour. She did not know this was owing to the saucepan's being
tinned, but he detected the fact, and made his fortune as a dyer of
scarlet and Turkey-red. The most important Turkey-red dye-
344 Romances of the Miners.
works are even now in the neighbourhood of Lochlomond ; there-
fore, this Scotchwoman may have been better acquainted with the
process than the stoiy tells.
THE TINNER OF CHYANNOR*
THE village of Trereen, near the Logan Stone, was at one time an
important market-town. Here came all the tin-streamers who
worked from Penberth to the hills, and to protect the place and
the valuable property which was accumulated here, Castle Trereen
was built. Here came — or rather into the cove near it came —
the Tyrian merchants. They were not allowed to advance beyond
the shores, lest they should discover the country from which the
tin was brought. But it is not of them that we have now to tell,
but of a knot of tinners who came from the low country between
Chyannor and Trengothal. These were assembled round the
Garrack Zans, which then stood in fhe centre of the market-place
of Trereen. Times had been bad, and they were consulting
together what they had better do. The " streams " had failed them,
and they believed all the tin was worked out. Some of them
had heard that there was tin in " the country a long way off," some
miles beyond Market-Jew ; but they had but a very dim idea of
the place or of the people. One of them, who, though an old man,
was more adventurous than any of his comrades, said he would
travel there and see what could be done. It was then determined
that Tom Trezidder should try his fortune, and the others would
wait until he came home again, or sent for them to come to him.
This was soon noised about, and all the women, old and young,
came to say " Good-bye " to Tom. His parting with his wife was
brief but bitter. He bore up well, and with a stout heart started
on his adventure. Tom Trezidder arrived at length at a place not
far from Goldsythney, and here he found one of the Jew mer-
chants, who farmed the tin ground, and sold the tin at St Michael's
Mount ; and the Jew was very anxious to engage so experienced a
" streamer " as Tom was. Tom, nothing loath, took service for a
year. He was to nave just enough to live on, and a share of
profits at the year's end. Tom worked diligently, and plenty of
tin was the result of his experienced labour. The year expired,
and Tom looked for his share of the profits. The Jew contrived
to put Tom off, and promised Tom great things if he would stop
for another year, and persuaded him to send for some of his old
comrades, clenching every argument which he employed with a
small piece of advice, " Never leave an old road for a new one."
* See Appendix BB.
The Tinner of Chyannor. 345
The other tinners were shy of venturing so far, so that two or
three only could be persuaded to leave the West Country. With
Tom and with his brethren the year passed by, and at the end he
got no money, but only the same piece of advice, " Never leave an
old road for a new one." This went on for a third year, when all
of them, being naturally tired of this sort of thing, resolved to go
home again.
Tom Trezidder was a favourite with his master, and was greatly
esteemed for his honesty and industry by his mistress.
When they left she gave Tom a good currant cake to take home
to his old woman, and told him to remember the advice, " Never
leave an old road for a new one."
The tinners trudged on together until they were on the western
side of Penzance. They were weary, and they found that since
they had left home a new road had been made over the hills, which
saved them a considerable distance — in fact it was a " short cut."
On they went. " No," says Tom ; " never leave an old road for
a new one." They all laughed at him, and trudged on. But
Tom kept in the old road along the valley round the hill. When
Tom reached the other end of the " short cut " he thought he would
rest a bit, and he sat down by the road-side and ate his fuggan.
This his mistress had given him, that he might not break his cake
until he got home.
He had not sat long when he heard a noise, and, looking up
the hill, he saw his comrades, who he thought were miles in
advance of him, slowly and sorrowfully descending it. They came
at last to where Tom was seated, and a sad tale had they to tell.
They had scarcely got into the new road when they were set upon
by robbers, who took from them " all their little bit of money,"
and then beat them because they had no more.
Tom, you may be sure, thought the piece of advice worth some-
thing now, as it had saved his bacon.
Tom arrived home at last, and glad was the old woman to see
her old man once again ; so she made him some " herby tea" at
once. He showed his wife the cake, and told her that all he had
recieved for his share of profits was the piece of advice already given.
The ladies who read this story will understand how vexed was
Tom's wife, — there are but few of them who would not have done
as she did, that was to seize the cake from the table and fling it
at her husband's head, calling him an old fool. Tom Trezidder
stooped to avoid the blow. Slap against the corner of the dresser
went the cake, breaking in pieces with the blow, and out on the
lime-ash floor rolled a lot of gold coins.
346 Romances of the Miners.
This soon changed the aspect of things ; the storm rolled back,
and sunshine was once more in the cottage. The coins were all
gathered up, and they found a scrap of paper, on which, when
they got the priest to read it, they discovered was written an exact
account of each year's profits, and Tom's share. The three years'
shares had been duly hoarded for him by his master and mistress ;
and now this old couple found they had enough to make them
comfortable for the rest of their days. Many were the prayers
said by Tom and his wife for the happiness and health of the
honest Jew tin merchant and his wife.
" WHO ARE THE KNOCKERS?"
/CHARLES KINGSLEY in his " Yeast : a Problem," asks this
^ — question — Tregarra answers, —
" They are the ghosts, the miners hold, of the old Jews that
crucified our Lord, and were sent for slaves by the Roman emperors
to work the mines : and we find their old smelting-houses, which
we call Jews' houses, and their blocks at the bottom of the great
bogs, which we call Jews' tin : and then a town among us too,
which we call Market Jew, but the old name was Marazion, that
means the bitterness of Zion, they tell me ; and bitter work it was
for them, no doubt, poor souls ! We used to break into old shafts
and adits which they had made, and find fine old stag's -horn pick-
axes, that crumbled to pieces when we brought them to grass.
And they say that if a man will listen of a still night about these
shafts, he may hear the ghosts of them at work, knocking and
picking, as clear as if there was a man at work in the next level."
In Notes and Queries will be found some learned discussions on
the question of the Jews working the Cornish tin mines, as though
it were merely one of tradition. That the Jews farmed the tin
mines of Cornwall and Devonshire is an historical fact, of which
we have evidence in charters granted by several of our kings,
especially by King John. Carew in his " Survey of Cornwall "
gives some account of their mode of dealing with the tinners.
Hence the terms " Jews' houses," given to old and rude smelting-
works, — many of which I have seen, — and hence the name of
" Jews' tin," given to the old blocks of tin, specimens of which
may be seen in the Museum of Practical Geology, and in the
museum of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, at Truro. " Atall
Sarazin " is another term applied to some of the old waste-heaps
of the ancient tin mines.
"The Jews," says Whitaker ("Origin of Arianism," p. 334),
" Who are the Knockers f 347
" denominated themselves, and were denominated by the Britons
of Cornwall, Saracens, as the genuine progeny of Sarah." Be this
as it may, I have often heard in the mining villages — from twenty
to thirty years since — a man coming from a distant parish, called
" a foreignerer ; " a man from a distant country, termed " an out-
landish man;" and anyone not British born, designated as " a
Saracen"
But this has led me away from the knockers, who are in some
districts called also " the buccas" Many a time have I been
seriously informed by the miners themselves that these sprites have
been heard working away in the remote parts of a lode, repeating the
blows of the miner's pick or sledge with great precision. Generally
speaking, the knockers work upon productive lodes only ; and they
have often kindly indicated to the trusting miners, where they
might take good tribute pitches.
To Wesley, Cornwall owes a deep debt. He found the country
steeped in the darkness of superstitious ignorance, and he opened
a new light upon it. Associated with the spread of Wesleyan
Methodism, has been the establishment of schools ; and under
the influence of religion and education, many of the superstitions
have faded away. We rarely hear of the knockers now ; but the
following occurrence will show that the knockers have not entirely
left the land : —
One Saturday night I had retired to rest, having first seen that
all the members of the household had gone to their bedrooms.
These were my daughters, two female servants, and an old woman,
named Mary, who was left, by the proprietor, in charge of the
house which I occupied.
I had been some time in bed, when I distinctly heard a bedroom
door open, and footsteps which, after moving about for some time
in the passage or landing, from which the bedrooms opened, slowly
and carefully descended the stairs. I heard a movement in the
kitchen below, and the footsteps again ascended the stairs, and
went into one of the bedrooms. This noise continued so long,
and was so regularly repeated, that I began to fear lest one of the
children were taken suddenly ill. Yet I felt assured, if it was so,
one of the servants would call me. Therefore I lay still and
listened until I fell asleep.
On the Sunday morning, when I descended to the breakfast-
room, I asked the eldest of the two servants what had occasioned
so much going up and down stairs in the night. She declared
that no one had left their bedrooms after they had retired to them.
I then inquired of the younger girl, and of eacr^ of my daughters
348 Romances of the Miners.
as they made their appearance. No one had left their rooms —
they had not heard any noises. My youngest daughter, who had
been, after this inquiry of mine, for some minutes alone with the
youngest servant, came laughing to me, —
" Papa, Nanny says the house is haunted, and that they have
often heard strange noises in it."
So I called Nancy ; but all I could learn from her was that
noises, like that of men going up and down stairs, — of threshing
corn, and of "beating the borer " (a mining operation), were not
uncommon.
We all laughed over papa's ghost during the breakfast, and by
and by old Mary made her appearance.
" Yes," she said, " it is quite true, as Nanny as a told you. I
have often heard all sorts of strange noises ; but I b'lieve they all
come from the lode of tin which runs under the house. Wherever
there is a lode of tin, you are sure to hear strange noises."
" What, Mary ! was it the knockers I heard last night ?"
" Yes ; 'twas the knackers, down working upon the tin — no
doubt of it."
This was followed by a long explanation, and numerous stories
of mines in the Lelant and St Ives district, in which the knockers
had been often heard.
After a little time, Mary, imagining, I suppose, that the young
ladies might not like to sleep in a house beneath which the knock-
ers were at work, again came with her usual low courtesy into
the parlour.
" Beg pardon, sir," says she ; " but none of the young ladies
need be afraid. There are no spirits in the house ; it is very
nearly a new one, and no one has ever died in the house."
This makes a distinct difference between the ghost of the
departed and those gnomes who are doomed to toil in the earth's
dark recesses.* The Cornish knocker does not appear to be the
* " Some are sent, like the spirit Gathon in Cornwall, to work the will of his master in
the mines." — Mrs Bray's Traditions of Devonshire,
Who was the spirit Gathon ?
' " The miner starts as he hears the mischievous Gathon answering blow for blow the
stroke of his pickaxe, or deluding him with false fires, noises, and flames." — A Guide to
the Coasts of Devon ond Cornwall. Mackenzie Walcott, M.A.
Carne, in his " Tales of the West," alludes to this : — " The miners have their full share
of the superstitious feelings of the country, and often hear with alarm the noises, as it
were, of other miners at work deep underground, and at no great distance. The rolling
of the barrows, the sound of the pickaxes, and the fall of the earth and stones, are dis-
tinctly heard through the night, — often, no doubt, the echo of their own labours ; but
sometimes continued long after that labour has ceased, and occasionally voices seem to
mingle with them. Gilbert believed that he was peculiarly exposed to these visitations;
Christmas-Eve in the Mines. 349
" cobal" of German miners. The former are generally kindly, and
often serve the industrious miner; the latter class are always
malicious, and, I believe, are never heard but when mischief is
near.
MINERS' SUPERSTITIONS.
MINERS say they often see little imps or demons underground.
Their presence is considered favourable ; they indicate the
presence of lodes, about which they work during the absence of the
miners. A miner told my informant that he had often seen them,
sitting on pieces of timber, or tumbling about in curious attitudes,
when he came to work.
Miners do not like the form of the cross being made underground.
A friend of my informant, going through some " levels" or " adits,"
made a -}- by the side of one, to know his way back, as he would
have to return by himself. He was compelled to alter it into an-
other form.
If miners see a snail when going to " bal " in the morning,
they always drop a piece of tallow from their candles by its side.
CHRISTMAS-EVE IN THE MINES.
ON Christmas-eve, in former days, the small people, or the
spriggans, would meet at the bottom of the deepest mines, and
have a midnight mass. Then those who were in the mine would
hear voices, melodious beyond all earthly voices, singing, " Now
well ! now well ; " * and the strains of some deep-toned organ
would shake the rocks. Of the grandeur of those meetings, old
stories could not find words sufficiently sonorous to speak ; it was
therefore left to the imagination But this was certain, the temple
he had an instinctive shrinking from the place where the accident had happened ; and,
when left alone there, it was in vain that he plied his toil with desperate energy to divert
his thoughts. Another person appeared to work very near him: he stayed the lifted
pick and listened. The blow of the other fell distinctly, and the rich ore followed it in a
loud rolling ; he checked the loaded barrow that he was wheeling ; still that of the un-
known workman went on, and came nearer and nearer, and then there followed a loud,
faint cry, that thrilled through every nerve of the lonely man, for it seemed like the voice
of his brother. These sounds all ceased on a sudden, and those which his own toil caused
were the only ones heard, till, after an interval, without any warning, they began again
at times more near, and again passing away to a distance." — 77?^ Tale oftlte Miner,
* " Now well 1 now well ! the angel did say
To certain poor shepherds in the fields who lay
Late in the night, folding their sheep ;
A winter's night, both cold and deep.
Now well ! now well ! now well 1
Born is the King of Israel I "
35O Romances of the Miners.
formed by the fairy bands in which to celebrate the eve of the
birth of a Saviour, in whose mercy they all had hope, was of the
most magnificent description.
Midsummer-eve and new-year's day and eve are holidays with
the miners. It has been said they refuse to work on those days
from superstitious reasons. I never heard of any.
WARNINGS AND " TOKENS."
A MONGST the mining population there is a deeply-rooted
** belief in warnings. The following, related by a very respect-
able man, formerly a miner, well illustrates this : —
" My father, when a lad, worked with a companion (James or
'Jim/ as he was called) in Germo. They lived close by Old
Wheal Grey in Breage. One evening, the daughter of the person
with whom they lodged came in to her mother, crying, ' Billy and
Jim ben out theer for more than a hour, and I ben chasin them
among the Kilyur banks, and they waan't ler me catch them. As
fast as I do go to one, they do go to another/ ' Hould your tongue,
child/ said the mother ; * 'twas their forenoon core, and they both
ben up in bed this hours/ ' I 'm sure I ben chasin them,' said
the girl. The mother then went up-stairs and awoke the lads,
telling them the story. One of them said, ' ' Tis a warning ;
somethin will happen in un old end, and I shan't go to mine this
core/ ' Nonsense,' said the other ; ' don't let us be so foolish ;
the child has been playing with some strangers, and it isn't worth
while to be spaled for any such foolishness.' ' I tell you,' replied
the other, ' I won't go.' As it was useless for one man to go alone,
both remained away. In the course of the night, however, a run
took place in the end they were working in, and tens of thousands
of kibblefuls came away. Had they been at work, it was scarcely
possible for them to have escaped."
At Wheal Vor it has always been and is now believed that a
fatal accident in the mine is presaged by the appearance of a hare
or white rabbit in one of the engine-houses. The men solemnly
declare that they have chased these appearances till they were
hemmed in apparently, without being able to catch them. The
white rabbit on one occasion being run into a " windbore " lying
on the ground, and, though stopped in, escaped.
In this mine there appears to be a general belief among the
men in " tokens " and supernatural appearances. A few months
since, a fine old man reported, on being relieved from his turn as
watcher, that during the night he heard a loud sound like the empty-
The Black Dogs. 351
ing of a cartload of rubbish in front of the account-house, where he
was staying. On going out, nothing was to be seen. The poor
fellow, considering the strange sound as a " warning," pined away
and died within a few weeks.
THE GHOST ON HORSEBACK.
BILLY and John , working at Wheal Vor, were in the
habit, early in the morning, of calling out a dog or two, kept
by the occupier of an adjoining farm, and with them hunt over
the Godolphin warren adjoining. One morning, while thus en-
gaged, one of them gave the alarm that a man on horseback was
coming down the road. " Tisn't possible," said the other ; " no
horse can ever come over that road." " There is a horse, and old
Cap'n T. is upon it," replied the first. " Hold thy tongue," rejoined
his comrade ; " he 5s dead months ago." " I know that ; but 'tis
he, sure enough." Both crouched down behind a bush ; and my
informant, whose father was one of the parties, declared that the
appearance of Capt. T., on a black horse, passed noiselessly down
the road immediately before them, but without noticing their
presence.
THE BLACK DOGS.
ABOUT thirty years since, a man and a lad were engaged in
sinking a shaft at Wheal Vor Mine, when the lad, through
carelessness or accident, missed in charging a hole, so that a
necessity arose for the dangerous operation of picking out the
charge. This they proceeded to do, the man severely reprimanding
the carelessness of his assistant. Several other miners at the time
being about to change their core, were on the plat above, calling
down and conversing occasionally with man and boy. Suddenly
the charge exploded, and the latter were seen to be thrown up in
the midst of a volume of flame. As soon as help could be pro-
cured, a party descended, when the remains of the poor fellows
were found to be shattered and scorched beyond recognition.
When these were brought to the surface, the clothes and a mass
of mangled flesh dropped from the bodies. A bystander, to spare
the feelings of the relatives, hastily caught up the revolting mass
in a shovel, and threw the whole into the blazing furnace of Woolf s
engine, close at hand. From that time the engineman declared
that troops of little black dogs continually haunted the place, even
when the doors were shut. Few of them liked to talk about it ;
but it was difficult to obtain the necessary attendance to work the
machine.
352 Romances of the Miners.
PITMEN'S OMENS AND GOBLINS.
T T is curious to notice the correspondence between the superstitions
-L of the coal-miner and those employed in the metalliferous
mines. The following comes very opportunely to our hand : —
The superstitions of pitmen were once many and terrible ; but so far from
existing now-a-days, they are only matters of tradition among the old men.
One class only of superstitions does exist among a few of the older and less-
educated pitmen — namely, the class of omens, warnings, and signs. If one
of these pitmen meet or see a woman, if he catch out a glimpse of her
draperies, on his way, in the middle of the night to the pit, the probability
is that he returns home and goes to bed again. The appearance of a woman
at this untimely hour has often materially impeded the day's winning, for
the omen is held not to be personal to the individual perceiving it, but to
bode general ill luck to all. The walk from home to pit mouth, always
performed at dead of the night, was the period when omens were mostly to
be looked for. The supernatural appearance of a little white animal like a
rabbit, which was said to cross the miner's path, was another warning not
to descend. Sometimes the omens were rather mental than visual. The
pitmen in the midland counties have, or had, a belief, unknown in the north,
in aerial whistlings, warning them against the pit. Who, or what the in-
visible musicians were, nobody pretended to know ; but for all that, they
must have been counted and found to consist of seven, as "The Seven
Whistlers" is the name they bear to this day. Two goblins were believed
to haunt the northern mines. One was a spiteful elf, who indicated his
presence only by the mischief he perpetrated. He rejoiced in the name of
" Cutty Soams," and appears to have employed himself only in the stupid
device of severing the rope-traces or soams, by which an assistant-putter —
honoured by the title of "the fool" — is yoked to the tub. The strands of
hemp which were left all sound in the board at "kenner-time," were found
next morning severed in twain. " Cutty Soams" has been at work, would
the fool and his driver say, dolefully knotting the cord. The other goblin
was altogether a more sensible, and, indeed, an honest and hard-working
bogie, much akin to the Scotch brownie, or the hairy fiend, whom Milton
rather scurvily apostrophises as a lubber. The supernatural personage in
question was no other than a ghostly putter, and his name was " Bluecap."
Sometimes the miners would perceive a light blue flame flicker through the
air, and settle on a full coal-tub, which immediately moved towards the
rolley-way, as though impelled by the sturdiest sinews in the working. In-
dustrious Bluecap was at his vocation ; but he required, and rightly, to be
paid for his services, which he modestly rated as those of an ordinary aver-
age putter ; therefore once a fortnight Bluecap's wages were left for him in
a solitary corner of the mine. If they were a farthing below his due, the
indignant Bluecap would not pocket a stiver ; if they were a farthing above
his due, indignant Bluecap left the surplus revenue where he found it. The
writer asked his informant, a hewer, whether, if Bluecap's wages were now-
a-days to be left for him, he thought they would be appropriated ; the man
shrewdly answered, he thought they would be taken by Bluecap, or by some-
body else. Of the above notions it must be understood that the idea of
omens is the only one still seriously entertained, and even its hold upon the
popular mind, as has been before stated, is becoming weaker and weaker. —
Colliery Guardian, May 23, 1863.
The Dead Hand. 353
THE DEAD HAND.
" T JVE seen it — I've seen it ! " exclaimed a young woman, pale
-*• with terror, approaching with much haste the door of a cot-
tage, around which were gathered several of the miners' wives
inhabiting the adjoining dwellings.
" God's mercy be with the chield ! " replied the oldest woman of
the group, with very great seriousness.
" Aunt Alice," asked one of the youngest women, " and do 'e
b'lieve any harm will come o' seeing it ? "
" Mary Doble saw it and pined ; Jinny Trestrail was never the
same woman after she seed the hand in Wheal Jewel ; and I
knows ever so many more ; but let us hope, by the blessing o' the
Lord, no evil will come on Mary."
Mary was evidently impressed with a sense of some heavy trouble.
She sighed deeply, and pressed her hand to her side, as if to still
the beating of her heart. The thoughtless faith of the old woman
promised to work out a fulfilment of her fears in producing mental
distress and corporeal suffering in the younger one.
While this was passing in the little village, a group of men were
gathered around a deserted shaft, which existed in too dangerous
proximity with the abodes of the miners. They were earnestly
discussing the question of the reality of the appearance of the
dead hand — those who had not seen it expressing a doubt of its
reality, while others declared most emphatically, " that in that very
shaft they had seed un with a lighted candle in his hand, moving
up and down upon the ladders, as though he was carried by a living
man."
It appears that some time previously to the abandonment of the
mine, an unfortunate miner was ascending from his subterranean
labours, carrying his candle in his hand. He was probably seized
with giddiness, but from that or some other cause, he fell away
from the ladders, and was found by his comrades a bleeding corpse
at the bottom. The character of this man was not of the best ; and
after his burial, it was stated by the people that he had been seen.
From a vague rumour of his spectral appearance on the surface,
the tale eventually settled itself into that of the dead hand moving
up and down in the shaft.
By the spectral light of the candle, the hand had been distinctly
visible to many, and the irregular motion of the light proved that
the candle was held in the usual manner between the thumb and
finger in its ball of clay, while the fingers were employed in grasp-
ing stave after stave of the ladder. The belief in the evil attend-
Z
354 Romances of the Miners.
ant on being unfortunate enough to see this spectral hand, pre-
vailed very generally amongst the mining population about twenty
years since. The dead hand was not, however, confined to one
shaft or mine. Similar narrations have been met with in several
districts.
DORCAS, THE SPIRIT OF POLBREEN MINE.
POLBREEN MINE is situated at the foot of the hill known
as St Agnes Becon. In one of the small cottages which
immediately adjoins the mine once lived a woman called Dorcas.
Beyond this we know little of her life ; but we are concerned
chiefly with her death, which, we are told, was suicidal.
From some cause, which is not related, Dorcas grew weary of
life, and one unholy night she left her house and flung herself into
one of the deep shafts of Polbreen Mine, at the bottom of which
her dead and broken body was discovered. The remnant of
humanity was brought to the surface ; and after the laws of the
time with regard to suicides had been fulfilled, the body of Dorcas
was buried.
Her presence, however, still remained in the mine. She appears
ordinarily to take a malicious delight in tormenting the industrious
miner, calling him by name, and alluring him from his tasks.
This was carried on by her to such an extent, that when a "tributer"
had made a poor month, he was asked if he had " been chasing
Dorcas." *
Dorcas was usually only a voice. It has been said by some
that they have seen her in the mine, but this is doubted by the
miners generally, who refer the spectral appearance to the fears of
their " comrade."
But it is stated as an incontrovertible fact, that more than one
man who has met the spirit in the levels of the mine has had his
clothes torn off his back ; whether in anger or in sport, is not
clearly made out. On one occasion, and on one occasion only,
Dorcas appears to have acted kindly. Two miners, who for dis-
tinction's sake we will call Martin and Jacky, were at work in their
end, and at the time busily at work " beating the borer."
The name of Jacky was distinctly uttered between the blows.
He stopped and listened — all was still. They proceeded with
their task : a blow on the iron rod. — "Jacky." Another blow. —
* A tributer is a man who agrees with the adventurers in a mine to receive a certain
share of the profits on the ore raised by him in lieu of wages. This account is settled
monthly or bi-monthly, which will explain the phrase a 'poor month."
Hingston Downs. 355
" Jacky." They pause — all is silent. " Well, thee wert called,
Jacky," said Martin, " go and see."
Jacky was, however, either afraid, or he thought himself the
fool of his senses.
Work was resumed, and " Jacky ! Jacky ! Jacky ! " was called
more vehemently and distinctly than before.
Jacky threw down his heavy hammer, and went from his
companion, resolved to satisfy himself as to the caller.
He had not proceeded many yards from the spot on which he
had been standing at work, when a mass of rock fell from the roof
of the level, weighing many tons, which would have crushed him
to death. Martin had been stooping, holding the borer, and a
projecting corner of rock just above him turned off the falling
mass. He was securely enclosed, and they had to dig him out,
but he escaped without injury. Jacky declared to his dying day
that he owed his life to Dorcas.
Although Dorcas's shaft remains a part of Polbreen Mine, I am
informed by the present agent that her presence has departed.
HINGSTON DO WNS.
" Hengsten Down, well ywrought,
Is worth London town dear ybought."
CAREW — Lord De Dunstanvilti s Edition.
IT may be worthy of consideration whether we have not evidence
in this distich of the extent to which mining operations were
carried on over this moorland and the adjoining country by the
ancient Cornish miners.
It is said that this moorland was originally Hengiston ; and
tradition affirms that the name preserves the memory of a severe
contest, when the Welsh joined Egbright, a king of the West
Saxons, and defeated the host of Danes, who had come over to "West
Wales," meaning thereby Cornwall. On this waste Hengist had
his fenced camp, and here the Cornish and the Welsh attacked
and entirely overthrew him. It is evident, if tradition is to be
believed, that the struggle was to gain possession of a valuable tin
ground.
FISHERMEN AND SAILORS.
" I was saying to Jack, as we talk'd t'other day
About lubbers and snivelling elves,
That if people in life did not steer the right way,
They had nothing to thank but themselves.
Now, when a man's caught by those mermaids the girls
With their flattering palaver and smiles ;
He runs, while he 's list'ning to their fal de rals,
Bump ashore on the Scilly Isles."
TOM DIP.WN.
ROMANCES OF FISHERMEN
AND SAILORS.
THE PILOT'S GHOST STORY.
" On a sudden shrilly sounding,
Hideous yells and shrieks were heard ;
Then each heart with fear confounding,
A sad troop of ghosts appear'd,
All in dreary hammocks shrouded,
Which for winding-sheets they wore."
Admiral Hosier's Ghost.
I PREFER giving this story in the words in which it was com-
municated. For its singular character, it is a ghost story
well worth preserving : — " Just seventeen years since, I went
down on the wharf from my house one night about twelve and one
in the morning, to see whether there was any < hobble/ and found
a sloop, the Sally of St Ives (the Sally was wrecked at St Ives
one Saturday afternoon in the spring of 1862), in the bay, bound
for Hayle. When I got by the White Hart public-house, I saw a
man leaning against a post on the wharf, — I spoke to him, wished
him good morning, and asked him what o'clock it was, but to no
purpose. I was not to be easily frightened, for I didn't believe in
ghosts ; and finding I got no answer to my repeated inquiries, I
approached close to him and said, ' Thee 'rt a queer sort of fellow,
not to speak ; I 'd speak to the devil, if he were to speak to me.
Who art a at all ? thee 'st needn't think to frighten me ; that thee
wasn't do, if thou wert twice so ugly ; who art a at all ? ; He
turned his great ugly face on me, glared abroad his great eyes,
opened his mouth, and it was a mouth sure nuff. Then I saw
pieces of sea-weed and bits of sticks in his whiskers ; the flesh of
his face and hands were parboiled, just like a woman's hands after
a good day's washing. Well, I did not like his looks a bit, and
sheered off; but he followed close by my side, and I could hear
the water squashing in his shoes every step he took. Well, I
358 Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
stopped a bit, and thought to be a little bit civil to him, and spoke
to him again, but no answer. I then thought I would go to seek for
another of our crew, and knock him up to get the vessel, and had
got about fifty or sixty yards, when I turned to see if he was
following me, but saw him where I left him. Fearing he would
come after me, I ran for my life the few steps that I had to go.
But when I got to the door, to my horror there stood the man in the
door grinning horribly. I shook like an aspen-leaf ; my hat lifted
from my head ; the sweat boiled out of me. What to do I didn't
know, and in the house there was such a row, as if everybody was
breaking up everything. After a bit I went in, for the door was
' on the latch/ — that is, not locked, — and called the captain of the
boat, and got light, but everything was all right, nor had he heard
any noise. We went out aboard of the Sally, and I put her into
Hayle, but I felt ill enough to be in bed. I left the vessel to come
home as soon as I could, but it took me four hours to walk two
miles, and I had to lie down in the road, and was taken home to
St Ives in a cart ; as far as the Terrace from there I was carried
home by my brothers, and put to bed. Three days afterwards all
my hair fell off as if I had had my head shaved. The roots, and
for about half an inch from the roots, being quite white. I was ill
six months, and the doctor's bill was ^4, 175. 6d. for attendance
and medicine. So you see I have reason to believe in the existence
of spirits as much as Mr Wesley had. My hair grew again, and
twelve months after I had as good a head of dark-brown hair as
ever." *
THE PHANTOM SHIP.
"W'EARS long ago, one night, a gig's crew was called to go off
J- to a " hobble," to the westwards of St Ives Head. No
sooner was one boat launched than several others were put off from
the shore, and a stiff chase was maintained, each one being eager
to get to the ship, as she had the appearance of a foreign trader.
The hull was clearly visible, she was a schooner-rigged vessel, with
a light over her bows.
Away they pulled, and the boat which had been first launched
still kept ahead by dint of mechanical power and skill. All the
men had thrown off their jackets to row with more freedom. At
length the helmsman cried out, " Stand ready to board her.r The
sailor rowing the bow oar slipped it out of the row-lock, and stood
on the forethought, taking his jacket on his arm, ready to spring
aboard.
* " The mau lias still a good thick head of hair.—C F. S-"
The Pirate- Wrecker and the Death Ship. 359
The vessel came so close to the boat that they could see the
men, and the bow-oar man made a grasp at her bulwarks. His
hand found nothing solid, and he fell, being caught by one of his
mates, back into the boat, instead of into the water. Then ship
and lights disappeared. The next morning the Neptune of London,
Captain Richard Grant, was wrecked at Gwithian, and all perished.
The captain's body was picked up after a few days, and that of his
son also. They were both buried in Gwithian churchyard.
JACK HARRY'S LIGHTS.
HPHE phantom lights are called, they tell me, "Jack Harry's
J- lights," because he was the first man who was fooled by them.
They are generally observed before a gale, and the ship seen is
like the ship which is sure to be wrecked. The man who com-
municated this to me said, " What or how it is we can't tell, but
the fact of its being seen is too plain."
The following is another version, which I received from an old
pilot : —
" Some five years ago, on a Sunday night, the wind being strong, our
crew heard of a large vessel in the offing, after we came out of chapel. We
manned our big boat, the Ark, — she was nearly new then, — and away we
went, under close-reefed foresail and little mizen, the sea going over us at a
sweet rate. The vessel stood just off the head, the wind blowing W.N.W.
We had gone off four or five miles, and we thought we were up alongside,
when, lo ! she slipped to windward a league or more. Well, off we went
after her, and a good beating match we had, too ; but the Ark was a
safe craft, and we neared and neared till, as we thought, we got up close.
Away she whizzed in a minute, in along to Godrevy, just over the course
we sailed ; so we gave it up for "Jack Harry's light," and, with wet jackets
and disappointed hopes, we bore up for the harbour, prepared to hear of
squalls, which came heavier than ever next day.
" Scores of pilots have seen and been led a nice chase after them. They
are just the same as the Flying Dutchman, seen off the Cape of Good
Hope."
Another man informed me that, once coming down channel,
they had a phantom ship alongside of them for miles : it was a
moonlight night, with a thin rain and mist. They could see
several men aboard moving about. They hailed her several times,
but could not get an answer, " and we didn't know what to think
of her, when all at once she vanished."
THE PIRATE-WRECKER AND THE DEATH SHIP.
ONE lovely evening in the autumn, a strange ship was seen at
a short distance from Cape Cornwall. The little wind there
was blew from the land, but she did not avail Jierself of it. She
360 Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
was evidently permitted to drift with the tide, which was flowing
southward, and curving in round Whitesand Bay towards the
Land's-End. The vessel, from her peculiar rig, created no small
amount of alarm amongst the fishermen, since it told them that
she was manned by pirates ; and a large body of men and women
watched her movements from behind the rocks at Caraglose. At
length, when within a couple of pistol-shots off the shore, a boat
was lowered and manned. Then a man, whose limited movements
show him to be heavily ironed, was brought to the side of the ship
and evidently forced — for several pistols were held at his head —
into the boat, which then rowed rapidly to the shore in Priest's
Cove. The waves of the Atlantic Ocean fell so gently on the
strand, that there was no difficulty in beaching the boat. Ths
prisoner was made to stand up, and his ponderous chains were
removed from his arms and ankles. In a frenzy of passion he
attacked the sailors, but they were too many and too strong for
him, and the fight terminated by his being thrown into the water,
and left to scramble up on the dry sands. They pushed the boat
off with a wild shout, and this man stood uttering fearful impreca-
tions on his former comrades.
It subsequently became known that this man was so monstrously
wicked that even the pirates would no longer endure him, and
hence they had recourse to this means of ridding themselves of
him.
It is not necessary to tell how this wretch settled himself at
Tregaseal, and lived by a system of wrecking, pursued with un-
heard-of cruelties and cunning. " It 's too frightful to tell," says
my correspondent, " what was said about his doings. We scarcely
believed half of the vile things we heard, till we saw what took
place at his death. But one can't say he died, because he was
taken off bodily. We shall never know the scores, perhaps
hundreds, of ships that old sinner has brought on the cliffs, by
fastening his lantern to the neck of his horse, with its head tied
close to the forefoot. The horse, when driven along the cliff,
would, by its motion, cause the lantern to be taken for the stern-
light of a ship ; then the vessel would come right in on the rocks,
since those on board would expect to find plenty of sea-room ;
and, if any of the poor sailors escaped a watery grave, the old
wretch would give them a worse death, by knocking them on the
head with his hatchet, or cutting off their hands as they tried to
grasp the ledges of the rocks.
A life of extreme wickedness was at length closed with circum-
stances of unusual terror — so terrible, that the story is told with
The Pirate- Wrecker and the Death Ship. 361
feelings of awe even at the present day. The old wretch fought
lustily with death, but at length the time of his departure came.
It was in the time of the barley-harvest. . Two men were in a field
on the cliff, a little below the house, mowing. A universal calm
prevailed, and there was not a breath of wind to stir the corn.
Suddenly a breeze passed by them, and they heard the words,
" The time is come, but the man isn't come." These words ap-
peared to float in the breeze from the sea, and consequently it
attracted their attention. Looking out to sea, they saw a black,
heavy, square-rigged ship, with all her sails set, coming in against
wind and tide, and not a hand to be seen on board. The sky
became black as night around the ship, and as she came under
the cliff — and she came so close that the top of the masts could
scarcely be perceived — the darkness resolved itself into a lurid
storm-cloud, which extended high into the air. The sun shone
brilliantly over the country, except on the house of the pirate at
Tregaseal — that was wrapt in the deep shadow of the cloud.
The men, in terror, left their work ; they found all the neighbours
gathered around the door of the pirate's cottage, none of them
daring to enter it. Parson had been sent for by the terrified
peasants, this divine being celebrated for his power of driving
away evil spirits.
The dying wrecker was in a state of agony, crying out, in tones
of the most intense terror, " The devil is tearing at me with nails
like the claws of a hawk ! Put out the sailors with their bloody
hands !'' and using, in the paroxysms of pain, the most profane
imprecations. The parson, the doctor, and two of the bravest of
the fishermen, were the only persons in the room. They related
that at one moment the room was as dark as the grave, and that
at the next it was so light that every hair on the old man's head
could be seen standing on end. The parson used all his influence
to dispel the evil spirit. His powers were so potent that he reduced
the devil to the size of a fly, but he could not put him out of the
room. All this time the room appeared as if filled with the sea,
with the waves surging violently to and fro, and one could hear
the breakers roaring, as if standing on the edge of the cliff in a
storm. At last there was a fearful crash of thunder, and a blaze of
the intensest lightning. The house appeared on fire, and the
ground shook, as if with an earthquake. All rushed in terror from
the house, leaving the dying man to his fate.
The storm raged with fearful violence, but appeared to contract
its dimensions. The black cloud, which was first seen to come in
with the black ship, was moving, with a violent internal motion.
362 Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
over the wrecker's house. The cloud rolled together, smaller and
smaller, and suddenly, with the blast of a whirlwind, it passed
from Tregaseal to the ship, and she was impelled, amidst the
flashes of lightning and roarings of thunder, away over the sea.
The dead body of the pirate-wrecker lay a ghastly spectacle, with
eyes expanded and the mouth partly open, still retaining the aspect
of his last mortal terror. As every one hated him, they all desired
to remove his corpse as rapidly as possible from the sight of man.
A rude coffin was rapidly prepared, and the body was carefully
cased in its boards. They tell me the coffin was carried to the
churchyard, but that it was too light to have contained the body,
and that it was followed by a black pig, which joined the company
forming the procession, nobody knew where, and disappeared
nobody knew when. When they reached the church stile, a storm,
similar in its character to that which heralded the wrecker's death,
came on. The bearers of the coffin were obliged to leave it
without the churchyard stile, and rush into the church for safety.
The storm lasted long and raged with violence, and all was as dark
as night. A sudden blaze of light, more vivid than before, was
seen, and those who had the hardihood to look out saw that the
lightning had set fire to the coffin, and it was being borne away
through the air, blazing and whirling wildly in the grasp of such a
whirlwind as no man ever witnessed before or since.
THE SPECTRE SHIP OF PORTHCURNO.
"PORTHCURNO COVE is situated a little to the west of the
-^ Logan Stone. There, as in nearly all the coves around the
coast, once existed a small chapel * or oratory, which appears to
have been dedicated to St Leven. There exists now a little square
enclosure about the size of a (bougie} sheep's house, which is all
that remains of this little holy place. Looking up the valley (Bottom),
you may see a few trees, with the chimney-tops and part of the
roof of an old-fashioned house. That place is Raftra, where they
say St Leven Church was to have been built ; but as fast as the
stones were taken there by day, they were removed by night to
the place of the present church. (These performances are usually
the act of the devil, but I have no information as to the saint or
sinner who did this work.) Raftra House, at the time it was built,
was the largest mansion west of Penzance. It is said to have
been erected by the Tresillians, and, ere it was finished, they ap-
* I am informed that there are no less than four of these cliff chapels between St Leven
and St Loy, wkkh was a larger building, where mans was probably c«lebrated.
The Spectre Ship of Porthcurno. 363
pear to have been obliged to sell house and lands for less than it
had cost them to build the house.
This valley is, in every respect, a melancholy spot, and during a
period of storms, or at night, it is exactly the place which might
well be haunted by demon revellers. In the days of the saint
from whom the parish has its name — St Leven — he lived a long
way up from the cove, at a place called Bodelan, and his influence
made that, which is now so dreary, a garden. By his pure holi-
ness he made the wilderness a garden of flowers, and spread glad-
ness where now is desolation.
Few persons cared to cross that valley after nightfall ; and it is
not more than thirty years since that I had a narrative from an
inhabitant of Penberth, that he himself had seen the spectre ship
sailing over the land.
This strange apparition is said to have been observed frequently,
coming in from sea about nightfall, when the mists were rising
from the marshy ground in the Bottoms.
Onward came the ill-omened craft. It passed steadily through
the breakers on the shore, glided up over the sands, and steadily
pursued its course over the dry land, as if it had been water. She
is described to have been a black, square-rigged, single-masted
affair, usually, but not always, followed by a boat. No crew was
ever seen. It is supposed they were below, and that the hatches
were battened down. On it went to Bodelan, where St Leven
formerly dwelt. It would then steer its course to Chygwiden, and
there vanish like smoke.
Many of the old people have seen this ship, and no one ever
saw it, upon whom some bad luck was not sure to fall.
This ship is somehow connected with a strange man who re-
turned from sea, and went to live at Chygwiden. It may be five
hundred years since — it may be but fifty.
He was accompanied by a servant of foreign and forbidding
aspect, who continued to be his only attendant ; and this servant
was never known to speak to any one save his master. It is said
by some they were pirates ; others make them more familiar, by
calling them privateers ; while some insist upon it they were
American buccaneers. Whatever they may have been, there was
but little seen of them by any of their neighbours. They kept a
boat at Porthcurno Cove, and at daylight they would start for sea,
never returning until night, and not unfrequently remaining out
the whole of the night, especially if the weather was tempestuous.
This kind of sea-life was varied by hunting. It mattered not to
them whether it was day or night ; when the storm was loudest,
364 Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
there was this strange man, accompanied either by his servant or
by the devil, and the midnight cry of his dogs would disturb the
country.
This mysterious being died, and then the servant sought the aid
of a few of the peasantry to bear his coffin to the churchyard. The
corpse was laid in the grave, around which the dogs were gathered,
with the foreigner in their midst. As soon as the earth was
thrown on the coffin, man and dogs disappeared, and, strange to
say, the boat disappeared at the same moment from the cove. It
has never since been seen ; and from that day to this, no one has
been able to keep a boat in Porthcurno Cove.
THE LADY WITH THE LANTERN.
THE night was dark and the wind high. The heavy waves
rolled round the point of "the Island" into St Ives Bay, as
Atlantic waves only can roll. Everything bespoke a storm of no
ordinary character. There were no ships in the bay — not a fish-
ing-boat was afloat. The few small trading vessels had run into
Hayle for shelter, or had nestled themselves within that very un-
quiet resting-place, St Ives pier. The fishing-boats were all high
and dry on the sands.
Moving over the rocks which run out into the sea from the
eastern side of "the Island," was seen a light. It passed over the
most rugged ridges, formed by the intrusive Greenstone masses,
and over the sharp edges of the upturned slate-rocks with ap-
parent ease. Forth and back — to and from — wandered the
light.
" Ha ! " said an old sailor with a sigh, as he looked out over the
sea ; "a sad night ! a sad night ! The Lady and the Lantern is
out."
" The Lady and the Lantern," repeated I ; " what do you
mean ? "
" The light out yonder "
" Is from the lantern of some fisherman looking for something
he has lost," interrupted I.
" Never a fisherman nor a < salt ' either would venture there to-
night," said the sailor.
" What is it, then ? " I curiously inquired.
" Ha'ast never heard of the Lady and the Lantern ? " asked a
woman who was standing by.
" Never."
The Lady with the Lantern. 365
Without any preface, she began at once to enlighten me. I
am compelled, however, to reduce her rambling story to some-
thing like order, and to make her long-drawn tale as concise as
possible.
In the year there were many wrecks around the coast. It
was a melancholy time. For more than a month there had been
a succession of storms, each one more severe than the preceding
one. At length, one evening, just about dusk, a large ship came
suddenly out of the mist. Her position, it was at once discovered,
equally by those on board, and by the people on the shore, was
perilous beyond hope. The sailors, as soon as they saw how near
they were to the shore, made every effort to save the ship, and
then to prepare for saving themselves. The tempest raged with
such fury from the west, that the ship parted her anchors at the
moment her strain came upon them, and she swang round, — her
only sail flying into ribbons in the gale — rushing, as it were, eagerly
upon her fate. Presently she struck violently upon a sunken rock,
and her masts went by the board, the waves sweeping over her,
and clearing her decks. Many perished at once, and, as each
successive wave urged her onward, others of the hardy and daring
seamen were swept into the angry sea.
Notwithstanding the severity of the storm, a boat was manned
by the St Ives fishermen, and launched from within the pier.
Their perfect knowledge of their work enabled them, by the efforts
of willing hearts, anxiously desiring to succour the distressed, to
round the pier-head, and to row towards the ship.
These fishermen brought their boat near to the ship. It was
impossible to get close to her, and they called to the sailors on
board to throw them ropes. This they were enabled to do, and
some two or three of the sailors lowered themselves by their aid,
and were hauled into the boat.
Then a group appeared on the deck, surrounding and supporting
a lady, who held a child in her arms. They were imploring her to
give her charge into the strong arms of a man ere they endeavoured
to pass her from the ship to the boat.
The lady could not be prevailed on to part with the infant. The
ship was fast breaking up, not a moment could be lost. So the
lady, holding her child, was lowered into the sea, and eagerly the
fishermen drew her through the waves towards the boat.
In her passage the lady had fainted, and she was taken into the
boat without the infant. The child had fallen from her arms, and
was lost in the boiling waters.
Many of the crew were saved by these adventurous men, and
366 Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
taken safely into St Ives. Before morning the shore was strewed
with fragments of wreck, and the mighty ship had disappeared.
Life returned to the lady ; but, finding that her child was gone,
it returned without hope, and she speedily closed her eyes in death.
In the churchyard they buried her ; but, shortly after her burial, a
lady was seen to pass over the wall of the churchyard, on to the
beach, and walk towards the Island. There she spent hours amidst
the rocks, looking for her child, and not finding it, she would sigh
deeply and return to her grave. When the nights were tempestuous
or very dark, she carried a lantern ; but on fine nights she made
her search without a light. The Lady and the Lantern have ever
been regarded as predictors of disaster on this shore.
May not the Lady Sibella, or Sibbets, mentioned by Mr Blight
as passing from the shore to a rock off Morva, be but another
version of this story ?
THE DROWNED "HAILING THEIR NAMES."
r"pHE fishermen dread to walk at night near those parts of the
-L shore where there may have been wrecks. The souls of the
drowned sailors appear to haunt those spots, and the " calling of
the dead " has frequently been heard. I have been told that, under
certain circumstances, especially before the coming of storms, or
at certain seasons, but always at night, these callings are common.
Many a fisherman has declared he has heard the voices of dead
sailors " hailing their own names."
THE VOICE FROM THE SEA.
A FISHERMAN or a pilot was walking one night on the sands
at Porth-Towan, when all was still save the monotonous fall
of the light waves upon the sand.
He distinctly heard a voice from the sea exclaiming, —
"The hour is come, but not the man."
This was repeated three times, when a black figure, like that of a
man, appeared on the top of the hill. It paused for a moment,
then rushed impetuously down the steep incline, over the sands,
and was lost in the/ sea.
In different foAis this story is told all around the Cornish
coast.
The Hooper, or the Hooter, of Sennen Cove. 367
THE SMUGGLER'S TOKEN.
UNTIL about the time of the close of the last French war, a
large portion of the inhabitants of the south-west coast of
Cornwall were in some way or other connected with the practice
of smuggling. The traffic with the opposite coast was carried on
principally in boats or undecked vessels. The risks encountered
by their crews produced a race of hardy, fearless men, a few of
whom are still living, and it has been said that the Government
of those days winked at the infraction of the law, from an unwill-
ingness to destroy so excellent a school for seamen. Recently the
demand for ardent spirits has so fallen off that there is no longer
an inducement to smuggle ; still it is sometimes exultingly
rumoured that, the " Coast Guard having been cleverly put off
the scent, a cargo has been successfully run." The little coves in
the Lizard promontory formed the principal trading places, the
goods being taken as soon as landed to various places of conceal-
ment, whence they were withdrawn as required for disposal.
About eighty years since, a boat, laden with " ankers " of spirits,
was about, with its crew, to leave Mullian Cove for Newlyn.
One of the farmers concerned in the venture, members of whose
family are still living, was persuaded to accompany them, and
entered the boat for the purpose, but, recollecting he had business
at Helston, got out again, and the boat left without him. On his
return from Helston, late in the evening, he sat down exclaiming,
" The boat and all on board are lost ! I met the men as I passed
the top of Halzaphron (a very high cliff on the road), with their
hair and clothes dripping wet ! " In spite of the arguments of his
friends, he persisted in his statement. The boat and crew were
never more heard of, and the farmer was so affected by the cir-
cumstance, that he pined and died shortly after.
THE HOOPER, OR THE HOOTER, OF SENNEN
COVE.
THIS was supposed to be a spirit which took the form of a
band of misty vapour, stretching across the bay, so opaque
that nothing could be seen through it. It was regarded as a
kindly interposition of some ministering spirit, to warn the fisher-
men against venturing to sea. This appearance was always
followed, and often suddenly, by a severe storm. It is seldom or
never seen now. One profane old fisherman would not be warned
by the bank of fog. The weather was fine on the shore, and the
368 Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
waves fell tranquilly on the sands ; and this aged sinner, declaring
he would not be made a fool of, persuaded some young men to
join him. They manned a boat, and the aged leader, having with
him a threshing-flail, blasphemously declared that he would drive
the spirit away ; and he vigorously beat the fog with the " threshel "
— so the flail is called.
The boat passed through the fog and went to sea. A severe
storm came on. No one ever saw the boat or the men again ;
and since that time the Hooper has been rarely seen.
HOW TO EAT PILCHARDS.
IT is unlucky to commence eating pilchards, or, indeed, any kind
of fish, from the head downwards. I have often heard per-
sons rebuked for committing such a grievous sin, which is " sure
to turn the heads of the fish away from the coasts."
The legitimate process — mark this, all fish-eaters — is to eat the
fish from the tail towards the head. This brings the fish to our
shores, and secures good luck to the fishermen.
PILCHARDS CRYING FOR MORE.
WHEN there is a large catch of fish (pilchards), they are pre
served, — put in bulk, as the phrase is, — by being rubbed
with salt, and placed in regular order, one on the other, head and
tails alternately, forming regular walls of fish.
The fish often, when so placed, make a squeaking noise ; this
is called " crying for more," and is regarded as a most favourable
sign. More fish may soon be expected to be brought to the same
cellar.
The noise which is heard is really produced by the bursting of
the air-bladders ; and when many break together, which, when
hundreds of thousands are piled in a mass, is not unusual, the
sound is a loud one.
THE PRESSING-STONES.
nPHOSE who are not familiar with the process of "curing"
JL (salting) pilchards for the Italian markets, will require a
little explanation to understand the accompanying story.
The pilchards being caught in vast quantities, often amounting
to many thousand hogsheads at a time, in an enclosed net called
a " seine," are taken out of it — the larger net — in a smaller net,
The Pressing- Stones. 369
called the " tuck net," and from it loaded into boats and taken to
the shore. They are quickly transferred to the fish-sellers, and
" put in bulk " — that is, they are well rubbed with salt, and care-
fully packed up — all interstitial spaces being filled with salt — in a
pile several feet in height and depth. They remain in this condi-
tion for about six weeks, when they are removed from " the bulk/'
washed, and put into barrels in very regular order. The barrels
being filled with pilchards, pressing-stones, — round masses of
granite, weighing about a hundredweight, — with an iron hook
fixed into them for the convenience of moving, are placed on the
fish. By this they are much compressed, and a considerable quan-
tity of oil is squeezed out of them. This process being completed,
the cask is " headed," marked, and is ready for exportation.
Jem Tregose and his old woman, with two sons and a daughter,
lived over one of the fish cellars in St Ives.' For many years there
had been a great scarcity of fish ; * their cellar had been empty ;
Jem and his boys were fishermen, and it had long been hard times
with them. It is true they went out " hook-and-line " fishing now
and then, and got a little money. They had gone over to Ireland
on the herring-fishing, but very little luck attended them.
Summer had passed away, and the early autumn was upon them.
The seine boats were out day after day, but no " signs of fish."
One evening, when the boys came home, Ann Jenny Tregose had
an unusual smile upon her face, and her daughter Janniper, who
had long suffered from the " megrims," was in capital spirits.
" Well, mother," says one of the sons, " and what ails thee a'?"
" The press-stones a bin rolling."
" Haas they, sure enuff," says the old man.
" Ees ! ees ! " exclaims Janniper ; " they has been making a
skimmage ! "
" Hark ye," cries the old woman, " there they go again."
And sure enough there was a heavy rolling of the stones in the
cellar below them. It did not require much imagination to image
these round granite pebbles sliding themselves down on the
" couse," or stone flooring, and dividing themselves up into sets,
as if for a dance, — a regular " cows' courant," or game of romps.
" Fish to-morrow ! " exclaimed the old woman. The ejacula-
tions of each one of the party showed their perfect faith in the
belief, that the stones rolling down from the heap, in which they
had been useless for some time, was a certain indication that pil-
chards were approaching the coast.
Early on the morrow the old man and his sons were on their
* Pilchards are called par excellence "fish. "
2 A
37O Romances of Fishermen and Sailors.
" stem ; " and shortly after daylight the cry of " Heva ! heva 1 " *
was heard from the hills ; the seine was shot, and ere night a
large quantity of fish might be seen in the cellar, and every one
joyous.
WHIPPING THE HAKE.
IT is not improbable that the saying applied to the people of one
of the Cornish fishing-towns, of " Who whipped the hake ? "
may be explained by the following : —
•' Lastly, they are persecuted by the hakes, who (not long
sithence) haunted the coast in great abundance ; but now being
deprived of their wonted bait, are much diminished, verifying the
proverb, ' What we lose in hake we shall have in herring?" —
Carew, Survey, p. 34.
Annoyed with the hakes, the seiners may, in their ignorance,
have actually served one of those fish as indicated.
* Heva is shouted from the hills, upon which a watch is kept for the approach of pil-
chards by the " huer," who telegraphs to the boats by means of bushes covered with
white cloth, or, in modern days, with wire frames so covered. These signals are well
understood, and the men in the seine and the other boats act according to the huer's direc-
tions._ The following song contains all the terms employed in the fishing ; many of them,
especially Could Roos,* do not appear to have any definite meaning attached to them.
The song is by the late C. Taylor Stevens of St Ives, who was for some time the rural
postman to Zennor. I employed Mr Taylor Stevens for some time collecting all that
remains of legendary tales and superstitions in Zennor and Morva. The net is spelled
sometimes Stine at others Sean.
" MERRY SEAN LADS.
" With a cold north wind and a cockled sea,
Or an autumn's cloudless day,
At the huer's bid, to stem we row,
Or upon our paddles play.
All the signs, ' East, West, and Quiet,
Could Roos,' too well we know ;
We can bend a stop, secure a cross,
For brave scan lads are we !
Chorus — We can bend a stop, secure a cross,
For brave scan lads are we !
" If we have first stem when heva comes
We '11 the huer's bushes watch ;
We will row right off or quiet lie,
Flying summer sculls to catch.
And when he winds the towboat round,
We will all ready be,
When he gives Could Roos, we'll shout hurrah I
Merry scan lads are we !
Chorus — When he gives Could Roos, we '11 shout hurrah 1
Merry scan lads are we !
"When the scan we've shot, upon the tow,
We will heave with all our might,
With a heave I heave O ! and rouse ! rouse O I
Till the huer cries, ' All right.'
Then on the bunt place kegs and weights,
And next to tuck go we.
We '11 dip, and trip, with a ' Hip hurrah ! '
Merry scan lads are we !
Chorus — We'll dip, and trip, with a 'Hip hurrah I*
Merry sean laas are we 1 "
* See Appendix CC.
DEATH SUPERSTITIONS.
: Continually at my bed's head
A hearse doth hang, which doth me tell
That I ere morning may be dead,
Though now I feel myself full well."
ROBERT SOUTHWELL.
DEATH TOKENS
AND SUPERSTITIONS.
THE DEATH-TOKEN OF THE VINGOES.
" The messenger of God
With golden trumpe I see,
With many other angels more,
Which sound and call for me.
Instead of musicke sweet,
Go toll my passing bell."
The Bride's Burial.
WHEN you cross the brook which divides St Leven from
Sennen, you are on the estate of Treville.
Tradition tells us that this estate was given to an old family
who came with the Conqueror to this country. This ancestor is
said to have been the Duke of Normandy's wine-taster, and that
he belonged to the ancient counts of Treville, hence the name of
the estate. Certain it is the property has ever been held without
poll deeds. For many generations the family has been declining,
and the race is now nearly, if not quite, extinct.
Through all time a peculiar token has marked the coming death
of a Vingoe. Above the deep caverns in the Treville cliff rises a
earn. On this, chains of fire were seen ascending and descending,
and often accompanied by loud and frightful noises.
It is said that these tokens have not been seen since the last
male of the family came to a violent end.
THE DEATH FETCH OF WILLIAM RUFUS.
ROBERT, Earl of Moreton, in Normandy, — who always carried
the standard of St Michael before him in battle, — was made
Earl of Cornwall by William the Conqueror. He was remarkable
for his valour and for his virtue, for the exercise of his power, and
his benevolence to the priests. This was the Earl of Cornwall
Sir John Arundcll 373
who gave the Mount in Cornwall to the monks of Mont St Michel
in Normandy. He seized upon the priory of St Petroc at Bodmin,
and converted all the lands to his own use.
This Earl of Cornwall was an especial friend of William Rufus.
It happened that Robert, the earl, was hunting in the extensive
woods around Bodmin — of which some remains are still to be
found in the Glyn Valley. The chase had been a severe one ; a
fine old red deer had baffled the huntsmen, and they were dispersed
through the intricacies of the forest, the Earl of Cornwall being
left alone. He advanced beyond the shades of the woods on to
the moors above them, and he was surprised to see a very large
black goat advancing over the plain. As it approached him,
which it did rapidly, he saw that it bore on its back " King Rufus,"
all black and naked, and wounded through in the midst of his
breast. . Robert adjured the goat, in the name of the Holy Trinity,
to tell what it was he carried so strangely. He answered, " I am
carrying your king to judgment ; yea, that tyrant William Rufus,
for I am an evil spirit, and the revenger of his malice which he
bore to the Church of God. It was I that did cause this slaughter;
the protomartyr of England, St Albyn, commanding me so to do,
ivho complained to God of him, for his grievous oppression in this
Isle of Britain, which he first hallowed." Having so spoken, the
spectre vanished. Robert, the earl, related the circumstance to
his followers, and they shortly after learned that at that very hour
William Rufus had been slain in the New Forest by the arrow of
Walter Tirell.
SIR JOHN ARUNDELL.
IN the first year of the reign of Edward IV., the brave Sir John
Arundell dwelt on the north coast of Cornwall, at a place
called Efford, on the coast near Stratton. He was a magistrate,
and greatly esteemed amongst men for his honourable conduct.
He had, however, in his official capacity, given offence to a wild
shepherd, who had by some means acquired considerable influence
over the minds of the people, under the impression of his possess-
ing some supernatural powers. This man had been imprisoned
by Arundell, and on his return home he constantly waylaid the
knight, and, always looking threateningly at him, slowly mut-
tered,—
" When upon the yellow sand,
Thou shalt die by human hand."
i -^hstanding the bravery of Sir John Arundett, he was not free
374 Death Tokens and Superstitions.
from the superstitions of the period. He might, indeed, have
been impressed with the idea that this man intended to murder
him. It is, however, certain that he removed from Efford on the
sands, to the wood-clad hills of Trerice, and here he lived for
some years without the annoyance of meeting his old enemy. In
the tenth year of Edward IV., Richard de Vere, Earl of Oxford,
seized St Michael's Mount. Sir John Arundell, then sheriff of
Cornwall, gathered together his own retainers and a large host of
volunteers, and led them to the attack on St Michael's Mount.
The retainers of the Earl of Oxford, on one occasion, left the
castle, and made a sudden rush upon ArundelPs followers, who
were encamped on the sands near Marazion. Arundell then re-
ceived his death-wound. Although he left Efford " to counteract
the will of fate," the prophecy was fulfilled ; and in his dying mo-
ments, it is said his old enemy appeared, singing joyously, —
" When upon the yellow sand,
Thou shalt die by human hand."
PHANTOMS OF THE DYING.
A GAY party were assembled one afternoon, in the latter days
of January, in the best parlour of a farmhouse near the
Land's-End. The inhabitants of this district were, in many re-
spects, peculiar. Nearly all the land was divided up between,
comparatively, a few owners, and every owner lived on and farmed
his own land.
This circumstance, amongst others, led to a certain amount of
style in many of the old farmhouses of the Land's-End district;
and even now, in some of them, from which, alas ! the glory has
departed, may be seen the evidences of taste beyond that which
might have been expected in so remote a district.
The " best parlour " was frequently panelled with carved oak,
and the ceiling, often highly, though it must be admitted, heavily
decorated. In such a room, in the declining light of a January
afternoon, were some ten or a dozen farmers' daughters, all of them
unmarried, and many of them having an eye on the farmer's eldest
son, a fine young man about twenty years of age, called Joseph.
This farmer and his wife, at the time of which we speak, had
three sons and two daughters. The eldest son was an excellent
and amiable young man, possessed of many personal attractions,
and especially fond of the society of his sisters and their friends.
The next son was of a very different stamp, and was more fre-
quently found in the inn at Church-town than in his father's house ;
Phantoms of the Dying. 375
the younger son was an apprentice at Penzance. The two
daughters, Mary and Honour, had coaxed their mother into " a
tea and heavy cake " party, and Joseph was especially retained,
to be, as every one said he was, " the life of the company."
In those days, when, especially in those parts, every one took
dinner at noon, and tea not much after four o'clock, the party had
assembled early.
There had been the usual preliminary gossip amongst the
young people, when they began to talk about the wreck of a fruit-
ship, which had occurred but a few days before, off the Land's-End,
and it was said that considerable quantities of oranges were wash-
ing into Nangissell Cove. Upon this, Joseph said he would take
one of the men from the farm, and go down to the Cove — which
was not far off — and see if they could not find some oranges for
the ladies.
The day had faded into twilight, the western sky was still bright
with the light of the setting sun, and the illuminated clouds shed
a certain portion of their splendour into the room in which the
party were assembled. The girls were divided up into groups,
having their own pretty little bits of gossip, often truly delightful
from its entire freedom and its innocence ; and the mother of
Joseph was seated near the fireplace, looking with some anxiety
through the windows, from which you commanded a view of the
Atlantic Ocean. The old lady was restless ; sometimes she had
to whisper something to Mary, and then some other thing to
Honour. Her anxiety, at length, was expressed in her wondering
where Joseph could be tarrying so long. All the young ladies
sought to ease her mind by saying that there were no doubt so
many orange-gatherers in the Cove, that Joseph and the man
could not get so much fruit as he desired.
Joseph was the favourite son of his mother, and her anxiety
evidently increased. Eventually, starting from her chair, the old
lady exclaimed, " Oh, here he is ; now I ;11 see about the tea."
With a pleased smile on her face, she left the room, to return,
however, to it in deeper sorrow.
The mother expected to meet her son at the door — he came not.
Thinking that he might possibly have been wetted by the sea, and
that he had gone round the house to another door leading directly
into the kitchen, for the purpose of drying himself, or of changing
his boots, she went into the dairy to fetch the basin of clotted
cream, — which had been " taken up " with unusual care, — to see
if the junket was properly set, and to spread the flaky cream thickly
upon its surface.
376 Death Tokens and Superstitions.
Strange, — as the old lady subsequently related, — all the pans of
milk were agitated — " the milk rising up and down like the waves
of the sea."
The anxious mother returned to the parlour with her basin of
cream, but with an indescribable feeling of an unknown terror.
She commanded herself, and, in her usual quiet way, asked if
Joseph had been in. When they answered her " No," she sighed
heavily, and sank senseless into a chair.
Neither Joseph nor the servant ever returned alive. They were
seen standing together upon a rock, stooping to gather oranges at
they came with each wave up to their feet, when one of the heavy
swells — the lingering undulations of a tempest, so well known on
this coast — came sweeping onward, and carried them both away
in its cave of waters, as the wave curved to engulf them.
The undertow of the tidal current was so strong that, though
powerful men and good swimmers, they were carried at once beyond
all human aid, and speedily perished.
The house of joy became a house of mourning, and sadness rested
on it for years. Day after day passed by, and, although a constant
watch was kept along the coast, it was not until the fated ninth
day that the bodies were discovered, and they were then found in
a sadly mutilated state.
Often after long years, and when the consolations derivable from
pure religious feeling had brought that tranquillity upon the mind
of this loving mother, — which so much resembles the poetical
repose of an autumnal evening, — has she repeated to me the sad
tale.
Again and again have I heard her declare that she saw Joseph,
her son, as distinctly as ever she saw him in her life, and that,
as he passed the parlour windows, he looked in upon her and
smiled.
This is not given as a superstition belonging in any peculiar
way to Cornwall. In every part of the British Isles it exists ; but
I have never met with any people who so firmly believed in the
appearance of the phantoms of the dying to those upon whom the
last thoughts are centred, as the Cornish did.
Another case is within my knowledge.
A lady, the wife of an officer in the navy, had been with her
husband's sister, on a summer evening, to church. The husband
was in the Mediterranean, and there was no reason to expect his
return for many months.
These two ladies returned home, and the wife, ascending the
stairs before her sister-in. law, went into the drawing-room — her
The White Hare. 377
intention being to close the windows, which, as the weather had
been warm and fine, had been thrown open.
She had proceeded about half way across the room, when she
shrieked, ran back, and fell into her sister-in-law's arms. Upon
recover)'-, she stated that a figure, like that of her husband, en-
veloped in a mist, appeared to her to fill one of the windows.
By her friends, the wife's fancies were laughed at ; and, if not
forgotten, the circumstance was no longer spoken of.
Month after month glided by, without intelligence of the ship to
which that officer belonged. At length the Government became
anxious, and searching inquiries were made. Some time still
elapsed, but eventually it was ascertained that this sloop of war had
perished in a white squall, in which she became involved, near
the Island of Mitylene, in the Grecian Archipelago, on the Sunday
evening when the widow fancied she saw her husband.
THE WHITE HARE.
IT is a very popular fancy that when a maiden, who has loved
not wisely but too well, dies forsaken and broken-hearted,
that she comes back to haunt her deceiver in the shape of a white
hare.
This phantom follows the false one everywhere, mostly invisible
to all but him. It sometimes saves him from danger, but invari-
ably the white hare causes the death of the betrayer in the end.
The following story of the white hare is a modification of several
tales of the same kind which have been told me. Many, many
years have passed away, and all who were in any way connected
with my story have slept for generations in the quiet churchyard
of .
A large landed proprietor engaged a fine, handsome young
fellow to manage his farm, which was a very extensive as well as
a high-class one. When the young farmer was duly settled in his
new farmhouse, there came to live with him, to take the manage-
ment of the dairy, a peasant's daughter. She was very handsome,
and of a singularly fine figure, but entirely without education.
The farmer became desperately in love with this young creature,
and eventually their love passed all the bounds of discretion. It
became the policy of the young farmer's family to put down this
unfortunate passion, by substituting a more legitimate and endear-
ing object
After a long trial, they thought they were successful, and the
young farmer was married.
378 Death Tokens and Superstitions.
Many months had not passed away when the discharged dairy-
maid was observed to suffer from illness, which, however, she
constantly spoke of as nothing ; but knowing dames saw too clearly
the truth. One morning there was found in a field a newly-born
babe strangled. The unfortunate girl was at once suspected as
being the parent, and the evidence was soon sufficient to charge
her with the murder. She was tried, and, chiefly by the evidence
of the young farmer and his family, convicted of, and executed for,
the murder.
Everything now went wrong in the farm, and the young man
suddenly left it and went into another part of the country.
Still nothing prospered, and gradually he took to drink to drown
some secret sorrow. He was more frequently on the road by
night than by day; and, go where he would, a white hare was
constantly crossing his path. The white hare was often seen by
others, almost always under the feet of his horse ; and the poor
terrified animal would go like the wind to avoid the strange ap-
parition.
One morning the young farmer was found drowned in a forsaken
mine ; and the horse, which had evidently suffered extreme terror,
was grazing near the corpse. Beyond all doubt the white hare,
which is known to hunt the perjured and the false-hearted to
death, had terrified the horse to such a degree, that eventually the
rider was thrown into the mine-waste in which the body was
found.
THE HAND OF A SUICIDE.
PLACING the hand of a man who has died by his own act is
a cure for many diseases.
The following is given me by a thinking man, living in one of
the towns in the west of Cornwall : —
" There is a young man in this town who had been afflicted with
running tumours from his birth. When about seventeen years of
age he had the hand of a man who had hanged himself, passed
over the wounds on his back, and, strange to say, he recovered
from that time, and is now comparatively robust and hearty. This
incident is true ; I was present when the charm was performed. It
should be observed that the notion appears to be that the ' touch '
is only effectual on the opposite sex ; but in this case they were
both, the suicide and the afflicted one, of the same sex."
This is only a modified form of the superstition that a wen, or
any strumous swelling, can be cured by touching it with the dead
hand of a man who has just been publicly hanged.
Popular Superstitions. 379
I once saw a young woman led on to the scaffold, in the Old
Bailey, for the purpose of having a wen touched with the hand of
a man who had just been executed.
THE NORTH SIDE OF A CHURCH*
A STRONG prejudice has long existed against burying on
the northern side of the church. In many churchyards the
southern side will be found full of graves, with scarcely any on
the northern side.
I have sought to discover, if possible, the origin of this prejudice,
but I have not been able to trace it to any well-defined feeling. I
have been answered, " Oh, we like to bury a corpse where the sun
will shine on the grave ;" and, " The northern graveyard is in the
shadow, and cold ;" but beyond this I have not advanced.
We* may infer that this desire to place the remains of our friends
in earth on which the sun shines, is born of that love which, for-
getting mortality, lives on the pleasant memories of the past,
hoping for that meeting beyond the grave which shall know no
shadow. The act of planting flowers, of nurturing an evergreen
tree, of hanging " eternals " on the tomb, is only another form of
the same sacred feeling.
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.
IT is, or rather was, believed, in nearly every part of the West of
England, that death is retarded, and the dying kept in a state
of suffering, by having any lock closed, or any bolt shot, in the
dwelling of the dying person.
A man cannot die easy on a bed made of fowls' feathers, or the
feathers of wild birds.
Never carry a corpse to church by a new road.
Whenever a guttering candle folds over its cooling grease, it is
watched with much anxiety. If it curls upon itself it is said to
form the " handle of a coffin," and the person towards whom it is
directed will be in danger of death.
Bituminous coal not unfrequently swells into bubbles, these
bubbles of coal containing carburetted hydrogen gas. When the
pressure becomes great they burst, and often throw off the upper
section with some explosive force. According to the shape of the
piece thrown off, so is it named. If it proves round, it is a purse
of money ; if oblong, it is a coffin, and the group towards which it
flew will be in danger.
* See Appendix DD.
380 Death Tokens and Superstitions.
If a cock crows at midnight, the angel of death is passing over
the house ; and if he delays to strike, the delay is only for a short
season.
The howling of a dog is a sad sign. If repeated for three nights,
the house against which it howled will soon be in mourning.
A raven croaking over a cottage fills its inmates with gloom.
There are many other superstitions and tokens connected with
life and death, but those given show the general character of those
feelings which I may, I think, venture to call the " inner life " of
the Cornish people. It will be understood by all who have studied
the peculiarities of any Celtic race, that they have ever been a
peculiarly impressible people. They have ever observed the phe-
nomena of nature ; and they have interpreted them with hopeful
feelings, or despondent anxiety, according as they have been sur-
rounded by cheerful or by sorrow-inducing circumstances. That
melancholy state of mind, which is so well expressed by the word
" whisht," leads the sufferer to find a " sign " or a " token " in the
trembling of a leaf, or in the lowering of the tempest-clouds. A
collection of the almost infinite variety of these " signs and tokens "
which still exist, would form a curious subject for an essay. Yet
this could only now be done by a person who would skilfully win
the confidence of the miner or the peasant. They feel that they
might subject themselves to ridicule by an indiscreet disclosure of
the religion of their souls. When, if ever, such a collection is made,
it will be found that these superstitions have their origin in the
purest feelings of the heart — that they are the shado wings forth of
love, tinctured with the melancholy dyes of that fear which is born
of mystery.
One would desire that even those old superstitions should be
preserved. They illustrate a state of society, in the past, which
will never again return. There are but few reflecting minds which
do not occasionally feel a lingering regret that times should pass
away during which life was not a reflection of cold reason.
But these things must fade as a knowledge of nature's laws is
disseminated amongst the people. Yet there is —
" The lonely mountains o'er,
And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament ;
From haunted spring and dale,
Edged with poplar pale,
The parting genius is, with sighing sent "
OLD USAGES.
" The king was to his palace, though the service was ydo,
Yled with his meinie, and the queen to her also ;
For she held the old usages."
ROBERT OF GLOUCESTER.
CUSTOMS OF ANCIENT DAYS.
SANDING THE STEP ON NEW YEAR'S DAY.
"They say, miracles are past, and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern
and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of
terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge." — All's Well that Ends Well.
—SHAKESPEARE.
IN the rural districts of Cornwall, it is thought to be unlucky if
a female is the first to enter the house on new-year's morning.
To insure the contrary, it was customary to give boys some small
reward for placing sand on the door-steps and in the passage.
In many places, not many years since, droves of boys would
march through the towns and villages, collecting their fees for
" sanding your step for good luck."
This custom prevails over most parts of England. I know a
lady who, at the commencement of the present year, sent a cab-
man into her house before her, upon promise of giving him a glass
of spirits, so that she might insure the good luck which depends
upon " a man's taking the new year in."
MA Y-DA Y.
THE first of May is inaugurated with much uproar. As soon
as the clock has told of midnight, a loud blast on tin trum-
pets proclaims the advent of May. This is long continued. At
daybreak, with their " tintarrems," they proceed to the country,
and strip the sycamore-trees (called May-trees) of all their young
branches, to make whistles. With these shrill musical instruments
they return home. Young men and women devote May-day to
junketing and pic-nics.
It was a custom at Penzance, and probably at many other
Cornish towns, when the author was a boy, for a number of young
people to sit up until twelve o'clock, and then to march round the
town with violins and fifes, and summon their friends to the May-
ing.
" The Furry "—Helstone. 3^3
When all were gathered, they went into the country, afTu^ were
welcomed at the farmhouses at which they called, with some ^\
freshment in the shape of rum and milk, junket, or something of
that sort.
They then gathered the " May," which included the young
branches of any tree in blossom or fresh leaf. The branches of the
sycamore were especially cut for the purpose of making the " May-
music." This was done by cutting a circle through the bark to
the wood a few inches from the end of the branch. The bark
was wetted and carefully beaten until it was loosened and could
be slid off from the wood. The wood was cut angularly at the
end, so as to form a mouth-piece, and a slit was made in both the
bark and the wood, so that when the bark was replaced a whistle
was formed. Prepared with a sufficient number of May whistles,
all the party returned to the town, the band playing, whistles
blowing, and the young people singing some appropriate song.
SHROVE TUESDAY AT ST IVES.
T7ORMERLY it was customary for the boys to tie stones to
± cords, and with these parade the town, slinging these stones
against the doors, shouting aloud, —
"Give me a pancake, now — now — now,
Or I '11 souse in your door with a row — tow — tow."
A genteel correspondent assures me "this is observed now in
the lower parts of the town only."
" THE FURRY"— HELSTONE.
THIS ancient custom, which consists in dancing through the
streets of the town, and entering the houses of rich and poor
alike, is thus well described : —
"On the 8th of May, at Helstone, in Cornwall, is held what is called
' the Furry. ' The word is supposed by Mr Polwhele to have been derived
from the old Cornish word fer, a fair or jubilee. The morning is ushered
in by the music of drums and kettles, and other accompaniments of a song,
a great part of which is inserted in Mr Polwhele's history, where this cir-
cumstance is noticed. So strict is the observance of this day as a general
holiday, that should any person be found at work, he is instantly seized,
set astride on a pole, and hurried on men's shoulders to the river, where
he is sentenced to leap over a wide place, which he, of course, fails in
attempting, and leaps into the water. A small contribution towards the
good cheer of the day easily compounds for the leap. About nine o'clock
the revellers appear before the grammar-school, and demand a holiday for
Customs of A ncient Days.
They
and,
their
,»ats and caps. From this time they dance hand in hand through the
streets, to the sound of the fiddle, playing a particular tune, running into
every house they pass without opposition. In the afternoon a select party
of the ladies and gentlemen make a progress through the street, and very
late in the evening repair to the ball-room. A stranger visiting the town
on the eighth of May would really think the people mad, so apparently
wild and thoughtless is the merriment of the day. There is no doubt of
'the Furry' originating from the 'Floralia,' anciently observed by the
Romans on the fourth of the calends of May. " — Every- Day Book.
MIDSUMMER SUPERSTITIOUS CUSTOMS.
IF on midsummer-eve a young woman takes off the shift which
she has been wearing, and, having washed it, turns its wrong
side out, and hangs it in silence over the back of a chair, near the
fire, she wih1 see, about midnight, her future husband, who de-
liberately turns the garment.
If a young lady will, on midsummer-eve, walk backwards into
the garden and gather a rose, she has the means of knowing who
is to be her husband. The rose must be cautiously sewn up in a
paper bag, and put aside in a dark drawer, there to remain until
Christmas -day.
On the morning of the Nativity the bag must be carefully opened
in silence, and the rose placed by the lady in her bosom. Thus
she must wear it to church. Some young man will either ask for
the rose, or take it from her without asking. That young man is
destined to become eventually the lady's husband.
" At eve last midsummer no sleep I sought,
But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought ;
I scatter'd round the seed on every side,
And three times in a trembling accent cried, —
' This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow,
Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow.'
I straight look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth,
With his keen scythe behind me came the youth."
Gay's Pastorals.
The practice of sowing hemp-seed on midsummer-eve is not
especially a Cornish superstition, yet it was at one time a favourite
practice with young women to try the experiment. Many a strange
story have I been told as to the result of the sowing, and many a
trick could I tell off, which has been played off by young men who
had become acquainted with the secret intention of some maidens.
I believe there is but little difference in the rude rhyme used on the
occasion, —
Crying tJte Neck. 385
" Hemp-seed I sow,
Hemp-seed I hoe,"
(the action of sowing the seed and of hoeing it in, must be deli-
berately gone through) ; —
"And he
Who will my true love be,
Come after me and mow. "
A phantom of the true lover will now appear, and of course the
maid or maidens retire in wild affright.
If a young unmarried woman stands at midnight on Midsum-
mer-eve in the porch of the parish church, she will see, passing
by in procession, every one who will die in the parish during the
year. This is so serious an affair that it is not, i believe, often
tried. I have, however, heard of young women who have made
the experiment. But every one of the stories relate that, coming
last in the procession, they have seen shadows of themselves ; that
from that day forward they have pined, and ere midsummer has
again come round, that they have been laid to rest in the village
graveyard.
CRYING THE NECK.
OWING to the uncertain character of the climate of Cornwall,
the farmers have adopted the plan of gathering the sheaves
of wheat, as speedily as possible, into " arishmows." These are
solid cones from ten to twelve feet high, the heads of the stalks
turned inwards, and the whole capped with a sheaf of corn inverted.
Whence the term, I know not ; but " arish " is commonly applied
to a field of corn recently cut, as, " Turn the geese in upon the
' arish ' " — that is, the short stubble left in the ground.
After the wheat is all cut on most farms in Cornwall and Devon,
the harvest people have a custom of " crying the neck." I believe
that this practice is seldom omitted on any large farm in these
counties. It is done in this way. An old man, or some one else
well acquainted with the ceremonies used on the occasion (when
the labourers are reaping the last field of wheat), goes round to the
shocks and sheaves, and picks out a little bundle of all the best
ears he can find ; this bundle he ties up very neat and trim, and
plaits and arranges the straws veiy tastefully. This is called " the
neck " of wheat, or wheaten-ears. After the field is cut out, and
the pitcher once more circulated, the reapers, binders, and the
women stand round in a circle. The person with " the neck "
stands in the centre, grasping it with both his hands. He first stoops
and holds it near the ground, and all the men forming the ring
2B
386 Customs of Ancient Days.
take off their hats, stooping and holding them with both hands
towards the ground. They then all begin at once, in a very pro-
longed and harmonious tone, to cry, " The neck ! " at the same
time slowly raising themselves upright, and elevating their arms
and hats above their heads ; the person with the neck also raising
it on high. This is done three times. They then change their
cry to " We yen ! we yen ! " which they sound in the same pro-
longed and slow manner as before, with singular harmony and
effect, three times. This last cry is accompanied by the same
movements of the body and arms as in crying " the neck." I
know nothing of vocal music, but I think I may convey some idea
of the sound by giving you the following notes in gamut : —
Vtryslvw.
We yen ! we yen !
Let these notes be played on a flute with perfect crescendoes and
diminuendoes, and perhaps some notion of this wild-sounding cry
may be formed. Well, after this they all burst out into a kind of
. loud, joyous laugh, flinging up their hats and caps into the air, cap-
ering about, and perhaps kissing the girls. One of them then gets
" the neck," and runs as hard as he can down to the farmhouse,
where the dairy-maid, or one of the young female domestics, stands
at the door prepared with a pail of water. If he who holds " the
neck" can manage to get into the house in any way unseen, or openly
by any other way than the door at which the girl stands with the
pail of water, then he may lawfully kiss her ; but, if otherwise he
is regularly soused with the contents of the bucket. I think this
practice is beginning to decline of late, and many farmers and their
men do not care about keeping up this old custom. The object
of crying " the neck " is to give notice to the surrounding country
of the end of the harvest, and the meaning of " we yen " is " we
have ended.'" It may probably mean " we end," which the uncouth
and provincial pronunciation has corrupted into " we yen." . The
" neck " is generally hung up in the farmhouse, where it often re-
mains for three or four years.
DRINKING TO THE APPLE-TREES ON TWELFTH-
NIGHT-EVE.
IN the eastern part of Cornwall, and in western Devonshire, it
was the custom to take a milk-panful of cider, into which
roasted apples had been broken, into the orchard This was placed
Drinking to the Apple- Trees. 387
as near the centre of the orchard as possible, and each person,
taking a " clomben " cup of the drink, goes to different apple-trees,
and addresses them as follows : —
' ' Health to the good apple-tree ;
Well to bear, pocketfuls, hatfuls,
Peckfuls, bushel-bagfuls."
Drinking part of the contents of the cup, the remainder, with the
fragments of the roasted apples, is thrown at the tree, all the com-
pany shouting aloud. Another account tells us, " In certain parts
of Devonshire, the farmer, attended by his workmen, goes to the
orchard this evening ; and there, encircling one of the best-bearing
trees, they drink the following toast three times : —
' Here 's to thee, old apple-tree ;
Hence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow,
And whence thou mayst bear apples enow !
Hats full ! caps full !
Bushel, bushel-sacks full !
And my pockets full, too ! Huzza ! '
This done, they return to the house, the doors of which they are
sure to find bolted by the females, who, be the weather what it
may, are inexorable to all entreaties to open them, till some one
has guessed what is on the spit, which is generally some nice little
thing difficult to be hit on, and is the reward of him who first
names it. The doors are then thrown open, and the lucky clodpole
receives the tit-bit as his recompense. Some are so superstitious
as to believe that if they neglect this custom, the trees will bear
no apples that year." *
Christmas-eve was selected in some parts of England as the
occasion for wishing health to the apple-tree. Apples were roasted
on a string until they fell into a pan of spiced ale, placed to receive
them. This drink was called lamUs-wool, and with it the trees
were wassailed, as in Devonshire and Cornwall.
Herrick alludes to the custom : —
" Wassaile the trees, that they may beare
You many a plum, and many a peare ;
For more or lesse fruits they will bring,
And you do give them wassailing."
May not Shakespeare refer to this ? —
" Sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab ;
* Hone's " Every-Day Book."
388 Customs of A ncien t Days.
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale."
— Midsummer Night's Dream.
In some localities apples are blessed on St James's Day, July
25.
ALLHALLOWS-EVE AT ST IVES.
r I ^HE ancient custom of providing children with a large apple
-L on Allhallows-eve is still observed, to a great extent, at St
Ives. " Allan-day," as it is called, is the day of days to hundreds
of children, who would deem it a great misfortune were they to go
to bed on " Allan-night " without the time-honoured Allan apple
to hide beneath their pillows. A quantity of large apples are
thus disposed of, the sale of which is dignified by the term Allan
Market.
THE TWELFTH CAKE.
THE custom, apparently a very ancient one, of putting certain
articles into a rich cake, is still preserved in many districts.
Usually, sixpence, a wedding-ring, and a silver thimble are em-
ployed. These are mixed up with the dough, and baked in the
cake. At night the cake is divided. The person who secures the
sixpence will not want money for that year ; the one who has the
ring will be the first married ; and the possessor cf the thimble
will die an old maid.
" Then also every householder,
To his abilitie
Doth make a mighty cake, that may
Suffice his companie :
I lerein a pennie doth he put,
Before it come to fire ;
This he divides according as
His household doth require,
And every peece distributed!
As round about they stand,
Which in their names unto the pooi
Is given out of hand.
Rut who so chanceth on the peece
Wherein the money lies,
Is counted king amongst them all ;
And is with shoutes and cries
Exalted to the heavens up."
— Naogeorguss Popish Kingdom.
"St George"— Christmas Plays. 389
OXEN PRAY ON CHRISTMAS-EVE.
I REMEMBER, when a child, being told that all the oxen and
cows kept at a farm in the parish of St Germans, at which
I was visiting with my aunt, would be found on their knees when
the clock struck twelve. This is the only case within my own
knowledge of this wide-spread superstition existing in Cornwall.
Brand says, " A superstitious notion prevails in the western parts
of Devonshire, that at twelve o'clock at night on Christmas-eve,
the oxen in their stalls are always found on their knees, as in an
attitude of devotion ; and that (which is still more singular) since
the alteration of the style, they continue to do this only on the eve
of Old Christmas-day. An honest countryman, living on the edge
of St Stephen's Down, near Launceston, Cornwall, informed me,
October 28, 1790, that he once, with some others, made a trial of
the truth of the above, and, watching several oxen in their stalls
at the above time, — at twelve o'clock at night, — they observed the
two oldest oxen only, fall upon their knees, and, as he expressed it
in the idiom of the country, make ' a cruel moan, like Christian
creatures.' I could not, but with great difficulty, keep my coun-
tenance ; he saw, and seemed angry that I gave so little credit to
his tale ; and, walking off in a pettish humour, seemed to ' marvel
at my unbelief.' There is an old print of the Nativity, in which
the oxen in the stable, near the Virgin and the Child, are repre-
sented upon their knees, as in a suppliant posture. This graphic
representation has probably given rise to the above superstitious
notion on this head."
"ST GEORGE"— THE CHRISTMAS PLAYS.
THE Christmas play is a very ancient institution in Cornwall.
At one time religious subjects were chosen, but those gave
way to romantic plays. The arrangements were tolerably complete,
and sometimes a considerable amount of dramatic skill was dis-
played.
' ' St George, and the other tragic performers, are dressed out some-
what in the style of morris-dancers, in their shirt sleeves and white trousers,
much decorated with ribbons and handkerchiefs, each carrying a drawn
sword in his hand, if they can be procured, otherwise a cudgel. They
wear high caps of pasteboard, adorned with beads, small pieces of looking-
glass, coloured paper, &c. ; several long strips of pith generally hang
down from the top, with small pieces of different coloured cloth strung on
them ; the whole has a very smart effect.
Father Christmas is personified in a grotesque manner, as an ancient man.
3QO Customs of Ancient Days.
wearing a large mask and wig, and a huge club, wherewith he keeps the
bystanders in order.
The Doctor, who is generally the merryandrew of the piece, is dressed
in any ridiculous way, with a wig, three-cornered hat, and painted face.
The other comic characters are dressed according to fancy.
Thefemafe, where there is one, is usually in the dress worn half a cen-
tury ago.
The hobbyhorse, which is a character sometimes introduced, wears a
representation of a horse's hide.
Beside the regular drama of " St George," many parties of mummers go
about in fancy dresses of every sort, most commonly the males in female
attire, and vice versd.
BATTLE OF ST GEORGE.
[One of the party steps in, crying out, —
Room, a room, brave gallants, room !
Within this court
I do resort,
To show some sport
And pastime,
Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time.
[After this note of preparation. Old Father Christmas capers into
the room, saying, —
Here comes I, Old Father Christmas ;
Welcome or welcome not,
I hope Old Father Christmas
Will never be forgot.
I was born in a rocky country, where there was no wood to make me a
cradle ; I was rocked in a stouring bowl, which made me round shouldered
then, and I am round shouldered still.
\He then frisks about the room, •until he thinks he has sufficiently
amused the spectators, -when he makes his exit, ivith this
speech : —
Who went to the orchard to steal apples to make gooseberry pies against
Chi istmas ?
[These prose speeches, you may suppose, depend much vpon the
imagination of the actor.
Enter Turkish Knight.
Here comes I, a Turkish knight,
Come from the Turkish land to fight ;
And if St George do meet me here,
I '11 try his courage without fear.
Enter St George.
Here comes I, St George,
That worthy champion bold ;
And, with my sword and spear,
I won three crowns of gold.
I fought the dragon bold,
And brought him to the slaughter ;
By that I gain'd fair Sabra,
The King of Egypt's daughter.
"St George" — Christmas Plays. 391
T. K. St George, I pray, be not too bold ;
If thy blood is hot, I '11 soon make it cold.
St G. Thou Turkish knight, I pray, forbear ;
I '11 make thee dread my sword and spear.
[They fight until the Turkish knight falls
St G. I have a little bottle, which goes by the name of Elicumpane ;
If the man is alive, let him rise and fight again.
[The Knight here rises on one knee, and endeavours to continue the
fight, but is again struck down.
T. K. Oh, pardon me, St George ; oh, pardon me, I crave ;
Oh, pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave.
St G. I '11 never pardon a Turkish knight ;
Therefore arise and try thy might.
[The knight gets up, and they again fight, till the Knight receives a
heavy blow, and then drops on the ground as dead.
St G. Is there a doctor to be found,
To cure a deep and deadly wound?
Enter Doctor.
Oh yes, there is a doctor to be found,
To cure a deep and deadly wound.
St G. What can you cure ?
Doctor. I can cure the itch, the palsy, and gout ;
If the devil 's in him. I '11 tmll him out.
[The Doctor here performs the cure with sundry grimaces, and St
George and the knight again fight, when the latter is knocked
down, and left for dead.
[ Then another performer enters, and, on seeing the dead body, says, —
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ;
If Uncle Tom Pearce won't have him, Aunt Molly must.
[The hobbyhorse here capers in, and takes off the body.
Enter Old Squire.
Here comes I, old, Old Squire,
As black as any friar,
As ragged as a colt,
To leave fine clothes for malt.
Enter Hub Bub.
Here comes I, old Hub Bub Bub Bub ;
Upon my shoulders I carries a club,
And in my hand a frying-pan,
So am I not a valiant man ?
[These characters serve as a sort of burlesque on St George and the
other hero, and may be regarded in the light of an anti-masque.
Entei' the Box-holder.
Here comes I, great head and little wit ;
Put your hand in your pocket, and give what you think fit.
Gentlemen and ladies, sitting down at your ease,
Put your hands in your pockets, and give me what you please.
392 Customs of A ncient Days.
St G. Gentlemen and ladies, the sport is almost ended ;
Come pay to the box, it is highly commended.
The box it would speak, if it had but a tongue ;
Come throw in your money, and think it no wrong.
The characters now generally finish with a dance, or sometimes a song
or two is introduced. In some of the performances, two or three other tragic
heroes are brought forward, as the King of Egypt and his son, &c. ; .but
they are all of them much in the style of that I have just described, vary-
ing somewhat in length and number of characters." — The Every-Day Book
Of the Cornish mystery plays which were once acted in the
famous " Rounds," it is not necessary, in this place, to say any-
thing. The translations by Mr Norris preserve their characteristics,
which indeed differ in few respects from the mystery plays of other
parts.
The " Perran Round " is fortunately preserved by the proprietor
in its original state. Every one must regret the indifference of
the wealthy inhabitants of St Just to their " Round," which is now
a wretched ruin.
GEESE-DANCING—PLOUGH MONDA Y.
THE first Monday after Twelfth-day is Plough Monday, and
it is the ploughman's holiday.
At this season, in the Islands of Scilly, at St Ives, Penzance,
and other places, the young people exercise a sort of gallantrj
called " geese-dancing." The maidens are dressed up for young
men, and the young men for maidens ; and, thus disguised, they
visit their neighbours in companies, where they dance, and make
jokes upon what has happened during the year, and every one is
humorously " told their own," without offence being taken. By
this sort of sport, according to yearly custom and toleration, there
is a spirit of wit and drollery kept up among the people. The
music and dancing done, they are treated with liquor, and then they
go to the next house, and carry on the same sport. A corre-
spondent, writing to the " Table-Book," insists on calling these
revels "goose-dancing." The true Cornishman never uses the
term, which is, as I have elsewhere shown, derived from dance
deguiser, — hence guise-dancing, or geese-dancing, by corruption.
CHRISTMAS AT ST IVES.
"THE GUISE-DANCING."
" "V T 7E doubt if there is a spot in 'merrie England' where Christmas
V V receives so hearty a welcome, and is ' made so much of,' as in the
old-fashioned 'antient borough of beloved St Ives.' It is often
said that ' extremes meet ; ' but as well might we expect the extremities of
Christmas at St Ives. 393
Britain — John o'Groat's and Cape Cornwall — to meet, as that the frolic-
loving descendants of Albion will ever imitate the cold, mountain-nurtured
Caledonians in their observance of Christmas time. For months previous
to the merry-making time, preparations are made for the approaching
' carnival ; ' we can assure our readers that never were the real ' carnivals '
ushered in with greater festivities at Rome or Venice, in the zenith of their
glory, than is observed here at Christmas. Were many of the denizens of
our large towns to witness the making up of the scores of 'sugar-loaf.'
4 three-cocked,' and indescribable-shaped hats, caps, bonnets, bloomer
skirts, leggings, jackets, &c., numberless et ceteras of the most grotesque
and pantomimic character, colour, and shape, which goes on in October
and November, they would imagine there was to be a bal masque on a
large scale, or a pantomime at * the theatre,' of metropolitan proportions.
But not so, for there is not even a singing-class in the town, if we except
the choirs of the various congregations, and all ' this wilful waste ' of long
cloth, scarlet, ringstraked, and speckled, is to do honour to King Christmas
during the twelve nights which intervene 'twixt the birth of Christmas
common and Christmas proper, which said outward manifestations of honour
are known in the neighbourhood as 'Christmas geezze-daancing,' or guise-
dancing ; but of this presently. Not only are the * lovers of pleasure ' on
the alert, but the choirs of the different places of worship strive to ' get up '
a piece or two to tickle the ears of their hearers on Christmas-night, and
the house that boasts the best 'singing seat' is sure to be crammed by
persons attracted by the twofold advantage of a short sermon and a good
lively tune. A pretty brisk trade is carried on by children in the retailing
unquenched lime, in small quantities to suit the convenience of purchasers ;
and few are the domiciles but have had a lick of the lime brush, either on
the wall, window-sill, door-post, or chimney. 'A slut, indeed,' is she
declared who refuses to have a thorough clean out before Christmas. New
shoes and clothes are worn for the first time on the great holiday; and
woe betide the unlucky Crispin who, by some unaccountable oversight, has
neglected to make Jennifer's bran new shoes, for her to go and see how
smart the church is on Christmas-day. As in other parts of England, a
pretty large sum is spent in evergreens, such as holly, or, as it is called here,
' prickly Christmas,' bays, and laurels. Of mistletoe and cypress there is
very little in the neighbourhood, and the windows of shops and private
dwellings, as well as the parish church, are profusely and tastefully deco-
rated. As to provisions, there is no lack. Many a flock of geese has been
bespoken and set apart for private customers ; whilst the ears of the grocers,
who generally do a supplementary trade in swine's flesh, are so accustomed
to receive a month's notice for ' a nice bit of flea (spare) rib,' that they are
loath to engage any of the porcine fraternity that are not all rib. The
Christmas market is not a mean affair at St Ives ; if the butchers cannot
boast of many prize oxen or ' South Downs,' they generally manage to
make the best of their ' home-raised ' and well-fed cattle, and the stalls are
' titivated off' nicely too. This year, however, the inspector of nuisances,
who is also market-toll collector and police constable, sergeant, and inspec-
tor, actually refused to clean, or allow to be cleaned, the St Ives Market
on Tuesday for the Christmas-eve market, because there was no extra tolls
payable for the Christmas markets, and, as may be expected, the epithets
bestowed on him were by no means flattering or complimentary — we did
hear of a suggestion to put the 'gentleman' policeman in an aldermanic
stall on the 5th of next November, or maybe during the guise-dancing.
394 Customs of A ncient Days.
Tradesmen have for the most part ' cacht their jobs,' and the good house
wife ' done her churs in season ' on Christmas-eve. In many families, a
crock of ' fish and tatees ' is discussed in West-Cornwall style before the
'singers' commence their time-honoured carol, 'While Shepherds,' which
is invariably sung to ' the same old tune,' struck by some novice in u flat.
There is usually a host of young men and maidens to accompany the
' singers ; ' these are composed of the choirs of two or three dissenting
bodies, who chiefly select the members of their respective congregations for
the honour of being disturbed from a sound nap on the eventful morning.
The last two or three years the choirs have done their carolling amongst
the most respectable of the inhabitants on the evening of Christmas-day,
after divine service.
"On Christmas-day the mayor, aldermen, and councillors walk in pro-
cession to church from the house of the mayor for the time being. The
church is, as we have before remarked, gaily decked with evergreens. Two
or three days after the singers make a call 'for something for singing,' the
proceeds, which are pretty handsome, being spent in a substantial supper
for the choir.
"But of the 'guise-dancing,' which has found a last retreat at St Ives, —
this is the only town in the country where the old Cornish Christmas
revelry is kept up with spirit. The guise- dancing time is the twelve nights
after Christmas, i.e., from Christmas-day to Twelfth-day. Guise-dancing
at St Ives is no more nor less than a pantomimic representation or bal
masque on an extensive scale, the performers outnumbering the audience,
who in this case take their stand at the corners of the streets, which are but
badly lighted with gas, and rendered still more dismal of late years by the
closing of the tradesmen's shops after sunset during this season, on account
of the noise and uproar occasioned, the town being literally given up to a
lawless mob, who go about yelling and hooting in an unearthly manner, in
a tone between a screech and a howl, so as to render their voices as
undistinguishable as their buffoon-looking dresses. Here a Chinese is
exhibiting ' vite mishe ' and ' Dutch dops ; ' there a turbaned Indian asks
you if you ' vant a silver vatch.' A little further on you meet with a High-
lander with ' dops to cure the gout.' The home-impoverishing packman,
or duffer, has also his representative, urging to be allowed just to leave ' a
common low-price dress at an uncommon high price, and a quartern of his
6s. sloe-leaves of the best quality.' Faithless swains not unfrequently get
served out by the friends of the discarded one at this time, whilst every
little peccadillo meets with a just rebuke and exposure. About eighteen
years ago, a party of youngsters, to give more variety to the sports, con-
structed a few nice representations of elephants, horses, and — start not gentle
reader — lifelike facsimiles of that proverbially stupid brute, the ass. For
several seasons it was quite a treat to witness the antics of the self-consti-
tuted elephants, horses, and asses, in the thoroughfares of this little town.
On the whole, the character of the guise-dancing has degenerated very
much this last twenty years. It was formerly the custom for parties to get
up a little play, and go from house to house to recite their droll oddities,
and levy contributions on their hearers in the form of cake or plum-pudding.
Wassailing, as far as I can learn, never obtained much in this neighbourhood.
Old Father Christmas and bold King George were favourite characters.
It is not uncommon to see a most odiously-disguised person with a bedroom
utensil, asking the blushing bystanders if there is 'any need of me.' Some
of the dresses are, indeed, very smart, and even costly ; but for the most
Lady Lovell's Courtship. 395
part they consist of old clothes, arranged in the oddest manner, even fright
fully ugly. It is dangerous for children, and aged or infirm persons, to
venture out after dark, as the roughs generally are armed with a sweeping-
rush or a shillalagh. The uproar at times is so tremendous as to be only
equalled in a ' rale Irish row.' As may be anticipated, these annual diver-
sions have a very demoralising influence on the young, on account of the
licentious nature of the conversation indulged in, though we really wonder
that there are not many more instances of annoyance and insult than now
take place, when we consider that but for such times as Christmas and St
Ives feast, the inhabitants have no place of amusement, recreation, or
public instruction ; there being no library, reading-room, institution, liter-
ary or scientific, or evening class ; and unless there is one at the National
School room, not a night school or even a working-men's institution is in
ihe town.
"We should not omit that one of the old customs still observed is
the giving apprentices three clear holidays (not including Sunday) after
Christmas-day, though we hear of attempts being made to lessen this treat
to the youngsters. If we don't wish success to these efforts, we do desire
those should succeed who will endeavour to impart to our rising population
a thorough contempt for guise-dancing and all such unmeaning buffoonery.
There is one thing which must not be overlooked — viz., the few drunken
brawls that occur at such times. Cases of drunkenness certainly occur, but
these are far below the average of towns of its size, the population being
in 1 86 1 (parliamentary limits) 10,354." — St Ives Correspondent.
LADY LOVELL'S COURTSHIP.
BY the especial kindness of one who has a more abundant store
of old Cornish stories than any man whom I have ever met,
I am enabled to give some portion of one of the old Cornish
plays, or guise-dances. Many parts are omitted, as they would,
in our refined days, be considered coarse ; but as preserving a
true picture of a peculiar people, as they were a century and a
half or two centuries since, I almost regret the omissions.
SCENE i. — The Squire's Kitchen — Duffy sitting on the chimney-stool — Jane,
the housekeeper, half drunk, holding fast by the table.
Jane. Oh, I am very bad, I must go to bed with the wind in my stomach.
You can bake the pie, Duffy, and give the Squire his supper. Keep a good
waking fire on the pie for an hour or more. Turn the glass again ; when
the sand is half down, take the fire from the kettle. Mind to have a good
blazing fire in the hall, for the Squire will be as wet as a shag. The old
fool, to stay out hunting with this flood of rain ! Now, I '11 take a cup of
still waters, and crawl away to bed.
Duffy. Never fear, I '11 bake the pie as well as if you were under the
kettle along with it ; so go to bed, Jane.
\As soon as Jane turns her back, Hney Lenine (Lanyoti) comes
in tvitkt —
Huey. What cheer, Duffy, my dear ? how dost aw get on, then ?
Duffy. Never the better for thee, I bla, Huey. What do bring thee
here this time of night ?
396 Customs of A ncient Days.
Huey. Why, thee art never the worse, nan, I 'm sure. Nor thee cussent say
that the lanes are longer than the love neither, when I 'm come a-courting
to thee with this rainy weather.
[ffuey places himself on the chimney-stool, at a good distance
from Duffy.
D. Why doesn't aw come a little nearer then, Huey?
//. Near enuff, I bla.
D. Nearer the fire, I mean. Why doesn't aw speak to me then, Huey ?
H. What shall I say, nan?
D. Why, say thee dost love me, to be sure.
H. Soldo.
D. That 's a dear. Fine pretty waistcoat on to you, man, Huey.
H. Cost pretty money too.
D. What did it cost, man ?
H. Two-and-twenty pence, buttons and all.
D. Take good care of en, man.
H. So I will.
D. That 's a dear.
\The Squire is heard calling the dogs.
D. Dost aw hear? there 's the Squire close to the door. Where shall I
put thee ? Oh, I 'm in such a fright. Wouldn't for the world that he
found thee here this time of night. Get in the wood-corner, quick, out of
sight, and I '11 cover thee up with the furze.
H. No.
D. Then jump into the oven. A little more baking will make thee no
worse.
[Duffy pushes Huey back into the oven with the fire-prong, till
he gets out of sight, when the Squire comes in, calling, —
Squire, Jane, take the hares and rabbits ; be sure hang them out of the
way of the dogs.
D. Give them to me, master; Jane is gone to bed. The wind from
her stomach is got up in her head, at least so she said.
S. Why, who is here, then? I heard thee speaking to some one as
I opened the door.
D. I was driving away a great owl, master, that fell out of the ivy-
bush on the top of the chimney and came tumbling down through the
smoke, perched hisself there on the end of the chimney-stack ; there he
kept blinking and peeping, like a thing neither waking nor sleeping, till he
heard the dogs barking, when he stopped his winking, cried out, "Hoo !
hoo ! " flapped his wings, and fled up the chimney the same way he came
down.
D. Now, master, you had better go up in the hall ; you will find there
a good blazing fire.
{The Squire examines his legs by the fire-light.
S. Well, I declare, these are the very best stockings I ever had hi my
life. I 've been hunting since the break of day, through the bogs and the
brambles, the furze and the thorns, in all sorts of weather; and my legs —
look, Duffy, look — are still as dry and sound as if they had been bound
up in leather.
D. Then take good care of them, master ; for I shall soon have a man of
my own to knit for. Huey and I are thinking to get married before the
next turfey season.
S. You think of having a man ! a young girl like you ! If I but catch
Lady Lovell's Courtship. 397
the boy Huey Lenine here, I '11 break his neck, I declare. I can never
wear old Jane's stockings any more. Why, thee dust ought to be proud to
know that the people from all over the parish, who were never to church
before in their lives, come, and from parishes round, that they may see my
fine stockings. And don't I stop outside the church door — ay, sometimes
two hours or more — that the women may see thy fine work ? Haven't I
stopped at the cross till the parson came out to call the people in, because
he and the clerk, he said, wanted to begin ?
[The Squire places himself beside Duffy on the chimney-stool. The
devil comes out of the -wood-corner, and ranges himself behind
them. Whenever tke Squire is backward, the devil tickles hint
behind the ear or under the ribs. His infernal highness is
supposed to be invisible throughout. Huey shoivs a wry face now
and then, with clenched fist through the oven door.
The following portion, which is the Squire's courtship of Duffy
with the help of the devil, is a sort of duet in the old play. I
don't remember the whole^ yet sufficient, I think, to give some
idea of the way it is intended to be carried out : —
S. No ; I '11 marry thee myself, rather than Huey Lenine
Shall ever wear stockings the equal of mine.
Thou shalt have the silk gowns, all broider'd in gold,
In the old oak chest ; besides jewels and rings,
With such other fine things,
In the old oak chest, as thee didst never behold.
D. I 'd rather work all the day by any young man's side,
Than sit in the bower, and be an old man's bride.
6". Thou shalt have silver and gold, and riches untold.
/). I '11 buy my true-love his shirt, rather than your silver and gold,
With one like yourself, both feeble and old.
S. You must say I 'm old ; though I 'm near sixty,
I 'm stronger still than many a man of twenty.
Thou shalt ride to church behind me, upon a new pillion,
As grand as Madam Noy, or Madam Trezillian.
D. O master ! hold your flattering tongue ;
I 'm very foolish, and very young.
But
[Here the devil tickles the Squire sharply under the ribs, when the
Squire attempts to hug and kiss Duffy, who takes the fire-prong
and brandishes it in t-ie Squire's face. The devil tickles them
both.
Stand off, keep your distance, and none of your hugging ;
No man shall kiss me till he takes me to church ;
I '11 never cry at Michaelmas for Christmas laughing,
Like the poor maid left in the lurch.
Look, the sand is all down, the pie is burn'd black,
And the crust is too hard for your colt's teeth to crack ;
Up to the hall now, and take your supper.
[Here Duffy pushes the Squire off the stool. The Squire jumps up
and begins to dance, singing1 the old dancing tune, " Here 's to
the devil, with his wooden pick," &c. Duffy and the dezril soon
join in the dance, and cut all sorts of capers, till the Squire
dances off to the hall, followed by the devil : when Huey crawls
out of the oven, Duffy opens the kitchen, drives Huey out, say-
inf —
398 Customs of A ncient Days.
Now take thyself outside the door,
And never show thy face here any more ;
Don't think I 'd have a poor pityack like thee,
When I may marry a squire of high degree.
[Then takes up the pie, and dances away. During the old pitch'
and-pass dance, they beat time with the fire-prong and hunting
staff.
SCENE •*.— The first appearance of Lady Lovell (Duffy} after the wedding.
She is seen walking up and down the hall dressed in all
<;orts of ill-assorted, old-fashioned finery, that might have
been forgotten in the old oak chest for many generations of
Lovells. The high-heeled shoes, train, fan, ruff, high t&te,
all sorts of rings on her fingers, and in her ears are de
rigeur. Then she sings something like the following .•—
Now I have servants to come at my call,
As I walk in grand state in the hall,
Deck'd in silks and satins fine ;
But I grieve all the day, and fret the long night away,
To think of my true love, young Huey Lenine.
Many a weary long hour I sit all alone in my bower,
Where I do nothing but pine,
Whilst I grieve all the day, and fret the night away,
To think of my true love, young Huey Lenine.
Would the devil but come at my call, and take the old Squire, siks, satins,
and all,
With jewels and rings so fine ;
Then merry and gay I 'd work all the day, and pass the night away,
Kissing my true love, young Huey Lenine.
Another Cornish " Droll " is preserved in part, as an example of
the kind of doggerel verse in which many of those stories were told.
Bet of the Mill tells the Squire and company that one Christ-
mas night all the inmates of Trevider House were gone off to a
guise-dance, except Madame Fender and herself, and that they
agreed to spin for pastime : —
" One Christmas night, from Trevider Hall
They were off in a guise-dance, big and small ;
Nobody home but Madam Fender and I :
So to pass away time we agreed to try
Which would spin the finest yarn,
The length of the hall,
While the holly and bays
Deck'd window and wall.
" We took the rushes up from the floor,
From up by the chimney down to the door :
When we had the wool carded, ready to spin,
It came into our heads, before we 'd begin
We 'd have a jug of hot spiced beer,
To put life in our heels, our hearts to cheer.
So we drank to the healths of one and all,
Lady Lovell's Courtship, 399
While the holly and bays
Looked bright on the wall.
*4 The night was dark, the wind roar'd without,
And whirl' d the cold snow about and about.
But the best part of that night,
By the bright fire-light,
While the Christmas stock did burn,
We danced forth and back as light as a feather,
Spinning and keeping good time together,
To the music of the ' turn.' *
And we never felt weary that night at all,
While the holly and bays
Hung so gay on the wall.
" We pull'd out the yarn as even and fine,
As a spinner can spin the best of twine :
All the length of the hall,
From window to wall,
From up by the chimney
Down to the door,
Full a dozen good paces and more ;
And never felt weary at all,
While the holly and bays
Were so green on the wall.
" At the turn of the night,
Old Nick, out of spite,
To see the log burn,
And to hear the gay * turn,'
Made my yarn to crack ;
And I fell on my back,
Down the steps of the door.
I thought I was dead, or, twice as bad,
Should never be good any more.
If I had broken my bones on the cursed hard stones,
'Twas no wonder.
But worst of all, with the force of the fall,
My twadling-string burst asunder.
" Old madam was seized with frights and fears, —
She thought the house falling about her ears ;
And, to save herself, she tore up-stairs,
Where they found her next morning under the bed,
-With the brandy-bottle close to her head."
Bet is found in a similar plight, and all is attributed to spinning ;
however, the Squire orders that Madam Fender shall spin no
more, —
" And dance, one and all,
With the holly and bays so bright on the wall."
"* Spinning wheel.
400 Customs of A ncient Days.
THE GAME OF HURLING.
THE game of " Hurling " was, until a recent period, played in
the parishes to the west of Penzance on the Sunday after-
noon. The game was usually between two parishes, sometimes
between Burian and Sancreed, or against St Leven and Sennen,
or the higher side of the parish played against the lower side.
The run was from Burian Cross in the Church-town, to the
Pipers in Boloeit. All the gentry from the surrounding parishes
would meet at Boloeit to see the ball brought in.
" Hurling matches ;> are peculiar to Cornwall. They are trials
of skill between two parties, consisting of a considerable number
of men, forty to sixty a side, and often between two parishes.
These exercises have their name from " hurling " a wooden ball,
about three inches in diameter, covered with a plate of silver,
which is sometimes gilt, and has commonly a motto, " Gware
wheag yeo gware teag," " Fair play is good play." The success
depends on catching the ball dexterously when thrown up, or dealt,
and carrying it off expeditiously, in spite of all opposition from the
adverse party ; or, if that be impossible, throwing 'it into the hands
of a partner, who in his turn, exerts his efforts to convey it to his
own goal, which is often three or four miles' distance. This sport,
therefore, requires a nimble hand, a quick eye, a swift foot, and
skill in wrestling ; as well as strength, good wind, and lungs.
Formerly it was practised annually by those who attended corpor-
ate bodies in surveying the bounds of parishes ; but from the many
accidents that usually attended that game, it is now scarcely ever
practised. Silver prizes used to be awarded to the victor in the
games. A correspondent at St Ives writes : —
HURLING THE SILVER BALL, — This old custom is still observed at St Ives.
The custom is also kept up at St Columb and St Blazey, on the anniversary
of the dedication of the church. St Ives Feast is governed by the Candle-
mas-day, it being the nearest Sunday next before that day. On the Monday
after, the inhabitants assemble on the beach, when the ball, which is left in
the custody of the mayor for the time being, is thrown from the churchyard
to the crowd. The sides are formed in this way, —
Toms, Wills, and Jans,
Take off all's on the san's —
that is, all those of the name of Thomas, John, or William are ranged on one
side, those of any other Christian name on the other ; of late years the odd
names outnumbered the Toms, Wills, and Jans. There is a pole erected on the
beach, and each side strives to get the oftenest at the "goold," i.e., the pole ;
the other side as manfully striving to keep them out, and to send their
opponents as great a distance from the pole as possible. The tradition is,
Sham Mayors. 401
that the contest used to be between the parishes of Ludgvan, Lelant, and
St Ives, — St Ives then being part of the living of Ludgvan, — and that they
used to have a friendly hurling at Ludgvan, and that afterwards the contest
was between Lelant and St Ives. A stone near to Captain Perry's house is
shown, where the two parishes used to meet at the feast, and the struggle
was to throw the ball into the parish church, the successful party keeping
the ball, the unsuccessful buying a new one. St Ives is said to have out-
numbered the Lelant folks, so that they gave up the contest, and the ball was
left with St Ives. Thus much is certain — that the feasts of St Ives, Lelant,
and Ludgvan fall properly on one Sunday, though a misunderstanding has
arisen, Lelant claiming to be governed by the day before Candlemas-day,
which will alter the three every seven years.
The game of hurling is now but rarely played, and the Sabbath
is never broken by that or by any other game.
SHAM MA YORS.
I. — THE MAYOR OF MYLOR.
' I "HERE was a curious custom in the town' of Penryn in Corn-
-L wall, which long outlived all modern innovations. On some
particular day in September or October (I forget the exact date),
about when the hazel-nuts are ripe, the festival of nutting-day is
kept. The rabble of the town go into the country to gather nuts,
returning in the evening with boughs of hazel in their hands, shouting
and making a great noise. In the meantime the journeymen
tailors of the town have proceeded to the adjoining village of Mylor,
and elected one of their number " Mayor of Mylor," taking care
the selection falls on the wittiest. Seated in a chair shaded with
green boughs, and borne on the shoulders of four stalwart men,
the worthy mayor proceeds from his " good town of Mylor " to his
" ancient borough of Penryn," the van being led by the " body-
guard " of stout fellows well armed with cudgels, — which they do
not fail to use should their path be obstructed, — torch-bearers,
and two " town Serjeants," clad in official gowns and cocked hats,
and carrying each a monstrous cabbage on his shoulder in lieu of
a mace. The rear is brought up by the rabble of the " nutters."
About mid-day a band of music meets them, and plays them to
Penryn, where they are received by the entire population. The
procession proceeds to the town-hall, in front of which the mayor
delivers a speech, declaratory of his intended improvements, &c.,
for the coming year, being generally an excellent sarcastic burlesque
on the speeches of parliamentary candidates. The procession
then moves on to each public-house door, where the mayor, his
council, and officers, are liberally supplied with liquor, and the
2 C
4O2 Customs of Ancient Days.
speech is repeated with variations. They then adjourn to the
" council-chamber," in some public-house, and devote the night to
drinking. At night the streets are filled with people bearing
torches, throwing fireballs, and discharging rockets ; and huge
bonfires are kindled on the " Green," and " Old Wall." The legal
mayor once made an effort to put a stop to this saturnalia, but his
new-made brother issued prompt orders to his body-guards, and
the posse comitatus had to fly.
The popular opinion is, that there is a clause in the borough
charter compelling the legitimate mayor to surrender his power to
the " Mayor of Mylor " on the night in question, and to lend the
town sergeants' paraphernalia to the gentlemen of the shears.
II. — THE MAYOR OF ST GERMANS.
One of the first objects that attracts attention on entering the
village of St Germans is the large walnut-tree, at the foot of what
is called Nut-Tree Hill. In the early part of the present century
there was a very ancient dwelling a few yards south-east of this
tree, which was supposed to have been the residence of some
ecclesiastic of former times. Many a gay May-fair has been wit-
nessed by the old tree ; in the morning of the 28th of the month,
splendid fat cattle, from some of the largest and best farms in the
county, quietly chewed the cud around its trunk ; in the afternoon
the basket-swing dangled from its branches, filled with merry
laughing boys and girls from every part of the parish. On the
following day, the mock mayor, who had been chosen with many
formalities, remarkable only for their rude and rough nature, start-
ing from some " bush-house," where he had been supping too freely
of the fair ale, was mounted on wain or cart, and drawn around
it, to claim his pretended jurisdiction over the ancient borough, until
his successor was chosen at the following fair. Leaving the old
nut-tree, which is a real ornament to the town, we pass by a stream
of water running into a large trough, in which many a country lad
has been drenched for daring to enter the town on the 2Qth of May
without the leaf or branch of oak in his hat.
III. THE MAYOR OF HALGAVER MOOR.
The people of Bodmin had an old custom of assembling in large
numbers on Halgaver Moor in the month of July, and electing a
" Mayor of Misrule," for the punishment of petty offenders. Our
old historian gives a quaint description. " The youthlyer sort of
Bodmin townsmen use sometimes to sport themselves by playing
the box with strangers, whom they summon to Halgaver ; the
The Faction Fight at Cury Great Tree. 403
name signifieth the Goats' Moore, and such a place it is, lying a
little without the town, and very full of quagmires. When these
mates meet with any raw serving-man or other young master, who
may serve and deserve to make pastime, they cause him to be
solemnly arrested for his appearance before the Mayor of Halgaver,
where he is charged with wearing one spur, or wanting a girdle,
or some such like felony, and after he hath been arraigned and
tried with all requisite circumstances, judgment is given in formal
terms, and executed in some one ungracious prank or other, more
to the scorn than hurt of the party condemned. Hence is sprung
the proverb, when we see one slovenly apparelled, to say, ' He
shall be presented in Halgaver Court.' "
THE FACTION FIGHT AT CURY GREAT TREE.
ON a green knoll in the centre of the intersection of the roads
from Helston to the Lizard, and Mawgan to Cury, flourished
an ash-tree of magnificent dimensions. The peculiarity of its
position, together with its unusual size, in the midst of a district
singularly destitute of trees, rendered it famous throughout the
surrounding neighbourhood ; and in designating a special locality,
reference was, and still continues to be, made to " Cury Great
Tree," as a position generally known. During the last fifty years
the tree has been gradually decaying, and at present only a portion
of the hollow trunk remains, which is rapidly disappearing. It
stands about half way up a gentle rise facing the north ; and in
passing over the road, the country people speak of a dim tradition
of a time when the " road ran with blood." The occasion of this,
which is almost forgotten, was a faction fight, on a large scale,
between the men of the parishes of Wendron and Breage, happen-
ing about a hundred years since. A wreck took place near the
Lizard, and the Wendron-men being nearest, were soon upon the
spot to appropriate whatever flotsam and jetsam might come in
their way. Returning laden with their spoils, they were encoun-
tered at the Great Tree by the Wendron-men bound on a similar
errand, and a fight, as a matter of course, ensued, which was
prolonged till the following day. The contest is said to have been
a most terrible one, each party being armed with staves. The
savage nature of the fight may be inferred from the following
fact : — A Wendron-man named Gluyas, having been disabled, was
put upon the top of the roadside hedge, out of the melde, when
he was seen by a Breage termagant known as " Prudy the Wicked,"
and by her quickly dragged into the road, " Prudy " exclaiming-
404 Customs of A ncient Days.
" Ef thee artn't ded, I make thee," suiting the action to the word
by striking Gluyas with her patten iron until he was dead. There
is some account of Prudy's having been taken before the " Justice,"
but she does not appear to have been punished. These fights
between parishes were so common in those days that any death
occurring in the fray was quietly passed over as a thing of course,
and soon forgotten. " So late as thirty years since it was unsafe
to venture alone through the streets of the lower part of this town
(Helston) after nightfall on a market-day owing to the frays of the
Breage, Wendron, and Sithney men." So writes a friend residing
in Helston.
TOWEDNACK CUCKOO FEAST.
r~pHE parish feast takes place on the nearest Sunday to the 28th
1 of April.
It happened in very early times, when winters extended further
into the spring than they now do, that one of the old inhabitants
resolved to be jovial, notwithstanding the inclemency of the season ;
so he invited all his neighbours, and to warm his house he placed
on the burning faggots the stump of a tree. It began to blaze,
and, inspired by the warmth and light, they began to sing and
drink ; when, lo ! with a whiz and a whir, out flew a bird from the
hollow in the stump, crying, Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! The bird was
caught and kept by the farmer, and he and his friends resolved to
renew the festal meeting every year at this date, and to call it
their " cuckoo feast." Previous to this event Towednack had no
"feasten Sunday," which made this parish a singular exception
to the rule in Cornwall.
This feast is sometimes called "crowder" feast, because the
fiddler formed a procession at the church door, and led the people
through the village to some tune on his " crowd."
THE DUKE OF RESTORMEL.
A VERY singular custom formerly prevailed at Lostwithiel, in
Cornwall, on Easter Sunday. The freeholders of the town
and manor having assembled together, either in person or by their
deputies, one among them, each in his turn, gaily attired and
gallantly mounted, with a sceptre in his hand, a crown on his
head, and a sword borne before him, and respectfully attended by
all the rest on horseback, rode through the principal street in
solemn state to the church. At the churchyard stile, the curate,
The Duke of Restormel. 405
or other minister, approached to meet him in reverential pomp,
and then conducted him to church to hear divine service. On
leaving the church, he repaired, with the same pomp and retinue,
to a house previously prepared for his reception. Here a feast,
suited to the dignity he had assumed, awaited him and his suite ;
and, being placed at the head of the table, he was served, kneeling,
with all the rites and ceremonies that a real prince might expect.
This ceremony ended with the dinner ; the prince being voluntarily
disrobed, and descending from his momentary exaltation, to mix
with common mortals. On the origin of this custom but one
opinion can be reasonably entertained, though it may be difficult
to trace the precise period of its commencement. It seems to
have originated in the actual appearance of the prince, who re-
sided at Restormel Castle in former ages ; but, on the removal of
royalty, this mimic grandeur stepped forth as its shadowy repre-
sentative, and continued for many generations as a memorial to
posterity of the princely magnificence with which Lostwithiel had
formerly been honoured.*
This custom is now almost forgotten, and Lostwithiel has little
to disturb its quiet.
* " Every-Day Book."
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.
"The carrion crow, that loathsome beast,
Which cries against the rain,
Both for her hue, and for the rest,
The devil resembleth plain.
And as with guns we kill the crow
For spoiling our relief,
The devil so must we o'erthrow
With gunshot of belief."
— GEORGE GASCOT^NH.
CHARMING, PROPHETIC POWER,
ETC.
CHARMING, AND PROPHETIC POWER.
" Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone
Wi' the auld moone in her arme ;
And I feir, I feir, my dear master
That we will com toharme."
—SiR PATRICK SPENCE.
I CAN NOT more appropriately preface this section, than by
quoting the remarks of a medical gentleman in large practice,
on the subject of charms : —
" Ir common with most of the lower classes of the West of England,
the miner is not free from many absurd superstitions (though I am glad to
observe, even in the last few years, a great change has taken place, and
such follies are gradually declining). Some think themselves endowed with
a spedes of supernatural agency, and, like the Egyptian alluded to bv
Othelb, call themselves charmers, and profess to stop the flowing of blood
(no matter from what cause — a divided artery even), to remove specks from
the cornea (which, in the dialect of the country, are called cannons !), and
cure erysipelas, by charming. But I have never been able to ascertain by
what means the charm is supposed to work. I only know that it is an
everyday occurrence for mothers to bring children to the surgery, afflicted
with either of the diseases mentioned, and say that they have had them
charmed ; but they were no better, such want of improvement having
obviously excited the greatest feelings of astonishment. I knew a person
connected with the mines, who felt himself endowed with prophetic powers ;
and in his case the divination was not confined to events momentous and
terrible, but extended to the most trifling minutiae of life.
" He with grave simplicity told me one day, by way of exemplifying the
proper estimation in which his prophetic powers were held by his wife,
that on one occasion, his pig having wandered from his sty, she came to
him to ascertain in what direction it was to be sought for ; and on his pro-
fessing utter ignorance of the animal's peregrinations, she exclaimed in
reproachful tones, ' Ah ! you are not so pious as you used to be. I remem-
ber the time when you could have told me in an instant the exact spot to have
fotmd it.' "'' '*
* " On the Diseases of Cornish Miners." By William Wale Tayler, F.R. C. S.
408 Charming, Prophetic Pozver, etc.
FORTUNE-TELLING, CHARMS, ETC.
IN relation to this subject, and confirming an opinion already
expressed in the existence still of a belief in magic and
charms, I print the following communication from a lady of con-
siderable literary ability : —
"Every country, it may be safely inferred, has its own individual, per-
haps characteristic, Charm-record ; and inquiry into it would more :han
probably recompense the labour, by the light it would let in on the still
but little investigated philosophy of the human mind, and the growth of
popular superstitions. The portion of our country best known to the
writer of these remarks is Cornwall, remarkable for the picturesque vild-
ness of its scenery, and not less so for its numerous superstitions. The
Rev. Charles Kingsley, in his 'Yeast,' has availed himself, with his usual
tact and power, of one of the most striking of these, having reference to
the cruel treatment of the Jews, who were sold as slaves to work in the
mines ; the evil treatment they experienced being avenged on modern
miners, by the terrors the souls of the departed Hebrews inflicted, in re-
turning to the scene of their former compulsory toil, and echoing the
sounds of the workmen now labouring in flesh and blood. But this is a
digression from the main object of this article — viz., the belief in ciarms.
Several years ago, while residing at Falmouth, I remember to have heard
of a man in humble life, named Thomas Martin, whose abode was said to
be at a village in the neighbourhood of Redruth, and who accomplished
wonderful cures of children subject to fits, or personally injured by any de-
formity, by his power of charming. This man also practised soothsaying
to a considerable extent, and revealed, with unquestionable accuracy,
where articles mysteriously abstracted were concealed. If a cow suddenly
lost her milk, whether witchcraft had exerted its malignant influence on
the non-producing animal or no, such a personage could not but exercise
an important power over the rustic population of the neighbourhood. But
belief in the mysterious intelligence of Martin was by no means confined to
the peasant class. A highly-respected and even ladylike person told the
writer, with all the gravity becoming such a communication, that sl.e had
once made an appointment with Thomas Martin to meet him at a certain
stile, for the purpose of receiving from him the prediction of her future lot,
— in other words, having her fortune told ; and hastening thither at the time
appointed, was horrified to find the stile occupied by a large black snake.
As Martin did not make his appearance, she inferred that he had assumed
the serpent form, and not being disposed to hold any intercourse with a
being of such questionable exterior, she hastened away, determined never
more to risk the attainment of the knowledge she coveted through a pro-
bably diabolic channel.
" This anecdote is given as veritable experience of the belief which may
prevail in a mind fairly intelligent, and generally rational in conducting the
ordinary business of life.
" Martin's reputation was disputed by no one, and that it continued un-
impaired to the close of his life reflects no inconsiderable credit on the
shrewdness and sagacity of his mind and his power of guessing.
"In the town where the writer has been residing for the last four
months, there is a female, advanced in years and of good character, who,
according to the report of many persons, — one a relative of her own, —
Fortune-Telling, Charms, etc. 409
is peculiarly endowed with the power of charming away the disease called
the 'kennel,' an affection of the eye which causes extreme pain. A young
lady's father was one evening suffering severe pain in the right eye, and
after trying various remedies without effect (the agony having greatly in-
creased), in her despair she sought an occasion to leave the house, and
hastened at once to the abode of the charmer. She told her errand to the
woman, who said that many had come to her for the purpose of ridiculing
her, and she did not like to say anything about charming, — she did not
wish to be laughed at. On this the young lady assured her that her object
in true faith was to obtain relief for her suffering father, and by no means
to indulge the spirit of ridicule. On this representation she was satisfied,
and desired to know the kind of kennel which affected the gentleman's eye.
This information the daughter was unable to give her, being unacquainted
with their peculiarities ; ' because,' said the charmer, ' there are nine kinds
of kennels,' intimating at the same time that a different charm might be
said or applied to each, — so that, to avoid omitting any, she must say the
charms for all, in order that the one especially affecting the diseased eye
should be certainly included in the charm. She went up-stairs, and re-
mained about half an hour. On her return she addressed the young lady,
and told her she might go home, where she would learn whether the eye
had been relieved. She took no money for her incantation. Any little
present might be offered at a subsequent visit, but no direct payment was
ever requested, and indeed would have been declined. The amazement and
pleasure of the anxious daughter, on her arrival at home, will be imagined,
on learning from her father that the intense pain in the eye had ceased
during her absence, though he had not been made acquainted with her
errand. The influence of the faith of another, in this case, on the relief ot
the afflicted person, has no verisimilitude save with that of the father of the
demoniac in the gospel, or the removal of the son's fever in consequence of
the faith of the father. I have no reaso" whatever to question the truth of
this story, which was confirmed by the wife of the gentleman thus relieved.
"A still more curious instance of the effect of charm, though quite of
another character, was related to me by the same party. The gentleman
referred to being much afflicted with cramp, his wife was earnestly advised,
by a country woman to whom she mentioned the circumstance, to request
her husband to place his slippers, with the toes turned upward, at the foot
of the bed. Half smiling at the wise counsel, yet perhaps not altogether
incredulous, he followed the good woman's advice, and to his great comfort
found himself unaffected by his dreaded enemy throughout the night. His
faith being thus established in the anti-cramp influence of upturned slippers,
he took care to place them, or to have them placed, in the prescribed atti-
tude on several successive nights. One night, however, he was again seized
with some appalling twinges, and bethinking himself of the cause, suddenly
recollected that in hastening into bed he had not observed the important
rule ; instantly he had the slippers restored to their proper position, and, to
his astonishment and delight, the pain ceased, and visited him no more.
After this experience of the wonderful effects that followed so simple a
specific, it may be easily imagined that he did not again risk the return of
the cramp from neglecting it. Such phenomena seem beyond the power
of explanation on any known medical principles. If any one more than
usually versed in the subtle power exercised on the body by the mind, can
throw light on the slipper cure of the cramp, he will deserve much at the
hands of physiological and mental science." S. E. M.
41 0 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
THE ZENNOR CHARMERS.
BOTH men and women in this parish possessed this power to
a remarkable degree. They could stop blood, however freely
it might be flowing. " Even should a pig be sticked in the very
place, if a charmer was present, and thought of his charm at the
time, the pig would not bleed." This statement, made by a Zennor
man, shows a tolerably large amount of faith in their power. The
charmers are very cautious about communicating their charms. A
man would not on any account tell his charm to a woman, or a
woman communicate hers to a man. People will travel many
miles to have themselves or their children charmed for " wildfires "
(erysipelas), ringworms, pains in the limbs or teeth, "kennels" on
the eyes (ulcerations). A correspondent writes me : — " Near
this lives a lady charmer, on whom I called. I found her to be a
really clever, sensible woman. She was reading a learned treatise
on ancient history. She told me there were but three charmers
left in the west, — one at New Mill, one in Morva, and herself."
Their charm for stopping blood is but another version of one given
on another page.
" Christ was born in Bethlehem ;
Baptized in the river Jordan.
The river stood, —
So shall thy blood,
Mary Jane Polgrain \pr whatever the person
may be called],
In the name of the Father," &c.
7 H , THE CONJURER OF ST COLOMB.
THIS old man was successful in persuading his dupes that he
owed his powers over evil spirits to his superior learning and
his unblemished life. This assumption of piety was well preserved,
and to the outside world his sanctity was undoubted. The only
practice which can be named as peculiar to H was that of
lighting scores of candles and placing them around the meadow
near his house. Of course such a display would attract much at-
tention ; and J succeeded in conveying an impression to the
minds of the country people that this process was required to
counteract the spells of the witches. When this old fellow has
been summoned, as he often was, to the houses supposed to be
under the influence of evil, or to be bewitched, his practice was not
a little original, though wanting in ail that dignifies the office of
an exorcist. When he arrived at the house, before speaking to any
Cures for Warts. 411
one, he would commence operations by beating with a heavy stick
on the wooden partitions, screens, or pieces of furniture, so as to
make the greatest possible noise, shouting loudly all the time,
" Out ! out ! out ! — Away ! away ! away ! — to the Red Sea — to
the Red Sea— to the Red Sea." Frequently he would add, with
violent enunciation and much action, a torrent of incoherent and
often incomprehensible words (locally, ** gibberish**}* The pro-
ceeding being brought to a close, and the spirits of evil flown,
every part of the house was ordered to be well cleansed, and the
walls and ceilings to be thoroughly lime-washed, — certainly the
only sensible part of the whole operation. When J H
was applied to respecting stolen property, his usual practice was
to show the face of the thief in a tub of water. J drove a
considerable trade in selling powders to throw over bewitched
cattle.*
CURES FOR WARTS.
I. 'T^HE vicar of Bodmin found, not long since, a bottle full of
JL pins laid in a newly-made grave. I have heard of this
as an unfailing remedy ; each wart was touched with a new pin,
and the pin then dropped into the bottle. I am not quite certain
that it was necessary that the bottle should be placed in a newly-
made grave ; in many cases burying it in the earth, and especially
at a " four cross-roads," was quite sufficient. As the pins rust,
the warts decay.
II. A piece of string should be taken, and as many knots tied on it
as there are warts on the body \ each wart being carefully touched
with the knot dedicated to it. The string is then to be buried,
and the warts fade away as it decays. A few years since a ship-
wright in Devonport dockyard professed to cure warts by merely
receiving from an indifferent person a knotted string, — the knots
of which had been tied by the afflicted. What he did with the
string I know not.
III. To touch each wart with a pebble, place the pebbles in a
bag, and to lose the bag on the way to church, was for many years
a very favourite remedy ; but the unfortunate person who found
the bag received the warts. A lady once told me that she picked
up such a bag, when a child, and out of curiosity, and in ignorance,
* When cattle or human beings have been bewitched, it was very commonly thought
that if a bottle of urine from the diseased beast or person was obtained, then corked very
tight and buried mouth downwards, that the witch would be afflicted with strangury, and
in her suffering confess her crime and beg forgiveness.
412 Charming, Prophetic Poiver, etc.
examined the contents. The result was that she had, in a shoit
time, as many warts as there were stones in the bag.
IV. Another remedy was to steal a piece of meat from a butcher's
stall in the public market, and with this to touch the warts, and
bury it. As the meat putrefied the warts decayed.
V. I remember, when quite a child, having a very large " seedy
wart " on one of my fingers. I was taken by a distant relation,
an elderly lady, residing in Gwinear, to some old woman, for the
purpose of having this wart charmed. I well remember that two
charred sticks were taken from the fire on the hearth, and carefully
crossed over the fleshy excrescence, while some words were mut-
tered by the charmer. I know not how long it was before the
wart disappeared, but certainly, at some time, it did so.
A CURE FOR PARALYSIS.
MARGERY PENWARNE, a paralysed woman, about fifty
years of age, though from her affliction looking some ten
years older, sat in the church porch of St , and presented her
outstretched withered arm and open palm to the congregation as
they left the house of God after the morning service.
Penny after penny fell into her hand, though Margery never
opened her lips. All appeared to know the purpose, and thirty
pennies were speedily collected. Presently the parson came with
his family, and then she spoke for the first time, soliciting the
priest to change the copper coins into one silver one. This wish
was readily acceded to, and the paralytic woman hobbled into the
church, and up the aisle to the altar rails. A few words passed
between her and the clerk ; she was admitted within the rails, and
the clerk moved the communion-table from against the wall, that
she might walk round it, which she did three times.
" Now," said Margery, " with God's blessing, I shall be cured ;
my blessed bit of silver must be made into a ring " (this was ad-
dressed to the clerk, half aside) ; " and within three weeks after it
is on my finger I shall get the use of my limbs again."
This charm is common throughout the three western counties
for the cure of rheumatism, — the Devonshire halt, — or for any
contraction of the limbs.
A CURE FOR RHEUMATISM.
/^RAWL under a bramble which has formed a second root in
v-x the ground. Or get a woman who has been delivered of a
child feet foremost, to tread the patient.
Sundry Charms. 413
SUNDRY CHARMS.
THE vicar ot a large parish church informs me that a woman
came to him some time since for water from the font after a
christening ; she required it to undo some spell. The vicar states,
that all the fonts in the country were formerly locked, to prevent
people from stealing the " holy water," as they called it.
CURE FOR COLIC IN TOWEDNACK.
To stand on one's head for a quarter of an hour.
FOR A SCALD OR BURN.
" There came three angels out of the east,
One brought fire and two brought frost ;
Out fire and in frost,
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Amen ! "
Bramble-leaves, or sometimes the leaves of the common dock,
wetted with spring water, are employed in this charm, as also
in the following one.
CHARMS FOR INFLAMMATORY DISEASES.
A similar incantation to that practised for a burn is used. Three
angels are invoked to come from the east, and this form of words
is repeated three times to each one of nine bramble-leaves immersed
in spring water, making passes with the haves from the diseased
part.
CHARMS FOR THE PRICK OF A THORN.
" Christ was of a virgin born,
And he was prick'd by a thorn,
And it did never bell* nor swell,
As I trust in Jesus this never will."
II.
"Christ was crown'd with thorns :
The thorns did bleed, but did not rot,
No more shall thy finger.
In the name," f &c.
CHARMS FOR STANCHING OF BLOOD.
" Sanguis mane in te,
Sicut Christus fuit in se ;
* Throb.
t The invocation of the " Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," invariably accompanies
every form of charm.
Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
Sanguis mane in tua vena,
Sicut Christus in sua pena ;
Sanguis mane fixus,
Sicut Christus quando crucifixus."
As this is repeated by ignorant old men or women, it becomes
a confused jargon of unmeaning words, but it impresses the still
more ignorant sufferer with awe, approaching to fear. The fol-
lowing is more common : —
" Christ was born in Bethlehem,
Baptized in the river Jordan ;
There he digg'd a well,
And turn'd the water against the hill,
So shall thy blood stand still.
In the name, " &c.
CHARM FOR A TETTER.
" Tetter, tetter, thou hast nine brothers.
God bless the flesh and preserve the bone ;
Perish, thou tetter, and be thou gone.
In the name, &c.
" Tetter, tetter, thou hast eight brothers.
God bless the flesh and preserve the bone ;
Perish, thou tetter, and be thou gone.
In the name, &c.
''Tetter, tetter, thou hast seven brothers."
&c. &c.
Thus the verses are continued until tetter, having " no brother,"
is imperatively ordered to begone.
CHARM FOR THE STING OF A NETTLE.
Many a time do I remember, when a child playing in the fields,
having suffered from the stings of the nettle, and constantly seeking
for the advantages of the charm of the dock-leaf. The cold leaf
was placed on the inflamed spot, and the well-known rhyme three
times repeated : —
" Out nettle,
In dock ;
Dock shall have
A new smock."
CHARM FOR TOOTHACHE.
" Christ pass'd by His brother's door,
Saw His brother lying on the floor.
* What aileth thee, brother ?
Pain in the teeth ? —
Thy teeth shall pain thee no more.
In the name,' " &c.
The Club- Moss. 415
CHARM FOR SERPENTS.
The body of a dead serpent bruised on the wound it has oc-
jasioned, is said to be an infallible remedy for its bite. Common
report is sufficient to warrant a poetical allusion : —
" The beauteous adder hath a sting,
Yet bears a balsam too." — Polwhelis Sketches.
THE CURE OF BOILS.
The sufferer is to pass nine times against the sun, under a
bramble-bush growing at both ends. This is the same as the cure
prescribed for rheumatism.
RICKETS, OR A CRICK IN THE BACK.
The holed stone — Men-an-tol-^-in Lanyon, is commonly called
by the peasantry the crick-stone. Through this the sufferer was
drawn nine times against the sun — or, if a man, he was to crawl
through the hole nine times.
Strumous children were not unfrequently treated after another
fashion.
A young ash-tree was cleft vertically, and the parts being drawn
forcibly asunder, the child was passed " three times three times "
against the sun through the tree. This ceremony having been
performed, the tree was carefully bound together ; if the bark grew
together and the tree survived, the child would grow healthy and
strong ; if the tree died, the death of the child, it was believed,
would surely follow.
THE CLUB-MOSS.
(LYCOPODIUM INUNDATUM.)
IF this moss is properly gathered, it is " good against all diseases
of the eyes."
The gathering is regarded as a mystery not to be lightly told ;
and if any man ventures to write the secret, the virtues of the
moss avail him no more. I hope, therefore, my readers will fully
value the sacrifice I make in giving them the formula by which
they may be guided.
On the third day of the moon — when the thin crescent is seen
for the first time — show it the knife with which the moss is to be
cut, and repeat, —
" As Christ heal'd the issue of blood,
Do thou cut, what thou cuttest, for good ! "
416 Charming, PropFietic Power , etc.
At sun-down, having carefully washed the hands, the club-moss is
to be cut kneeling. It is to be carefully wrapped in a white cloth,
and subsequently boiled in some water taken from the spring
nearest to its place of growth. This may be used as a fomenta-
tion. Or the club-moss may be made into an ointment, with
butter made from the milk of a new cow.
T
MOON SUPERSTITIONS.
HE following superstitions are still prevalent on the north coast
of Cornwall : —
"This root (the sea-poppy), so much valued for removing all pains in
the breast, stomach, and intestines, is good also for disordered lungs, and is
so much better here than in other places, that the apothecaries of Cornwall
send hither for it; and some people plant them in their gardens in Cornwall,
and will not part with them under sixpence a root. A very simple notion
they have with regard to this root, which falls not much short of the Druids'
superstition in gathering and preparing their selago and samolus. This
root, you must know, is accounted very good both as an emetic and cathar-
tic. If, therefore, they design that it shall operate as the former, their
constant opinion is that it should be scraped and sliced upwards — that is,
beginning from the root, the knife is to ascend towards the leaf; — but if that
it is intended to operate as a cathartic, they must scrape the root downwards.
The scnecio also, or groundsel, they strip upwards for an emetic and down-
wards for a cathartic. In Cornwall they have several such groundless
opinions with regard to plants, and they gather all the medicinal ones when
the moon is just such an age ; which, with many other such whims, must
be considered as the reliques of the Druid superstition." *
They, the Druids, likewise used great ceremonies in gathering
an herb called samolus, marsh-wort, or fen-berries, which consisted
in a previous fast, in not looking back during the time of their
plucking it, and, lastly, in using their left hand only ; from this
last ceremony, perhaps, the herb took the name of samol, which,
in the Phoenician tongue, means the left hand. This herb was
considered to be particularly efficacious in curing the diseases
incident to swine and cattle.— (C. S. Gilbert.}
CURES FOR WHOOPING-COUGH.
I. /""^ATHER nine spar stones from a running stream, taking
^-J care not to interrupt the free passage of the water in doing
so. Then dip a quart of water from the stream, which must be
taken in the direction in which the stream runs ; — by no means
must the vessel be dipped against the stream.
* " Borlase's Observations on the Ancient and Present State of the Island of Scilly.'*
" Notes and Queries," vol. x. p. 181. 1854.
Cure of Toothache. 4 1 7
Then make the nine stones red hot, and throw them into the
quart of water. Bottle the prepared water, and give the afflicted
child a wine-glass of this water for nine mornings following. If
this will not cure the whooping-cough, nothing else can, says the
believer.
II. A female donkey of three years old was taken, and the child
was drawn naked nine times over its back and under its belly.
Then three spoonfuls of milk were drawn from the teats of the
animal, and three hairs cut from the back and three hairs cut from
the belly were placed in it, this was to stand for three hours to
acquire the proper virtue, and then the child drank it in three
doses.
This ceremony was repeated three mornings running, and my
informant said the child was always cured. I knew of several
children who were treated in this manner in one of the small
villages between Penzance and Madron Church town, some twenty
or thirty years since. There were some doggerel lines connected
with the ceremony, which have escaped my memory, and I have
endeavoured, in vain, to find any one remembering them. They
were to the effect that, as Christ placed the cross on the ass's
back when he rode into Jerusalem, and so rendered the animal
holy, if the child touched where Jesus sat, it should cough no
more.
CURE OF TOOTHACHE.
ONE good man informed me that, though he had no faith in
charming, yet this he knew, that he was underground one
day, and had the toothache " awful bad, sure enough ; and Uncle
John ax'd me, ' What 's the matter ? ' says he. « The toothache/
says I. < Shall I charm it ? ' says he. ' Ees,' says I. ' Very
well/ says he ; and off he went to work in the next pitch. Ho !
dedn't my tooth ache, Lor' bless ee ; a just ded, ye knaw ; just as
if the charm were tugging my very life out. At last Uncle John
corned down to the sollcr, and sing'd out, ' Alloa ! how 's your
tooth in there/ says he. < Very bad/ says I. ' How 's a feeling ? '
says he. l Pulling away like an ould hoss with the " skwitches," '
says I. ' Hal drag my jaw off directly/ says I. ' Ees the charm
working ? ' says he. ' Es, a shure enuf/ says I. * Es/ says he,
* al be better d'rectly.' ' Hope a will/ says> I. Goodness gracious !
dedn't a ache ; I believe a did you ; then a stopped most to once.
< Es better/ says I. 'I thought so/ says he ; < and you waan't
have un no more for a long time/ says he. ' Thank ee, Uncle
John/ says I ; ' I '11 give ee a pint o' beer pay-day/ and so I ded ;
2 D
4. 1 8 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
an' I haben't had the toothache ever since. Now, if he dedn't
charm un, how ded a stop ? and if he dedn't knaw a would be
better a long time, how ded he say so ? No, nor I haven't had
un never since. So that 's a plain proof as he knaw'd all about
it, waden't a you ? "
I nodded assent, convinced it was useless to argue against such
reasoning as that.
THE CONVALESCENTS WALK.
IF an invalid goes out for the first time and makes a circuit, this
circuit must be with the sun ; if against the sun, there will
be a relapse.
ADDERS, AND THE MILPREVE.
E country people around the Land's End say that in old
times no one could live in the low grounds, which were then
covered with thickets, and these swarming with adders. Even at
a much later period, in the summer-time, it was not safe to venture
amongst the furze on the Downs without a milpreve. (I have
never seen a milpreve ; but it is described to me as being about
the size of a pigeon's egg, and I am told that it is made by the
adders when they get together in great numbers. Is it not pro-
bable that the milpreve may be one of the madrepore corals —
millepore — found sometimes on the beaches around Land's End?)
A friend writes me : — " I was once shown a milpreve ; it was
nothing more than a beautiful ball of coralline lime-stone, the sec-
tion of the coral being thought to be entangled young snakes."
When some old men were streaming the " Bottoms " up near
Partimey, they were often obliged to leave work on account of the
number of adders that would get together as if by agreement, and
advance upon them.
One day one of the tin streamers chanced to leave his pot of
milk, uncovered, out of the moor-house, when an adder got into it.
The man cut a turf and put over the pot to prevent the reptile
from escaping. In a few minutes the tinners saw " the ugly things
crawling and leaping from all quarters towards the pot." The
streamers were obliged to run, and take which way they would,
the adders seemed to be coming from every direction, further and
further off.
At last " they formed a heap round the pot as large as a pook
[cock] of hay." Towards night all the reptiles were quite still
Adders, and the Milpreve. 419
then the men gathered together, around the mass of adders, a great
quantity of furze (being summer, there was plenty cut and dry
close at hand), and piled it up like sheaves to make a mow, laying
a circle of well-dried turf without it. They then fired the turf on
every side, and when it was well ignited, they fired the furze. " Oh,
it was a sight to see the adders when they felt the smoke and the
flame ! they began to boil, as it were, all in a heap, and fell back
into the flaming furze ; those which leaped through perishing on
the brilliant ring of burning peat. Thus were killed thousands
upon thousands of adders, and the moors were clear for a long,
long period."
This is related nearly as the story was told ; but it appears
necessary to make some allowance for that spirit of exaggeration
which is a characteristic of all Celtic people, ere they have been
tutored to know the dignity of truth.
" The country people retaine a conceite, that the snakes, by
their breathing upon a hazel-wand, doe make a stone ring of blew
colour, in which there appeareth the yellow figure of a snake, and
that beasts which are stung, being given to drink of the water
wherein this stone hath bene socked, will there-through recover."*
This was clearly one of the so-called "Druidic rings," — examples
of which may be seen in our museums, — which have been found in
England and in Ireland. It is curious that at the glassworks ot
Murano, near Venice, they still make rings, or beads, precisely
resembling the ancient ones, and these are used largely as money
in Africa.
Snakes were formerly held in great reverence ; and Camden
asserts that one of the prevailing superstitions concerning them
was that, about midsummer-eve, they all met together in com-
panies, and, joining their heads, began a general hiss, which they
continued until a kind of bubble was formed, which immediately
hardened, and gave to the finder prosperity in all his undertakings.!
Lhuyd, in a letter written in 1701, gives a curious account of
the then superstitious character of the people in this district.
" The Cornish retain variety of charms, and have still towards the
Land's End the amulets of Maen Magal and Glain-neider, which
latter they call a Melprer, a thousand worms, and have a charm
for the snake to make it, when they have found one asleep, and
struck a hazel-wand in the centre of its spires" Camden mentions
the use of snake-stones as a Cornish superstition.
" The very same story, in fact, is told of the Adder-stam in the
* The Survey of Cornwall. By Richard Carew.
* Draw and Hitchin's Cornwall.
42 o Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
popular legends of the Scottish Lowlands, as Pliny records of the
origin of the Ovum Anguinum. The various names by which
these relics are designated all point to their estimation as amulets
or superstitious charms ; and the fact of their occurrence, most
frequently singly, in the sepulchral cist or urn, seems to prove that
it was as such, and not merely as personal ornaments, that they
were deposited with the ashes of the dead. They are variously
known as adder-beads, serpent-stones, Druidical beads ; and,
amongst the Welsh and Irish, by the synonymous terms of Gleint
na Droedh and Glaine nan Druidhe, signifying the magician's or
Druid's glass." — Wilson's Archeology and Prehistoric Annals of
Scotland, p. 304.
SNAKES A VOID THE ASH-TREE.
IT is said that no kind of snake is ever found near the " ashen -
tree," and that a branch of the ash-tree will prevent a snake
from coming near a person.
A child who was in the habit of receiving its portion of bread
and milk at the cottage door, was found to be in the habit of
sharing its food with one of the poisonous adders. The reptile
came regularly every morning, and the child, pleased with the
beauty of his companion, encouraged the visits. The babe and
adder were close friends.
Eventually this became known to the mother, and, finding it to
be a matter of difficulty to keep the snake from the child whenever
it was left alone, — and she was frequently, being a labourer in
the fields, compelled to leave her child to shift for itself, — she
adopted the precaution of binding an " ashen-twig " about its
body.
The adder no longer came near the child ; but from that day
forward the child pined, and eventually died, as all around said,
through grief at having lost the companion by whom it had been
fascinated.
TO CHARM A SNAKE.
WHEN an adder or snake is seen, a circle is to be rapidly
drawn around it, and the sign of the cross made within it,
while the two first verses of the 68th Psalm are repeated : —
"Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered; let them also that hate
him flee before him.
" As smoke is driven away, so drive them away ; as wax melteth before
the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God."
A Test of Innocency. 42 1
When a child, I well remember being shown a snake, not yet
dead, within a circle of this kind ; the gardener who drew my atten-
tion to the reptile informing me that he had charmed it in the
manner related.
THE ASH-TREE*
WEAKLY children — " children that wouldn't goode," or thrive
— were sometimes drawn through the cleft ash-tree. I
have seen the ceremony performed but in one case.
The tree was young, and it was taken by the two forks, — bifur-
cation having taken place, — and by force rended longitudinally.
The cleft was kept open, and the child, quite naked, was passed
head first through the tree nine times. The tree was then closed
and carefully tied together. If the severed parts reunited, the child
and the tree recovered together ; if the cleft gaped in any part,
the operation was certain to prove ineffectual.
I quote another example. A large knife was inserted into the
trunk of the young tree, about a foot from the ground, and a
vertical rending made for about three feet. Two men then forcibly
pulled the parts asunder, and held them so, whilst the mother
passed the child through it three times. This " passing " alone
was not considered effective ; it was necessary that the child
should be washed for three successive mornings in the dew from
the leaves of the " charmed ash."
In the AthencBum for September 1 846, Ambrose Merton — Mr
Thorns — has some interesting notices of the wide-spread belief
in, and the antiquity of, this superstition.
RHYME ON THE EVEN ASH.
" T_T YEN ash, I thee do pluck ;
•Ll Hoping thus to meet good luck.
If no luck I get from thee,
I shall wish thee on the tree."
A TEST OF INNOCENCY.
A FARMER in Towednack having been robbed of some pro-
^A- perty of no great value, was resolved nevertheless, to employ
a test which he had heard the " old people " resorted to for the
purpose of catching the thief. He invited all his neighbours into
his cottage, and when they were assembled, he placed a cock
under the " brandice," (an iron vessel formerly much employed by
* Spe also p. 415.
422 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
the peasantry in baking, when this process was carried out on the
hearth, the fuel being furze and ferns). Every one was directed
to touch the brandice with his, or her, third finger, and say, "In
the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, speak." Every one
did as they were directed, and no sound came from beneath the
brandice. The last person was a woman, who occasionally
laboured for the farmer in his fields. She hung back, hoping to
pass unobserved amidst the crowd. But her very anxiety made
her a suspected person. She was forced forward, and most un-
willingly she touched the brandice, when, before she could utter the
words prescribed, the cock crew. The woman fell faint on the
floor, and, when she recovered, she confessed herself to be the
thief, restored the stolen property, and became, it is said, " a
changed character from that day."
THE BONFIRE TEST.
A BONFIRE is formed of faggots of furze, ferns, and the like.
**• Men and maidens by locking hands form a circle, and com-
mence a dance to some wild native song. At length, as the
dancers become excited, they pull each other from side to side
across the fire. If they succeed in treading out the fire without
breaking the chain, none of the party will die during the year. If,
however, the ring is broken before the fire is extinguished, " bad
luck to the weak hands," as my informant said.
LIGHTS SEEN BY THE CONVERTED.
r I ^HERE is, in many parts of the county, a belief, derived no
J- doubt from the recollection of St Paul's conversion, that,
when sinners are converted, they see shining lights about them-
selves. I have many times heard this, but every one seems to have
his own particular mode of describing the phenomenon, — where
they can be prevailed on to describe it at all, — and usually that is
derived from some picture which has made an impression on their
minds : such as, " exactly like the light shining round the angel
appearing to St Peter, in fayther's Bible."
THE MIGRATORY BIRDS.
I FIND a belief still prevalent amongst the people in the out-
lying districts of Cornwall, that such birds as the cuckoo and
the swallow remain through the winter in deep caves, cracks in the
Shooting Stars. 423
earth, and in hollow trees ; and instances have been cited of these
birds having been found in a torpid state in the mines, and in
hollow pieces of wood. This belief appears to be of some antiquity,
for Carew writes in his " Survey of Cornwall " as follows : —
" In the west parts of Cornwall, during the winter season, swallows are
found sitting in old deep tynne-works, and holes in the sea cliffes ; but
touching their lurking-places, Olaus Magmts maketh a far stranger report.
For he saith that in the north parts of the world, as summer weareth out,
they clap mouth to mouth, wing to wing, and legge to legge, and so, after
a sweet singing, fall downe into certain lakes or pools amongst the caves,
from whence at the next spring they receive a new resurrection ; and he
addeth, for proofe thereof, that the fishermen who make holes in the ice, to
dig up such fish in their nets as resort thither for breathing, doe sometimes
light on these swallows congealed in clods, of a slymie substance, and that,
carrying them home to their stoves, the warmth restored them to life and
flight."
A man employed in the granite quarries near Penryn, informed
me that he found such a " slymie substance " in one of the pools in
the quarry where he was working, that he took it home, warmth
proved it to be a bird, but when it began to move it was seized by
the cat, who ran out on the downs and devoured it.
SHOOTING STARS.
A MUCILAGINOUS substance is found on the damp ground
•f\ near the granite quarries of Penryn, this is often very phos-
phorescent at night. The country people regard this as the sub-
stance of shooting stars. A tradesman of Penryn once brought
me a bottle full of this substance for analysis, informing me that
the men employed at the quarries, whenever they observed a
shooting star, went to the spot near which they supposed it to fall,
and they generally found a hatful of this mucus. It is curious
that the Belgian peasants also call it " the substance of shooting
stars" ("Phosphorescence," p. 109. By T. L. Phipson). This
author says, " I have sketched the history of this curious substance
in the Journal de Mtdecine et de Pharmacologie of Bruxelles, for
1855. It was analysed chemically by Mulder, and anatomically
by Carus, and from their observations appears to be the peculiar
mucus which envelops the eggs of the frog. It swells to an
enormous volume when it has free access to water. As seen upon
the damp ground in spring, it was often mistaken for some species
of fungus ; it is, however, simply the spawn of frogs, which has
been swallowed by some large crows or other birds, and afterwards
vomited, from its peculiar property of swelling to an immense size
in their bodies*"
424 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
In Mulder's account of its chemical composition given by
Berselius in his Rapport Annual, he distinguishes it by designation
of mucilage atmospherique .
THE SUN NEVER SHINES ON THE PERJURED.
PHERE appears to exist a very old superstition, to the effect
-*- that when a man has deeply perjured himself, — especially if
by his perjury he has sacrificed the life of a friend, — he not merely
loses the enjoyment of the sunshine, but he actually loses all con-
sciousness of its light or its warmth. Howsoever bright the sun
may shine, the weather appears to him gloomy, dark, and cold.
I have recently been told of a man living in the western part of
Cornwall, who is said to have sworn away the life of an innocent
person. " The face of this false witness is the colour of one long
in the tomb ; and he has never, since the death of the victim of
his forswearing, seen the sun." It must be remembered the per-
jured man is not blind. All things around him are seen as by
other men, but the sense of vision is so dulled that the world is
for ever to him in a dark, vapoury cloud.
A
CHAR A CTERISTIC.
N esteemed and learned correspondent, himself a Cornishman,
writing to me on the Cornish character, says : —
"There are some adages in which beadledom receives various hard
knocks — that abstraction mostly taking the shape of some unlucky mayor ;
and I have heard in Cornwall, but never elsewhere, that the greatest fool
in the place for the time being is always made the mayor.
"There is an adage of the Mayor of Calenich (and yet I doubt if ever
that hamlet had such an officer). Calenich is one mile from Truro, and
the mayor's hackney was pastured two miles from home ; so, as his worship
would by no means compromise his dignity by walking to Truro, he invari-
ably walked to his horse to ride there, so that it was said of any one who
would keep up appearances at great trouble, that he was 'like the Mayor of
Calenich, "who walked two miles to ride one. '
"The class who never know on which side their bread is buttered,
are said to be ' like the Mayor of 'Market- -Jew \ sitting in their own light , '
And the stupid man whose moods, whether of sadness or merriment, are
^opportune, is, as may be, said to be 'like the Mayor of Falmouth, who
thattked God wJien the town-jail was enlarged}
" Many persons are chronicled in the same manner.
"' ''Like Nicholas Kemp, he's got occasion for all.' Nicholas was said to
be a voter in a Cornish borough, who was told to help himself (so that no
one should have given him a bribe) from a table covered with gold, in the
election committee-room. Taking off his hat, he swept the whole mass
into it, saying, ' I 've occasion for all.'
Characteristics. 425
"'Like Uncle Acky Stoddern, the picture of ill luck.' This was always
applied to a once well-known Gwennap-man.
" When a boy is asked what he will be, it is sometimes answered on his
behalf, '/'// be like Knuckey, be as I am:
" 'Like Nanny Painter's hens, very high upon the legs,' is applied to a
starveling or thread paper.
"'Like Malachi's cheeld, choke-full of sense,' applied derisively to any
one boasting of himself or of his children. This is, I believe, purely
Cornish.
"'Like a toad under a harrow, I don't know whichee corse to steer.'
The first division of this adage is common property, the last is confined
to Cornwall.
"'He's coming home with Penny Liggan' sometimes 'Peter Lack en,'
signifies the return of a penniless scapegrace. The term was probably
'penny lacking' originally.
"Are the Cornish folk given to making 'bulls, 'like the Irish?" asks
my correspondent. "I have heard of one or two curious inversions of
speech.
" Once upon a time a little boy having vainly importuned his seniors for
a penny to go and buy sweets, being determined not to be disappointed,
went off, exclaiming, 'I don't care; I'll go and trust Betty Rule (the
sweatmeat vendor). This is native and genuine Gwennapian.
"The common people are fond of figures of speech. Port-wine negus
was christened by the miners ' black wine toddy.' They go on Midsummer-
day to Falmouth or Penzance, to get '# pen'ord o' say ' — that is, they go
out in a boat on payment of a penny.
"With them, when their health is inquired after, every man is 'brave,'
and every women ' charming; ' and friendship takes dear household names
into its mouth for more expressiveness.
"'Well, Billy, my son, how's faether?'
<: * Brave, thank ee.'
" ' How are you, Coden [Cousin] Jaivn, and how's Betty?'
" ' She 's charming, thank ee.'
" Trade is a word of special application, ' a pa' eel o' trade.'
"A precious mess is 'a brave shape.'
" Of an undecided person it is said, 'He is neither Nim nor Doll.' Does
this mean he is neither Nimrod nor Dorothy ?
A phrase descriptive of vacuity of expression is, 'He looks like anybody
that has neither got nor lost.' "
Years since it was a common custom to assign some ridiculous
action to the people of a small town or village. For example, the
people of one place were called " Buccas," " because some one of
them was frightened at his shadow."
Those of another town were named " Gulls," " because two of
the townsmen threw a gull over a cliff to break its neck."
The men of a fishing-village were nicknamed " Congers," "be-
cause they threw a conger overboard to drown it."
" Who whipped the hake ? " was applied to the inhabitants of
another town, because hake, it is said, being excessively plenty,
the fishermen flogged one of those fish, and flung it back into the
426 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
sea ; upon which all the hakes left that coast, and kept away for
years.*
" Who drowned the man in a dry ditch ? " belongs especially to
another place.
Certain Cornishmen built a wall around the cuckoo, to prevent
that bird from leaving the county, and thus to insure an early
spring. When built, the bird flew out, crying " Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! "
" If we had put one course more on the wall we should a' kept 'n
in," said they.
Camborne is so called from Camburne, a crooked well-pit of
water. This crooked well was at one time far famed for the cure
of many diseases.
The persons who washed in this well were called Merrasicke.
I know not the meaning of the word. According to an old Cor-
nish custom of fixing nicknames on people, the inhabitants of
Camborne are called Mearageeks, signifying perverse, or obstinate.
— (Lanyon. )
The Church was anciently called Mariadoci. I therefore sus-
pect that the above terms have some connection with this name.
By an easy corruption, and the addition of geeks, or gawks
(meaning awkward), either word can be produced.
Of the Gorran men it is asked, " Who tried to throw the moon
over the cliffs ? "
THE MUTTON FEAST.
AN old tradition — the particulars of which I have failed to
recover — says that a flock of sheep were blown from the
Gwithian Sands over into St Ives Bay, and that the St Ives fisher-
men caught them, — believing them to be a new variety of fish, —
either in their nets, or with hook and line, and brought them
ashore as their night's catch.
I learn that Mr Fortescue Hitchins, some fifty or sixty years
since, wrote a " copy of verses " on this tradition, but I have never
seen this production.
THE FLOATING GRINDSTONE.
I HAVE already told of St Piran and his grindstone. I have,
however, another and a more modern story, which is told
with great glee at some of the social meetings of the fishermen.
This is given merely to indicate the simplicity of this honest race.
* In Hugh Miller's "Scenes and Legends of the North of Scotland," edit. 1858, pp.
356. 257, will be found some stories of the flight of the " herring drove " from the coast
of Cromarty, which are analogous to this.
Tea- Stalks and Smut. 427
A party was got together on a promontory at the extremity of
the bay which enclosed a fishing-town. They were gathered to
see a wonder, a floating grindstone. Seeing that grindstones were
grindstones in those days, and worth many pounds sterling, a boat
was manned, and away they went, the mover of the expedition
being in the bow of the boat.
As they approached the grindstone, this man planted his foot
on the gunwale, ready for a spring. They were close aboard the
circular mass, — " All my own, and none for nobody," he cries, and
sprang off, as he fancied, on to the grindstone. Lo ! to his great
surprise, he sank under water, presently popping up again within
his charmed circle, to be greeted with roars of laughter. He had
leaped into a sheet of " salt sea foam " which had gathered, and
was confined within a large hoop.
CELTS— FLINT ARROW-HEADS, ETC.
THE common people believe these to be produced by thunder,
and thrown down from the clouds, and that they show what
weather will ensue by changing their colour.
I have also found a belief prevailing in many districts, that Celts
impart a virtue to water in which they have been soaked, and that
diseases have been cured by drinking it.
THE HORNS ON THE CHURCH TOWER.
WHEN the masons were building the tower of Towednack
Church, the devil came every night and carried off the pin-
nacles and battlements. Again and again this work was renewed
during the day, and as often was it removed during the night,
until at length the builders gave up the work in despair, feeling
that it was of no use to contend with the evil one.
Thus it is that Towednack Church stands lonely, with its squat
and odd-looking tower, a mark of the power of evil to the present
day. Associated with this tower is a proverb : " There are no
cuckolds in Towednack, because there are no horns on the church
tower."
TEA-STALKS AND SMUT.
STEMS of tea floating in that beverage indicate strangers.
Flakes of smut hanging loose to the fire-bars do the same
thing.
The time of the stranger's arrival may be known by placing the
stem on the back of one hand and smacking it with the other :
428 Charming \ Prophetic Power, etc.
the number of blows given before it is removed indicates the num-
ber of days before his arrival.
The flake of carbon is blown upon, and according as it is removed
by the first, second, or third blow, so is the time at the end ot
which the visitor may be expected.
AN OLD CORNISH RHYME.
"WH
HEN the corn is in the shock,
Then the fish are on the rock.'
The pilchard visits this coast in the early autumn. These are
the " fish " par excellence of the Cornish, and they are thus dis-
tinguished.
TO CHOOSE A WIFE.
A S CERTAIN the day of the young woman's birth, and refer to
•t*- the last chapter of Proverbs. Each verse from the ist to
the 3 ist is supposed to indicate, either directly or indirectly, the
character, and to guide the searcher— the verse corresponding
with her age indicating the woman's character.
THE ROBIN AND THE WREN.
kill a robin or a wran,
JL Will never prosper, boy or man."
This feeling is deeply impressed on every young mind ; there
are few, therefore, who would injure either of those birds.
I remember that a boy in Redruth killed a robin : the dead
robin was tied round his neck, and he was marched by the other
boys through the town, all of them singing the above lines.
TO SECURE GOOD LUCK FOR A CHILD.
GIVE the first person whom you meet between your own house
and the church to which you are taking the infant to be
christened, a piece of bread and salt.
INNOCENCY.
TO wash the hands is an attestation of innocency. To call a
man " dirty fingers/' is to accuse him of some foul or unjust
deed.
The Magpie. 429
RAIN AT BRIDAL OR BURIAL.
" "DLESSED is the bride
Whom the sun shines on,
Blessed is the dead
Whom the rain rains on."
If it rains while a wedding party are on their way to the church,
or on returning from it, it betokens a life of bickering and unhappi-
ness.
If the rain falls on a coffin, it is supposed to indicate that the
soul of the departed has " arrived safe."
CROWING HENS, ETC.
A WHISTLING maid and a crowing hen in one house, is a
certain sign of a downfall to some one in it. I have known
hens killed for crowing by night.
The braying of an ass is a sign of fair weather ; so is also the
crowing of a cock. The quacking of ducks foretells rain.
THE NEW MOON.
T^O see the new moon for the first time through glass, is unlucky ;
J- you may be certain that you will break glass before that moon
is out. I have known persons whose attention has been called to
a clear new moon hesitate. " Hev I seed her out a' doors afore ? "
if not, they will go into the open air, and if possible show the moon
" a piece of gold/' or, at all events, turn their money.
LOOKING-GLASSES.
BREAKING a looking-glass is certain to insure seven years of
misfortune.
THE MAGPIE.
is a sign of anger,
Two is a sign of mirth,
Three is a sign of a wedding,
^ . . f ( birth.
Four is a sign of a j death-»
A scolding woman is called a magpie. Whenever you see a mag-
pie, take off your hat to it ; this will turn away the anger.
430 Charming, Prophetic Power ^ etc.
THE MONTH OF MAY UNLUCKY.
MAY is regarded by many as an unhealthy and unlucky
month.
Children born in the month of May are called "May chets,"
and kittens cast in May are invariably destroyed, for —
" May chets
Bad luck begets."
Another rhyme is —
" A hot May,
Fat church hay,"
meaning that funerals will be plenty.
ON THE BIRTHS OF CHILDREN.
" CUNDAY'S child is full of grace,
**^ Monday's child is full in the face,
Tuesday's child is solemn and sad,
Wednesday's child is merry and glad,
Thursday's child is inclined to thieving,
Friday's child is free in giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living."
ON WASHING LINEN.
that wash Monday got all the week to dry,
They that wash Tuesday are pretty near by,
They that wash Wednesday make a good housewife,
They that wash Thursday must wash for their life,
They that wash Friday must wash in need,
They that wash Saturday are sluts indeed."
ITCHING EARS.
WHEN the ears are red and itch, it is a sign that some
one is talking of the suffering individual. If it is the left
ear, they are being scandalised ; if the right ear, they are being
praised.
Often have I heard, when the lower and middle class people
have been indulging in some gossip of their neighbours or friends,
" I '11 bet how their ears do itch."
THE SPARK ON THE CANDLE.
A BRIGHT spark on the candle-wick indicates a letter coming
to the house. The person towards whom it shines will
receive it. The time of its arrival is determined by striking the
Whistling. 43 1
bottom of the candlestick on the table. If the spark comes off on
the first blow, it will be received to-morrow ; if two blows are
required, on the second day, — and so on.
THE BLUE VEIN,
A FOND mother was paying more than ordinary attention to a
fine healthy-looking child, a boy about three years old. The
poor woman's breast was heaving with emotion, and she struggled
to repress her sighs. Upon inquiring if anything was really
wrong, she said " the old lady of the house had just told her
that the child could not live long, because he had a blue vein
across his nose.
THE CROAKING OF THE RAVEN.
'T^HERE is a common feeling that the croaking of a raven over
JL the house bodes evil to some member of the family. The
following incident, given to me by a really intelligent man, illus-
trates the feeling :* —
" One day our family were much annoyed by the continued
croaking of a raven over our house. Some of us believed it to be
a token ; others derided the idea ; but one good lady, our next-
door neighbour, said, * Just mark the day, and see if something
does not come of it.' The day and hour were carefully noted.
Months passed away, and unbelievers were loud in their boastings
and inquiries after the token.
" The fifth month arrived, and with it a black-edged letter from
Australia, announcing the death of one of the members of the
family in that country. On comparing the dates of the death and
the raven's croak, they were found to have occurred on the same
day."
WHISTLING.
TO whistle by night is one of the unpardonable sins amongst
the fishermen of St Ives. My correspondent says, " I would
no more dare go among a party of fishermen at night whistling a
popular air than into a den of untamed tigers."
No miner will allow of whistling underground. I could never
learn from the miners whether they regarded it as unlucky or not.
I rather think they feel that whistling indicates thoughtlessness,
and they know their labour is one of danger, requiring serious
attention.
* See "Death Tokens."
43 2 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
MEETING ON THE STAIRS.
IT is considered unlucky to meet on the stairs, and often one
will retire to his or her room rather than run the risk of
giving or receiving ill luck.
I find this superstition prevails also in the Midland counties.
TREADING ON GRA VES.
" 'T'O see a man tread over graves,
I hold it no good mark ;
'Tis wicked in the sun and moon,
And bad luck in the dark ! "
So sings Coleridge in his ballad of " The Three Graves."
Whenever a person shivers from a sensation of cold down the
spine, it is said some one is walking over his or her grave.
Persons believing this, will give directions that they may be
buried in some secluded corner of the churchyard, so that their
corpse may not be disturbed by unholy footsteps.
I
A LOOSE GARTER.
F an unmarried woman's garter loosens when she is walking, her
sweetheart is thinking of her.
TO CURE THE HICCOUGH.
WET the forefinger of the right hand with spittle, and cross the
front of the left shoe or boot three times, repeating the
Lord's Prayer backwards.
T
THE SLEEPING FOOT.
HIS irregularity in the circulation is at once removed by
crossing the foot with saliva.
THE HORSE-SHOE.
TO nail a horse-shoe, which has been cast on the road, over the
door of any house, barn, or stable, is an effectual means of
preventing the entrance of witches.
"By Hook or by Crook." 433
THE BLACK CAT'S TAIL.
r"pHOSE little gatherings which occur on the eyelids of children,
JL locally called " whilks," are cured by passing a black cat's
tail nine times over the place. If a ram cat, the cure is more
certain.
UNLUCKY THINGS.
TO put the loaf on the table upside down — to cut the butter at
both ends — to place the bellows on the table — to upset the
salt — to cross your knife and fork — to pour gravy out of a spoon
backwards (or back-handed), is each unlucky and leads to
quarrels. To borrow or lend a bellows is most unlucky, and
many would rather give than lend one.
If you are going on an errand, never turn back to your house,
it presages ill luck to do so. If, however, you are compelled to it,
fail not to sit down. By doing this some mischief may be avoided.
THE LIMP CORPSE.
IF a corpse stiffens shortly after death, all is thought to proceed
naturally ; but if the limbs remain flexible, some one of the
family is shortly to follow. If the eyes of a corpse are difficult to
close, it is said " they are looking after a follower."
To find a louse on one's linen, is a sign of sickness. To find
two, indicates a severe illness. If three lice are so found within a
month, it is a " token to prepare."
Talking backwards, or putting one word incorrectly before an-
other,— " the cart before the horse," — is considered to foretell that
you will shortly see a stranger.
If two young people, in conversation, happen to think of the same
thing at the same time, and one of them utters the thought before
the other, that one is certain to be married first.
"BY HOOK OR BY CROOK."
IN the parish of Egles-Hayle are two crosses, known as
" Peverell's Crosses ; " and near Mount Charles, also in this
parish, is another " moorstone " cross, called the Prior's Cross,
whereon is cut the figure of a hook and a crook, in memoir of
2 E
434 Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
the privileges granted by a prior, belonging to the family of the
Peverells, who are said to have possessed lands in this parish
since the time of Richard II.
The poor of Bodmin were greatly distressed through the
scarcity of fuel, the " turf," or peat of the moors, being insufficient
to supply their wants. The prior gave " privilege and freedom "
to the poor of Bodmin for gathering, for " fire-boote and house-
boote," such boughs and branches of oak-trees in his woods of
Dunmear, as they could reach to, or come at, with a "hook and a
crook," without further damage to the trees.
Hence the proverb concerning niching, " that they will have it
by hook or by crook."
WEATHER SIGNS.
r~pHE WEATHER DOG. — It frequently happens in unsettled
J- weather that banks of rain- cloud gather around the horizon,
and that, over isolated tracts, the rain falls. If these depositions
from this low stratum of clouds occur opposite to the sun, the lower
limb of a bow is formed, often appearing like a pillar of decom-
posed light ; and sometimes two of these coloured bands will be
seen, forming indeed the two extremities of the arch. These are
" weather dogs," and they are regarded as certain prognostications
of showery or stormy weather.*
The usual proverb with regard to the full bow, which prevails
generally, is common in Cornwall —
"The rainbow in the morning
Is the shepherd's warning ;
The rainbow at night
Is the shepherd's delight."
But, as far as I know, the " weather dog " is peculiarly Cornish
WEATHER AT LISKEARD.
" T^HE south wind always brings wet weather;
L The north wind, wet and cold together.
Th_. west wind always brings us rain ;
The east wind blows it back again.
* " There appeared in the north-east the frustrum of a large rainbow ', all the colours
were lively and distinct , and it was three times as wide as the arch of an ordinary com-
plete rainbow, but no higher than it was wide. They call it here, in Cornwall, a weather
dog; but in the Cornish language, Lagas-auel* — that is, the weather's eye, — and pro-
nounce it a certain sign of hard rain." — Borlase*s Natural History c/ Cornwall.
Peculiar Words and Phrases. 435
If the sun in red should set,
The next day surely will be wet ;
If the sun should set in gray,
The next will be a rainy day."
ftond's Looe.
THE FIRST BUTTERFLY.
E of the superstitions prevailing in Devonshire is, that any
individual neglecting to kill the first butterfly he may see
for the season, will have ill luck throughout the year." * The follow-
ing recent example is given by a young lady : — " The other Sunday,
as we were walking to church, we met a man running at full speed,
with his hat in one hand, and a stick in the other. As he passed
us, he exclaimed, ' I shan't hat 'en now, I b'lieve.' He did not
give us time to inquire what he was so eagerly pursuing ; but we
presently overtook an old man, whom we knew to be his father,
and who, being very infirm, and upwards of seventy, generally
hobbled about by the aid of two sticks. Addressing me, he
observed, ' My zin a took away wan a my sticks, miss ; wan't be
ebble to kil'n now though, I b'lieve.' ' Kill what ? ' said I. * Why,
'tis a butterfly, miss, — the furst hee'th a zeed for the year ; and
they zay that a body will have cruel bad luck if a ditn'en kill a
furst a zeeth.' "
I have found this belief prevailing in the east, but never in the
west, of Cornwall.
PECULIAR WORDS AND PHRASES.^
"r I AHE people in the west," writes a correspondent, "have
adopted many words from the Danish invaders." Tradition
assures us that the sea-rovers of the North frequently landed at
Witsand Bay, burned and pillaged the villages of Escols and
Mayon, sometimes took off the women, but never made a settle-
ment. Certain red-haired families are often referred to as Danes,
and the dark-haired people will not marry with "a red-haired
Dane.' He continues : — " If you were in Buryan Church-town this
evening, you might probably hear Betty Trenoweth say. ' I '11 take
off my touser [toute serve], and run up to Janey Angwins to
cousey [causer] a spell ; there's a lot of boys gone in there, so
there '11 be a grand courant [de courir], I expect.' In a short
time Betty may come back disappointed, saying, "Twas a mere
cow's courant after all, cheld vean — all hammer and tongs.' "
The touser is a large apron or wrapper to come quite round
* Hone's Table Book. f See AppeftU* KE.
43 ^ Charming, Prophetic Power, etc.
and keep the under garments clean. By a courant with the boys,
they mean a game of running romps. It is not at all uncommon
in other parts of the country to hear the people say, " It was a
fine courant" " We Ve had a good courant" when they intend to
express the enjoyment of some pleasure party. These are, how-
ever, probably more nearly allied to Norman-French.
There are some proverbial expressions peculiar to the west : —
" Sow barley in dree, and wheat in pul." *
" To make an old nail good, right it on wood."
" Fill the sack, then it can stand."
The last meaning that neither man nor beast can work on an
empty stomach.
The following are a few of less common expressions, preserving
remarkable words : —
'Tis not bezibd — It is not allotted me.
He will never scrip it — He will never escape it.
He is nothing pridy — He is not handsome.
Give her dule — Give her some comfort or consolation.
Hark to his lidden — Listen to his word or talk.
It was twenty or some — It was about twenty.
The wind brings the pilme — The wind raises the dust.
How thick the brusse lies — How thick the dust lies.
He is throyting — He is cutting chips from sticks.
He came of a good havage— He belongs to a good or respect-
able family.
Hame — a straw collar with wooden collar-trees, to which are
fastened the rope traces.
Scalpions (buckthorn, or rather buckhoni] — salt dried fish,
usually the whiting.
" Eating fair maids, or fermades — (fumadoes] — [pilchards], and
drinking mahogany [gin and treacle]."
* In pul ; meaning in mud.
MISCELLANEOUS STORIES.
" Farewell, rewards and fairies,
Good housewives now may say •
For now foul sluts in dairies
Do fare as well as they.
"A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure ;
And who kept not secretly
Their mirth, was punish'd sure."
Farewell to the Fairies.— RICHARD CORBET
VARIOUS ROMANCES AND
SUPERSTITIONS.
THE BELLS OF FORRABURY CHURCH.
"The Cornish drolls are dead, each one ;
The fairies from their haunts hare gone :
There's scarce a witch in all the land,
The world has grown so learn'd and grand."
HEM BY QUICK, /&r Zennor Poet.
TO this day the tower of Forrabury Church, or, as it is called
by Mr Hawker, " the silent tower of Bottreaux," remains
without bells. " At Forrabury the chimes have never sounded for a
marriage, the knell has never been heard for a funeral " — Collins.
In days long ago, the inhabitants of the parish of Forrabury —
which does not cover a square mile, but which now includes
the chief part of the town of Boscastle and its harbour — resolved
to have a peal of bells which should rival those of the neighbouring
church of Tintagel, which are said to have rung merrily at the
marriage, and tolled solemnly at the death, of Arthur.
The bells were cast ; the bells were blessed ; and the bells were
shipped for Forrabury. Few voyages were more favourable ; and
the ship glided, with a fair wind, along the northern shores of
Cornwall, waiting for the tide to carry her safely into the harbour of
Bottreaux.
The vesper bells rang out at Tintagel; and the pilot, when he
heard the blessed sound, devoutly crossed himself, and bending his
knee, thanked God for the safe and quick voyage which they had
made.
The captain laughed at the superstition of the pilot, as he called
it, and swore that they had only to thank themselves for the
speedy voyage, and that, with his arm at the helm, and his judg-
ment to guide them, they should soon have a happy landing. The
pilot checked this profane speech ; but the wicked captain — and
The Tower of Minster Church. 439
he swore more impiously than ever that all was due to himself and
his men — laughed to scorn the pilot's prayer. " May God forgive
you ! " was the pilot's reply.
Those who are familiar with the northern shores of Cornwall
will know that sometimes a huge wave, generated by some mys-
terious power in the wide Atlantic, will roll on, overpowering
everything by its weight and force.
\Vhile yet the captain's oaths were heard, and while the inhabi-
tants on the shore were looking out from the cliffs, expecting,
within an hour, to see the vessel, charged with their bells, safe in
their harbour, one of these vast swellings of the ocean was seen.
Onward came the grand billow in all the terror of its might. The
ship rose not upon the waters as it came onward. She was
overwhelmed, and sank in an instant close to the land.
As the vessel sank, the bells were heard tolling with a muffled
sound, as if ringing the death-knell of the ship and sailors, of whom
the good pilot alone escaped with life.
When storms are coming, and only then, the bells of Forrabury,
with their dull, muffled sound, are heard from beneath the heaving
sea, a warning to the wicked ; and the tower has remained to this
day silent.
THE TOWER OF MINSTER CHURCH.
"The Minster of the Trees 1 a lonely dell,
Deep with old oaks, and 'mid their quiet sh.ule,
Gray with the moss of years, yon antique cell 1
Sad are those walls : the cloister lowly laid,
Where pacing monks at solemn evening made
Their chanted orisons : and as the breeze
Came up the vale, by rock and tree delay'd,
They heard the awful voice of many seas
Blend with thy pausing hymn, thou Minster of the Trees!*
HAWKKR.
ON a visit to this old church, which is allowed to perish under
the influences of damp and the accompanying vegetable
growth, in a way which is but little creditable to the parishioners,
I was struck at the evidence that the tower had either been taken
down or that it had fallen. Amidst the long grass of the cluuvh-
yard I found in. my remains of carved stones, which clearly be-
loiu-,ed at one time to the tower. I sought for some information,
but 1 eould obtain none. The offieiathu; eler^vman, and several
gentlemen of Boscastle, were alike ignorant of any tradition con-
nected with the tower the prevalent idea being that it was left
unfinished,
440 Various Romances and Superstitions
At length, the ostler at the inn informed me that the story of
the destruction of the tower ran thus : —
The tower of the church of the ancient abbey was seen through
the gorge which now forms the harbour of Boscastle, far out at
sea. The monks were in the habit of placing a light in one of the
windows of the tower to guide the worshippers at night to the
minster.
Frequently sailors mistook this, by day for some land-mark,
and at night for a beacon, and were thus led into a trap from which
they could not easily extricate themselves, and within which they
often perished. This accident occurred so frequently that the
sailors began at last to declare their belief that the monks pur-
posely beguiled them to their fate, hinting, indeed, that plunder
was their object. Eventually, a band of daring men, who had been
thus lured into Boscastle, went to the abbey, and, in spite of the
exertions nrade by the monks, they pulled down the tower, since
which time it has never been rebuilt.
TEMPLE MOORS.
THE parish of Temple in 1851 had a population of 24. Yet
once the Knights Templar built a church here ; and with
the purpose of civilising the inhabitants of the moor in the midst
of which it was founded, they secured for their temple some special
privileges. " Many a bad marriage bargain," says Tonkin, " is
there yearly slubbered up ; and grass widows with their fatlings put
to lie-in and nurse here." " Send her to Temple Moors," implied
that any female requiring seclusion might at one time secure it
under the charge of these Christian knights in this their preceptory,
and be returned to the world again, probably, in all respects, a
better woman. At all events, the world, being in ignorance, did
not repudiate the erring sister.
Stories linger over this wilderness of mixed good and evil. The
church, which was consecrated to the great cause of saving sinners,
has perished. No stone remains to tell us where it stood ; and to
" send her to Temple moors," is to proclaim a woman an outcast
from society.
THE LEGEND OF TAMARA.
THE lovely nymph Tamara was born in a cavern. Although
her parents were spirits of the earth, the child loved the light
of day. Often had they chided her for yielding to her desires and
The Church and the Barn 441
visiting the upper world ; and often had they warned her against
the consequences which would probably arise from her neglect of
their advice.
The giants of the moors were to be feared ; and it was from
these that the earth spirits desired to protect their child.
Tamara — beautiful, young, heedless — never lost an opportunity
of looking on the glorious sun. Two sons of Dartmoor giants —
Tavy and Tawrage — had seen the fair maid, and longed to possess
her. Long was their toil, and the wild maiden often led them over
mountain and moor in playful chase.
Under a bush in Morewinstow, one day, both Tavy and Taw-
rage came upon Tamara. They resolved now to compel her to
declare upon which of them her choice should fall. The young
men used every persuasion, and called her by every endearing
name. Her parents had missed Tamara, and they sought and
found her seated between the sons of the giants whom they hated.
The gnome father caused a deep sleep to fall on the eyes of Tavy
and Tawrage, and then he endeavoured to persuade his daughter
to return to his subterranean cell.
Tamara would not leave her lovers. In his rage the gnome
cursed his daughter, and, by the might of his curse, changed her
into a river, which should flow on for ever to the salt sea. The
lovely Tamara dissolved in tears, and as a crystal stream of ex-
ceeding beauty the waters glided onward to the ocean.
At length Tavy awoke. His Tamara was gone ; he fled to his
father in the hills. The giant knew of the metamorphosis, and, to
ease the anguish of his son, he transformed him into a stream.
Rushing over rocks, running through morasses, gliding along val-
leys, and murmuring amidst the groves, Tavy still goes on seeking
for Tamara — his only joy being that he runs by her side, and that,
mingling their waters, they glide together to the eternal sea.
Tawrage awakened after a long sleep. He divined what had
taken place, and fled to the hills to an enchanter. At his prayer
he, too, was changed to a stream ; but he mistook the road along
which Tamara had gone, and onward, ever sorrowing, he flows —
away — away — away from his Tamara for ever.
Thus originated the Tamar, the Tavy, and the Taw.
THE CHURCH AND THE BARN.
'"PHE Daunays were great people in their day ; but many of
-A. them bore indifferent characters.
Sir John de Daunay was a strange mixture of ostentatious pride
442 Various Romances and Superstitions*
and penuriousness. His Lady Emelyn was as proud as her hus«
band, but extravagant to a fault.
The priests of St Germans persuaded Sir John to build a church
on his lands at Sheviock. He commenced the work, and, not-
withstanding his great wealth, his heart failed him, and he cur-
tailed the fair proportions on which he had at first decided.
Emelyn was enraged at this ; and it is said, that, prompted by
the devil in visible presence, she resolved to build a barn which
should exceed in beauty the house of God.
The barn rose with astonishing rapidity. Stones were laid at
night, and the work proceeded as if the most lavish expenditure
had been bestowed upon it. The church progressed but slowly,
and was, after all, a very inferior structure to the barn. The
devil, without doubt, having assisted Lady Daunay in her wicked
work.
" There runneth a tale amongst the parishioners how one of the
Daunay family's ancestors undertook to build the church, and the
wife the barn adjoining ; and that, casting up accounts on
finishing their work, the barn was found to have cost i^d. more
than the church." *
The Daunay aisle in Sheviock Church still preserves the name
of this family, who appear to have possessed at one time nearly all
this, and much of the adjoining parish.
THE PENRYN TRAGEDY.
"News from Penryn, in Cornwall, of a most bloody and unexampled Murder."
SUCH was the title of a black-letter pamphlet of eight pages
referred to by Lysons. This curious book does not appear
to be in existence.
Mr Davies Gilbert, who possessed much property in the parish
of Gluvias, was especially interested in the farm of Bohelland, the
place which has been rendered for ever notorious, as having been
the scene of Lillo's tragedy of " Fatal Curiosity."
From a work entitled " The Reign and Death of King James
of Great Britain," Mr Gilbert quotes as follows : —
" He had been blessed with ample possessions and fruitful issue, unhappy
only in a younger son, who, taking liberty from his father's bounty, and
with a crew of like condition, that wearied on land, they went roving to
sea, and, in a small vessel southward, took boot from all they could master.
And so increasing force and wealth, ventured on a Turk's man in the
Streights j but by mischance their own powder fired themselves, and our
* Davies Gilbert's " Cornwall."
The Penryn Tragedy. 443
gallant, trusting to his skilful swimming, got on shore upon Rhodes, with
the best of his jewels about him ; where, offering some to sale to a Jew, who
knew them to be the Governor's of Algier, he was apprehended, and, as a
pirate, sentenced to the galleys among other Christians, whose miserable
slavery made them all studious of freedom, and with wit and valour took
opportunity and means to murder some officers, got on board of an Eng-
lish ship, and came safe to London ; where his misery, and some skill,
made him servant to a surgeon, and sudden preferment to the East Indies.
There, by this means, he got money ; with which returning back, he
designed himself for his native county, Cornwall. And in a small ship
from London, sailing to the west, was cast away upon that coast. But his
excellent skill in swimming, and former fate to boot, brought him safe to
shore ; where, since his fifteen years' absence, his father's former fortunes
much decayed, now retired him not far off to a country habitation, in debt
and danger.
" His sister he finds married to a mercer, a meaner match than her birth
promised. To her, at first, he appears a poor stranger, but in private
reveals himself, and withal what jewels and gold he had concealed in a
bow-case about him ; and concluded that the next day he intended to ap-
pear to his parents, and to keep his disguise till she and her husband should
meet, and make their common joy complete. Being come to his parents,
his humble behaviour, suitable to his suit of clothes, melted the old couple
to so much compassion as to give him covering from the cold season under
their outward roof ; and by degrees his travelling tales, told with passion to
the aged people, made him their guest so long by the kitchen fire, that the
husband took leave and went to bed. And soon after his true stories
working compassion in the weaker vessel, she wept, and so did he ; but
compassionate of her tears, he comforted her with a piece of gold, which
gave assurance that he deserved a lodging, to which she brought him ; and
being in bed, showed her his girdled wealth, which he said was sufficient
to relieve her husband's wants, and to spare for himself, and being very
weary, fell fast asleep.
"The wife tempted with the golden bait of what she had, and eager of
enjoying all, awakened her husband with this news, and her contrivance
what to do ; and though with horrid apprehensions he oft refused, yet her
puling fondness (Eve's enchantments) moved him to consent, and rise to be
master of all, and both of them to murder the man, which instantly they
did ; covering the corpse under the clothes till opportunity to convey it out
of the way.
"The early morning hastens the sister to her father's house, where she
with signs of joy, inquires for a sailor that should lodge there the last
night ; the parents slightly denied to have seen any such, until she told them
that he was her brother, her lost brother ; by that assured scar upon his
arm, cut with a sword in his youth, she knew him ; and were all resolved
this morning to meet there and be merry.
" The father hastily runs up, finds the mark, and with horrid regret of this
monstrous murder of his own son, with the same knife cuts his own throat.
" The wife went up to consult with him, where, in a most strange manner
beholding them both in blood, wild and aghast, with the instrument at
hand, readily rips herself up, and perishes on the same spot.
" The daughter, doubting the delay of their absence, searches for them
all, whom she found out too soon ; with the sad sight of this scene, and
being overcome with horror and amaze of this deluge of destruction, she
/I /] /| Various Romances and Superstitions.
sank down and died ; the fatal end of that family. The truth of which
was frequently known, and flew to court in this guise ; but the imprinted
relation conceals their names, in favour to some neighbour of repute and
kin to that family. The same sense makes me therein silent also." —
Gilbert,'* vol. ii. p. 100.
Mr Harris of Salisbury, in his " Philological Inquiries," says of
Lillo's tragedy : —
" It is no small praise to this affecting fable that it so much
resembles the 'GEdipus Tyrannus ' of Sophocles. In both tragedies,
that which apparently leads to joy, leads in its completion to
misery ; both tragedies concur in the horror of their discoveries,
and both in those great outlines of a truly tragic revolution
(according to the nervous sentiment of Lillo himself) —
' The two extremes of life,
The highest happiness the deepest woe
With all the sharp and bitter aggravations
Of such a vast transition.' "
GOLDSITHNEY FAIR AND THE GLOVE.
ON the 5th of August, St James's day (old style), a fair is
held here, which was originally held in the Church- town of
Sithney near Helston.
In olden time, the good St Perran the Little gave to the
wrestlers in his parish a glove as the prize, and the winner of the
glove was permitted to collect the market toll on the day of
the feast, and to appropriate the money to his own use. The
winner of the glove lived in the Church-town of Sithney, and
for long long years the right of holding the fair remained undis-
puted.
At length the miners of Goldsithney resolved to contest the
prize, and they won it, since which time the fair has been held in
that village, they paying to the poor of the parish of Sithney one
shilling as compensation.
Gilbert remarks " The displaying of a glove at fairs is an ancient
and widely-extended custom. Mr Lysons says it is continued at
Chester. The editor has seen a large ornamented glove over the
guildhall at Exeter during the fairs." ':<
THE HARLYN
" ADJOINING the Church of Constantine in the parish of
**• St Merryn, was a cottage which a family of the name of
Edwards held for generations, under the proprietors of Harlyn, by
* Vol. iii. p. 309. t See Appendix FF.
Packs of Wool 445
the annual render of a pie, made of limpets, raisins, and various
herbs, on the eve of the festival in honour of the saint to whom
the church was dedicated. The pie, as I have heard from my
family, and from more ancient members of the family, and from
old servants, was excellent. The Edwards had pursued for
centuries the occupation of shepherds on Harlyn and Constantine
Commons. The last died about forty years ago, and the wreck
of their cottage is almost buried in the sand."*
PACKS OF WOOL THE FOUNDATION OF THE
BRIDGE OF WADEBRIDGE.
T OVEBONE was the vicar of Wadebridge, and there was
J — ' a ferry across the river. It was a frequent custom for the
farmers to ride their horses and to drive their cattle across when
the tide was low, and frequently men and beasts were lost in the
quicksands formed on the rising of the tide. A sad accident of
this kind happened, and Lovebone resolved on building a bridge ;
as Leland says in his " Itinerary," " Then one Lovebone, vicar of
Wadebridge, moved with pitie, began the bridge, and with great
paine and studie, good people putting their help thereto, finished
it with xvii fair and great uniform arches of stone."
Great was the labour, and frequent the disappointment. Pier
after pier were built, and then they were lost in the sands. A
" fair structure " was visible at night, in the morning there was no
trace of the work of the masons. Lovebone almost despaired of
success, indeed he was about to abandon the work, when he dreamed
that an angel came with a flock ol sheep, that he sheared them,
let the wool fall into the water, and speedily built the bridge upon
the wool.
Lovebone awoke with a new idea. He gathered from the farmers
around, all the wool they would give him, he put it loosely into
into packs, placed these thickly upon the sand, and built his piers.
The work remains to this day in proof of the engineering skill of
the suggesting angel. f
Quoting Beaumont and Fletcher's " Knight of the Burning
Pestle," we find the Citizen saying to the Prologue : —
" Why could you not be content as well as others, with the
Legend of Whittington ? or the Life and Death of Sir Thomas
Gresham, with the building of the Royal Exchange ? or the Story
of Queen Eleanor, with the rearing of London Bridge upon wool-
sacks ? "
* Letter from William Peter, Esq, of Harlyn, to Davies Gilbert, vol. iii. p. 178.
t See Keighton's "Tales and Popular Fictions," p. 247.
446 Various Romances and Superstitions.
THE LAST WOLF IN ENGLAND.
*T*HE extirpation of the wolves, which once existed in every part
•A- of these islands, is an oft-told story.
But it is not generally known that the last native wolf lived in
the forests of Ludgvan, near Penzance. The last of his race was
a gigantic specimen, and terrible was the havoc made by him on
the flocks. Tradition tells us that at last he carried off a child.
This could not be endured, so the peasantry all turned out, and this
famous wolf was captured at Rospeith, the name of a farm still
existing in Ludgvan.
CHURCHES BUILT IN PERFORMANCE OF VOWS.
r I "HERE are several churches which, tradition tells us, owe their
-L origin to vows made by terrified men that they would, if
relieved from their dangers, build a temple to God.
Amongst these may be named Brent Tor, thus spoken of by Mr
Bray : —
" The church of Brent Tor is dedicated to St Michael. And there is a
tradition among the vulgar that its foundation was originally laid at the
foot of the hill ; but that the enemy of all angels, the Prince of Darkness,
removed the stones by night from the base to the summit, — probably to be
nearer his own dominion, the air, — but that, immediately on the church's
being dedicated to St Michael, the patron of the edifice hurled upon the
devil such an enormous mass of rock that he never afterwards ventured to
approach it. Others tell us that it was erected by a wealthy merchant, who
vowed, in the midst of a tremendous storm at sea (possibly addressing him-
self to his patron, St Michael), that if he escaped, he would built a church
on the first land he descried." *
Brent Tor is a very remarkable hill, and can be seen far off at
sea. This may possibly lend some support to the latter tradition.
St Anthony, in Kerrier, is likewise stated to be the consequence
of a vow. Soon after the Conquest, as some persons of rank and
fortune were coming to England from Normandy, they were over-
taken by a violent storm, from which they expected immediate
destruction. In the midst of their distress, they directed their
prayers to St Anthony, and laid themselves under a solemn vow
to erect a church to his memory, if he would save them from ship-
wreck ; and that this church should be erected on the very spot
where they should first get on shore. Driven by the tempest, they
were conducted, by a power fully equal to that which St Anthony
might be supposed to possess, into St Mawe's harbour, and happily
* " Traditions, Legends, Superstitions, and Sketches of Devonshire," by Mrs Bray,
who gives a letter of her husband's, for some time vicar of Tavistock.
Bolait, the Field of Blood. 447
landed on that very spot where the church now stands. And it
appears that the materials with which the tower is built, and the
situation which the church and tower occupy, are calculated to give
sanction to this tradition.
BOLAIT, THE FIELD OF BLOOD.
'T^RADITION asserts that it was on the spot, so called in the
J- parish of Burian, that the last battle was fought between the
Cornish Britons and Athelstan. This is, in some measure, con-
firmed by the discovery of flint arrow-heads, in considerable quan-
tities, from time to time, in and near this " field of slaughter."
We have little beyond the evidence of tradition to guide us in
regard to any of the triumphs of Athelstan in Cornwall. It appears
tolerably certain that this Saxon king confined the Cornish Britons
to the western side of the Tamar ; thus breaking up the division
known as Danmonium, and limiting the territory over which the
kings of the west ruled.
Scattered over Cornwall, we have the evidence, in the names of
places, of Saxon possession. In all probability these were the
resting-places of portions of the Saxon army, or the district in
which fortified camps were placed by Athelstan to restrain a tur-
bulent people. Be this as it may, the battle at Bolait is said to have
raged from morning until night, and then, overpowered by numbers,
the Cornish who still survived fled to the hills, and thus left Athel-
stan the conqueror.
It was after this fight that Athelstan, seeing the islands of Scilly
illumined by the setting sun, determined, if possible, to achieve
their conquest. He then recorded his vow, that he would, if he
returned victorious, build a church, which should be dedicated to
St Buryana. Of this church Hals writes as follows : —
" BURIAN. — This church was founded and endowed by King Athelstan,
about the year 930, after such time as he had conquered the Scilly Islands,
as also the county of Devon, and made Cornwall tributary to his sceptre.
To which church he gave lands and tithes of a considerable value for ever,
himself becoming the first patron thereof, as his successors the kings of
England have been ever since ; for which reason it is still called the royal
rectory, or regal rectory, and the royal or regal peculiar ; signifying thereby
that this is the church or chapel pertaining to the king, or immediately
under the jurisdiction of him, as the supreme ordinary from whom there is
no appeal ; whereas other peculiars, though exempt from the visitation or
uirisdiction of the diocesan bishop within whose see they stand, yet are
always subject to the provincial Archbishops of Canterbury or York, or other
persons.
"This church or college consisted of canons, Augustines or regular
448 Various Romances and Superstitions.
priests, and three prebendaries, who enjoyed the revenues thereof in com-
mon, but might not marry ; and the lord chancellors of England of old
visited this peculiar — which extended only over the parishes of Burian,
Sennen, and St Levan — for the king.
"One of the Popes of Rome, about the time of Edward III., obtruded
upon this church, the canons and prebends thereof, a dean to be an inspec-
tor and overseer over them, — whom he nominated to be the Bishop of Exon
for the time being, — who for some time visited this church as its governor,
as the lord chancellor did before ; which encroachment of the Pope being
observed by Edward III., as appears from the register of the writs, folio
40 and 41, 8 Edward III., rot. 97, this usurpation of the Pope was taken
away."
WOEFUL MOOR, AND BODRIGAN'S LEAP.
THE Bodrigans, from a very early period, were connected with
the borough of Looe. Otto, or Otho de Bodrigan, was lord
of the manor of Pendrim and Looe in the reign of Edward II.
Another Otho de Bodrigan was sheriff of Cornwall in the third of
Richard II., A.D. 1400.
Sir Henry Bodrigan was " attaynted for taking part with King
Richard III. against Henry VII. ; and, after flying into Ireland,
Sir Richard Egecombe, father of Sir Pears Egecombe, had Bod-
rigan, and other parcels of Bodrigan's lands ; and Trevanion had
part of Bodrigan's lands, as Restronget and Newham, both in
Fal mouth Haven."
On the Barton of Bodrigan there exists what are evidently the
remains of ancient fortifications, and near them a piece of waste
land known as the Woeful Moor.
Here Sir Henry Edgecombe and Trevanion defeated the great
Bodrigan. He fled, and tradition preserves, on the side of the
cliff, the spot known as Bodrigan's Leap, from which he leapt into
the sea, and swam to a ship which kept near the shore. As he
leapt the precipice, he bequeathed, with a curse, " his extravagance
to the Trevanions, and his folly to the Edgecombes."
These families divided between them an estate said to be worth,
in those days, ,£ 10,000 per annum.
" At that period in our history when the law of the strongest was the rule,
three families in Cornwall were engaged in a series of domestic wars ; these
were Bodrigan, Trevanion, and Edgecumbe. And when Richard the
Third obtained sovereign power, on the division which then took place in
the York faction, Bodrigan endeavoured to seize the property of Edge-
cumbe, with little respect, as it would seem, for the life of the possessor ;
but in the final struggle at Bosworth Field, where Henry Tudor put an
entire end to this contest ibr power under the guise of property, by seizing
the whole to himself, Trevanion and Edgecumbe had the good fortune to
appear on the winning side, and subsequently availed themselves to the
Pengerswick Castle, 449
utmost of belligerent rights against Bodrigan, as he had attempted to do
before against them. The last of that family was driven from his home,
and seems to have perished in exile. His property was divided between
the two families opposed to him, and, after the lapse of three hundred and
fifty years, continues to form a large portion of their respective posses-
sions."— Gilbert, vol Hi., p. 204.
William de Bodrigan was lord of the manor of Restronget, in
the 1 2th of Henry IV. The family possessed it till the beginning
of the reign of Henry VII., when, on the attainder of Bodrigan, it
was given to William Trevanion.*
PENGERSWICK CASTLE.
THIS castellated building — for it does not now admit of being
called a castle, notwithstanding its embattled turrets and its
machicolated gate — is situated in a hollow running down to Pen-
gerswick Cove, in the Mount's Bay, where there never could have
been anything to defend ; and certainly there is nothing to induce
any one to incur the cost of such a building.
Mr Milliton, in the reign of Henry VIII., slew in the streets 01
London a man in a drunken brawl. He fled, and went to sea.
It is not known to what part of the world he went, but we are told
that he became excessively rich ; so rich, indeed, that " when he
loaded his ass with his gold, the weight was so great as to break
the poor animal's back." Returning to his country, and not daring
to appear in any of the large towns, he bought the manor of Pen-
gerswick, and built this castle, to defend himself, in the event of
his being approached by any of the officers of the law.
A miserable man, Milliton is said to have lived in a secret
chamber in this tower, and to have been visited only by his most
trusted friends. Deeply deploring the crime that had condemned
him to seclusion from the world, he spent his dreary hours in
ornamenting his dwelling. His own story is supposed to be told
in the painting of an overladen ass in one room, with a black-letter
legend, importing that a miser is like an ass loaded with riches,
who, without attending to his golden burden, feeds on thistles.
There is also a carving of water wearing a hollow in a stone, and
under it the wgrd " Perseverance." Of the death of Milliton we
have no account.
There is very little doubt but that Pengerswick Castle is very
much older than the time of Milliton ; indeed tradition informs us
that he purchased the place. The legends previously given, and
others in my possession, refer to a much earlier period. The castle
* See Gilbert, vol. iii., p. 293, and Bond's account of the Trelawnys in Bond's Looe.
2 F
45 o Various Romances and Superstitions.
was, it is said, surrounded by trees ; but John Hals, who inherited
the property, had all the timber cut down and sold.
THE CLERKS OF CORNWALL.
L " T N the last age there was a familiarity between the parson and the
-i- clerk and the people which our feelings of decorum would revolt
at — e.g., ' I have seen the ungodly flourish like a green foy-tree.'
' How can that be, maister ? ' said the clerk of St Clement's. Of this I
was myself an ear-witness."
II. " At Kenwyn, two dogs, one of which was the parson's, were fight-
ing at the west end of the church ; the parson, who was then reading the
second lesson, rushed out of the pew and went down and parted them ;
returning to his pew, and doubtful where he had left off, he asked the clerk,
'Roger, where was I?' 'Why, down parting the dogs, maister,' said
Roger."
III. "At Mevagizzey, when non-resident clergymen officiated, it was
usual with the squire of the parish to invite them to dinner. Several years
ago, a non-resident clergyman was requested to do duty in the church of
^levagizzey on a Sunday when the Creed of St Athanasius is directed to be
read. Before he had begun the service, the parish clerk asked him whether
he intended to read the Athanasian Creed that morning. ' Why ? ' said the
clergyman. * Because if you do, no dinner for you at the squire's, at Pen-
warne.' "
IV. " A very short time since parish clerks used to read the first lesson.
I once heard the St Agnes clerk cry out, ' To the mouth of the burning
viery vurnis, and spake, and said, Shadrac, Meshac, and Abednego, com
voath and com hether' (Daniel hi.)"
V. " The clerk of Lamorran, in giving out the psalm. ' Like a timorous
bird to distant mountains fly,' always said, ' Like a timmersum burde, ' &c.,
&c., with a shake of the head, and a quivering voice, which could not but
provoke risibility." — Honeys Table-Book.
A FAIRY CAUGHT.
r~PHE following, communicated to me on the 8th of August, is
J- too good to be lost. I therefore give it in my correspond-
ent's own words : —
"I heard last week of three fairies having been seen in Zennor very
recently. A man who lived at the foot of Trendreen hill, in the valley of
Treridge, I think, was cutting furze on the hill. Near the middle of the
day he saw one of the small people, not more than a foot long, stretched
at full length and fast asleep, on a bank of griglans (heath),* surrounded
by high brakes of furze. The man took off his furze cuff, and slipped
the little man into it, without his waking up ; went down to the house ;
took the little fellow out of the cuff on the hearthstone, when he awakened,
and seemed quite pleased and at home, beginning to play with the
children, who were well pleased with the small body, and called him
Bobby Griglans.
" The old people were very careful not to let Bob out of the house, or be
seen by the neighbours, as he promised to show the man where the crocks
* Quite recently I heard, in St Agnes, heath-flowers called "the blowth of the griglans."
Prussia Cove and Smugglers Holes. 45 1
of gold were buried on the hill. A few days after he was brought from the
hill, all the neighbours came with their horses (according to custom) to
bring home the winter's reek of furze, which had to be brought down the
hill in trusses on the backs of the horses. That Bob might be safe and out
of sight, he and the children were shut up in the barn. Whilst the furze-
carriers were in to dinner, the prisoners contrived to get out, to have a
' courant ' round the furze-reek, when they saw a little man and woman,
not much larger than Bob, searching into every hole and corner among
the trusses that were dropped round the unfinished reek. The little
woman was wringing her hands and crying, ' O my dear and tender
Skillywidden, wherever canst ah (thou) be gone to ? shall I ever cast eyes
on thee again? ' ' Go 'e back,' says Bob to the children ; ' my father and
mother are come here too. ' He then cried out, ' Here I am, mammy ! '
By the time the words were out of his mouth, the little man and woman,
with their precious Skillywidden, were nowhere to be seen, and there has
been no sight nor sign of them since. The children got a sound thrashing
for letting Skillywidden escape."
THE LIZARD PEOPLE.
PHERE is a tradition that the Lizard people were formerly a
-*- very inferior race. In fact it is said that they went on all
fours, till the crew of a foreign vessel, wrecked on the coast, settled
among them, and improved the race so much that they became as
remarkable for their stature and physical development as they had
been before for the reverse. At this time, as a whole, the Lizard
folks certainly have among them a very large population of tall
people, many of the men and women being over six feet in
height.
PRUSSIA COVE AND SMUGGLERS' HOLES.
O MUGGLERS' hiding-places (now, of course, unused) are nu-
**-) merous. On the banks of the Helford river are several, and
two or three have lately been discovered on the coast about St
Keverne by the falling in of their roofs. In a part of Penzance
harbour, nine years ago, a hiding-place of this kind was discovered ;
it still contained one or two kegs, and the skeleton of a man, with
his clothes in good preservation. It is presumed that the poor
fellow while intoxicated was shut in, and the place never more
opened by his companions. Speaking of Penzance, — about fifty
years since, in the back of the harbour, was an old adit called
" Gurmer's Hole," and in the cliff over its entrance, on a dark night,
a phosphorescent appearance was always visible from the opposite
side. It could not be seen from beneath, owing to the projection
of the face of the cliff. A fall of the part taking place, the phe-
nomenon disappeared.
45 2 Various Romances and Superstitions.
Sixty or seventy years since, a native of Breage called " Carter,"
but better known, from a most remarkable personal resemblance
to Frederick the Great, as the " King of Prussia," monopolised
most of the smuggling trade of the west. By all accounts he was
a man of uncommon mental power, and chose as the seat of his
business a sequestered rocky cove about two miles east of Marazion,
which continues to bear the name of " Prussia Cove," and where
deep channels, cut in hard rock, to allow of the near approach of
their boats, still show the determination of the illicit traders.
Although constantly visited by the excise officers, the " king " rarely
failed to remove his goods, the stocks of which were at times very
large, suffering for a long period comparatively little from "seizures."
On one occasion his boats, while landing a cargo, being hard
pressed by the revenue cutter, Carter had some old cannon brought
to the edge of the cliff and opened fire on the unwelcome intruder,
and after a short but sharp engagement, fairly beat her off. The
cutter was, of course, back again early in the morning, and part
of the crew, with the captain, landed ; the only traces, however,
of the engagement to be seen was the trampled ground. On
approaching Carter's house, the officer was met by the " king "
himself, with an angry remonstrance about practising the cutter's
guns at midnight so near the shore, and disturbing his family at
such unseemly hours. Although the principal parties concerned
were well known, no evidence could be obtained, and the matter
was allowed to drop. Toward the close of his career Carter
" ventured " in larger ships, became less successful, and was at
last exchequered. He died, at a very advanced age, in poor cir-
cumstances.
CORNISH TEENY-TINY.
MR HALLIWELL gives us, in his " Popular Rhymes and
Nursery Tales," the story of Teeny-tiny. In this a little
old woman takes a bone from the churchyard to make soup. She
goes to bed, and puts the bone in the cupboard. During the night
some one comes demanding the bone, and at length the terrified
old woman gives it up.
A similar story is told in Cornwall.
An old lady had been to the church in the sands of Perranzabulce.
She found, amidst the numerous remains of mortality, some very
good teeth. She pocketed these, and at night placed them on her
dressing-table before getting into bed. She slept, but was at length
disturbed by some one calling out, " Give me my teeth — give me
my teeth." At first, the lady took no notice of this, but the cry,
Boyer, Mayor of Bodtnin. 433
" Give me my teeth," was so constantly repeated, that she, at last,
in terror, jumped out of bed, took the teeth from the dressing-
table, and, opening the window, flung them out, exclaiming, " Drat
the teeth, take 'em." They no sooner fell into the darkness on
the road than hasty retreating footsteps were heard, and there were
no more demands for the teeth.
THE SPANIARD AT PENRYN.
IN the reign of James I. there happened to be upon our coast a
Spanish vessel of war. Favoured by the mists of evening
and the growing darkness, the ship entered Falmouth Harbour un-
seen. The crew armed themselves, and taking to their boats,
proceeded with great caution to the town of Penryn, situated at the
head of the harbour. There they landed, formed themselves into
proper order, and marched into the town, purposing to plunder the
inhabitants and burn the town. With steady tramp they cautiously
proceeded up the dark main street, resolving to attack the principal
dwellings first. Suddenly a great shout was heard, drums and
trumpets sounded, the noise of many feet rushing to and fro fell
on the ears of the Spaniards. Believing that they were discovered,
and that preparations had been made for their reception, fear seized
them, and they fled precipitately to their boats and left the town.
The martial music proceeded, however, from a temporary theatre,
in which a troop of strolling players were entertaining the people.
BOYER, MAYOR OF BODMIN.
IN the reign of Edward VI., Boyer was the mayor of Bodmin,
and he appears to have been suspected of aiding in an insur-
rection of the men of Devonshire and Cornwall. However this
may be, Sir Anthony Kingston, provost-marshal of the king's
army, sent orders to Boyer to have a gibbet erected in the street
opposite his own house by the next day at noon. He, at the
same time, sent his compliments to the mayor, telling him that he
should dine with him, in order to be present at the execution of
some rebels.
The unsuspecting mayor obeyed the command, and at the time
appointed provided an entertainment for his guest. Kingston put
about the wine, and when he observed the mayor's spirits were
exhilarated, asked him if the gibbet was ready. Being told that it
was, with a wanton and diabolical sneer he ordered the mayor to
hanged upon it.
454 Various Romances and Superstitions.
At the same time a miller was ordered to be hanged ; his servant
was so deeply attached to him, that he went to Kingston and
begged him to spare his master's life, even if he hung him in his
place. "If you are so fond of hanging," said Kingston, " you shall
not be disappointed," and he hanged the miller and his servant
together.
A similiar story is told of a mayor of St Ives.
THOMASINE BONAVENTURE.
IN the reign of Henry VI., about the year 1450, in the parish
of Week St Mary, on the northern coast of Cornwall, was born
of humble parents a girl, to whom the name of Thomasine was
given. This child was in no way distinguished from other Cornish
children ; they ever have been, and still are, remarkable for their
healthful beauty, and Thomasine, like others, was beautiful. Her
father was a small farmer, and the daughter was usually employed
in minding the sheep upon Greenamore, or preventing the geese
from straying too far from his dwelling.
Thomasine appears to have received no education beyond that
which nature gave her. She grew to womanhood a simple, artless
maiden, who knew nothing of the world or its cares beyond the
few sorrows which found their way into the moorland country of
Week and Temple.
Thomasine was watching her flocks when a mounted traveller,
with well-filled saddle-bags, passing over the moors, observed her.
Struck by the young woman's beauty, he halted and commenced a
conversation with her. " Her discreet answers, suitable to the beauty
of her face, much beyond her rank or degree," says the quaint Hals,
" won upon him, and he desired to secure her as a servant in his
family." This traveller, who was a draper from London, sought
out the parents of the shepherdess, and proposed to relieve them
of this daughter, by taking her to the metropolis, promising her
good wages and many privileges ; and beyond this he agreed that,
in case he should die, seeing she would be so far removed from
her friends, she should be carefully provided for.
Having satisfied themselves of the respectability of this merchant
traveller, the parents agreed to part with their daughter ; and
Thomasine, full of girlish curiosity to see the city, of which she had
heard, was willing to leave her home.
We next find Thomasine in London as a respected servant to
this city draper. His wife and family are pleased with the inno-
cent Cornish girl : and by her gentle manners and great goodness
Thomasine Bonaventure. 455
of heart, she won upon all with whom she was brought in contact.
Years passed away, and the draper's wife died. In the course of time
he proposed to make the faithful Thomasine his wife. The pro-
posal was accepted, and "Thomasine and her master were solemnly
married together as man and wife ; who then, according to his
promise, endowed her with a considerable jointure in case of her
survivorship." Within two years of this marriage the draper died,
and Thomasine was left sole executrix. The poor servant, who
but a few years previous was minding sheep on the moors, was
now a rich widow, courted by the wealthy of the metropolis.
With that good sense which appears ever to have distinguished
her. she improved her mind ; and following the examples by which
she had been for some time surrounded, she added to her natural
graces many acquired elegances of manner.
The youth and beauty of the widow brought her numerous
admirers, but all were rejected except Henry Gale, of whom we
know little, save that he was " an eminent and wealthy citizen."
He was accepted, and Thomasine Gale was the most toasted of
all city madams. After a few years passed in great happiness,
Thomasine became again a widow. Gale left her all his property,
and she became, when not yet thirty years of age, one of the
wealthiest women in London. So beautiful, so rich, and being
yet young, the widow was soon induced to change her state again.
She chose now for her companion John Percivall, who was already
high in the honours of the corporation.
At the feast of Sir John Collet, who was Lord Mayor in the
second year of the reign of Henry VII., in 1487, Percivall was
the mayor's carver, " at which time, according to the custom of
that city, Sir John drank to him in a silver cup of wine, in order
to make him sheriff thereof for the year ensuing, whereupon he
covered his head and sat down at table with the Lord Mayor of
London." John Percivall was elected Lord Mayor himself in 1499,
and he was knighted in the same year by Henry VII. Sir John
Percivall and Dame Thomasine Percival] lived many years happily
together ; but he died, leaving all his fortune to his widow.
Lady Percivall was now advanced in years. She had had three
husbands, but no children. The extraordinary accession of fortune
made no change in her simple honest heart ; the flattery of the
great, by whom she had been surrounded, kindled no pride in the
beautiful shepherdess. The home of her childhood, from which
she had been so long separated, was dear to her, and she retired
in her mourning to the quiet of that distant home.
She spent her declining years in good works. Roads were made
45 6 Various Romances and Superstitions.
and bridges built at her cost ; almshouses for poor maids were
erected ; she relieved prisoners ; fed the hungry, and clothed the
naked. In Week St Mary, Thomasine founded a chantry and
free school " to pray for the souls of her father and mother, and
her husbands and relatives." To the school she added a library,
and a dwelling for the chanters and others, " and endowed the
same with ^20 lands for ever." Cholwell, a learned man and
great linguist, was master here in Henry VIII.'s time ; and hare
he educated in the " liberal arts and sciences," says Carew, " many
gentlemen's sons." Such were a few of the benefits conferred on
Week by the girl who once had tended the flocks upon the moors ;
but who, by great good fortune and more by the exercise of good
sense, became Lady Mayoress.
Dame Thomasine Percivall died, respected by all who knew her,
in 1530, having then reached the good old age of eighty years.
It appears probable that the name Bonaventure, by which this
remarkable female is usually known, was given to her, likely
enough, by the linguist Cholwell, to commemorate her remarkable
fortune.
Berry Comb, in Jacobstow, was once the residence of Thomasine,
and it was given at her death to the poor of St Mary Week.
THE LAST OF THE KILLIGREWS.
LADY JANE, the widow of Sir John Killigrew, sate in one
of the windows of Arwenick house, looking out upon the
troubled waters of Falmouth Harbour. A severe storm had pre-
vailed for some days, and the Cornish coast was strewn with
wrecks. The tempest had abated ; the waves were subsiding,
though they still beat heavily against the rocks. A light scud was
driving over the sky, and a wild and gloomy aspect suffused all
things. There was a sudden outcry amongst a group of men, re-
tainers of the Killigrew family, which excited the attention of Lady
Jane Killigrew. She was not left long in suspense as to the cause.
In a few minutes two Dutch ships were seen coming into the
harbour. They had evidently endured the beat of the storm, for
they were both considerably disabled ; and with the fragments of
sail which they carried, they laboured heavily. At length, however,
these vessels were brought round within the shelter of Pendennis ;
their anchors were cast in good anchoring-ground ; and they were
safe, or at least the crew thought so, in comparatively smooth water.
As was the custom in those days, the boat belonging to the
Killigrew family, manned by the group of whom we have already
The Last of the Killigrews. 457
spoken, went oft" as soon as the ships were anchored and boarded
them. They then learnt that they were of the Hanse Towns,
laden with valuable merchandise for Spain, and that this was in
the charge of two Spanish factors. On the return of the boat's
crew, this was reported to Lady Killigrew ; and she, being a very
wicked and most resolute woman, at once proposed that they
should return to the ships, and either rob them of their treasure,
or exact from the merchants a large sum of money in compensation.
The rude men, to whom wrecking and plundering was but too
familiar, were delighted with the prospect of a rare prize ; and
above all, when Lady Killigrew declared that she would herself
accompany them, they were wild with joy.
With great shouting, they gathered together as many men as
the largest boat in the harbour would carry, and armed themselves
with pikes, swords, and daggers. Lady Jane Killigrew, also
armed, placed herself in the stern of the boat after the men had
crowded into their places, and with a wild huzzah they left the
shore, and were soon alongside of the vessel nearest to the shore.
A number of the men immediately crowded up the side and on to
the deck of this vessel, and at once seized upon the captain and
the factor, threatening them with instant death if they dared to
make any outcry. Lady Jane Killigrew was now lifted on to the
deck of the vessel, and the boat immediately pushed off, and the
remainder of the crew boarded the other ship.
The Dutch crew were overpowered by the numbers of
Cornishmen, who were armed far more more perfectly than they.
Taken unawares as they were, at a moment when they thought
their troubles were for a season at an end, the Dutchmen were
almost powerless.
The Spaniards were brave men, and resisted the demands made
to deliver up their treasure. This resistance was, however, fatal
to them. At a signal, it is said by some, given by their leader,
Lady Jane Killigrew, — although this was denied afterwards, —
they were both murdered by the ruffians into whose hands they
had fallen, and their bodies cast overboard into the sea.
These wretches ransacked the ships, and appropriated whatso-
ever they pleased, while Lady Jane took from them " two hogsheads
of Spanish pieces of eight, and converted them to her own use."
As one of the Spanish factors was dying, he lifted his hands to
heaven, prayed to the Lord to receive his soul, and turning to the
vile woman to whose villany he owed his death, he said, " My
blood will linger with you until my death is avenged upon your
own sons."
45 8 Various Romances and Superstitions.
This dreadful deed was not allowed to pass without notice even
in those lawless times. The Spaniards were then friendly with
England, and upon the representation made by the Spanish
minister to the existing government, the sheriff of Cornwall was
ordered to seize and bring to trial Lady Jane Killigrew and her crew
of murderers. A considerable number were arrested with her ; and
that lady and several of her men were tried at Launceston.
Since the Spaniards were proved to be at the time of the murder
"foreigners under the Queen's protection," they were all found
guilty, and condemned to death.
All the men were executed on the walls of Launceston Castle ;
but by the interest of Sir John Arundell and Sir Nicholas Hals,
Queen Elizabeth was induced to grant a pardon for Lady Jane.
How Lady Jane Killigrew lived, and when she died, are matters
on which even tradition, by which the story is preserved, is silent.
We know, however, that her immediate descendant, John Killi-
grew, who married one of the Monks, and his son William Killi-
grew, who was made a baronet in 1660 by Charles II., were only
known for the dissoluteness of character, and the utter regardless-
ness of every feeling of an exalted character which they displayed.
Sir William Killigrew, by his ill conduct and his extravagant habits,
wasted all the basely-gotten treasure, and sold the manor and
barton of Arwenick to his younger brother, Sir Peter Killigrew.
With the son of this Peter the baronetcy became extinct. The
last Sir Peter Killigrew, however, improved his fortune by marrying
one of the coheirs of Judge Twisden. Sir Peter and his wife, of
whom we know nothing, died, leaving one son, George Killigrew,
who connected himself with the St Aubyn family by marriage.
This man appears to have inherited many of the vices of his
family. He was given to low company, and towards the close of
his life was remarkable only for his drunken habits.
He was one evening in a tavern in Penryn, surrounded by his
usual companions, and with them was one Walter Vincent, a
barrister-at-law. The wine flowed freely ; songs and loose con-
versation were the order of the night. At length all were in a
state of great excitement through the extravagance of their libations,
and something was said by George Killigrew very insultingly to
Walter Vincent.
Walter Vincent does not appear to have been naturally a
depraved man, but of violent passions. Irritated by Killidrew, he
made some remarks on the great-grandmother being sentenced to
be hanged. Swords were instantly drawn by the drunken men.
They lunged at each other. Vincent's sword passed directly
through Killigrew's body and he fell dead in the midst of his
Saint Gerenmus. 459
revelries, at the very moment when he was defending the character
of her who had brought dishonour upon them.
This Walter Vincent was tried for the murder of George
Killigrew, but acquitted. We are told by the Cornish historian,
" Yet this Mr Vincent, through anguish and horror at this
accident (as it was said), within two years after, wasted of an
extreme atrophy of his flesh and spirits ; that, at length, at the
table whereby he was sitting, in the Bishop of Exeter's palace, in
the presence of divers gentleman, he instantly fell back against
the wall and died."
George Killigrew left one daughter ; but of her progress in life
we know nothing. Thus the Cornish Killigrews ceased to be a
name in the land.
Such a tale as this does not, of course, exist without many
remarkable additions. Ghosts and devils of various kinds are
spoken of as frequenting Arwenick House, and the woods around
it. Those spectral and demoniacal visitations have not, however,
any special interest. They are only, indeed, repetitions of oft-
told tales.
SAINT GERENNIUS.
HIS reached me at too late a period to be included with the
legends of the saints : —
"The beacon at Veryan stands on the highest ground in Roseland, at a
short distance from the cliff which overlooks Pendower and Gerrans Bay.
Dr Whitaker, in his ' Cathedral of Cornwall,' states it to be one of the
largest tumuli in the kingdom. Its present height above the level of the
field in which it stands is about twenty-eight feet, and its circumference at
the base three hundred and fifty feet ; but it must have been originally
much larger, as a considerable portion on one side has been removed, its
summit being now about eighty feet from the base on the south side, and
only fifty feet on the north, whilst the top of the cairn which was discovered
in it, and which was, no doubt, placed exactly in the original centre of the
mound, is at least ten feet still farther north than the present summit.
"A tradition has been preserved in the neighbourhood, that Gerennius,
an old Cornish saint and king, whose palace stood on the other side of Gerrans
Bay, between Trewithian and the sea, was buried in this mound many
centuries ago, and that a golden boat with silver oars were used in conveying
his corpse across the bay, and were interred with him. Part of this tradition
receives confirmation from an account incidentally given of King Gerennius,
in an old book called the ' Register of Llandaff.' It is there stated that,
A.D. 588, Teliau, bishop of Llandaff, with some of his suffragan bishops, and
many of his followers, fled from Wales, to escape an epidemic called the
yellow plague, and migrated to Dole in Brittany, to visit Sampson, the
archbishop of that place, who was a countryman and friend of Teliau's.
'On his way thither,' says the old record, 'he came first to the region of
Cornwall, and was well received by Gerennius, the king of that country,
who treated him and his people with all honour. From thence he proceeded
to Armorica, and remained there seven years and seven months ; when,
T
460 Various Romances and Superstitions.
hearing that the plague had ceased in Britain, he collected his followers,
caused a large bark to be prepared, and returned to Wales.' ' In this,' the
record proceeds, ' they all arrived at the port called Din-Gerein, king
Gerennius lying in the last extreme of life, who when he had received the
body of the Lord from the hand of St Teliau, departed in joy to the Lord/
'Probably,' says Whitaker, in his remarks on this quotation, 'the royal
remains were brought in great pomp by water from Din-Gerein, on the
western shore of the port, to Carne, about two miles off on the northern ;
the barge with the royal body was plated, perhaps, with gold in places ;
perhaps, too, rowed with oars having equally plates of silver upon them ;
and the pomp of the procession has mixed confusedly with the interment
of the body in the memory of tradition.' "
CORNISH DIALOGUE.
AS the Cornish dialogue peculiarly illustrates a description of
literary composition which has no resemblance to that of any
county, I think it advisable to give one specimen : —
DIALOGUE BETWEEN MAL TRELOARE AND SAUNDRY KEMP.
'Twas Kendle teening, when Jung Mai Treloare
Trudg'd hum from Bal, a bucken copper ore ;
Her clathing hard and ruff, black was her eye,
Her face and arms like stuff from Cairn Kye.
Full butt she mit Jung Saundry Kemp, who long
She had been token'd to, come from Ding Dong ;
Hes jacket wet, his faace rud like his beard,
And through his squarded hat hes hair appeared.
She said, " Oh, Kemp, I thoft of thee well leer,
Thees naw that daay we wor to Bougheehere,
That daay with ale and cakes, at three o'clock,
Thees stuff 'd me so, I jist neen crack'd me dock :
Jue said to me, ' Thee mayst depend thee life,
I love thee, Mai, and thee shust be ma wife.'
And to ma semmen, tes good to lem ma naw
Whether the words were aal in jest or no."
Saundry. Why, truly, Mai, I like a thing did zay,
That I wud have thee next Chewiden daay.
But zence that time I like a think ded hear
Thees went wi" some one down, ' I naw where ; '
Now es that fitly, Mai ? What dost think ?
Mai. Od rot tha body, Saundry, who said so ?
Now, faath and traath, I '11 naw afore I go ;
Do lem me naw the Gossenbaiy dog.
Saundry. Why, then, Crull said jue wor down to Wheal Bog
With he and Tabban, and ded make some tricks
By dabben clay at jungsters making bricks ;
Aand that from there jue went to Aafe-waye house,
Aand drink 't some leeker. Mai, now there's down souse.
Aand jue to he, like a thing ded zay,
Jue wed have he, and I mail go away.
Mai. I tell the lubber so ! T to Wheal Bog !
I '11 scatt his chacks. the emprent, saucy dog.
Cornish Dialogue. 461
Now hire me, Saundry Kemp, now down and full,
Ef thee arten hastes, thee shust hire the whole.
Fust jue must naw, tes true as thee art there,
Aant Blanch and I went to Golsinny feer.
Who overtook t us in the doosty road,
In common hum but Crull, the cloppen toad.
Zes he to Aant, " What cheer? Aant Blanch, what cheer ?
Jue makes good coose, suppose jue been to feer."
" Why, hiss," zes Aant, " ben there a pewer spur.
I wedn 't a gone ef nawed eel been so fur.
I bawft a pair of shods for Sarah's cheeld."
By this time, lock ! we cum jist to the field.
We went to clemmer up the temberen style.
(Haw kept his eye upon me all the while.)
Zes hem to Aant, ' ' Then whos es thees braa maide ?
Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid."
Then mov'd my side, like a thing,
Aand pull'd my mantle, and just touch 'd my ching,
" How any, Jung woman? " zes haw. " How dost do? "
Zes I, "Jue saucy dog, what's that to jue?
Keep off, Jung lad, else thees have a slap."
Then haw fooch'd some great big doat figs in me lap.
So I thoft, as haw had been so kind,
Haw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind.
Aand so haw ded, aand tookt Aant Blanch's arm.
"Araeh ! " zes haw, " I dedn't mane no harm."
So then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest
Bout dabbing clay and bricks at Petran feast.
Satindry. Ahah then, Mai, 'twas there they dabbed the clay
Mai. Plaase Father, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay.
And hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedent budge
From Aanty's arm till jest this side Long Brudge
Aand then zes he to Aant, " Shall we go in
To Aafe-waye house, and have a dram of gin
And trickle mixt ? Depend ol do es good,
Taake up the sweat, and set to rights the blud."
So Aant did saay, " Such things she dedn't chuse,"
And squeezed my hand, aand loike a thing refuse.
So when we pass'd along by Wheal Bog moor,
Haw jumpt behind, and pok't es in the door.
Haw caal 'd for gin, aand brandy too, I think.
He clunk 'd the brandy, we the gin did drink.
So when haw wish'd good night, as es the caase,
Haw kiss't Aant Blanch, and jist neen touched my face.
Now, Saundry Kemp, there 's nothing sure in this,
To my moinde, then, that thee shust take amiss.
Saundry. No, fath, then Mai, ef this is all aand true,
I had a done the same ef I was jue.
Mai, Next time in any house I see or near am,
I '11 down upon the plancheon, rat am, tear am,
Aand I will so poaw am.
Saundry. Our Kappen's there, just by thickey bush.
Hush ! now Mally, hush !
Aand as hes here, so close upon the way,
462 Various Romances and Superstitions.
I wedent wish haw nawed what he did zay,
And jett I dedent care, now fath and soul,
Ef so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole.
How any, Kappen ? Where be going so fast ?
Jure goin' hum, suppose, jure in sich haste.
Kappen. Who 's that than ? Saundry, art en thee ashamed
To coosy so again ? Thee wust be blamed
Ef thees stay here all night to prate wi ' Mai !
When tes thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal.
Aand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so.
I '11 tell the owners ef thee dosent go.
Saundry. Why, harkee, Kappen, doant skoal poor I.
Touch pipe a crum, jue '11 naw the reason why.
Cozen Mai aand I ben courtain bout afe a year.
Hould up tha head, Mai ; don't be ashamed, dost hire?
Aand Crull one day made grief 'tween I and she;
But he shall smart for it now, I swear by G — .
Haw told me lies, as round as any cup.
Now Mai and I have mit, we 've made it up ;
So, Kappen, that's the way I stopt, I vow.
Kappen. Ahah ! I dedent giss the case jist now.
But what dost think of that last batch of ore ?
Saundry. Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen, shure
I bleeve that day, ef Frankey's pair wornt drunk,
We shuld had pewer stuff too from the sump.
But there, tes all good time, as people saay,
The flooken now, aint throw'd es far away j
So hope to have bra tummills soon to grass.
How did laast batch down to Jandower pass ?
Kappen. Why, hang thy body, Saundry, speed, I saay,
Thees keep thy clacker going till tes day.
Go speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad.
I wish both well, I '11 keep my road.
Saundry. Good nightir, Kappen, then I wishee well.
Where artee, Mally ? Dusten haw hire me, Mai ?
Dusent go away, why jue must think of this,
Before we part, shure we must have a kiss.
She "wiped her muzzle from the mundic stuff,
And he rubtid fas, a little stained with snuff.
Now then, there, good night, Mai, there 's good night ;
But, stop a crum.
Mally. Good night.
Kappen. Good night.
Keendle teening, candle lighting.
Sqnarded hat, broken or cracked hat.
Lem ma naiv, let me know, tell me.
Wheal Bog, wheal, or, correctly spelt, huel, is old Cornish, and signifies a mine 01
work.
Doat figs, broad figs.
A cobbe, a cobbler, a bungler.
Bra tnmmills, brave heaps, large piles of ore.
APPENDIX.
A (p. 41).
BELLERIAN.
SAMUEL BUTLER of Shrewsbury, in his " Ancient and Modern Geo-
graphy," p. 112, says, " Ocrinum was the Lizard, and Bderium the Land's
End." Ainsworth, Latin Dictionary, 4th edition, has " Balerium — Burien
in Cornwall." It is really in the parish of Sennen.
B (p. 46).
THE POEM OF THE WRESTLING.*
IT may be here remarked as something more than accidental, that Magog
is a well-known Oriental giant, that Gog and Magog figure in the Guild*
hall of London, and that Gogmagog was the champion selected for a trial
of strength with Corineus.
" Amongst the ragged Cleeves those monstrous giants sought :
Who (of their dreadful kind) t' appal the Trojans brought
Great Gogmagog, an oake that by the roots could teare ;
So mighty were (that time) the men who lived there :
But, for the use of armes he did not understand
(Except some rock or tree, that coming next to hand,
He raised out of the earth to execute his rage),
He challenge makes for strength, and offereth there his gage,
Which Corin taketh up, to answer by and by,
Upon this sonne of earth his utmost power to try.
All, doubtful to which p irt the victory should goe,
Upon that loftie place at Plimmouth, called the Hoe,
Those mightie wrastlers met ; with many an irefull looke,
Who threat'ned as the one hold of the other tooke :
But, grappled, glowing fire shines in their sparkling eyes,
And, whilst at length of arme one from the other lyes,
Their lusty sinewes swell like cables, as they strive,
Their feet such trampling make, as though they forced to drive
A thunder c-ut of earth, which stagger'd with the weight :
Thus cither's utmost force urged to the greatest height-
Whilst one upon his hips the other seeks to lift?
And th* adverse (by a turn) doth from his cunning shift,
Their shoi t-fetcht troubled breath a hollow noise doth make.
Like bellows of a forge. Then Corin up doth take
The giant 'twixt the groins; and voiding of his hold
(Before his cumbrous feet he well recover could),
* From Dray ton's " Polyolbion."
464 Appendix.
Pitcht headlong from the hill : as when a man doth throw
An axtree, that with slight delivered from the toe
Roots up the yielding earth, so that his violent fall
Shook Neptune with such strength as shouldered him withal ;
That where the monstrous waves like mountains late did stand,
They leapt out of the ptace, and left the bared sand
To gaze upon wide heaven, so great a blow it gave.
For which the conquering Brute on Corineus brave
This horn of land bestow'd, and markt it with his name
Of Corin, Cornwal call'd to his immortal fame."*
In 1750 Robert Heath published his " Natural and Historical Account
of the Islands of Scilly," to which was added " A General Account of Corn-
wall." From paragraphs in this work it may be inferred that the figures
of the wrestlers cut out in the turf on Plymouth Hoe then existed.
" The activity of the Cornish and Devonshire men, beyond others in the
faculty of Wrestling, seems to derive their Pedigree from that grand
Wrestler, Corineus. That there has been such a giant as Gogmagog,
opposed by Corineus, the inhabitants of Plymouth show you a Portraiture
of two Men, one bigger than the other, with Clubs in their hands, cut out
upon the //#z£/-ground, which have been renewed by order of the Place, as
they wear out ; and a steep cliff being near, over which the giant might be
thrown, are said to point out together the Probability of the Fact."
In the "Dissertation on the Cornish Tongue," by William Scawen,
Vice- Warden of the Stannaries, we find the following passage : " I cannot
affirm with so much reason, as some of our neighbours have done with
confidence, who say that at the last digging on the Haw for the foundation
of the citadel of Plymouth^ the great jaws and teeth therein found were
those of Gogmagog, who was there said to be thrown down by Corineus,
whom some will have to be the founder of the Cornish ; f nor am I able
to assert that some instruments of war in brass, and huge limbs and por-
traitures of persons long ago, as some say that have been in some of the
western parishes, were parts of giants or other great men, who had for-
merly had their being there."
C (p. 47).
SHARA AND SHEELA.
AFTER the meeting of the British Association at Cork, I spent some days
visiting, with two friends, the various spots of interest in the south of
Ireland. At Fermoy, the name given to a somewhat curious cromlech,
" The Hag's Bed," interested me. I was at some trouble to learn the origin
of the name, and fortunately our car-driver succeeded in finding an old
man, who gave me the desired information. As there is some (although
a remote) analogy between this legend and that of the Chapel Rock, I give
it as I heard it.
* See also Hogg's " Records of Ancient Cornwall."
t This note is by the Editor, Mr. Davies Gilbert : "These bones must evidently have
been found in a cavern, the nature of which has been most ably ascertained and de-
scribed by Dr. Buckland and the Rev. Richard Hannah, who examined other caverns
of precisely the same nature, comprising bones of various larger mammalia, in the
limestone formation not far from Plymouth."
Thus we see the poetical belief of one age destroyed by the positive philosopny of the
next. Happily, we move in all things by waves ; the system of undulations prevails in
every operation, mental and physical. Amidst the relics of the mammalia of the
Devonshire caves we are now discovering the unmistakable remains of man and his
works, — stone knives, spear-heads, axes, and hammers speak of an ancient race; and
•aay there not have been "giants in the earth, in those days, and also after that ?"
The Giant of Nancledry. 465
On yonder hill there lived, in days gone by, a giant and a giantess.
They were called Shara and Sheela. One day Shara returned from his
labours (wood-cutting) in the forest, and finding no dinner ready he was
exceeding angry, and in his passion gave Sheela a severe wound with his
axe on the shoulder. His passion was assuaged as soon as he saw the
blood of his wife, and he carefully bound up the wound and nursed her for
many weeks with great care. Sheela did not, however, forgive Shara for
the injury he had inflicted on her. She brooded on her wrong. Even-
tually she was so far recovered that Shara was able to leave her ; and their
stock of wood having fallen short, he proceeded to the forest for a fresh sup-
ply. Sheela watched her husband as he descended the hill, and, full of wrath,
she seized her bed, and, as he was wading through the river, she flung it after
him with a dreadful imprecation. The devil changed the bed into stone
in its passage through the air. It fell on the giant, crushed him, and to
this day he rests beneath the Hag's Bed. In the solitude which she had
made she repented her crime, but she never forgave herself the sin. She
sat on the hill-top, the melancholy monument of desolation, bewailing her
husband's loss, and the country around echoed with her lamentations.
"Bad as Shara was, it is worse to be without him ! " was her constant cry.
Eventually she died of excess of grief, her last words being, " Bad as Shara
was, it is worse to be without him 1 " " And," said the old man, finish-
ing his story, " whenever any trouble is coming upon Ireland, the voice of
Sheela is heard upon the hill still repeating her melancholy lamentation."
THE HAG'S BED NEAR FERMOY.
" NEAR Fermoy is a very peculiar variety of these early structures, being
an oblong building constructed with large blocks of limestone of the locality.
It contains an internal chamber, from twenty to thirty feet long, five feet
wide, and at the present time about four feet high ; the side walls are near
five feet thick, constructed with two rows of upright stones on edge, and
the interior is filled with smaller stones, forming a wall ; the front has only
a row of thin upright stones, but fitting nearly close together ; the covering
stones rest on rude horizontal stones, which are placed on the wall before
described, and which would appear to have been of insufficient height, and
on those are three large covering stones, one of which is about eighteen
feet long." *
£> (P- 53).
THE GIANT OF NANCLEDRY J AND TREBIGGAN THE GIANT.
FROM time to time, in Cornwall and other places, bones of a large size
have been found, and very exaggerated accounts of these finds have been
published. Some years since it was currently reported that the bones of
a giant had been discovered in Wendron, and they were said to be " pro-
digious."
I have endeavoured to trace this matter. And now I have evidence
to show that the whole affair was greatly exaggerated. The following
extracts from letters will place the whole matter in its true light : —
" The discovery under the chancel window at Wendron, in the beginning
of the year 1855, consisted simply of a large collection of bones, plainly
* " Practical Geology and Ancient Architecture of Ireland." By George Wilkinson,
architect.
2 G
466 Appendix.
human, at the depth of less than tiuofeet beneath the floor ! This accounted
in a great measure for the extraordinary dampness of this part of the church,
and which it was in part my object to get rid of.
'* Many of these bones, especially the femoral and crural, were certainly
of an unusual magnitude, as compared with others which from time to
time had been disinterred in the churchyard when a grave had been dug.
I cannot state with any degree of certainty whether the dimensions of the
largest bones were accurately measured.
" Being desirous to re-inter the bones found in the chancel of Wendron
as nearly as possible in the same place, though at a considerable depth,
we came at length (after the removal of much damp soil) to a perfect stone
sarcophagus, as far as I recollect about six feet in length. The upper lid
of this was not to be found. In the said sarcophagus, containing little more
than dust, we laid all the gigantic bones which had been discovered. "
Another correspondent informs me, that closer inquiry has probably
connected these bones with a well-kuown man.
The curate of the parish informs me " that there is a brass in the church
to the memory of ' Metheruny,' attached to the collegiate establishment of
Glaseney in the time of Henry VIII., which he supposed to refer to a
grave situate in the spot where the relics referred to by Mr. Boraston were
found. Mr. Milne also told me, that among the published engravings of
Holbein's portraits was a fine one of this * Metheruny, ' respecting whom
are some interesting particulars in King's ' Monumenta Antiqua,' Dugdale's
' Monasticon,' and Bulase's ' Cornwall.' "
E (p. 60).
GEESE DANCING — GUISE DANCING — GUIZARDS.
" THE doings of \htguizards — that is, masquers — form a conspicuous feature
in the New Year's proceedings throughout Scotland. The evenings on
which these personages are understood to be privileged to appear are those
of Christmas, Hogmanay, New- Year's day, and Handsel Monday. Such
boys as can pretend to anything like a voice have, for weeks before, been
thumbing the collection of excellent new songs which lies like a bunch of
rags in the window-sole ; and being now able to screech up * Barbara
Allan,' or the 'Wee cot-house and the wee kail-yardie,' they determine
upon enacting the part of guizards. For this purpose they don old shirts
belonging to their fathers, and mount casques of brown paper, shaped so
like a mitre, that I am tempted to believe them to be borrowed from the
Abbot of Unreason ; attached to this is a sheet of the same paper, which,
falling down in front, covers and conceals the whole face, except where holes
are made to let through the point of the nose, and afford sight to the eyes
and breath to the mouth. Each vocal guizard is, like a knight of old, at-
tended by a kind of humble squire, who assumes the habiliments of a girl,
with an old woman's cap and a broomstick, and is styled ' Bessie.' Bessie
is equal in no respects, except that she shares fairly in the proceeds of the
enterprise. She goes before her principal, opens all the doors at which he
pleases to exert his singing powers, and busies herself during the time of the
song in sweeping the floor with her broomstick, or in playing any other
antics that she thinks may amuse the indwellers. The common reward of
this entertainment is a halfpenny ; but many churlish persons fall upon the
unfortunate guizards and beat them out of the house. Let such persons,
however, keep a good watch over their cabbage -gardens next Hallowe'en.
The Wonderful Cobbler of Wellington. 467
" The more important of the guizards are of a theatrical character.
There is one rude and grotesque drama which they are accustomed to per-
form on each of the four above-mentioned nights, and which, in various
fragments or versions, exists in every part of Lowland Scotland. The per-
formers, who are never less than three, but sometimes as many as six, hav-
ing dressed themselves, proceed in a band from house to house, generally
contenting themselves with the kitchen for an arena, whither, in mansions
presided over by the spirit of good-humour, the whole family will resort to
witness the spectacle. Sir Walter Scott, who delighted to keep up old
customs, and could condescend to simple things without losing genuine
dignity, invariably had a set of guizards to perform this play before his
family both at Ashiestiel and Abbotsford. The editor has with some diffi-
culty obtained what appears a tolerably complete copy." *
"GOOSE-DANCING."
*' OF late years, at this season, in the Islands of Scilly, the young people
exercise a sort of gallantry called ' goose- dancing-' The maidens are dressed
up for young men, and the young men for maidens ; and thus disguised,
they visit their neighbours in companies, where they dance and make jokes
upon what has happened in the island, and every one is humorously ' told
their own,' without offence being taken. By this sort of sport, according
to yearly custom and toleration, there is a spirit of wit and drollery kept up
among the people. The music and dancing done, they are treated with
liquor, and then they go to the next house of entertainment. " +
This custom was by no means confined to the Islands of Scilly. In nearly
every town and large village in Cornwall, geese-dancing, — not goose-dancing,
— formed one of the Christmas entertainments. The term was applied to
the old Christmas plays, and indeed to any kind of sport in which charac-
ters were assumed by the performers, or disguises worn. '
It should be noted that these sports are never termed goose^ but always
geese or guise dancing.
F (p. 66).
WAYLAND SMITH.
4< ' WAYLAND SMITH : ' a Dissertation on a Tradition of the Middle Ages,
from the French of G. B. Depping and Francisque Michel, with Additions
by S. W. Singer, and the Amplified Legend, by Oehlenschlager. " Picker-
ing, 1847.
To this very interesting little volume I would refer those of my readers
who feel desirous of tracing the resemblance of our humble "Jack the Tin-
keard," with the Icelandic Valund, the English Velond, or Sir Walter
Scott's Way land in. " Kenil worth. "
G (p. 72).
THE WONDERFUL COBBLER OF WELLINGTON.
THERE is a considerable family likeness between the Tinker in this Cornish
tale of the Giants, and the Wonderful Cobbler of Wellington, in Shropshire,
as related by Mr. Thomas Wright in his interesting paper " On the Local
* Robert Chambers's " Popular Rhymes of Scotland."
t " Strutt's Sports," p. 307. "Table Book," p. 41.
468 Appendix.
Legends of Shropshire." As this story will interest many readers, I quote
it, as the original paper is not easily obtained : —
" Now, according to the legend, there lived at this time, somewhere, I believe,
in the neighbourhood of Wellington, a wonderful cobbler, who was so skilful
in his art that he monopolised the mending of shoes of the inhabitants of
Shrewsbury, and he used to come at certain times with sacks to carry home
with him the shoes which were in need of his handiwork. Well, the giant
set out on his journey, carrying an immense spadeful of earth, which he in-
tended to throw over the devoted town, and bury all its inhabitants alive ;
but it happened that he had never seen Shrewsbury, and was not well in-
formed as to the road ; and he had arrived near Wellington when, whom
should he overtake but the clever cobbler labouring along under the burden
of two great sacks full of worn shoes he was carrying home. The giant
entered into conversation with him, told him where he was going, and let
out rather indiscreetly the object of his journey, but confessed his ignorance
of the road and the distance. The cobbler had a natural sympathy with
the town of Shrewsbury, first, because he was on good terms with the in-
habitants ; and, secondly, because, if the town were destroyed, his own
occupation would be ruined ; so he resolved to outwit the giant. He told
him, therefore, that he knew Shrewsbury very well — in fact, that he was
then returning from it, and that he, the giant, was in the right track, but
added, with a look of discouragement, that it was very far off. The giant,
who had already had a long walk, and imagined he must have reached the
object of his search, inquired with some surprise how many days more it
would take to walk thither. The cobbler said he had not counted the days,
but emptying his two sacks on the ground, declared that he had worn out
all those shoes on the journey ; upon which the giant, with a movement of
disappointment and disgust, threw the earth from his spade on the spot
where it now forms the Wrekin ; and seeing that some mould still adhered
to the spade, he pushed it off with his foot, and it formed Ercald Hill,
which still adjoins its loftier neighbour."
It is curious to trace in every incident of those stories the lesson taught,
that trained skill can at all times overcome mere brute force. These stories
belong to a very early age, and they have been the winter-evening amuse-
ments of a primitive people, down to a very recent period. Jack the Tinker
figures in many similar stories ; he is invariably covered with his wonderful
coat (similar to the coat of darkness in several of our nursery tales), and not
unfrequently he has the shoes of swiftness.
H (p. 73).
THE following letter, addressed to the publisher of the first and second
editions of this book, will be read with interest : —
263 HAMPSTEAD ROAD, N.W., April i8M, 1865.
DEAR MR. HOTTEN, — I have received your note, in which you express a doubt as to
whether some portion of the public will understand my representation of the Giant
" Bolster."
To all such persons, I would beg of them to reflect, that if a giant could stride six
miles across a country, he must be twelve miles in height, according to the proportions
of the human figure. In order to get a sight of the head of such a giant, the spectator
must be distant a mile or two from the figure. This would, by adding half the " stride"
and above eleven miles perpendicular, place the spectator about fifteen miles distant
from the giant's head, which head, in proportion to the other parts of the body, would
be about three-quarters of a mile, measuring from the chin to the crown of the head.
Now, let any one calculate, according to the laws of perspective, what size such a head
£/. Piran s-Day and Picrous-Day. 469
would be at such a distance. To give a little insight into the matter of perspective, let
any one imagine that they are looking down a street, fifteen miles long, of large houses,
and then calculate what size the last house would be at the farther end of the street ;
and it must therefore be recollected that every part of such a huge body must lessen in
the same way — body and limbs — smaller by degrees, if not beautifully less.
I selected this subject from my friend Robert Hunt's work as one of the numerous
proofs, which are shown in both the volumes, of the horrible dark ignorance of the Early
Ages — a large amount of which ignorance and darkness, I am sorry to find, still remains.
I hope that these few lines will explain satisfactorily why Giant " Bolster " has been
thus displayed by, — Yours truly, GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
P.S. — Therfirst time that I put a very large figure in perspective was about forty year.1,
back, in illustrating that part of " Paradise Lost " where Milton describes Satan as
" Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood."
This I never published, but possibly I may do so one of these days.
I (p. 89).
ST PIRAN'S-DAY AND PICROUS-DAY.
HONE, in his " E very-Day Book," has the following remarks on St Piran : —
" This saint, anciently of good repute in Cornwall, is not mentioned by
Butler. According to Porter, he was born in Ireland, and became a hermit
there. He afterwards came to England, and settling at Cornwall, had a
grave made for him, entered into it, and dying on the 6th of March, 'in the
glorie of a great light and splendour that appeared at the same instant,' was
buried at Padstow. ' He is reported,' says Porter, 'to have wrought manie
wonderful miracles in his lifetime, which, because they tend rather to breed
an incredulous amazement in the readers than move to anie workes of
virtues or pietie, we have willingly omitted.' We have had a specimen of
such miracles as Father Porter deemed worthy of belief ; those of St Piran,
which would have caused ' incredulous amazement ' in Porter's readers,
must have been 'passing wonderful.'"
" St Pira^ s-day is said to be a favourite with the tinners. Having a
tradition that some secrets regarding the manufacture of tin was communi-
cated to their ancestors by that saint, they leave the manufacture to shift for
itself for that day, and keep it as a holiday." *
Mr T. Q. Couch obligingly favours me with the following note on Pic-
rous-day : —
"The second Thursday before Christmas-day is a festival observed by
the tinners of the district of Blackmore, and known as Picrous-day. It is
not at present marked by any distinctive ceremonies, but it is the occasion of
a supper and much merry-making. The owner of the tin-stream contributes
a shilling a man towards it. This is said to be the feast of the discovery of tin
by a man named Picrous. My first impression was that the day took its
name from the circumstance of a pie forming the piece de resistance of the
supper ; but this explanation is not allowed by tinners, nor sanctioned by
the usages of the feast. What truth there may be in the tradition of the
first tinner, Picrous, it is now too late to discover, but the notion is worth
recording. It has occurred to me whether, from some similarity between
the names (not a close one, I admit it), the honours of Picrous may not
have been transferred to St Piran, who is generally said to be the patron
saint of tinners. St Piran is not known in Blackmore, and his festival
is on the 5th of March. The tinners also have a festival to commemorate
the discovery of smelting."
* Gilbert's " History."
47° Appendix.
K (P. 129).
MOSES PITT'S LETTER RESPECTING ANNE JEFFERIES.
" AN account of Anne Jefferies, now living in the county of Cornwall, whc
was fed for six months by a small sort of airy people, called fairies ; and of
the strange and wonderful cures she performed with salves and medicines
she received from them, for which she never took one penny of her patients.
— In a letter from Moses Pitt to the Right Reverend Father in God, Dr.
Edward Fowler, Lord Bishop of Gloucester."
Anne Jefferies, who was afterwards married to one William Warren, was
born in the parish of St Teath in December 1626, " and she is still living,
1696, being now in the 7Oth year of her age." From the published narra-
tive, we learn that Mr Humphrey Martin was requested by Mr Moses Pitt
to see and examine Anne in 1693. Mr Marlin writes, "As for Anne
Jefferies, I have been with her the greater part of one day, and did read to
her all that you wrote to me ; but she would not own anything of it, as con-
cerning the fairies, neither of any of the cures that she did. She answered,
that if her own father were now alive, she would not discover to him those
things which did happen then to her. I asked her the reason why she
would not do it ; she replied, that if she should discover it to you, that you
would make books or ballads of it ; and she said, that she would not have
her name spread about the country in books or ballads of such things, if she
might have five hundred pounds for it."
Mr Pitt's correspondent goes on to say that Anne was so frightened by
the visitors she had in the arbour "that she fell into a kind of convulsion
fit. But when we found her in this condition we brought her into the house
and put her to bed, and took great care of her. As soon as she recovered
out of her fit, she cried out, ' They are just gone out of the window — they
are just gone out of the window. Do you not see them?'" Anne re-
covered, and "as soon as she recovered a little strength, she constantly
went to church." " She took mighty delight in devotion, and in hearing
the Word of God read and preached, although she herself could not read.'*
Anne eventually tells some portions of her story, and cures numerous
diseases amongst the people, by the powers she had derived from the fairy
world. " People of all distempers, sicknesses, sores, and ages, came not
only so far off as the Land's End, but also from London, and were cured
by her. She took no moneys of them, nor any reward that ever I knew or
heard of, yet had she moneys at all times sufficient to supply her wants.
She neither made nor bought any medicines or salves that ever I saw or
heard of, yet wanted them not as she had occasion. She forsook eating our
victuals, and -was fed by these fairies from that harvest time to the next
Christmas-day ; upon which day she came to our table and said, because
it was that day, she would eat some roast beef with us, the which she did
— I myself being then at the table."
The fairies constantly attended upon Anne, and they appear to have
vied with each other to win her favour. They fed her, as we have been
already told ; and the writer says that on one occasion she ' ' gave me a
piece of her bread, which I did eat, and I think it was the most delicious
bread that ever I did eat, either before or since." Anne could render
herself invisible at will. The fairies would come and dance with her in the
orchard. She had a silver cup, given at her wish by the fairies to Mary
Martyn, when she was about four years of age.
At last, "one John Tregeagle, Esq., who was steward to John Earl ol
The Bargest, or Spectre- Hound. 47 1
Radnor, being a justice of peace in Cornwall, sent his warrant for Anne,
and sent her to Bodmin jail, and there kept her a long time." The fairies
had previously given her notice that she would be apprehended.
" She asked them if she should hide herself. They answered no ; she
should fear nothing, but go with the constable. So she went with the
constable to the justice, and he sent her to Bodmin jail, and ordered the
prison-keeper that she should be kept without victuals, and she was so
kept, and yet she lived, and that without complaining. But poor Anne
lay in jail for a considerable time after; and also Justice Tregeagle, who
was her great prosecutor, kept her in his house some time as a prisoner,
and that without victuals."
We have a curious example of the fairies quoting Scripture. I am not
aware of another instance of this. Anne, when seated with the family
was called three times. " Of all these three calls of the fairies, none heard
them but Anne. After she had been in her chamber some time, she came
to us again, with a Bible in her hand, and tells us that when she came to
the fairies, they said to her, ' What ! has there been some magistrates
and ministers with you, and dissuaded you from coming any more to us,
saying, we are evil spirits, and that it was all a delusion of the devil ? Pray,
desire them to read that place of Scripture, in the First Epistle of St. John,
chap. iv. ver. I, " Dearly beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits,
whether they are of God ; " ' and this place of Scripture was turned down
so in the said Bible. I told your lordship before, Anne could not read."
Anne was at length liberated from confinement. She lived in service
near Padstow, and in process of time married William Warren.
How honestly and simply does Moses conclude his story !
"And now, my lord, if your lordship expects that I should give you an
account when, and upon what occasion, these fairies forsook our Anne, I
must tell your lordship I am ignorant of that. She herself can best tell,
if she would be prevailed upon to do so ; and the history of it, and the
rest of the passages of her life, would be very acceptable and useful to the
most curious and inquisitive part of mankind." *
L (p. 146).
THE BARGEST, OR SPECTRE-HOUND.
IN the glossary to the Rev. Mr. Carr's " Horse Momenta Carvenae," I find
the following : ' ' Bargest, a sprite that haunts towns and populous places.
Belg. berg, and geest, a ghost." I really am not a little amused at Mr. Carr's
derivation, which is most erroneous. Bargest is not a town-ghost, nor is it
a haunter "of towns and populous places ; " for, on the contrary, it is said
in general to frequent small villages and hills. Hence the derivation may
be berg. Germ, a hill, and geest, a ghost — i.e., a hill-ghost; but the real
derivation appears to me to be bar, Germ, a bear, and geest, a ghost — i.e., a
bear-ghost, from its appearing in the form of a bear or large dog, as Billy
B 's narrative shows.
The appearance of the spectre-hound is said to precede a death. Like
other spirits, Bargest is supposed to be unable to cross water ; and in case
any of my craven readers should ever chance to meet with his ghostship, it
may be as well to say, that unless they give him the wall, he will tear them
in pieces, or otherwise ill-treat them, as he did John Lambert, who, refusing
to let him have the wall, was so punished for his want of manners, that he
died in a few days.
* "An Historical Survey of the County of Cornwall." C. S. Gilbert. 1817.
472 Appendix.
BILLY B 'S ADVENTURE.
" You see, sir, as how I'd been a clock-dressing at Gurston (Grassington),
and I'd staid rather lat, and maybe gitten a li'le sup o' spirit ; but I war far
from being drunk, and knowed everything that passed. It war about eleven
o'clock when I left, and it war at back end o' t' year, and a most admirable
(beautiful) neet it war. The moon war varra breet, and I nivver seed Kyi-
stone-fell plainer in a' my life. Now, you see, sir, I war passin' down t' mill
loine, and I heerd summat come past me, — brush, brush, brush, wi' chains
rattling a' the while, but I seed nothing ; and thowt I to mysel, now this is
a most mortal queer thing. And I then stuid still, and luik'd about me ;
but I seed nothing at aw, nobbut the two stane wa's on each o' t' mill loine.
Then I heerd again this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains; for you see,
sir, when I stuid still it stopped, and then, thowt I, this mun be a Bargest,
that sae much is said about ; and I hurried on towards t' wood brig ; for
they say as how this Bargest cannot cross a water ; but Lord, sir, when I
gat o'er t' brig, I heerd this same thing again ; so it mun either hev crossed
t' watter, or have gane round by f spring heed! (about thirty miles !) And
then I becam a valliant man, for I war a bit freekn'd afore ; and, thinks I,
I'll turn and hev a peep at this thing ; so I went up Greet Bank towards
Linton, and heerd this brush, brush, brush, wi' the chains a' the way, but I
seed nothing ; then it ceased all of a sudden. So I turned back to go
hame ; but I'd hardly reached the door when I heerd again this brush,
brush, brush, and the chains going down towards t' Holin House ; and I
followed it, and the moon there shone varra breet, and / seed its tail! Then,
thowt I, thou owd thing, I can say Ise seen thee now ; so, I'll away hame.
When I gat to t' door, there war a grit thing like a sheep, but it war larger,
Jigging across t' threshold of t' door, and it war woolly like ; and says I,
' Git up,' and it wouldn't git up. Then says I, * Stir thysel,' and it wouldn't
stir itsel ! And I grew valliant, and I raised t' stick to baste it wi' ; and
then it luik'd at me and sich oies (eyes), they did glower, and war as big as
saucers, and like a cruelled ball. First there war a red ring, then a blue
one, then a white one ; and these rings grew less and less till they came to
a dot ! Now, I war nane feer'd on it, tho' it grin'd at me fearfully, and I
kept on saying, ' Git up,' and ' Stir thysel,' and t' wife heerd as how I war at
t' door, and she cam to oppen it ; and then this thing gat up and walked
off, for it -war mare freet d o* f -wife than it "war o' me ; and I told the wife,
and she said it war Bargest : but I nivver seed it since — and that's a true
story."'
M (p. 170).
THE MERMAID'S VENGEANCE.
" INEVITABLE death awaits the wretch who is seduced by their charms.
They seize and drown the swimmer, and entice the child ; and when they
anticipate that their malevolence will be gratified, they are seen gaily dart-
ing over the surface of the waters."
Since this tale has been in type, my attention has been called to an
article on the " Popular Mythology of the Middle Ages," by Sir F.
Palgrave, in the Quarterly Review, No. 44, 1820. The Nixies, to whom
the above quotation especially refers, are in most respects like the Cornish
mermaids.
* Hone's "Every-Day Book."
Ambrosia Petrce. 473
N (p. 173)-
ROCK MASSES, CELTIC.
*'THE Celts, or KeXroJ, or KeXra£, were a people of the origin of which
nothing positive is known. They occupied a great part of Western Europe
perhaps in times antecedent to the invasion of Indo-Germanic nations.
" The very name Celt is of uncertain etymology. Ammian derives it
from the king, Kelta, or Celta ; Leibnitz, from the German gelt, or geld,
money ; Mezerai, from the British gall, or gault, a forest ; Pellontier, from
the Tudesk wallen, to wander ; Latour d'Auvergne, from gael, or gall,
yellow, alluding to the light hair of the Galli, whom Bochart identifies with
Dodanim (for Rhodanim) of Gen. x. *
"But the name of Cell may probably come, as Camden says, from
givalth, a head of hair ; coma, and gwalthay, comatus ; from whence KeX-
rai, FaXdTcu, or TaXXot. Galli or Gauls, the Gadil, Ccedil, or Keile, and in
pi. Keilt, or Keiltiet, or Gaels, Gadels, or Guidhelod, as the Irish call them-
selves and their tongue.
" The language called Celtic is divided into two principal branches— viz.,
I. The Irish or Hibernian, from which the present Irish, or Erse, and the
Gaelic of Scotland are derived. 2. The British, to which the primitive
Gaellic or Gallic are allied, and from which are derived the Welsh, the
Cornish, and the Armoric, or language of Brittany. " f
* ' The Welsh, which is the relic of the language of the inland Britons, or
Caesar's aborigines, is most probably akin to the dialect of Gallia Celtica,
and the Cornish to the idiom of the Belgae, who overran the southern
district of England, and probably sought refuge in the west when the
Saxons were extending themselves from the eastern part of the island." %
But surely there are indications of a people inhabiting Cornwall long
before the Saxons gained a foot of ground in England ?
O (p. 175).
AMBROSLE PETRJE.
IN connection with the Bambury stone in Worcestershire, Mr. Jabez Allies
remarks, and Dr. Nash is of the same opinion, that it was in all probability
originally Ambury. He then gives us several examples of the occurrence
of this name — as Ambreforde in Yorkshire, Ambrelie in Sussex, Ambres-
berie in Wilts, Ambresdone in Oxfordshire, and many others. §
" The ancients distinguished stones, erected with a religious view, by the
name of amber, by which was signified anything solar and divine. \\
"Respecting the Phoenicians being the founders of the Druidical discipline
in Britain, one fact weighs more with me than a thousand arguments. I
allude to the Tyrian coin, on which appear the tree, the sacred fire, the
two stone pillars of Hercules (Thoth), and the singular legend, Tyr. Col.
(Colony of Tyrians), and the still more remarkable words under the erect
stones, AMBPOSIE HETPE (Ambrosise Petrse), the anointed rocks. Let
the reader remember the monkish traditions of Ambrosius, the exact
likeness of these pillars on this coin to the stones at Stonehenge, the
* " And the sons of Javan: Elishah, and Tarshish, Kittim and Dodanim " (Gen. x. 4).
t "A History of the Sacred Scriptures in every Language and Dialect into which
Translations have been made." Bagster & Sons, 1860.
1 " Researches into the Physical History of Mankind." By James Cowles Prichard,
M.D., F.A.S., vol. iii. § Allies' " Worcestershire. "
y Bryant's "Ancient Mythology."
474 Appendix.
.
Ambrosise Petrse ; and if he does not think the origin of Ambrosbury, or
Amesbury, was derived from the Ambrosise Petrse, or anointed rocks of
the Tyrian colonists, he will think the coincidence most remarkable." *
"Main Ambres, petrce ambrosia, signify the stones anointed with holy oil,
consecrated ; or, in a general sense, a temple, altar, or place of worship. " t
P (p. 194).
PADSTOW HOBBY HORSE.
MR. GEORGE RAWLINGS writes, September i, 1865 : — Formerly all the
respectable people kept the anniversary decorated with the choicest flowers,
but some unlucky day a number of rough characters from a distance joined
it, and committed some sad assaults on old and young — spoiling all their
nice summer clothes, and covering their faces and persons with smut.
From that time — fifty years since — the procession is formed of the lowest.
. . . The Maypole was once decorated with the best flowers — now, with
only some elm branches and furze in blossom. The horse is formed as
follows : — The dress is made of sailcloth painted black — a fierce mask —
eyes red — horse's head — horse-hair mane and tail distended by a hoop.
Some would call it very frightful. Carried by a powerful man — they
could inflict much mischief with the snappers, &c. No doubt it is a rem-
nant of the ancient plays, and it represents the Devil, or the power of
Darkness. They commence singing at sunrise.
THE MORNING SONG.
Unite and unite and let us all unite,
For summer it is come unto day ;
And whither we are going we all will unite
In the merry morning of May.
Arise up, Mr. , and joy you betide,
For summer is come unto day ;
And bright is your bride that lays by your side
In the merry morning of May.
Arise up, Mrs. , and gold be your ring,
For summer is come unto day ;
And give to us a cup of ale, the merrier we shall sing
In the merry morning of May.
Arise up, Miss , all in your smock of silk,
For summer is come unto day ;
And all your body under as white as any milk,
In the merry morning of May.
The young men of Padstow might, if they would,
For summer is come unto day ;
They might have built a ship and gilded her with gold
In the merry morning of May.
Now fare you well, and we bid you good cheer,
For summer is come unto day ;
We will come no more unto your house before another year,
In the merry morning of May.
THE DAY SONG.
Awake, St. George, our English knight.
For summer is a-come O, and winter is a go J
And every day God give us His grace
By day and by night O !
* Bowies' "Hermes Britannicus."
t Stukeley, Stonehenge. See Akerman " On the Stone Worship of the Ancient*,
Illustrated by their Coins." "Transactions of the Numismatic Society," January 1838.
St Piran — Piran Zabuloc. 475
Where is St. George, where is he O ?
He is out in his long boat all on the salt sea O I
And in every land O ! the land where'er we go,
And for to fetch th summer home.
The summer and the May O,
For summer is a come,
And winter is a go.
Where are the French dogs that make such boast O f
They shall eat the grey goose feather,
And we will cattle roast O !
And in every land O ! the land where'er we go,
The summer and the May O.
Thou mightst have shown thy knavish face !
Thou mightst have tarried at home O !
But thou shalt be an old cuckold,
And thou shalt wear the horns O ;
The summer and the May O.
ADDITIONAL CHORUS.
With hal-an-tow * and jolly rumble O,
For summer is a come O, and winter is a go,
And in every land O, the land where'er we go,
Up flies the kite, and down falls the lark O I
Aunt Ursula Birdhood she had an old ewe,
And she died in her own park O !
And for to fetch the summer home.
Q (p- 199-)
THE CITY OF LANGARROW OR LANGONA. — PERRAN CHURCHES.
NEAR the oldest Perran church there formerly existed a lake called the
and across this lake the sand was never blown. The sands encroached rapidly
on the first church, and it was resolved by the parish to build a church on
the other side of the lake, where it would be quite beyond the reach of the
sands. The church was built and remained fof a long period free from the
effects of the blowing sands. At length a miner, called Roberts, drove an
adit in from the cliffs under the lake, to reach the mine now called Hud
Vlow, and this carried off all the water from the lake. Then the sands
rapidly advanced towards, and at length threatened to bury, the second
church. So great was the danger of this, that at length it was resolved to
remove the church to the position \\hich it at present occupies. The limits
of the lake can be readily traced.
It is now said — and there is much appearance of truth in it — that the
sand will not cross the small stream which divides Per-anzabuloe from
Cubert. Those who have watched the travelling of the sand will under-
stand the influence of running water in checking its progress.
Languna or Langona (p. 220). " Church on the Down."
Lan, a church or enclosure. Gun, a down or common. Gan, a level
plain, a down — same as Goon.
R (p. 273).
ST PIRAN — PERRAN ZABULOE.
"IT is rather a curious circumstance," says Davies Gilbert, "that the word
Zabuloc added to Perran, for the distinction of this parish, is not Celtic,
but through the French sable, from sabalum, a word frequently used bf
Pliny, as indicative of sand or gravel.
* Cornish, jollification.
4/6 Appendix.
" The encroachments of the sand have caused no less than three churches
to be built, after considerable intervals of time, in this parish. The last
was commenced in 1804; and in this year (1835), a building has been
discovered more ancient than the first of these churches, and not improbably
the Oratory of St Perran himself. The length of this chapel within the
walls is 25 feet, without, 30 feet ; the breadth within, \2.\ feet ; and the
height of the walls the same.
" At the eastern end is a neat altar of stone covered with lime, 4 feet
long, by 2\ feet wide, and 3 feet high. Eight inches above the centre of
the altar is a recess in the wall, where probably stood a crucifix ; and on
the north side of the altar is a small doorway, through which the priest may
have entered. Out of the whole length, the chancel extended exactly 6
feet. In the centre of what may be termed the nave, in the south wall,
occurs a round arched doorway, highly ornamented. The building is, how-
ever, without any trace of window ; and there is only one small opening,
apparently for the admission of air.
" The discovery has excited much curiosity throughout the neighbourhood;
which has, unfortunately, manifested itself by the demolition of everything
curious in this little oratory, to be borne away as relics." — Gilbert.
" Very little is known concerning the saint who has given his name to the
three Perrans. He is, however, held in great veneration, and esteemed
the patron of all Cornwall, or at least of the mining district." — Hals.
S (p. 274).
ST CHIWIDDEN.
THE last Thursday — a clear week before Christmas-day — was formerly
always claimed by the tinners as a holiday, and was called by them White-
Thursday (Jnv-whidri), because on this day, according to tradition, black
tin (tin ore) was first melted and refined into white tin. From Jew-ivhidn
to Chi-widden is an easy transition. Jew-whidn is a name given to the
old furnaces generally called Jews'-houses.
T (p. 275).
THE DISCOVERER OF TIN
BY an anachronism of fifteen hundred years or more, at Perran was con-
sidered as the person who first found tin ; and this conviction induced the
miners to celebrate his day, the 5th of March, with so much hilarity, that
any one unable to guide himself along the road has received the appellation
of a Perraner ; and that, again, has most unjustly reflected as a habit on the
saint.
"It may here be worthy of remark, that, as the miners impute the dis-
covery of tin to St Perran, so they ascribe its reduction from the ore, in a
large way, to an imaginary person, St Chiwidden ; but chi-wadden is
white house, and must, therefore, mean a smelting or blowing-house, where
the black ore of tin is converted into a white metal.
" A white cross on a black ground was formerly the banner of St Perran,
and the standard of Cornwall ; probably with some allusion to the black
ore and the white metal of tin." — Gilbert.
A college, dedicated to St Perran, once stood in the parish of St Kevern
(Dugdale's " Monasticon," vol. vi. p. 1449). This probably had some
St Neot. 477
connection with Perran Uthnoe. The shrine of St Perran was in that parish,
which is said to have contained his head, and other relics.
Lysons quotes a deed in the registiy of Exeter, showing the great resort
of pilgrims hither in 1485.
In the will of Sir John Arundell, 1433, occurs this bequest: — "Item,
lego ad usum parochie S'c'i' Pyerani in Zabulo, ad clandendum capud S.
Pierani honorifice et meliori modo quo sciunt xls." — Collectanea Topogr. et
Geneal., vol. iii. p. 392.
For a full examination of the question, Did the Phoenicians trade with
Britain for tin? the following works should be consulted : — "History of
Maritime and Inland Discovery," by W. D. Cooley ; '* Historical Survey
of the Astronomy of the Ancients," by Sir George Cornewall Lewis;
"Commerce and Navigation of the Ancients," by W. Vincent, D.D. ;
"Phoenicia," by John Kenrick, M.A. ; "The Cassiterides : an Inquiry
into the Commercial Operations of the Phoenicians in Western Europe,
with Particular Reference to the British Tin Trade," by George Smith,
LL.D..F.A.S.
U (p. 277).
ST NEOT.
THE following account of this celebrated saint, as given by Mr Davies
Gilbert, will not be without interest : —
*' Multitudes flocked to him from all parts. He founded a monastery,
and repaired to Rome for a confirmation, and for blessing at the hands of
the Pope ; these were readily obtained. He returned to his monastery,
where frequent visits were made to him by King Alfred, on which occasions
he admonished and instructed the great founder of English liberty, and
finally quitted this mortal life on the 3ist of July about the year 883, in
the odour of sanctity so unequivocal that travellers all over Cornwall were
solaced by its fragrance. Nor did the exertions of our saint terminate with
his existence on earth ; he frequently appeared to King Alfred, and some-
times led his armies in the field. But if the tales of these times are deserv-
ing of any confidence, the nation is really and truly indebted to St Neot
for one of the greatest blessings ever bestowed on it. To his advice, and
even to his personal assistance as a teacher, we owe the foundation by
Alfred of the University at Oxford.
" The relics of St Neot remained at his monastery in Cornwall till about
the year 974, when Earl Alric, and his wife Ethelfleda, having founded a
religious house at Eynesbury, in Huntingdonshire, and being at a loss for
some patron saint, adopted the expedient of stealing the body of St Neot ;
which was accordingly done, and the town retains his name, thus feloniously
obtained, up to this time. The monastery in Cornwall continued feebly to
exist after this disaster through the Saxon times ; but having lost its
palladium, it felt the ruiner's hand; and almost immediately after the
Norman Conquest it was finally suppressed. Yet the memory of the local
saint is still cherished by the inhabitants of the parish and of the neighbour-
hood— endeared, perhaps, by the tradition of his diminutive stature, re-
duced in their imagination to fifteen inches of height ; and to these feelings
we, in all probability, owe the preservation of the painted glass, the great
decoration of this church, and one of the principal works of Art to be seen
in Cornwall." — Gillf.ri's Hist. Corn., vol. iii. p. 262.
478 Appendix.
X (P. 282).
THE SISTERS OF GLEN-NEOT.
BY THE LATE REV. R. S. HAWKER OF MORWENSTOW.
IT is from Neot's sainted steep
The foamy waters flash and leap ;
It is where shrinking wild-flowers grow,
They lave the nymph that dwells below !
But wherefore in this far-off dell,
The reliques of a human cell ?
Where the sad stream and lonely wind
Bring Man no tidings of their kind !
Long years agone 1 the old man said,
Twas told him by his grandsire dead,
One day two ancient sisters came,
None there could tell their race or name.
Their speech was not in Cornish phrase,
One died 1 the other's shrunken eye
Gush'd till the fount of tears was dry :
A wild and wasting thought had she —
" I shall have none to weep for me ! "
They found her silent at the last,
Bent in the shape wherein she pass'd —
Where her lone seat long used to stand,
Her head upon her shrivell'd hand !
Did fancy give this legend birth ?
The grandame's tale for winter-hearth,
Or some dead bark, by Neot's stream,
People these banks with such a dream ?
We know not ! but it suits the scene,
Their garb had marks of loftier days ; To think such wild things here have been ;
Slight food they took from hands of men, ; What spot more meet could grief or sin
They wither'd slowly in that glen. ; Choose at the last to wither in ?
Echoes of Old Cornwall.
Y (p. 322).
MILLINGTON OF PENGERSWICK.
IN the reign of Henry VIII., one Militon, or Millington, appears to have
purchased Pengerswick Castle. This Millington is said to have retired into
the solitude of this place on account of a murder which he had committed.
(Mr. Wilkie Collins appears to have founded his novel of " Basil " on tins-
tradition.) In all probability a very much older story is adapted to Mr.
Millington. So far from his being a recluse, we learn of his purchasing St.
Michael's Mount, " whose six daughters and heirs invested their husbands
and purchasers therewith."
That Millington was a man of wealth, and that large possessions were
held by his family, is sufficiently evident. St. Michael's Mount appears to
have been " granted at first for a term of years to different gentlemen of the
neighbourhood. To Millington, supposed of Pengerswick, in Breage ; to
Harris, of Kenegie, in Gulval ; and, perhaps jointly with Millington, to a
Billett or Bennett."— Hals.
Z (p. 323.)
PENGERSWICK.
ANOTHER legend relates that it was not the stepmother found by Pengers-
wick whose " skin was covered with scales like a serpent," but that the lady
brought home from Palestine by him was an Ophidian — a serpent-wor-
shipper. Hence she became celebrated as a woman possessed by a serpent
— having a serpent's power — in fact, a Lamia. This is the only tradition of
the kind with which I am acquainted in this county.
AA (p. 323).
SARACEN.
THE term Saracen is always now supposed to apply to the Moors. This
is not exactly correct. Percy, for example, in his " Essay on the Ancient
Minstrels," says, "The old metrical romance of 'Horn Child,' which,
although from the mention of Saracens, &c., it must have been written, at
least, after the First Crusade in 1096, yet, from its Anglo-Saxon language
The North Side of a Church. 479
or idiom, can scarcely be dated later than within a century after the Con-
quest." I think this ballad, and several others of an early date, prove the
application of this term to some Oriental people previous to the Crusades.
Soldain, soldan, regarded as a corruption of sultan, —
" Whoever will fight yon grimme soldkn,
Right fair his meede shall be,"
is clearly a much older term, applied to any grim Eastern tyrant, and
especially to the Oriental giants. It would not be a difficult task to show
that the word " Saracen," as used in Cornwall,— "Atal Saracen I" " Oh,
hes a Saracen!" &c., was applied to the foreigners who traded with this
country for tin at a very early period.
BB (p. 344).
THE TINNER OF CHYANNOR.
IN Trengothal stood a low hut called the Ram's House. This was said
to have been built by the tinners, and called Chyan-nance or House in the
Valley. Nor, in Williams's Welsh Dictionary, is earth. This makes
Chyan-nor, or the House of Earth.
CC (p. 370).
MERRY SEAN LADS.
Could Roos, or Cold-ruse, may, however, signify the original for "shoot-
ing the seine^ or net ; rocs, or ruz, being the Cornish for net, or pilchard
seine.
DD (p. 379)
THE NORTH SIDE OF A CHURCH.
I HAVE been favoured with the following remarks on this subject by the
Rev. J. C. Atkinson, of Danby, Grosmont : —
I translate the following from Hylten Cuvalliecs' Warend och Wirdume,
pp. 287, 288.
" Inasmuch as all light and all vigour springs from the sun, our Swedisl
forefathers always made their prayers with their faces turned towards that
luminary. When any spell or charm in connection with an 'earth-fast
stone ' is practised, even in the present day, for the removal of sickness,
the patient invariably turns his face towards the east, or the sun. When a
child is to be carried to church to be baptized, the Warend usage is for the
godmother first to make her morning prayer, face towards the east, and
then ask the parents three several times what the child's name is to be.
The dead are invariably interred with their feet lying eastward, so as to
have their faces turned towards the rising sun. Fr&nsols, or with or in a
northerly direction, is, on the other hand, according to an ancient popular
idea, the home of the evil spirits. The Old Northern Hell was placed far
away in the North. When any one desires to remove or break any witch
spell, or the like, by means of * reading ' (or charms), it is a matter
particularly observed that the stone (i.e., an 'earth-fast' one), is sought
to the northward of the house. In like manner also the * bearing tree '
(any tree which produces fruit, or quasi fruit, apples, pears, &c., rowan tree,
especially, and white thorn herbs), or the shrew mouse, by means of which
it is hoped to remedy an evil spell, must be met with in a northerly
direction from the patient's home. Nay, if one wants to charm away
sickness over (or into) a running stream, it must always be one which
480 Appendix.
runs northwards. On the self same grounds it has ever been the practice
of the people of the Warend district, even down to the present time, not
to bury their dead fr&nsols — or to the northward — of the church. In that
part of the churchyard the contemned frdmlings hogen (strangers' burial
place) always has its site, and in it are buried malefactors, friendless
wretches, and utter strangers. A very old idea, in like manner connects
the north side of the church with suicides' graves," &c.
EE (p. 435).
PECULIAR WORDS AND PHRASES.
AN angry Cornishman would formerly say when in anger, "I shall push a
stone in his cairn," meaning he shall see him buried.
" Curri mi clack er du cuirn " is the expression of a Scotch Highlander
(Labbach's Prehistoric Times}. This is interpreted as a mark of respect, or, I
will do something to build you a monument.
In the parish of Breage, the habit of prefixing names to the people is
common. The "Tubby" Prichard's are well known. " Alsie's " children
are common. ' ' Scaw " was applied to several families.
FF (p. 444).
THE HARLYN PIE.
THE Peter family, who formerly lived at Harlyn, left the place, and
sold the estate to a farmer. The common report was that one of the
family manured his land with earth from the graves in Constantine
churchyard.
A considerable quantity of land formerly said to belong to the poor of
the parish cannot now be found, as all the marks are gone.
The gold collar deposited in the Royal Institution at Truro, by H. R. H.
the Duke of Cornwall, was found on the Harlyn estate.
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His Masterpiece. I The Joy of Life.
Germinal.
The Honour of the Army.
Abbe Mouret's Transgression.
The Fortune of the Rougons.
The Conquest of Plassans.
The Dram- Shop.
The Fat and the Thin. | Money.
His Excellency.
The Downfall.
Lourdes.
Rome.
Paris.
The Dream.
Doctor Pascal.
Fruitfulness
Work.
Truth.
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The Dram-
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UNWIN BROTHERS, Ltd., Printers, 27, Pilgrim Street, Ludgate Hill, London. E.G.
GR Hunt, Robert
142 Popular romances of
G7H8 the west of England
1908 C3d ed.3
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