// ppgen source cornwall4-src.txt for A Book of Cornwall
// last edit: 19 September 2014
.dt The Project Gutenberg Book of A Book of Cornwall, by S. Baring-Gould
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.ca Transcriber's Note: The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
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A BOOK OF CORNWALL
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BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
THE TRAGEDY OF THE CÆSARS
THE DESERT OF SOUTHERN FRANCE
STRANGE SURVIVALS
SONGS OF THE WEST
A GARLAND OF COUNTRY SONG
OLD COUNTRY LIFE
YORKSHIRE ODDITIES
HISTORIC ODDITIES
OLD ENGLISH FAIRY TALES
AN OLD ENGLISH HOME
THE VICAR OF MORWENSTOW
FREAKS OF FANATICISM
A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
A BOOK OF BRITTANY
A BOOK OF DARTMOOR
A BOOK OF DEVON
A BOOK OF NORTH WALES
A BOOK OF SOUTH WALES
A BOOK OF THE RIVIERA
A BOOK OF THE RHINE
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.pm illo i_004 i_004.jpg 479px "CORNISH FISHERMEN"
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A|BOOK OF CORNWALL
.nf c
BY
S. BARING-GOULD
AUTHOR OF "A BOOK OF BRITTANY," "A BOOK OF THE RIVIERA," ETC.
WITH THIRTY-THREE ILLUSTRATIONS
NEW EDITION
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
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First Published|August 1899
Second Edition|September 1902
New Edition|1906
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.pm heading2a contents "CONTENTS"
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CHAPTER||PAGE
I.|The Cornish Saints|#1:cornishsaints#
II.|The Holy Wells|#28:holywells#
III.|Cornish Crosses|#38:cornishcrosses#
IV.|Cornish Castles|#44:cornishcastles#
V.|Tin Mining|#52:tinmining#
VI.|Launceston|#67:launceston#
VII.|Callington|#96:callington#
VIII.|Camelford|#114:camelford#
IX.|Bude|#134:bude#
X.|Saltash|#151:saltash#
XI.|Bodmin|#163:bodmin#
XII.|The Two Looes|#173:twolooes#
XIII.|Fowey|#188:fowey#
XIV.|The Fal|#200:fal#
XV.|Newquay|#214:newquay#
XVI.|The Lizard|#242:lizard#
XVII.|Smuggling|#263:smuggling#
XVIII.|Penzance|#282:penzance#
XIX.|The Land's End|#305:landsend#
XX.|The Scilly Isles|#329:scillyisles#
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.pm heading2a illustrations "ILLUSTRATIONS"
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Cornish Fishermen|#Frontispiece:i_004#
\_\_\_From a photograph by the Rev. F. Partridge.|
S. Melor's Well, Linkinhorne|To face page #28:i_039#
\_\_\_From a photograph by the Rev. A. H. Malan.|
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Well Chapel of S. Clether|"|#33:i_046#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Cross, S. Levan|"|#38:i_053#
Launceston|"|#44:i_061#
\_\_\_From an old print.||
A Tin Mould|"|#62:i_081#
Launceston, Church Porch|"|#67:i_088#
\_\_\_From a photograph by the Rev. F. Partridge.||
Trewortha Marsh|"|#83:i_106#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Plan of Habitation on Trewortha Marsh|"|#84:i_109#
\_\_\_By permission of the Daily Graphic.||
The Council Hall, Trewortha Marsh|"|#85:i_110#
\_\_\_By permission of the Daily Graphic.||
Callington|"|#96:i_123#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Callington Cross|"|#103:i_132#
\_\_\_Drawn by F. B. Bond, Esq.||
The Cheesewring|"|#106:i_137#
\_\_\_From an old engraving.||
Arsenic Manufacture|"|#109:i_142#
\_\_\_From a photograph by F. B. Bond, Esq.||
Arsenic Works|"|#110:i_145#
\_\_\_From a photograph by F. B. Bond, Esq.||
King Arthur|"|#118:i_155#
\_\_\_From the tomb of Maximilian I. at Innsbruck.||
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Tintagel|"|#122:i_161#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Beehive Hut|"|#127:i_168#
\_\_\_By permission of the Daily Graphic.||
Bude|"|#134:i_177#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Maces and Seal of Saltash|"|#151:i_196#
\_\_\_Drawn by F. D. Bedford, Esq.||
In Saltash|"|#152:i_199#
\_\_\_Drawn by F. D. Bedford, Esq.||
Anne Glanville|"|#158:i_207#
Chalice, Saltash|"|#161:i_212#
Padstow Harbour|"|#163:i_216#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Fowey Harbour|"|#188:i_243#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Lostwithiel Bridge|"|#189:i_246#
\_\_\_Drawn by F. B. Bond, Esq.||
S. Mawe's Castle|"|#210:i_269#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
The Lizard|"|#242:i_303#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Gunwalloe Church|"|#254:i_317#
\_\_\_From a sketch by F. B. Bond, Esq.||
Mount's Bay|"|#262:i_327#
\_\_\_From a photograph by Messrs. Gibson, Penzance.||
Land's End|"|#305:i_372#
\_\_\_From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.||
Chûn Quoit|"|#326:i_395#
\_\_\_From an old engraving.||
The Pulpit Rock, Scilly|"|#329:i_400#
\_\_\_From a photograph.||
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CORNWALL
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.pm heading2 cornishsaints "CHAPTER I." "THE CORNISH SAINTS"
.pm onhanghead
A saint or squab pie--The saints belong to five classes--I. The
members of the royal Dumnonian family--II. Irish-Welsh
colonists--The invasion of Brecknock--Brychan--The invasion
of Cornwall and Devon--Murtogh Mac Earca--III. Irish in West
Cornwall--IV. Welsh-Breton saints--V. Pure Breton importations--Ecclesiastical
colonies--Llans and cells--Tribal
organisation--Ecclesiastical also tribal--The sanctuary--How a
tribe was recruited--Jurisdiction--What a Celtic monastery was--Rights
exercised by the saints--That of ill-wishing--Missionary
methods of the Celtic saints--Illand and S. Bridget--The
power of the keys as the saints understood it--Reciprocal rights--The
saint expected to curse the enemies of the secular tribe--Asceticism--A
legal process carried into religion--Story of
the three clerks--A higher idea of asceticism gained ground--S.
Columba and the nettles--The saints and animals--And
children--How they used their powers--What they did for
womankind--The biographies, how far trustworthy--The interest
in knowing something of the founders of the Churches.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "The"
story goes that the devil one day came to
the Tamar from the Devon side and stood
rubbing his chin and considering.
"No," said he, "I won't risk it. Yonder every
person is made into a saint, and everything into
squab pie. I do not feel qualified for either
position."
// 012.png
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And it is a fact that nowhere else in England
are there so many villages bearing the names of
saints, and these names strange, and such as may
be sought out in vain in the calendars that are easily
accessible. One is impressed with the idea that the
vast majority of these saints are unknown and
negligible quantities.
This, however, is an entirely false assumption, and
it is based on the fact that their history has not been
studied.
On close examination it will be found that the
saintly names in Cornwall belong to certain well-defined
groups, and when we have determined the
localities occupied by these groups we have taken
the first step towards the elucidation of some
important problems in the early history of Cornwall.
Now let us look at these groups.
I. The first belongs to members of the royal
Dumnonian family that ruled Devon and Cornwall.
The first-known prince was Constantine the
Blessed (about 460), whose brother Aldor migrated
to Brittany, and married the sister of Germanus of
Auxerre, who came to Britain in 429 and 447 to
oppose the spread of the Pelagian heresy.
Constantine's son Erbin, prince of the Dumnonii,
died about 480. We know nothing of him save that
he was the father of Geraint, the heroic king who
fell at Langport, in Somersetshire, in 522, fighting
against the Saxons.
His name is familiar to us as the husband of Enid,
daughter of the lord of Caerleon, whose virtues and
pathetic story have been revived with fresh interest
// 013.png
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in Tennyson's idyl. Geraint has left his name at
Dingerrein, where was his palace, near the church
he founded--S. Gerrans, in Roseland--and a tomb,
supposed to be his, is still pointed out. Although
his story is preserved in the Mabinogion, this story
has no pretence to be regarded as history.
His first cousin was Gwen of the Three Breasts,
married to Fragan, also a cousin, who migrated to
Brittany. There is a curious monument of Gwen in
Brittany, on which she is actually represented as
having three breasts. But the expression three-or
four-breasted was used of a woman who was married
thrice or four times, and had a family by each
husband. The mother of S. Domangard was called
the four-breasted for no other reason than this.
Fragan and Gwen had three sons--Winwaloe,
Wethenoc or Winock, and James--and although the
great field of their labours was in Brittany, yet they
certainly visited their cousins in Cornwall and
obtained grants of land there, for they founded
churches in two districts, where their names remain
to this day somewhat disguised in Gunwalloe,
Lewanick, and Jacobstow. Geraint and Enid had
several children; the eldest was Solomon or Selyf,
who died about 550.
He married Gwen, sister of Non, the mother of
S. David, and it was due to this connection that Non
and her son came to Cornwall and founded Altarnon,
Pelynt, and Davidstowe.
Gwen herself we recognise as S. Wenn; she was
the mother of S. Cuby, founder of Duloe and
Tregony. Docwin or Cyngar, brother of Solomon,
// 014.png
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was an abbot in Somersetshire. In his old age his
nephew Cuby took his uncle with him to Ireland,
where he kept a cow for providing the old man with
her milk. A chief carried off the cow, and Cuby left
Ireland and brought the aged uncle back with him.
Docwin or Cyngar was the founder of S. Kew.
Again, another uncle of S. Cuby was Cado, Duke
of Cornwall, who makes a great figure in Geoffrey
of Monmouth's fabulous history, and in the Arthurian
romances. He was father of Constantine, whom
Gildas attacked so venomously in his spiteful letter
about 547, and who was converted by S. Petrock in
his old age. We have in Cornwall two of his
foundations and one in Devon.
After his conversion Constantine went to Ireland
and entered a monastery without disclosing who he
was. He was discovered by accident; for, having
been set to grind corn with a hand-quern, he was
overheard laughing and saying, "What would my
Cornish subjects think were they to see me thus
engaged?"
II. The second group of saints is of Irish-Welsh
origin. The Welsh have a droll legend to account
for the Irish conquest of Brecknock.
Meurig, king of Garth-Madrin (a part of Brecknockshire),
had a daughter, Marchell, who said to
her father in coaxing terms, "I do want a fur cloak;
the winters here are abominably cold."
"You shall have one," answered the father.
On cool reflection Meurig considered that fur
cloaks were expensive luxuries, far beyond the
means of a petty Welsh prince.
// 015.png
.pn +1
So he said to Marchell, "My dear, I am going
to marry you to a very agreeable young man, Aulac"
(Amalgaidh), "an Irish prince, and he has ample
means at his disposal to provide you with the
desired fur cloak."
So Aulac was invited over, found Marchell charming,
and carried her back with him to Ireland.
Now whilst he was in Wales he had allowed his
eyes to wander, and he had seen that there was a
good deal of rich and covetable land there. So he
speedily returned at the head of a host of Irish
kernes, and overran, not Brecknock alone, but all
Cardigan, Carmarthen, and Pembroke, and established
himself as prince there.
Whether Marchell ever got her fur cloak history
does not say.
Aulac and Marchell had a son, Brychan (the
Speckled or Tartan-clad), who has given his name to
the county of Brecknockshire.
Brychan was a much-wived man, unless he be
greatly misrepresented, and had a numerous family.
Not only do the Welsh genealogists give him
forty-nine children, but the Irish, the Cornish, and
the Bretons attribute to him several more.
The fact is that all Brychan's family, grandchildren
as well as children, have been run together, for all
such as exercised tribal rights formed the family
clan.
In one of the S. Neot's windows may be seen good
old Brychan seated on a throne, holding a lapful of
progeny before him, dense as young rabbits.
In Ireland the tribes are called after the founder,
// 016.png
.pn +1
as the Hy Conaill, Hy Fiachra, or sons of Conal,
sons of Fiech, though grand, great-grand, and great-great-grandchildren.
Now the Irish who had invaded South Wales were
not allowed a peaceful time in which to consolidate
their power, for in the time of the grandchildren
of Brychan, if not in that of his son Cledwyn, king
of Carmarthen, there came down a Northern Briton,
named Dyfnwal, into South Wales and drove them
out, and pretty well exterminated the family of
Cledwyn. This must have been about the year 500,
and it was probably due to this that so many of
Brychan's sons and daughters and grandchildren
took to their heels and crossed the Severn Sea,
and established themselves in North Devon and
Cornwall.
It was not till about fifty years later that Caradoc
Strong-i'-th'-Arm, the son of a granddaughter of
Brychan and prince of Gallewig, the region about
Callington, marched westward from the Severn, and
expelled the invaders, and recovered Brecknockshire.
When the great migration took place it comprised
not only the family of King Brychan, but
also the Gwentian royal family, that was allied to
it by blood.
Of course there has accumulated a certain amount
of legend about Brychan, and we cannot really be
sure that such a person ever existed; that, in fact,
the name is not really that of a clan, for Breogan,
which is the same as the Welsh Brychan, was the
reputed ancestor of one of the branches of the
// 017.png
.pn +1
Scots or Irish who migrated, according to legend,
from Spain to the Emerald Isle.[1]
What is true is that a certain Irish clan did invade
and occupy Brecknock and Carmarthen, as well as
Pembrokeshire, and that about 530 they were driven
out of the two first counties, and that they thereupon
invaded and occupied North-East Cornwall from
Padstow harbour, and the north of Devon as far
as Exmoor. This was not by any means a first
descent. The whole coast had been a prey to
invasions from Ireland for two centuries. On this
occasion among the Irish-Welsh from Gwent and
Brecknock came a great number of saints, that is
to say, princes and princesses devoted to the
ecclesiastical profession. The significance of this
I shall explain presently.
I will here only point out that almost all the
foundations of churches in North-east Cornwall were
made by members of the same Gwent-Brecknock
family. Is there, it may be asked, any Irish record
of this invasion? We have a good many records
of earlier forays and occupations of Britain by the
Irish, but of this particular one only a somewhat
confused legend. There was a certain Princess
Earca, married to a king named Saran, in Ireland,
who was much engaged in raids in Britain. She
was the daughter of Loarn, king of Alba or
Scotland, from whom Lorn takes its name, the date
of whose birth is given by the Irish annalists as
taking place in 434. He was, in fact, one of the
Irish Ulster adventurers who invaded Scotland.
// 018.png
.pn +1
Earca ran away from her husband to be with
Murtogh, a distant cousin of Saran, and she bore
him four sons. The most noted of all was Murtogh
MacEarca, who in time became king of Ireland.
Saran then married Earca's sister, and by her
became the father of S. Cairnech and Lurig, king
of the Scots (Irish) in Britain. Murtogh having
committed several murders in Ireland, fled for
protection to his grandfather, Loarn, in Alba, and
murdered him. Thereupon he was banished from
what we now call Scotland. He went to his cousin
S. Cairnech to bless his arms, as it was his intention
to offer his services to one of the kings of Britain,
and do as much fighting as came in his way. Before
leaving Cairnech he murdered in cold blood his cousin
Luirig, and carried off his wife.
In Britain this ruffian, we are told, became the
father of Constantine and Goidel Ficht, who became
the reigning princes in Cornwall.
Murtogh was back in Ireland in 488, for we find
him there fighting; and he remained there stirring
up strife, and a cause of bloodshed till he was elected
king of Ireland in 508.
Now, Murtogh most certainly when he went to
Britain led a body of adventurers like himself. He
is said to have been the father of Goidel Ficht, who
remained there as sovereign. Now, Goidel Fichti
signifies the Irish Picts, neither more nor less, a
generic name, and his fatherhood of the Irish Picts
means no more than that his clan or horde, which
swooped down on Cornwall and Wales, regarded
themselves as Hy Murtogh.
// 019.png
.pn +1
It is rather remarkable that his cousin, the whole
brother of S. Cairnech, was named Broechan or
Brychan.
Now, in this story, attached to a perfectly historical
character, I cannot but suspect that we have a reference
to a descent on Wales and Cornwall in or about
470-480.
Perhaps it may interest the reader to hear what
was the end of this ruffian.
On his return to Ireland he brawled and fought till
he became king in 508.
He was married to a good wife named Duiseach,
and had by her a family, but he fell under the fascinations
of a beautiful woman called Shin, whereupon
he turned away his wife; and--by the witchcraft, so
it was supposed, of the witch--one after another of
his children was carried off by disease, possibly by
poison. Duiseach fled for refuge to S. Cairnech, who
blessed her and all who would take up her cause, and
gathered together a body of men resolved on fighting
to replace her. Cairnech gave a book and his staff
to be carried to battle before the host.
Now it happened that in a battle fought in 524
Murtogh had killed Shin's father and brother, and
though the beautiful woman continued to exercise
her blandishments on the king, she had vowed
revenge in her heart against him. She awaited
her opportunity. It came on the eve of Samhain,
All Hallows, when high revelry was kept in the
hall at Cletty, where Murtogh was residing. She
had the hall secretly surrounded by her men, and
herself set fire to it. Murtogh was very drunk, the
// 020.png
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fire caught his clothes, and, unable to escape by the
doors, which were guarded, he threw himself into a
vat of wine to quench the flames, and so perished,
partly by fire, partly by wine, in 527.
It is possible--I cannot say more--that as this
incursion, mentioned by the Irish writers, took place
precisely at the period of the Brychan descent,
it may refer to it, and that Brychan may actually
have been Murtogh's half-brother, who accompanied
him to Britain to carve out for himself a
kingdom.
III. The third group is likewise Irish, but unmixed
with Welsh elements. This consists of a
swarm, or succession of swarms, that descended
about the year 500 upon the Land's End and Lizard
district.
Concerning them we know something more than
we do about the second group.
Happily Leland, who visited Cornwall in the
reign of Henry VIII., made extracts from their
legends then in existence, very scanty extracts, but
nevertheless precious. Moreover, we have one complete
legend, that of S. Fingar or Gwinear, written
by a Saxon monk of the name of Anselm. And
we have the lives of many of those who made a
temporary stay in the Land's End and Lizard
districts, preserved in Irish MSS.
IV. A fourth group is that of saints, half Welsh
and half Breton, who made a short stay in Cornwall
on their way to and fro.
According to Celtic law, all sons equally divided
the inheritance and principalities of their father.
// 021.png
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The consequence was that on the death of a king
the most masterful of his sons cut the throats of
such of his brothers as he could lay hold of. And
as these little games were enacted periodically in
Brittany, the breath was no sooner out of the body
of a prince than such sons as felt that they had no
chance of maintaining their rights made a bolt of it,
crossed into Cornwall, and either halted there or
passed through it on their way to Wales, where they
very generally got married.
Then either they or their sons returned to Cornwall
and lingered there, watching events in Brittany
for the safe moment to go back and reassert their
rights, and as they rarely could recover princely
rights, they became ecclesiastics; a compromise was
effected, and they were allowed to return and set up
as founders of saintly tribes.
Whilst they tarried in Cornwall they occupied
their leisure in founding churches.
Such was S. Samson, with his disciples S. Mewan,
S. Austell, and S. Erme.
Such again was S. Padarn, who established a large
settlement where are the Petherwins.
When Samson crossed from Wales to Cornwall on
his way to Brittany, he sent word to Padarn that he
was going to visit him. They were first cousins.
Padarn heard the news just as he had left his bed,
and had pulled on one shoe and stocking. So
delighted was he to hear that Samson was approaching
that he ran to meet him with one leg and foot
shod and the other bare.
Samson founded churches at Southill and Golant.
// 022.png
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V. A fifth group consists of importations. In the
year 919 or 920, on account of the devastations of
the Normans, Brittany was almost depopulated.
The Count of Poher fled with a number of his
Bretons to Athelstan, and he took with him Alan
his son, afterwards called Barbe-torte, who was Athelstan's
godson. At this date Athelstan could do little
for them; he did not ascend the throne till 924, and
it was not till 926 that he defeated Howel, king
of the West Welsh, as the Cornish and Devon
Britons were called, and forced him to submission.
In 935 Athelstan passed through Cornwall to Land's
End and Scilly, and possibly enough he may have
then allowed some of these fugitive Bretons to settle
in Cornwall; and this explains the existence there
of churches bearing the names of merely local and
uninteresting saints, as S. Meriadoc at Camborne,
S. Moran, and S. Corentin of Cury. These foundations
mean no more than that some of the Breton
settlers had brought with them the relics of their
patrons in Rennes, Nantes, and Quimper. But an
early Celtic foundation had quite another meaning.
Among the Celts churches were not generally called
after dead saints, but after their founders. The
process of consecration was this:--
A saint went to a spot where a bit of territory had
been granted him, and fasted there for forty days and
nights, and continued instant in prayer, partaking
of a single meal in the day, that plain, and indulging
in an egg only on Sundays. At the conclusion
of this period the llan or cell was his for ever inalienably,
and ever after it bore his name. Moreover,
// 023.png
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among Celtic saints there existed quite a rage after
multiplication of foundations, daltha churches, as
they were called. Unless a saint could point to his
baker's dozen of churches founded by himself, he
was nought. But not all churches bearing a saint's
name, say that of Petrock, were founded by him
in person. A saint was supposed never to die, never
to let go his hold over his territory. And when in
after-years a chief surrendered land to a monastery,
he gave it, not to the community, but to the saint;
and the church built on that land would bear the
name of the saint whose property it was.
The reader may like to hear something about the
organisation of the Church in Celtic lands. But to
understand this I must first very shortly explain the
political organisation.
This among all Celtic people was tribal. The
tribe, cinnel, clan, was under a chief, who had his dun
or fort. Every subdivision of the tribe had also its
camp of refuge and its headman.
When the British became Christian, Christianity in
no way altered their political organisation. This
we may see from the conduct of S. Patrick, who
converted the Irish. He left their organisation
untouched, and accommodated his arrangements for
the religious supervision of the people to that, as
almost certainly it existed in Britain, except perhaps
in the Roman colonial cities.
Now this was very peculiar, quite unlike anything
that existed in the civilised Roman world.
This organisation consisted in the creation of an
ecclesiastical tribe side by side with the tribe of the
// 024.png
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land. The saint was given by the king or chief
a certain territory, and at once he set to work
thereon to constitute an ecclesiastical tribe subject
to his rule, precisely similar to the secular tribe
subject to the rule of the chieftain. A rill of water
usually divided the two settlements. The idea of
the church and the priest in the midst of the tribe
of the land, acting as chapel and chaplain did to the
Saxon thane or the Norman baron, did not occur
to the Celt. The two tribes coexisted as separate
units, but tied together by reciprocal rights.
The saint having been given a bit of land, at once
constituted his sanctuary. He put up stones or
crosses marking his bounds, a thousand paces from
his cell, in a circle.
Every noble, arglwyd, or flath exercised rights
of sanctuary, and the extent of his sanctuary constituted
his llan, or lawn. The lowest grade of noble
had the limits of his lawn marked at the distance
of three throws of a spear or a ploughshare from his
door; the rig or king had his as far as sixty-four
pitches.
Now all those who took refuge within the lawn
had sanctuary for a limited period, and the noble
or the saint employed this time of respite to come
to terms with the prosecutor, and furnish the fine
(eric) appointed by law for the offence committed
by the refugee. If he could not pay the fine he
surrendered the man who had come for sanctuary,
but if he paid it, thenceforth that man became his
client, and he provided him with a bod or both, a
habitation, and land to cultivate; he became one
// 025.png
.pn +1
of his men. This was an important means whereby
the saint recruited his tribe.
Throughout Cornwall a number of sanctuaries,
remain, under the name of "sentry fields." If we
could find out how many and where they are, we
should know what were the mother llans of the
early saints.
But a saintly tribe was recruited in another way.
Every firstling of the secular tribe was made over
to the saint: the first son of a family, the first lamb
and calf. The son did not necessarily become an
ecclesiastic, but he passed into the ecclesiastical
tribe, and became subject to the jurisdiction of the
saint.
But it may be asked, What happened when the
saint died?
Every chief had his taanist, or successor, appointed
during his life, and enjoying certain privileges. So
every saint had his coarb chosen to rule in his
name, his steward, his representative on earth.
Here came in an usage very strange to Latin
minds. The coarb must be of the royal or chieftain's
race, and the right to rule in the ecclesiastical
tribe belonged to the founder's family, and was
hereditary, whether he were in ecclesiastical orders or
not, to a female as well as to a male. Thus, although
in an ecclesiastical establishment there was always
a bishop to confer orders, he did not exercise jurisdiction.
The rule was in the hands of the head
of the sacred tribe. Thus S. Bridget kept her tame
bishop, Conlaeth, who was wholly under petticoat
government. He did kick once, and was devoured
// 026.png
.pn +1
of wolves as a judgment, having strayed, against
Bridget's orders, among the mountains. S. Ninnocha
had as many as four bishops under her command.
Bishop Etchen was subject to the jurisdiction of
S. Columba, who was in priest's orders.
The Celtic Church as we know it, till gradually
brought under Roman discipline, was purely
monastic. The monasteries were the centres whence
the ministry of souls was exercised. Within the
sanctuary a rampart was thrown up, generally of
earth, and within this was the church, and about
it the separate circular cells occupied by the monks.
Outside the sanctuary and throughout the lands
belonging to the saint lived those subject to the
rule of the saint or his coarb.
There was a right exercised by the saint which
had previously been accorded to the bard. It was
that of ill-wishing. The right was a legal one, but
hedged about with restrictions. A bard, and after
him a saint, might not ill-wish unless he had been
refused a just request. If he ill-wished unjustly,
then it was held that the ill-wish returned on the
head of him who had launched it.
And there can be no doubt that this legal power
conferred on the saints inspired terror. If a chief's
horse fell under him, or his cows refused their milk,
if he got a bad cold or rheumatic pains, he immediately
supposed that he had been ill-wished, and sent
for the saint, and endeavoured to satisfy him.
That this supposed power may have been employed
occasionally for ambitious purposes is likely
enough, but in general it was exercised only for
// 027.png
.pn +1
good, to release captives, to mitigate barbarities, to
stay bloodshed, to protect the weak against the strong.
A cheap and easy way of explaining the exercise
of this power by the saints is that of saying that
they traded on the credulity of the people. But it is,
I am sure, a false appreciation. They were of the
people, steeped in their ideas, and did not rise above
them. To trade on credulity implies a superiority
they did not possess. Besides, it was the exercise of
a formal legal right.
There is one rather significant feature in all the
missionary work of the Celtic saints which contrasts
sharply with that of our modern emissaries into
"foreign parts."
What we do is to collect moneys and start a
missioner, who, wherever he goes, draws for his
supplies on the mother-country, and depends, and
his entire mission depends, on the charity of those
at home. The Celtic method was absolutely the
reverse. The missioner went among strange people,
and threw himself on their hospitality. That is just
one of the great virtues of a savage race, and these
Celtic saints caught at the one noble trait in the
characters of the half-barbarians among whom they
went, and worked upon that and from that point.
The chiefs and kings felt themselves bound in
hospitality to maintain them, to protect them, and
to give them settlements. How strongly this feeling
operated may be judged by an instance in the life
of S. Patrick, who went to Laogaire, the Irish king,
without any backing up from behind and without
presents. When Laogaire refused Patrick something
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.pn +1
he wanted, the apostle and his little band refused to
eat. The king was so alarmed lest they should be
starved to death, and it be imputed to him as due to
his niggardliness, that he gave way, and let Patrick
have what he desired.
But this system worked on the material interests of
the chiefs. They argued in their calculating way,
"Here are all these missionaries. We have been
feeding them, giving them land and cattle; it is a
drain on our resources. We must really get something
out of them in return."
And so, out of that frugal mind which was not the
exclusive prerogative of Mrs. Gilpin, they accepted
the gospel--at least, the ministrations of the saints--as
a return for what they had themselves granted
them: acres and cows.
There is a story in the life of S. Bridget that
illustrates this somewhat sordid view taken of their
dealings with the saints.
Bridget's father had been lent a sword by King
Illand, son of Dunlaing of Leinster. He asked his
daughter to negotiate with the king that this sword
should become his personal property. She agreed.
At the same time one of Illand's men threw himself
upon her, and begged her to put him into her
tribe. So she asked the king for two things: the
man and the sword.
"Humph!" said he. "What am I to have in
return?"
"I will obtain for you eternal life, for one thing,
and for the other the assurance that the crown shall
remain to your sons."
// 029.png
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"As to eternal life," replied the practical and
sceptical king, "I have never seen it, and so do not
know what it is worth; as to the boys, if they are
worth their salt, they will maintain their own rights.
Give me victory over those Ulster rascals, and you
shall have my man and the sword."
So Bridget agreed to this.
These Celtic saints certainly appropriated to themselves
the right of the keys, to give heaven to whom
they would, and to exclude from it whoever offended
them. Of course they could appeal to the Bible for
their authority, and who were these half-wild men to
dispute it with them and quibble the text away?
That they were sincere in their belief that the power
of the keys was given to them is certain.
I have mentioned reciprocal rights.
Now one of those demanded of the saint by the
chief of the land was to march with him to battle
and to curse his enemies.
This had been what was expected and exacted
of the chief Druid; and in this, as in many another
particular, the saint stepped into the shoes of the
Druid. This is frankly enough admitted in one life,
in which we are told that the king sent for S.
Finnchu to curse his enemies, because the Druid was
too old and feeble to do the job effectively.
When a saint passed out of this world he left
a bell, a book, or a crosier, to be the cathair of the
tribe, and his coarb marched with it in his name
before the tribesmen.
When the tribe was successful in battle, then
certain dues were paid to the saint for his assistance.
// 030.png
.pn +1
In the lives of some of the early Celtic saints we are
told strange stories of their self-mortification, their
rigorous fasts. This was due to a very curious cause.
According to the Celtic law of distress, the
appellant took the matter into his own hands. There
was no executive administration of law. Everyone
who was aggrieved had to exact the penalty as best
he might. If he were too weak to recover the
penalty by force, then the legal proceeding for him
was to fast against the debtor or aggressor. He sat
down at his door and starved himself. The person
fasted against almost always gave way, as the fact
of the institution of the fast doubled the fine, and as
he did not venture to allow the creditor to proceed
to the last extremities lest he should entail on himself
a blood feud.
When S. Patrick wanted to carry a point with
King Lear (Laogaire) he adopted this method and
succeeded, and the king gave way.
There is a very odd story--of course mere legend--of
S. Germanus when he came to Britain to oppose
the Pelagian heresy. He found one particular city
mightily opposed to the orthodox doctrine, and as
he could not convince the citizens by reasoning with
them, he and his attendant clerks sat down at the
gates and starved themselves to force the citizens
into adopting the true faith.
The same law of distress is found in the code of
Menu, and the British Government has had to
forbid the dharma--i.e. the legal fasting against a
creditor--from being put in practice in India.
Now, very naturally, and by an easy transition,
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the early Celtic saints carried their legal ideas into
their religion, and just as when S. Patrick, wanting
something from King Lear, fasted against him till he
obtained it, so did the followers of Patrick, when
they desired something of God for themselves or for
others, proceed against Him by the legal method of
levying a distress.
This is frankly admitted in an odd story in the
Book of Lismore. Three clerks agreed together that
they would each recite a certain number of psalms
daily, and that should one die the other two would
share his psalms between them. All went smoothly
enough for a while. Then one died, whereupon the
survivors divided his portion of the Psalter between
them. But soon after a second died, whereat the
third found himself saddled with the sets of psalms
that appertained to both the others. He was very
angry. He thought the Almighty had dealt unfairly
by him in letting the other two off so lightly
and overburdening him, and in a fit of spleen and
resentment he fasted against Him.
But this view of asceticism was held only at the
outset, and rapidly sounder ideas gained the mastery,
and we find self-denial in the saints assume quite
another complexion.
An instance in point is in the life of S. Columba.
One day he saw a poor widow gathering stinging-nettles,
and he asked her why she did it. "For
the pot," said she; "I have no other food."
The good old man was troubled. He went back
to the monastery and said to the cook, "I will eat
nettles only now."
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.pn +1
When this had gone on for some time, his disciple
who cooked the nettles for him saw that he was
falling away in flesh, so he took a hollow elder-stick,
put butter into the tube, and by this means
enriched the dish.
S. Columba said, "The nettles do not taste as
before. They have a richer flavour. What have
you done to them?"
"Master dear," answered his disciple, "I have put
nothing into the pot but this stick, wherewith I
stirred its contents."
Nor were they pedantic in observance of rule.
Travellers came to S. Cronan, and he had meat
and ale set on the board, and he himself and his
monks sat down to make merry with them.
"Humph!" said a formalist among them, "at this
rate I do not see much prospect of matins being
said."
"My friend," answered Cronan, "in receiving
strangers we receive Christ; as to the matins, the
angels will sing them in our room."
Finding that some travellers had wandered all
night unable to find shelter, "This will never do,"
said he; "I shall move my quarters to the roadside."
Though rough in their treatment of themselves,
they were tender-hearted and kind to bird and beast
and man. It was through a frightened fawn flying
for refuge to S. Petrock that Constantine was
brought to repentance. S. Columba prayed with
his arms extended till the birds perched on his
hands. Another Columba, the founder, as I suspect,
// 033.png
.pn +1
of Columb Major and Minor, was almost incommoded
with their affection, fluttering about his
face.
"How is it," asked one of his disciples, "that the
birds avoid us and gather round you?"
"Is it not natural," answered the saint, "that
birds should come to a bird?"
A play on his name, for Columba signifies a
dove.
S. Cainnech saw a rich lady with a starved dog.
"Who feeds that poor brute?" he asked.
"I do," answered the lady.
"Feed it? Maltreat it. Go and eat what you
cast to the poor hound, and in a week return and
tell me how you relish such treatment."
One day an abbot saw a little bird with drooping
wings.
"Why is the poor thing so wretched?" he asked.
"Do you not know," said a bystander, "that
Molua is dead? He was full of pity to all animals.
Never did he injure one. Do you marvel then that
the little birds lament his decease?"
It was the same with regard to children.
One day King Eochaid sent his little son with a
message to S. Maccarthen. The child's mother gave
him an apple to eat on the way. The boy played
with it, and it rolled from him and was lost. He
hunted for his apple till the sun set, and then, tired,
laid himself down in the middle of the road
and fell asleep. Maccarthen was going along the
road and found the sleeping child there. He at
once wrapped his mantle round him, and sat by
// 034.png
.pn +1
him all night. Many horsemen and cars passed
before the child woke, but the old man made them
get by as best they might, and he would neither
suffer the child to be disturbed, nor let an accident
befall him in the dark.
Great as were the powers conferred on the Celtic
saints or arrogated to themselves, there can be no
doubt but that they employed them mainly as a
means of delivering the innocent, and in putting
down barbarous customs.
S. Erc--in Cornwall Erth--made use of his
influence to prevent the king of Connaught from
baptising his new lance, after pagan custom, in the
blood of an infant; S. Euny his in rescuing a boy
from being tossed on the spears of some soldiers.
Again, finding after a battle that it was the custom
to cut off the heads of all who had fallen, and stack
them at the king's door to be counted, he with
difficulty induced the victors to take turves instead
of the heads.
I do not think we at all adequately appreciate
the service the saints rendered to the Celtic nations
in raising the tone of appreciation of woman.
Next to founding their own monastic establishments,
they were careful to induce their mothers
or sisters to establish communities for the education
of the daughters of the chiefs and of all such maidens
as would be entrusted to them.
The estimation in which woman had been held
was very low. In the gloss to the law of
Adamnán is a description of her position in the
house. A trench three feet deep was dug between
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.pn +1
the door and the hearth, and in this, in a condition
almost of nudity, the women spent the day cooking,
and making candles out of mutton suet. In the
evening they were required to hold these candles
whilst the men caroused and feasted, and then were
sent to sleep in kennels, like dogs, outside the house
as guardians, lest a hostile attack should be made
during the darkness.
The current coin seems to have been, in Ireland,
a serving-maid, for all fines were calculated by
cumals--that is, maidservants--and the value of one
woman was the same as that of three cows.
A brother of one of the saints came to him to
say that he was bankrupt; he owed a debt of seven
maidservants to his creditor, and could not rake so
many together. The saint paid the fine in cows.
Bridget's mother was sold as a slave by the father
of Bridget to a Druid, and the father afterwards
tried to sell his daughter; but as the idea had got
about that she was wasteful in the kitchen, he could
not find a purchaser.
But this condition of affairs was rapidly altered,
and it was so through the influence of the saints
and the foundation of the great schools for girls
by Bridget, Itha, Brig, and Buriana.
Till the times of Adamnán women were called out
to fight as well as the men, and dared not refuse the
summons. Their exemption was due to this abbot.
He came on a field of battle and saw one woman
who had driven a reaping-hook into the bosom of
another, and was dragging her away thereby.
Horror-struck, he went about among the kings of
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.pn +1
Ireland and insisted on the convocation of an
assembly in which he carried a law that women were
thenceforth exempted from this odious obligation.
I have but touched the fringe of a great subject,
which is one that has been unduly neglected. The
early history of Cornwall is inextricably mixed up
with that of the saints who settled there, or who
sprang from the native royal family. We have
unhappily no annals, hardly a Cornish record, of
those early times. Irish, Welsh, Bretons, have been
wiser, and have preserved theirs; and it is to them we
are forced to appeal to know anything of the early
history of our peninsula. As to the saintly lives, it
is true that they contain much fable; but we know
that they were originally written by contemporaries,
or by writers very near the time. S. Columba of
Tir-da-Glas, whom I take to have been the founder
of the two Columbs in Cornwall and Culbone in
Somersetshire, caught one of his disciples acting as
his Boswell, noting down what he said and did, and
he was so angry that he took the MS. and threw it in
the fire, and insisted on none of his pupils attempting
to write his life.
S. Erc was wont to retire in Lent to jot down his
reminiscences of S. Patrick. The writer of the Life
of S. Abban says, "I who have composed this am the
grandson of him whom S. Abban baptised." But
about the eleventh century a fashion set in for rewriting
these histories and elaborating the simple
narratives into marvellous tales of miracle, just as
in James I.'s reign the grand simple old ballads of the
English nation were recomposed in stilted style that
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robbed them of all their poetry and most of their
value.
Now it is almost always possible to disengage the
plain threads of history from the flourish and frippery
that was woven in at this late period. The eye of
the superficial reader is at once caught by all the
foolery of grotesque miracle, and turns in disgust
from the narrative; but if these histories be critically
examined, it will almost always be found that the
substratum is historical.
Surely it affords an interest, and gives a zest to
an excursion into Cornwall, when we know something
of the founders of the churches, and they stand
out before us as living, energetic characters, with
some faults, but many virtues, and are to us no
longer nuda nomina.
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.pm heading2 holywells "CHAPTER II." "THE HOLY WELLS"
.pm onhanghead
S. Patrick in Ireland--A pagan holy well--S. Samson--Celtic saints
very particular about the water they drank--S. Piran and S.
Germoe--S. Erth and the goose-eggs--S. Sithney and the polluted
well--Dropping of pins into wells--Hanging rags about--Well-chapel
of S. Clether--Venton Ia--Jordan wells--Gwennap ceremony--Fice's
well--Modern stupidity about contaminated water.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "The"
system adopted by S. Patrick in Ireland
was that of making as little alteration as he
could in the customs of the people, except only
when such customs were flatly opposed to the
precepts of the gospel. He did not overthrow their
lechs or pillar-stones; he simply cut crosses on them.
When he found that the pagans had a holy well, he
contented himself with converting the well into a
baptistery. It is a question of judgment whether
to wean people gently and by slow degrees from
their old customs, or whether wholly to forbid these
usages. S. Patrick must have known perfectly what
the episcopal system was in Gaul, yet when he came
into a land where the Roman territorial organisation
had never prevailed, he accommodated Christian
Church government to the conditions of Celtic tribal
organisation.
He found that the Irish, like all other Celtic
// 039.png
// 040.png
// 041.png
.pn +1
peoples, held wells in great veneration. He did not
preach against this, denounce it as idolatrous, or pass
canons condemning it. He quietly appropriated
these wells to the service of the Church, and made
of them baptisteries.
What Patrick did in Ireland was what had been
done elsewhere.
When S. Samson was travelling in Cornwall
between Padstow and Southill, and visited his
cousin Padarn on the way; at a place called Tregear
he found the people dancing round an upright stone,
and offering it idolatrous worship. He did not
smash it in pieces. He contented himself with
cutting a cross on it.
Now the Celtic saints were mighty choice in their
tipple. They insisted on having the purest of water
for their drink; and not only did they require it for
imbibing, but they did a great deal of tubbing.
One day S. Germoe paid S. Piran a visit; after
they had prayed together, "It is my tubbing time,"
said Piran. "Will you have a bath too?" "With
the greatest of pleasure," responded Germoe. So the
two saints got into the tub together. But the water
was so cold that Germoe's teeth began to chatter,
and he put one leg over the edge, intending to
scramble out. "Nonsense!" said Piran; "bide in a
bit, and you will feel the cold less sharply."
Germoe did this. Presently Piran yelled out,
"Heigh! a fish! a fish!" and, between them, the two
nude saints succeeded in capturing a trout that was
in the vat.
"I rejoice that we have the trout," said Piran,
// 042.png
.pn +1
"for I am expecting home my old pupil Carthagh,
and I was short of victuals. We will cook it for his
supper."
Some of the saints had the fancy for saying their
prayers standing up to their necks in water.
There is a story of S. Erc, the S. Erth of Land's
End district, to the purpose, but I admit it is on late
authority.
Domnhal, king of Ireland, sent his servants to
collect goose-eggs. They found a woman carrying
a black basket on her head piled up with the eggs
of geese. The king's servants demanded them, but
she answered that they were intended as a present
to Erc, who spent the day immersed to the armpits
in running water, with his Psalter on the bank,
from which he recited the psalms. In the evening
he emerged from his bath, shook himself, and ate an
egg and a half together with three bunches of watercress.
However, regardless of the saint's necessities, the
servants carried the eggs away.
When S. Erc came out of the river, dripping from
every limb, and found there were no eggs for his
supper, he waxed warm, and roundly cursed the
rascals who had despoiled him, and those who had
set them on, and all such as should eat them.
The story goes on to tell how these eggs became
veritable apples of discord, breeding internecine
strife.
But to return to the wells.
Whether taught by experience, or illumined by
the light of nature, I cannot say, but most assuredly
// 043.png
.pn +1
the saints of Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall were
vastly particular as to their wells being of the
purest and coldest water obtainable.
S. Senan had settled for a while by a well in
Inis Caorach, and one day his disciple Setna--our
Cornish Sithney--found a woman washing her
child's dirty clothes in the fountain. He flew into
a fury, and his companion Liberius was equally
abusive in the language employed. Shortly after
the boy tumbled over the rocks into the sea. The
distracted mother ran to S. Senan, and when he
heard the circumstances, assuming that this was due
to the imprecations called down on the woman and
her child by his two pupils, he bade both of them
depart and not see his face again, unless the child
should be produced uninjured. Setna and Liberius
sneaked away very disconsolate, but as they happily
found the lad on the beach uninjured, they were
once more received into favour.
It is unnecessary here to repeat all the hackneyed
references to the cult of fountains among the Celts;
they may be taken for granted. We know that such
was the case, and that the same cult continues very
little altered among the Irish and Breton peasantry to
the present day. In Cornwall there is now little or
none of it. "When I was a man I put away childish
things," says S. Paul, and the same applies to
peoples. When they are in their cultural childhood
they have their superstitious beliefs and practices; but
they grow out of them, and we pity those who stick
in the observance of usages that are unreasonable.
In pagan times money was dropped into wells
// 044.png
.pn +1
and springs, and divination was taken from the rising
of bubbles. Now the only relic of such a proceeding
is the dropping in of pins or rush crosses.
Wells were also sought for curative purposes, and
unquestionably some springs have medicinal qualities,
but these are entirely unconnected with the saints,
and depend altogether on their chemical constituents.
It is said that rags may still be seen on the bushes
about Madron well as they are about holy wells
in Ireland and about the tombs of fakirs and
Mussulman saints. I doubt if any Cornish people
are so foolish as to do such a thing as suspend rags
about a well with the idea of these rags serving as
an oblation to the patron of the spring for the sake
of obtaining benefits from him.
In Pembrokeshire till quite recently persons, even
Dissenters, were wont to drink water from S. Teilo's
well out of a portion of the reputed skull of S.
Teilo, of which the Melchior family are the hereditary
custodians.
The immersing of the bone of a saint in water,
and the drinking of the water thus rendered salutary,
is still practised in Brittany. This was done when
Ireland was pagan; but the bones soaked were those
of Druids.
There is a curious illustration, as I take it, of this
practice in S. Clether's well chapel, recently restored.
Here the stone altar remains in situ; it has never
been disturbed.
.pm illo i_046 i_046.jpg 700px "WELL-CHAPEL OF S. CLETHER"
S. Clether was the son of Clydwyn, prince of
Carmarthen and grandson of Brychan. He came
to Cornwall in consequence of the invasion of his
// 045.png
// 046.png
// 047.png
.pn +1
territories by Dyfnwal, and here he spent a great
part of his life, and died at an advanced age. He
settled in the Inney valley in a most picturesque
spot between great ruins of rock, where a
perennial spring of the coolest, clearest water
gushes forth. There can be very little doubt that
S. Clether employed this spring as his baptistery,
for the traditional usage of fetching water from it
for baptisms in the parish church has lingered on
there.
The holy well lies north-east of the chapel or
oratory. When the chapel was reconstructed in
the fifteenth century the water from the holy well
was conveyed in a cut granite channel under the
wall, and came sparkling forth in a sort of locker
on the right side of the altar in the thickness of the
wall.
To reach this there was a descent of a step in
the floor. Thence the water flowed away underground,
and gushed forth in a second holy well,
constructed in the depth of the chapel wall outside
on the south near the east end. Consequently there
are two holy wells. The first, I take it, was the
baptismal well; the second was used to drink
from. A relic of the saint was placed in the channel
where exposed; the water flowed over it, acquired
miraculous virtues, and was drunk at the second
well outside the chapel by those who desired
healing.
That there was a further significance in the
management of the course of the water I do not
doubt.
// 048.png
.pn +1
An attempt was made to carry out the imagery
of the vision of the holy waters in Ezekiel:--
.pm onblock
"Afterward he brought me again unto the door of the
house; and, behold, waters issued out from under the
threshold of the house eastward: for the forefront of the
house stood toward the east, and the waters came down
from under from the right side of the house, at the south
side of the altar." (xlvii. I.)
.pm offblock
.pm illo i_039 i_039.jpg 499px "S. MELOR'S WELL, LINKINHORNE"
Cornwall possesses a vast number of holy wells,
many of them in very bad repair. That at S. Cleer
has been restored admirably; Dupath is in perfect
condition; that of S. Guron at Bodmin has been
restored; S. Melor's well at Linkinhorn is very
beautiful and in perfect condition; S. John's well,
Morwenstow, S. Julian's, Mount Edgcumbe, S.
Indract's in the parish of S. Dominic, the well of
S. Sidwell and S. Wulvella at Laneast, S. Samson's,
Southill, Menacuddle, S. Anne's, Whitstone, S.
Neot's, S. Nin's, Pelynt, Roche, S. Ruan's, are in
good condition, but many are ruinous, or have
been so altered as to have lost their interest. That
of S. Mawes has been built up, and two great cast-iron
pipes carried up from it for the circulation
of air over the water, which is drawn away to a
tap which supplies the town or village.[2]
Here is a melancholy account of the condition to
which a holy well has sunk:--
.pm onblock
"Venton Eia (S. Ia's well), on the cliff overlooking
Porthmeor.--This ancient well, associated with the memory
// 049.png
.pn +1
of the patron saint of the town (S. Ives), was formerly held
in the highest reverence. Entries occur in the borough
records of sums paid for cleansing and repairing it, under
1668-9 and 1692-3. On the last of these occasions the
well was covered, faced, and floored with hewn granite
blocks in two compartments. It is still known as 'the
Wishing Well,' from the old custom of divination by crooked
pins dropped into the water. For some years past, however,
this ancient source of purity has been shamefully
outraged by contact with all that is foul. Close to it is
a cluster of sties, known as 'Pig's Town,' and the well
has become the receptacle for stinking fish and all kinds
of offal. Just above it are the walls of the new cemetery.
All veneration for this spot, so dear to countless generations
of our forefathers, seems to have departed."[3]
.pm offblock
The well of S. Bridget at Landue remains, but
the saint's chapel is gone. Stables near the well
are thought to have polluted the water, and the
well is closed lest the incautious should drink of
the reputedly contaminated waters.
There are a good many holy wells in Devon also,
but none of mark. At Sticklepath above the
well rises a very early inscribed stone. There is a
holy well, ruinous, at Halwell, one, probably of S. Lo,
at Broadwood, one at Ermington, from which water
is still drawn for baptisms, one at Lifton, one at
Ashburton, probably dedicated to S. Wulvela. S.
Sidwell and S. Anne each has her well at Exeter,
and the water of the latter has of late become of
repute, and is in request under the form of beer.
It supplies a brewery.
// 050.png
.pn +1
When S. Cadoc returned from the Holy Land
he brought with him a bottle of water from the
Jordan, and poured it into a well in Cornwall.
None that I know of bears his name, but that at
Laneast is called Jordan well.
There is a very singular custom still observed in
connection with a stream in place of a holy well at
Gwennap. There, on Good Friday, children seek
two spots by a stream to baptise their dolls. This
can be due only to a dim reminiscence of baptising
in the open.
In addition to the holy wells, there are the pixy
wells, where the ancient spirits have not been
dispossessed by the saints.
Poughill parish takes its name from a puck or
pisgie well.
Fice's well, near Prince Town, has on it "J. F.
1568." John Fitz, the astrologer, and his lady were
once pixy-led whilst riding on Dartmoor. After long
wanderings in the vain effort to find their way, they
lighted on a pure spring, drank of it; and their eyes
were opened to know where they were and which
was their right direction. In gratitude for this
deliverance, old John Fitz caused the stone memorial
to be set over the spring for the advantage of all
pixy-led wanderers. Alas! the convict establishment
has enclosed the moor all round, and now this
well, though intact, no longer stands, as I remember
it, in wild moorland, but enclosed by a protecting
wall in a field.
In a certain large village of which I know something
water was introduced by means of earthenware
// 051.png
.pn +1
pipes for a considerable distance, and then conveyed
to taps at convenient spots by iron and lead.
Now there was one of these taps placed outside
the Board school. The master said within himself,
"If I go to the tap, I shall have to pay the water
rate, which will be very heavy; if I never turn the
tap, I surely cannot be required to pay. So I know
what I will do. Go to! I will draw all my water
from the well in the yard of the farm at the back of
my premises."
He did so, and lost his wife and child by diphtheria.
Verily even modern Board school masters might
learn something from these wild old pure water-loving
Celtic saints.
.pm onblock
Note.--Book on Cornish Holy Wells:--
Quiller-Couch (M. and L.), Ancient and Holy Wells of Cornwall.
London: Clark, 1894.
.pm offblock
// 052.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 cornishcrosses "CHAPTER III." "CORNISH CROSSES"
.pm onhanghead
Abundance of crosses--The menhîr--Crosses marked the limits of a
Llan--Crosses marked places for public prayer--Instance of a
Cornish Dissenter--Churches anciently few and far between--The
cross erected where was no church--Which therefore precedes the
village church--Crosses as waymarks--The Abbot's Way--Interlaced
work--The plait a subject for study.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "There"
is no county in England where crosses
abound as they do in Cornwall. Second to it
comes Devonshire. Indeed, on Dartmoor and in the
west of the latter county they are as numerous as
in Cornwall.
Their origin is various.
In the first place, where the pagans worshipped a
menhîr or standing stone, there it was Christianised
by being turned into a cross. In the second place,
crosses marked the bounds of a minihi or llan, the
sanctuary of the saint.
.pm illo i_053 i_053.jpg 644px "CROSS, S. LEVAN"
Then, again, the Celtic churches were very small,
mere oratories, that could not possibly contain a
moderate congregation. The saints took their
station at a cross, and preached thence. With the
Saxons there was a rooted dread of entering an
enclosed place for anything like worship, fearing, as
they did, the exercise of magical rites; and they
// 053.png
// 054.png
// 055.png
.pn +1
were accustomed to hold all their meetings in the
open air. S. Walpurga, the sister of S. Willibald,
who wrote in 750, and was a Wessex woman, says:--
.pm onblock
"It is the custom of the Saxon race that on many estates
of nobles and of good men they are wont to have not a
church, but the standard of the holy cross dedicated to our
Lord and reverenced with great honour, lifted up on high
so as to be convenient for the frequency of daily prayer."
.pm offblock
In connection with this, I may mention a fact. In
the parish of Altarnon was an old pious Wesleyan,
and when the weather was too bad for him to go to
chapel he was wont to go to one of the crosses of
granite that stood near his cottage, kneel there, and
say his prayers. He died not long ago.
Bede, some twenty years before Walpurga, says
that--
.pm onblock
"The religious habit was then held in great veneration,
so that wheresoever a clerk or a monk happened to come
he was joyfully received, ... and if they chanced to meet
him upon the way, they ran to him, and bowing, were glad
to be signed with his hand and blessed with his mouth.
On Sundays they flocked largely to the" (bishop's) "church
or the monasteries to hear the word of God. And if any
presbyter chanced to come into a village, the inhabitants
flocked together to hear the word of life; for the presbyters
and clerks went into the villages on no other account than
to preach, baptise, visit the sick, and in short to take care
of souls" (H.E., iii. 16).
.pm offblock
This shows that, in the first place, among the
Anglo-Saxons there were no churches except the
cathedral and the monastic church, and no parochial
clergy. Bede does not actually say that there was
// 056.png
.pn +1
a cross set up from which the itinerant clergy
preached, and to which the faithful resorted for
prayer, but this additional fact we have learned from
Walpurga.
So we come to this very interesting conclusion,
that the village cross preceded the parish church. The
crosses were, in fact, the religious centres of church life,
and we ought accordingly to value and preserve
them with the tenderest care. A great many of
those that we have now on our village greens are
comparatively modern, and date from the fourteenth
or fifteenth century, but there still remain a vast
number, not in the midst of a village, but on moors
and by highways of an extremely early description,
and which most assuredly have been the scene of
many a primitive "camp meeting" in the fifth and
sixth centuries.
On Sourton Down beside the road stands a cross
of very coarse granite. On it is inscribed PRINCIPI
FIL AVDEI, and above it an early and rude cross
of Constantine. Some time in the Middle Ages the
rudeness of the stone gave dissatisfaction, and its
head was trimmed into a cross.
A third occasion for the erection of crosses was
as waymarks. Across Dartmoor such a succession
of rude crosses exists where was what is called the
Abbot's Way from Buckfast to Tavistock and to
Plympton. But there are others not on these lines,
and such may have served both as guiding marks
and also as stations for prayer. That the monks
of Buckland--and Buckland goes back to pre-Saxon
times--did go out to the moor and there minister
// 057.png
.pn +1
to the tin-streamers or squatters and shepherds, I
cannot doubt, and accordingly look with much
emotion at these grey monuments of early Christianity.
The interlaced work which is found on some of the
crosses is of the same character as the ornamentation
in the early Irish MSS., and it was adopted from the
Celtic clergy by their Anglian and Saxon converts.
But whence came it?
We know that the Britons delighted in plaited
work with osiers, and it was with wattle that they
built their houses, their kings' palaces, and defended
their camps. By constant use of wattle through long
ages they became extraordinarily skilful in devising
plaits; and when they began to work on stone they
copied thereon the delicate interlaced work they loved
to exhibit in their domestic buildings.
The various plaits have been worked out by Mr.
A. G. Langdon in his admirable study of the Cornish
crosses. At a meeting of the British Association he
exhibited a hundred drawings of different crosses, etc.,
illustrative of a paper read by Mr. J. Romilly Allen
on "The Early Christian Monuments of Cornwall."
When some incredulity was expressed as to there
being so many examples in that county, Mr.
Langdon explained that not only did all these
come from Cornwall, but that the examples brought
before the Association represented only about one-third
of the whole number known to exist. And
since that date a good many more have been noticed.
The variety in design of the crosses is very great
indeed. Some affect the Greek cross, some the
// 058.png
.pn +1
Latin; some are with a figure on them, some plain,
others richly ornamented. But what is remarkable
about them is, in the first place, they are nearly
all in granite, a material in which nothing was done
from the seventh century down to the fifteenth, as
though the capability of working such a hard
intractable stone had been lost. And, in the second
place, the ornamentation is in the lost art of plaiting,
of the beauty and difficulty of which we can hardly
conceive till we attempt it. There is first the four-string
plait, then that with six, and lastly that with
eight. Then three strings are combined together
in each plait, then split, forming the so-called Stafford
knot; the knot and the plait are worked together;
now a loop is dropped, forming a bold and pleasing
interruption in the pattern. Then a ring is introduced
and plaited into the pattern; then chain-work
is introduced; in fact, an endless variety is
formed, exercising the ingenuity of the artist to the
uttermost. It would be an excellent amusement
and occupation for a rainy day in an hotel for the
tourist to set to work upon and unravel the mysteries
of these Celtic knots.
The old interlaced work, or the tradition of it,
seems to have lingered on in the glazing of windows,
and some very beautiful examples remain in England
and in France. Mr. Romilly Allen points out:--
.pm onblock
"In Egyptian, Greek, and Roman decorative art the
only kind of interlaced work is the plait, without any
modification whatever; and the man who discovered how
to devise new patterns from a simple plait, by making what
I term breaks, laid the foundation of all the wonderfully
// 059.png
.pn +1
complicated and truly bewildering forms of interlaced
ornament found on such a masterpiece of the art of
illumination as the Book of Kells. Although we do not
know who made the discovery of how to make breaks in
a plait, we know pretty nearly when it was made."[4]
.pm offblock
He goes on to show that the transition from
plaitwork to knotwork took place in Italy between
563 and 774. But is that not a proof of introduction
into Italy, and not of its discovery there? I am
rather disposed to think that partly through the
adoption of the osier wattle in domestic architecture,
partly through the employment of the tartan, the
plait in all its intricacy was a much earlier product
of the genius of the Celtic race.
There is a pretty story in the life of an early
Irish saint. He had been put at school, but could
not learn. At last, sick of books, he ran away.
He found a man at work with willow rods, weaving
them to form the walls of a house he was building.
He dipped them in water, and laced them in and
out with wonderful neatness, patience, and dexterity.
And the boy, looking on, marvelled at it all, took it to
heart, and said to himself, "These osiers flip out; but
when there are patience and skill combined, they can
be made into the most exquisite patterns, and plaited
together into a most solid screen. Why may not
I be thus shaped, if I allow myself to be bent, and
am docile in my master's hands?" So he went
back to school.
// 060.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 cornishcastles "CHAPTER IV." "CORNISH CASTLES"
.pm onhanghead
The ancient camps--Their kinds--1. Rectangular, Roman--2. The
Saxon burh--3. The Celtic circular or oval camp--The lis and
the dun--4. Stone fortresses--Heroic legends in Ireland--The
Firbolgs--5. The stone castle with mortar, Norman--No good
examples.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "Anyone"
with a very little experience can at once
"spot" a camp or castle by the appearance from
a distance of a hill or headland; and the traveller
in Devon and Cornwall will pass scores of them,
as he will see by his Ordnance Survey Map, without
giving much attention to them, without supposing
that they can be of great interest, unless his attention
has been previously directed to the subject. It is
a pity that anyone should go through a country
which may really be said to make ancient camps
and castles its speciality and not know something
about them.
Of hill castles or camps there are several kinds:--
1. Those that are rectangular or approximately so,
and which have been attributed to the Romans. Of
these in Cornwall there are but few. Tregear, near
Bodmin, and Bossens, in S. Erth, have yielded Roman
coins and relics of pottery; but whether actually
Roman or Romano-British remains undecided.
// 061.png
// 062.png
// 063.png
.pn +1
2. There are those which consist of a tump or
mound, sometimes wholly artificial, usually natural,
and adapted by art, and in connection with this is
a bass-court, usually, but not universally, quadrilateral.
This was the Saxon type of burh; it
was also that of the Merovingian. The classic
passage descriptive of these is in the Life of S. John
of Terouanne, written in the eleventh century:--
.pm onblock
"It was customary for the rich men and nobles of these
parts, because their main occupation is the carrying on
of feuds, to heap up a mound of earth as high as they
are able to raise it, and to dig round it a broad, open,
and deep ditch, and to girdle the whole upper edge of
the bank with a barrier of wooden planks, stoutly fastened
together, and set round with numerous turrets, and this
in place of a wall.
"Within was constructed a house, or rather a citadel,
commanding the whole area, so that the gate of it could
alone be reached by means of a bridge that sprang from
the counterside of the ditch, and was gradually raised
as it advanced, supported by sets of piers, two, or even
three, trussed on each side, over convenient spans, crossing
the moat with a managed ascent, so as to attain the upper
level of the mound, landing on its edge level with the
threshold of the door."
.pm offblock
A very good idea of such a camp may be derived
from the representation of the fortifications of Dinan
on the Bayeux tapestry.
.pm illo i_061 i_061.jpg 700px "LAUNCESTON"
In France the mottes on which the wooden
dongeons of the Merovingian chiefs were planted
certainly abound; but in many cases the bank
enclosing the bass-court has disappeared. Good
examples may be seen at Plympton, at Lydford,
// 064.png
.pn +1
and at Launceston. At the former and latter
Norman walls took the place of the palisading;
but at Lydford a keep was erected on the tump, but
the line of earthworks was never walled.
In Ireland and in Scotland such camps abound;
they are there due to Saxon and Danish invaders.
In Ireland they are called motes, in England burhs.
They afforded the type on which the Normans
constructed their castles.
3. A much more common form of camp in Devon
and Cornwall is one that is circular or oval, and
consists of concentric rings of earth, or earth and
stone mixed, with ditches between.
There is, however, a variant where a headland is
fortified, either one standing above the sea into which
it juts, or at the junction of two streams. There it
sufficed to run defensive banks and ditches across
the neck of the promontory.
This description of camp or castle is usually
supposed to be Celtic.
In Ireland such a camp is a rath. The same
word is employed for similar camps in a portion of
Pembrokeshire.
Every noble had a right to have a rath, and every
chief had his lis or dun.
A lis was an enclosed space, with an earth-mound
surrounding it, and was the place in which justice
was administered. Lis enters into many place-names
in Cornwall, as Liskeard, Lesnewth, Listewdrig, the
court of that king who killed S. Gwynear and bullied
S. Ewny and the other Irish settlers; Lescaddock,
Lescawn, Lestormel, now corrupted into Restormel.
// 065.png
.pn +1
In Ireland les had a wider meaning. S. Carthagh
was throwing up a mound around a plot of land
where he was going to plant a monastery.
"What are you about there?" asked an inquisitive
woman.
"Only engaged in the construction of a little lis,"
was the reply.
"Lis beg!" (small lis), exclaimed the woman. "I
call it a lis mor" (a big lis). And Lismore is its
name to this day.
In Ireland every king had his dun. This was an
enlarged rath with an outer court in which he held
his hostages, for the law required this: "He is no king
who has not hostages in lock-up."
Dun in Welsh is din, and dinas is but another
form of the same word, and signifies a royal
residence.
A gloss to an old Irish law tract says that a royal
dun must have two walls and a moat for water.
Dun in Scotland is applied to any fort. According
to the Gaelic dictionaries, it is "a heap or mound,"
and even a dung-hill is a dun.
In fact, the French dune and the Cornish towan
derive from the same root. Dun so much resembles
the Anglo-Saxon tun that we cannot always be sure
of the derivation of a place-name that ends in tun.
Every tribe had its dun, to which the cattle were
driven, and where the women and children were
placed in security in times of danger. This would
be in addition to the royal residence, that is the dun
of the rig.
Within the dun were numerous structures of
// 066.png
.pn +1
timber, roofed with oak shingles, some of a large
description, such as a banqueting hall; but the
habitations of the garrison were circular, of wicker-work,
and thatched with rushes.
In Cornwall there is Dingerrein, the dinas of S.
Geraint; Castel-an-Dinas; Damelioc (Din-Maeloc);
Dunheved, the old name for Launceston; Dundagel.
4. I come now to the stone fortresses that are found
in parts of Cornwall and Wales. They are also to
be seen in Scotland and Ireland. These are called
caerau in Wales. A cathair is the term applied to
them in Ireland, and cathair signifies as well a city.
They are found in England only in Somersetshire,
Devon, and Cornwall; and in Wales only in such
parts as were invaded and occupied from Ireland.
In Kerry and the isles of Arran are those in best
preservation, and from these we can see that the
walls were regularly built up with double faces,
rubble being between them. Very usually in Arran
stones are placed with the end outwards, so that they
serve as ties to hold the walls together.
The Welsh examples are very perfect, and precisely
similar to those in Ireland.
We know that the Gauls built stone camps--Cæsar
calls them their oppida--but they employed
beams of timber along with the stone to tie the walls
together. The wood has everywhere rotted away, and
the enclosing walls of the Gaulish camps now present
the same appearance precisely as do the similar
stone camps in Devon, Somerset, and Cornwall.
When the timber decayed the stones fell into heaps.
In Arran and Anglesey there was no timber; consequently
// 067.png
.pn +1
stones were employed as ties, and there the
walls remain comparatively intact.
Within the caer were circular stone beehive huts;
also chambers that were circular were contrived in
the thickness of the walls. These "sentry boxes"
have been noticed in Wales, and also in Cornwall
and Devon.
The account of Castel-an-Dinas, before it was
robbed for the erection of a tower, is precisely such
as might be given of one of those in Ireland or
Wales:--
.pm onblock
"It consisted of two stone walls, one within the other,
in a circular form, surrounding the area of the hill. The
ruins are now fallen on each side of the walls, and show
the work to have been of great height and thickness.
There was also a third or outer wall built more than half-way
round. Within these walls are many little enclosures
of a circular form, about seven yards in diameter, with little
walls round them of two or three feet high; they appear to
have been so many huts for the shelter of the garrison."
.pm offblock
In fact, this was a royal dinas. Not only had it
the requisite double wall, but also the drecht gialnai,
or dyke of the hostages. Every king retained about
him pledges from the under-chiefs that they would
be faithful.
There are several of these stone camps in Devon
and Cornwall. In Somersetshire Whorlebury is very
interesting; in Devon are Whit Tor and Cranbrook;
in Cornwall the Cheesewring camp, Carn Brea,
Chun Castle, the camp of Caer Conan on Tregonning
Hill, Helborough, beside Castel-an-Dinas
in Ludgvan.
// 068.png
.pn +1
The heroic legends of Ireland attribute these stone
camps to the Firbolgs, the non-Aryan dusky race
that was in possession previous to the arrival of
the Celts. But that the Milesians learned from them
the art of constructing such castles is very certain,
for in Christian times the monks imitated them in
some of their settlements.
Lord Dunraven, who has photographed these stone
duns, says:--
.pm onblock
"The legends of the early builders are preserved in the
compilations of Irish scribes and bardic writers dating from
the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries. The story, which is
said by these writers to have been handed down orally
during the earliest centuries of the Christian era, and
committed to writing when that art first became known in
Ireland, is the history of the wanderings and final destruction
of a hunted and persecuted race, whose fate would
seem to have been mournful and strange as the ruined
fortresses of the lost tribe which now stand before us.
Coming to Ireland through Britain, they seem to have
been long beaten hither and thither, till, flying still westward,
they were protected by Ailill and Maeve, who are said
to have reigned in Connaught about the first century of
the Christian era. From these monarchs they obtained
a grant of lands along the western coast of Galway, as well
as the islands of Arran, where they remained till their final
expulsion. Thus their forms seem to pass across the deep
abyss of time, like the white flakes of foam that are seen
drifted by the hurrying wind over the wild and wasted
ruins of their fortresses."
.pm offblock
Excavations show that these stone caers are more
ancient than the Christian era; they belong to the
period of flint weapons and the introduction of
// 069.png
.pn +1
bronze. But, as already stated, the conquerors of
the rude stone monument builders adopted some of
their arts, and some of their camps are much later.
5. The stone castle, the walls set in mortar, is not
earlier in Devon and Cornwall than the Norman
Conquest. There are no really stately castles in
either county, with the exception of Launceston.
Rougemont, Exeter, is eminently unpicturesque;
Tiverton, Totnes, Plympton, are almost complete
ruins; Lydford--well, as Browne the poet wrote of
it in the reign of James I.:--
.pm onpoem
"They have a castle on a hill;
I took it for an old windmill,
The vanes blown off by weather;
To lie therein one night, 'tis guessed
'Twere better to be stoned or pressed
Or hanged ere you come hither."
.pm offpoem
.ti 0
And ruin that has fallen on it has not improved
its appearance.
Okehampton is but a mean relic; Restormel is
circular; Trematon is like a pork-pie; Pendennis,
S. Mawes, late and insignificant. Tintagel owes everything
to its superb situation and to the legend that it
was the place where King Arthur was born. The
most picturesque of all is Pengersick, near Breage,
but that is late. Its story shall be told in the
#chapter on Penzance:penzance#.
// 070.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 tinmining "CHAPTER V." "TIN MINING"
.pm onhanghead
The granite eruptions in Devon and Cornwall--Elvans--Lodes--Tin
passing into copper--Stream-tin--Story of S. Piran and S. Chigwidden--Dartmoor
stream-tin--Joseph of Arimathea--The
Cassiterides--Jutes--Danish incursions--Tin in King John's time--Richard,
Earl of Cornwall--Elizabeth introduces German
engineers--Stannary towns--Carew on mining--Blowing-houses--Miners'
terms--Stannary Courts--Dr. Borlase on tin mining--Present
state.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "I remember"
being at a ball many years ago at
that epoch in the development of woman when
her "body" was hooked along her dorsal ridge. Now
I learn from competent authorities that it is held
together in other fashion.
There was at the ball a very lusty stout lady in
slate-grey satin.
By nature and age, assisted by victuals, she was
unadapted to take violent exercise. Nevertheless
dance she would. Dance she did, till there ensued
an explosion. Hooks, eyes, buttons, yielded, and
there ensued an eruption of subjacent material. In
places the fastenings held so that the tumescent
under-garments foamed out at intervals in large
bulging masses.
This is precisely what took place with Mother
// 071.png
.pn +1
Earth in one of her gambols. Her slate panoply
gave way, parted from N.E. to S.W., and out burst
the granite, which had been kept under and was not
intended for show.
Her hooks and eyes gave way first of all in South
Devon, and out swelled the great mass of Dartmoor.
They held for a little space, and then out broke
another mass that constitutes the Bodmin moors. It
heaved to the surface again north of S. Austell, then
was held back as far as Redruth and Camborne. A
few more hooks remained firm, and then the garment
gave way for the Land's End district, and, finally,
out of the sea it shows again in Scilly.
Or take it in another way. Cornwall is something
like a leg. Let it be a leg vested in a grey stocking.
That stocking has so many "potatoes" in it, and
each "potato" is eruptive granite.
Granite, however, likewise cracked, formed "faults,"
as they are called, in parallel lines with the great
parent crack to which it owed its appearance, and
cracks also formed across these; and through the
earlier cracks up gushed later granite in a molten
condition, and these are dykes.
Moreover, the satin body not only gave way down
its great line of cleavage, but the satin itself in places
yielded, revealing, not now the under-linen which
boiled out at the great faults, but some material
which, I believe, was the lining. So when the
granite broke forth there were subsidiary rifts in
the slate, and through these rifts a material was extruded,
not exactly granite, but like it, called elvan.
These elvan dykes vary from a few feet to as many
// 072.png
.pn +1
as four hundred in breadth, and many can be traced
for several miles. The younger granite intruded into
the older granite is also called elvan.
But when the secondary fissures occurred, the intrusive
matter was not only a bastard granite, but
with it came also tin and copper. And these
metallic lines, which run on Dartmoor from E. to W.,
and in Cornwall from E.N.E. to W.S.W., are called
lodes.
The cross-cracks do not contain metal. They are
called cross-courses.
In addition there are some capricious veins that do
not run in the normal direction, and these are called
counter-lodes. Their usual direction is N.E.
The cross-courses, although without metal, are of
considerable value to the miner, because, as he
knows well, the best lodes are those which are thus
traversed.
There is, however, one description of cross-course
that is called floocan, and which is packed with clay,
and holds back water. These are accordingly not cut
through if it can possibly be avoided.
A very curious feature in the lodes is, that after
going down to a variable depth the tin is replaced by
copper.
Percy was the first to establish this, towards the
close of last century. He pointed out that many
an old tin mine was in his time worked for copper.
And it came to be supposed that this would be
found to be an unchanging law: Go deep enough
after tin, and you come to copper. But this
opinion was shaken when it was found that
// 073.png
.pn +1
Dolcoath, the profoundest mine in Cornwall, which
had for some time been worked for copper, became
next rich in tin. What seems to have been the
case was this: when a vent offered, there was a
scramble between the two minerals which should
get through first and out of the confinement under
earth's crust, and now a little tin got ahead; then
came copper trampling on its heels, but was itself
tripped up by more tin.
Now, when the granite came to the surface, it did
not have everything its own way, and hold its nose
on high, and lord it over every other rock as being
the most ancient of all, though not the earliest to
put in an appearance. There was a considerable
amount of water about. There is plenty and to
spare in the west of England now, but we may
feel grateful that we do not exist in such detestable
weather, nor exposed to such sousing rains, nor
have to stand against such deluges, as those which
granite had to encounter. Hot, over-hot, it may
have been below, but it was cold and horribly wet
above.
The rains descended; the floods came, and beat
on the granite, which, being perhaps at the time
warm and soft, and being always very absorbent,
began to dissolve.
As it dissolved, the water swept away all its
component parts, and deposited the heaviest near
at hand, and took the lightest far away. Now the
heaviest of all were the ore from the veins or lodes,
and the water swept this down into the valleys
and left it there, but it carried off the dissolved
// 074.png
.pn +1
feldspar and deposited it where it conveniently
could and when it was tired of carrying it. The
former is stream-tin; the latter is china clay.
Now to get at stream-tin very little trouble is
needed. The rubble brought down and lodged in
the valleys has to be turned over; and the ore is
distinguishable by its weight and by a pink tinge,
like the rouge ladies were wont (a hundred years
ago) to put on their cheeks and lips. There is
no tunnelling, no nasty shafts and adits to be
made; and shafts and adits were beyond the
capacity of primitive man, furnished with bone and
oak picks only. Besides, why take the trouble to
mine when the tin lay ready to be picked up?
The story told in Cornwall of the discovery of
tin is this:--
S. Piran came over from Ireland in a coracle, and,
like a prudent man, brought with him a bottle of
whisky. On landing on the north coast he found that
there was a hermit there named Chigwidden. The
latter was quite agreeable to be friends with the
new-comer, who was full of Irish tales, Irish blarney,
and had, to boot, a bottle of Irish whisky. Who
would not love a stranger under the circumstances?
Brothers Chigwidden and Piran drank up the bottle.
"By dad," said Piran, "bothered if there be
another dhrop to be squeezed out! Never mind,
my spiritual brother; I'll show you how to distil
the crayture. Pile me up some stones, and we'll
get up the divil of a fire, and we shall manage to
make enough to expel the deuce out of ould
Cornwall."
// 075.png
.pn +1
So Chigwidden collected a number of black stones,
and the two saints made a fine fire--when, lo! out
of the black stones thus exposed to the heat ran a
stream like liquid silver. Thus was tin discovered.
The story won't wash.
Tin was invented a thousand years at least before
either Piran or Chigwidden were thought of. But
that was most certainly the way in which it was
revealed.
On Dartmoor the stream tin can thus be run
out of the ore with a peat fire. And the Dartmoor
stream tin has this merit: it is absolutely pure,
whereas tin elsewhere is mingled with wolfram,
that makes it brittle as glass; and to separate
wolfram from tin requires a second roasting and
is a delicate process.
Another Cornish story is to the effect that Joseph
of Arimathea came in a boat to Cornwall, and
brought the Child Jesus with him, and the latter
taught him how to extract the tin and purge it
of its wolfram. This story possibly grew out of the
fact that the Jews under the Angevin kings farmed
the tin of Cornwall. When tin is flashed, then the
tinner shouts, "Joseph was in the tin trade," which
is probably a corruption of "S. Joseph to the tinner's
aid!"
We will now shortly take the history of tin
mining in Devon and Cornwall.
Whether the west of Cornwall and Scilly were
the Cassiterides of the ancients is doubtful. But
one thing is sure: that they had their tin, or some
of it, from Britain.
// 076.png
.pn +1
Diodorus Siculus, who flourished in the time of
Augustus, says so:--
.pm onblock
"The inhabitants of that extremity of Britain which
is called Belerion both excel in hospitality"--they do so
still--"and also, by reason of their intercourse with foreign
merchants, are civilised in their mode of life"--very much
so. "These prepare the tin, working very skilfully the
earth which produces it. The ground is rocky, but it has
in it earthy veins, the produce of which is brought down
and melted and purified. Then, when they have cast it into
the form of cubes, they carry it to a certain island adjoining
Britain, called Ictis. During the recess of the tide the
intervening space is left dry, and they carry over abundance
of tin in carts.... From thence the traders who purchase
the tin of the natives transport it to Gaul, and finally,
travelling through Gaul on foot, in about thirty days bring
their burdens on horses to the mouth of the Rhine."
.pm offblock
Ictis has been variously supposed to be S.
Michael's Mount, the Isle of Wight, and Romney in
Kent.
Whether the Romans worked the tin in Devon
and Cornwall is very questionable. No evidence has
been produced that they did so. The Saxon invasion
must have destroyed what little mining activity
existed in the two counties, at least in Devon. It
is noticeable that, although Athelstan penetrated to
Land's End and crossed to Scilly, he is not said to
have paid any attention to the tin workings, which
he assuredly would have done had they then been
valuable. To the incursions of the Saxons succeeded
those of the Danish freebooters, who ran up the
rivers and burnt Tavistock and Lydford in 997, and
// 077.png
.pn +1
carried fire and sword through the stannary districts
of Devon.
Under the Norman rule mining revived. The
general use of bells in churches caused a considerable
demand for tin, more particularly as those
for cathedrals were of large calibre. The chief
emporium of the tin trade was Bruges, whence the
merchants of Italy obtained the west of England
tin and distributed it through the Levant. There
exists an interesting record of Florentine commercial
industry by one Balducci, composed between 1332
and 1345, in which is described the trade in Cornish
tin, and how it was remelted into bars at Venice and
stamped with the lion of S. Mark.
In King John's time the tin mines were farmed by
the Jews. The right to it was claimed by the king
as Earl of Cornwall.
Old smelting-houses in the peninsula are still
called "Jews' houses," and, judging by certain noses
and lips that one comes across occasionally in the
Duchy, they left their half-breeds behind them.
During the time of Richard, Earl of Cornwall and
King of the Romans, the produce of the tin mines
was considerable, and it was in fact largely due to
his reputed wealth from this source that he was
elected (1257).
The tin workings went on with varying prosperity
till the reign of Elizabeth, when she introduced
German engineers and workmen, with improved
appliances. In her time the tinners of Cornwall
were divided into four portions, named from the
principal works of that period. Each of these
// 078.png
.pn +1
divisions had its steward under the Lord Warden,
who kept his court once in every three weeks. The
four stannary towns of Cornwall were Helston, Truro,
Lostwithiel, and Liskeard; and at Lostwithiel may
be seen the remains of the ducal palace; and at
Luxulyan the church, in the tower of which the stannary
records and charters were formerly preserved.
In Devon the stannary towns were Tavistock,
Ashburton, and Chagford, to which Plympton was
added in the reign of Edward III., and Lydford was
appointed as the stannary prison.
Ordinary justices of the peace had no jurisdiction
over the miners in their disputes.
Carew, who was about the court of Queen Elizabeth,
has furnished us with a valuable record of the state
of the mines before the introduction of new German
machinery and methods.
He notices both the stream-works and the lodes,
and his opinion was that the deposits in the former
were the result of the Deluge.
He then describes the process of shoding, that is
of tracing the direction of a vein by fragments found
near the surface. The shode pits, which are also
called costeening pits, were holes sunk into the
ground to no great depth till indications of the
lode were reached. The miners next sank pits
seven or eight feet deep till they reached the lode
itself.
.pm onblock
"If they misse the load in one place, they sincke a like
shaft" (pit) "in another beyond that, commonly further up
the hill, and so a third and a fourth, until they light at last
upon it."
.pm offblock
// 079.png
.pn +1
Over Dartmoor and the Bodmin moors "the old
men's workings" may be seen; hardly a gully has
not been streamed, every river-bed has been turned
over. The face of the moor is in places welted to
such an extent that it alters the character of the
scene. These workings are now grass-grown; they are
very ancient, and clearly were conducted open to the
sky. As the miners worked up a river-bed they built
a colander behind them of rude blocks of granite,
through which the stream might flow away, and
many a rivulet now runs underground through these
artificial passages.
In dressing the ore the miners broke it with
hammers, and then "vanned" it on their broad oak
shovels. The wind bore away the valueless dust,
leaving the metal behind. By the side of the
"goyles," or deep workings, may be found "vanning-steads"
where this process was conducted. But
with the introduction of machinery the crazing-mill
was employed, worked by a waterwheel, in which
the ore was passed between two grinding-stones.
The washing of the dust which took the place of the
dry process was this:--
.pm onblock
"The streame, after it hath forsaken the mill, is made to
fall by certayne degrees" (steps) "one somewhat distant from
another, upon each of which at every descent lyeth a
green turfe, three or four foote square and one foote thick.
On this the tinner layeth a certayne portion of the sandie
tinne, and with his shovell softly tosseth the same to and
fro, that through this stirring the water, which runneth
over it, may wash away the light earth from the tinne,
which, of a heavier substance, lyeth fast to the turfe."
.pm offblock
// 080.png
.pn +1
After the black tin, or ore, had been thus treated
it was conveyed to the blowing-house. The usage
on Dartmoor was, when a miner was far from one of
these, to tie the ore in a bag marked with his name
or sign, and hang it about a dog's neck; the beast
then conveyed it to the mill.
Of the "blowing-houses" a great many remain on
Dartmoor. There are two on the Yealm, one, very
perfect, on the Erme, one very early, before the
introduction of the waterwheel, at Deep Swincombe,
several on the Dart.
The blowing-house was a small structure of one
chamber and a cache, or storeplace, underground.
The doorway was rarely high enough to admit a
man without stooping double. The walls were of
stone without mortar, and, as far as can be judged
from their remains, had no window. The furnace
was heated with charcoal, and the fire blown by
means of a great pair of bellows worked by a tiny
waterwheel. The process was so roughly conducted
that "divers light sparkles" of tin are said to have
lodged in the thatched roof in sufficient quantities
to render the burning of the roof once in seven years
worth the undertaking. The melted metal ran out
into a spoon-shaped hollow in a block of granite,
or elvan, and was run into moulds also cut in slabs,
many of which remain near the old blowing-houses.
.pm illo i_081 i_081.jpg 700px "A TIN MOULD"
The white tin was then conveyed to a royal smelting-house,
where it received a stamp; and no miner
was suffered to dispose of his metal till it had thus
been marked, and he had paid his due to the Crown
for it.
// 081.png
// 082.png
// 083.png
.pn +1
Some of the terms used by tin miners may not
prove uninteresting.
Stream-tin when found scattered beneath the
surface on a small declivity is called shode, and runs
to a depth that varies from one to ten feet. A right
to work a certain portion is called a sett. The
rubbish thrown out of a mine is called stent; sand
or gravel, including tin, is termed gard; the walling
on each side of a tye or adit is called stilling; the
channels by which superfluous water is let run off
are cundards, a corruption of "conduits." Oblong
pits for a washing-floor are gounces; the frame of
iron bars above is a ruddle.
Buckets are kibbals; breaking up ore is bucking.
A whim is said to have derived its name from this:
A man named Coster, observing the labour that was
expended on bringing up the refuse from the mines
in buckets, fell a-thinking.
"Well, old man," said a mate, "what be up wi'
you?"
"I have a whim in my head," he answered, "and
I'm tryin' to reduce he to practice."
Coster's whim was much joked about, but when
set up outside his head at the pit mouth, it proved to
be no joke at all, but a real boon.
Superincumbent earth is burden.
A miner worked at Headland Warren mines, on
the Webburn, and lived at Challacombe. Every day
when leaving work he brought away with him a
lump of ore in his pocket, and on reaching his
lodging threw it away among the furze bushes.
Years after the farmer at Challacombe removed
// 084.png
.pn +1
three cartloads of these lumps; that was when tin
was at £60 a ton.
From a speech of Sir Walter Raleigh in Parliament
in 1601, when Lord Warden of the Stannaries, it
would appear that the pay of a working tinner was
then four shillings per week, finding himself. Of
this he boasts as a great change for the better,
inasmuch as previously the tinner had received but
half that amount. By all accounts the tinners were
in a worse condition than the agricultural labourers.
The Stannary Parliament for the tinners on Dartmoor
sat on Crockern Tor till the court was removed
to Truro.
The first Parliament held there of which records
remain was on September 11th, 1494; the last I
have heard of was held at the close of last century.
The Cornish tinners had their Stannary Court on
Caradon.
Already in Carew's time mines had been driven
into the bowels of the earth. It would appear that
levels were at about five fathoms under each other,
and the water was raised to the surface by means of
"a winder and keeble, or leathern bags, pumps, or
buckets."
Dr. Borlase describes the engines that were employed
just after the middle of last century. He
took a mine in Illogan as typical.
There were seven shafts upon the lode, upon one
of which there was a fire-engine working the pumps,
and raising the water of the mine to the adit level,
twenty fathoms from the surface. Another shaft had
a whim upon it, and the remaining six had common
// 085.png
.pn +1
winzes at their heads. The walls of the lode were
supported by timber, and planks were laid on them
for the deads, or unprofitable rock. Captains superintended
the work. The machines employed were
the water-whim, the rag and chain pump, the bobs,
and the fire-engine. The whim was much the same
as the common horse-whim of the present day,
employed to draw up the water in kibbles or buckets.
The rag and chain pump consisted of an iron chain,
furnished at intervals with knobs of cloth, stiffened
with leather, which on being turned round a wheel
was made to pass through a wooden pump cylinder,
twelve or fifteen feet long, and to heave up the water
that rose in this cylinder between the knobs of rag.
These pumps were worked by hand. The water-wheels
with bobs worked other pumps.
The machinery seems to us clumsy and imperfect
in the extreme.
The atmospheric or steam-engine of Newcomen
was costly, as it consumed an enormous amount of
coal; but in 1778 it began to give place to Watt's
engine.
Since then the machinery employed advanced
with strides till reaching perfection, when the need
for any ceased in Cornwall and Devon, where nearly
all mines have been abandoned. Barca tin can be
raised so much more cheaply, being surface tin, that
lode tin cannot compete with it in the market.
Now the mining districts of Cornwall are desolate.
Heaps of refuse, gaunt engine-houses, with their
chimneys, stand against the sky, hideous objects,
and as useless as they are ugly. The Cornish miner
// 086.png
.pn +1
has gone abroad. There he remains till he has
made his little pile, when he returns home, builds a
house for his wife and children, remains idle till
money gets low, when away he goes again.
A good deal of discussion has taken place relative
to the causes of the decline and extinction of the
mining industry in Cornwall. The primary cause is
that already referred to, but there is another. Into
that industry too much dishonesty was allowed to
intrude. Speculators became shy of embarking
capital in companies to work bogus mines. The
promotion of such schemes was too frequent not in
the end to discredit Cornish mining altogether.
The surface tin in the "Straits" mines must come
to an end shortly, and then let us trust captains in
Cornwall will have learned by experience that in
the end honesty is the best policy.
Formerly the metals were taken out of Cornwall
for distribution over Europe. Now the coined metal
is being brought into Cornwall by trainloads of
tourists, by coveys of bicyclists, come to visit one
of the most interesting of English counties and
inhale the most invigorating air, and everywhere
they drop their coin. So life is full of compensations.
// 087.png
// 088.png
// 089.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 launceston "CHAPTER VI." "LAUNCESTON"
.pm onhanghead
Launceston a borrowed name--Celtic system of separation between
town of the castle and town of the church--A saint's curse--Old
name Dunheved--Castle--Church--Sir Henry Trecarrel--The
river Tamar--Old houses--S. Clether's Chapel--Altarnon--The
corn man--Cutting a neck--The Petherwins--Story of S. Padarn--Is
visited by his cousin, Samson--Trewortha Marsh--Kilmar--An
ancient village--Redmire--Cornish bogs--Dozmare
Pool--Lewanick--Cresset-stone--Trecarrel--Old mansions--The
Botathen ghost.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "The"
most singular thing about the former capital
of Cornwall is that it does not bear its true
name. Launceston is Llan Stephan, the church of
S. Stephen. Now the church of S. Stephen is on
the summit of a hill on the further side of the river,
divided from the town by the ancient borough of
Newport.
The true name of the town is Dunheved. It grew up
about the Norman castle, instead of about the church,
and as it grew, and the colony at S. Stephen's dwindled,
it drew to itself the name of the church town.
.pm illo i_088 i_088.jpg 502px "LAUNCESTON CHURCH PORCH"
Launceston is, in fact, one of those very interesting
instances of the caer and the llan, separated the one
from the other by a stream. According to the Celtic
system, a church must stand in its own lawn,
surrounded by its own tribesmen, and the chief in
// 090.png
.pn +1
his caer or dun must also be without competing
authority surrounded by his own vassals. Consequently,
in Cornwall, churches are, as a rule, away
from the towns, which latter have grown up about the
chieftain's residence, except in such instances as
Padstow and Bodmin, where a religious, monastic
settlement formed the nucleus. Camelford, an old
borough town, is over two miles from its parish
church, Lanteglos, without even a chapel-of-ease in it,
an ecclesiastical scandal in the diocese. Callington,
the old capital of the principality of Galewig, is
three miles from its church of Southill.
The church of Launceston has grown up out of
a small chapel erected for the convenience of those
who lived about the castle walls, hangers-on upon the
garrison.
The Norman baron, and perhaps the Saxon
eorlderman, liked to have his chaplain forming part
of his household, and much at his disposal to
say mass and sing matins in a chapel to which he
could go without inconvenience, forming part of
his residence. But such an arrangement was alien
to Celtic ideas. Among the Celts the saint stood
on an entirely independent footing over against
the secular chief, and was in no way subordinate
to him. The chaplain of the Norman might hesitate
about reprimanding too sharply the noble who
supplied him with his bread-and-butter. But the
Celtic saint had no scruples of that sort. If a chief
had carried off a widow's cow, or had snatched a
pretty wench from her parents, the saint seized his
staff and went to the dun and demanded admittance.
// 091.png
.pn +1
A saint's curse was esteemed a most formidable
thing. If unjustly pronounced, it recoiled like a
boomerang against him who had hurled it. Once
pronounced, it must produce its effect, and the only
means of averting its fall was to turn it aside against
a tree or a rock, which it shivered to atoms. In
this the Celtic saint merely stepped into the
prerogatives of the Druid.
In Cormac's Glossary of Old Irishisms--and
Cormac, king-bishop of Cashel, died in 903--is a
curious instance of the force of a curse in pagan
times.
The wife of Caier fell in love with Neidhe the
bard, her husband's nephew. Now a bard had the
privilege of hurling a curse if a request made by
him should be refused, but not else. So the woman,
desiring to be rid of her husband, bade the bard
ask of the king a knife which had been given to
him in Alba, on condition that he never parted
with it. Neidhe demanded the knife.
"Woe and alas!" said Caier, "it is prohibited
to me to give it away."
Neidhe was now able to pronounce a glam dichinn,
or curse. Here it is:--
.pm onpoem
"Evil, death, and short life to Caier!
May spears of battle slay Caier;
The rejected of the land be Caier;
Buried under mounds and stones be Caier!"
.pm offpoem
Caier went out next morning to wash at the
well, when he found that boils and blains had broken
out over his face, disqualifying him for reigning,
as a king must be unblemished. He accordingly
// 092.png
.pn +1
fled the country, and concealed his disgrace in the
dun on the Old Head of Kinsale, and Neidhe took
to him the wife and throne of his uncle. Caier
remained at Kinsale till he died, blasted by the
curse pronounced by the bard.
The saints did just the same, only not for such
scandalous reasons; they did it in the cause of
humanity, and for the protection of the weak against
the strong.
But it will be seen, from what has been said, that
the Celtic saint was a very independent personage,
and that he and the chief had their separate
residences. It will be found that usually a stream
divided the territory of the saint from that of the
chieftain.
All this in illustration of Llan Stephan and
Dunheved, the castle and the church facing and
glowering at each other from opposite heights.
Launceston Castle is Norman. That there stood
here a castle in Celtic times is certain; the name
Dunheved indicates as much. The heved in composition
is a difficulty. Some suppose it a Saxon
addition: haefod, a head; but it is more probable
that the whole name is Celtic, and signifies the
summer dun. Hafod is a summer residence in
contradistinction to a hendre, which is that for the
winter--the old house, in principal use. The keep
consists of concentric rings on a mound natural
originally, but much adapted by art. That the
castle was employed to dominate the West Welsh,
first by the Saxons and then by the Normans, is
indisputable. It formed one in a chain of fortresses
// 093.png
.pn +1
employed by the Saxon kings, of which Warbstow
and Helborough and Killibury were others. That
the garrison of Warbstow was composed of Mercians
is probable, as they dedicated their chapel to S.
Werburga, a Mercian princess-saint. Another
contingent was planted at Wembury, commanding
Plymouth harbour, where also they introduced the
same saint, who really had no "call" to come into
these parts.
The parish church of Launceston, dedicated to
S. Mary Magdalen, is a very interesting structure
externally, of carved granite of extraordinary but
somewhat barbaric richness.
The church was begun in 1511. Henry Trecarell,
of Trecarell, in Lezant, was rebuilding his mansion
there in great splendour. He had already constructed
a chapel and a noble banqueting hall,
and had got masses of carved granite ready for
a gateway, when his only son, a child, was drowned
in a basin of water whilst the nurse was bathing
him, she having left him for a few moments. The
mother survived the shock only a few hours. Henry
Trecarell, the father, dropped for ever the intended
mansion for himself, and devoted his wealth to a
higher ambition--the glory of God. He rebuilt
not only the church of Linkinhorne, but also that
of Launceston. On the south porch of the latter
on a shield appear the Trecarell arms, arg. two
chevrons sable, which are those of Ashe of Devon,
Trecarell being really an Ashe, but he bore the
name of his Cornish residence. On a scroll is the
date 1511. The niche over the door has lost its
// 094.png
.pn +1
image, but on the left are S. George and the dragon,
and on the right S. Martin dividing his cloak with
a beggar. Above S. George is the Good Samaritan,
and above S. Martin is Balaam striking his ass.
At the east end of the chancel, externally in the
central gable, are the royal arms, the supporters
of which are the lion and red dragon (the unicorn
was substituted for the dragon by James I. in 1603).
Under the sill of this window, in an arched recess,
is a recumbent figure of the Magdalen. Four
surpliced minstrels are on each side of the niche,
and above the line of the niche similar figures
ascend in pairs, but those in the two topmost
storeys seem never to have been completed. The
instruments which these musicians hold are the
rebec, the lute, the bagpipe, shawm, and harps,
and one plays the viol, turning a handle like a
hurdy-gurdy. The leader of each set of minstrels
carries a bâton, and wears a chain about his neck.
The devices carved round the church are repetitions
of the plumes of the Prince of Wales, pomegranates,
balm-plants dropping precious gums, the Tudor
rose, and the arms of Trecarell, Kellaway (three
pears), and the castle of Dunheved. Above the
plinth encircling the building is a line of panelled
tracery. In every alternate panel is a shield,
bearing a letter, that make up the words: "Ave
Maria, gracia plena! Dominus tecum! Sponsus
amat sponsum. Maria optimam partem elegit. O
quam terribilis ac metuendus est locus iste! Vere
aliud non est hic nisi domus Dei et porta celi"
("Hail, Mary, full of grace! The Lord be with thee!
// 095.png
.pn +1
The bridegroom loves the bride. Mary hath chosen
the best part. Oh, how terrible and fearful is this
place! Truly this is no other than the house of God
and the gate of heaven").
The church was consecrated on June 18th, 1524.
It was never completed, as may be seen by the
condition of the west end. The tower belongs to
the earlier church, and is twenty-six feet west of
the church. Trecarell doubtless intended to rebuild
that in a stately style according with the church,
but the religious disturbances of the Reformation
took all heart out of him, and he abandoned his
task. The interior is very disappointing, but it
must be remembered it was intended to have a screen
of surpassing richness, which would have brought the
whole into proportion. The pulpit alone was completed,
and that is of singular richness. The modern
carving in the church is thin and fanciful.
The neighbourhood of Launceston is rich in
objects of interest and scenes of great beauty.
The Inney valley will well repay a visit. There is
an Inney also in South Wales. It is an excellent
stream for fishing, and flows into the Tamar at
Cartamartha (Caer Tamar), in a glen of wooded
loveliness. The unfinished mansion of Trecarell
deserves a visit. There are also old houses at
Treguddic and Basil, both much spoiled by bad
"restoration." On the heights commanding the
river are Laneast, with old bench-ends, old glass,
and a holy well, and S. Clether, with its well chapel,
recently reconstructed. It was in a condition of
complete ruin; almost every stone was prostrate,
// 096.png
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and the rebuilding was like the putting together of
a child's puzzle. At the north-east of the chapel is
a rather fine holy well, about three feet six inches
from the north wall. A description has already
been given in the #chapter on holy wells:holywells#, and the
explanation of some very curious features in it.
But there is one further feature of interest in this
structure that deserves to be noted. The old granite
altar, rude, like a cromlech, had never been cast
down. It remained intact, and has been left intact
in the reconstructed chapel.
S. Clether was the son of Clydwyn, king of Carmarthen.
Clydwyn's sister was married to an Irish
priest, Brynach, who, on account of the ill-favour in
which the Irish were regarded in South Wales,
moved into Cornwall and Devon. After a long while
he returned, but was again badly received. However,
Clether welcomed him, and Brynach spoke to
his nephew of the God-forsaken condition of North
Cornwall, and an overpowering impulse came over
the king to surrender his principality to his sons,
and to depart for Cornwall, there to labour for the
evangelisation of his Welsh brethren in the peninsula.
He had relatives there. His uncle Gwynys was at
S. Genes, on the coast, and his aunt Morwenna at
Morwenstow. How long he remained at S. Clether
we do not know, but he probably moved on to S.
Cleer, near Liskeard, where also he has a fine holy
well, and there died. We do not know the precise
date, but it was about A.D. 550.[5]
// 097.png
.pn +1
A very fine and interesting church, deserving a visit,
is that of Altarnon (Alt-ar-Nôn, the cliff of S. Non).
The village is called Penpont (the head of the
bridge). The church is rich in carved oak, benches,
and screen. On several of the benches may be seen
carved the corn man, that is to say the little figure
that was plaited out of the heads of wheat in the last
sheaf at a harvest.
About this and the custom of "crying, 'A neck!'"
at harvest I will say a few words.
Towards the end of last century the member for
North Devon was extremely unpopular, especially
with the lower classes, and there had been a disturbance
on the occasion of his election, in which
he had run some personal risk. The time was when
Lord North was Prime Minister.
Not long after the election he went to Dunsland,
the seat of George Bickford.
Whilst strolling near the house he came near a
harvest field, whereon he saw a rush of men, and he
heard a cry of "Us have'n! us have'n! A neck!
a neck!"
Panic-stricken, he ran, nimble as a hare, to the
house, and shouted to Mr. Bickford, "For God's sake,
hide me, anywhere, in the cellar or the attics! There
is a mob after me who want to string me up!"
What the M.P. for North Devon saw and heard
was the "crying, 'A neck!'" a custom universal in
Devon and Cornwall till reaping machines came in
and abolished it. It is now most rarely practised,
but I can remember it in full swing some forty or
fifty years ago.
// 098.png
.pn +1
Mrs. Bray, in her Borders of the Tamar and Tavy,
thus describes it in 1832:--
.pm onblock
"One evening, about the end of harvest, I was riding
out on my pony, attended by a servant who was born and
bred a Devonian. We were passing near a field on the
borders of Dartmoor, where the reapers were assembled.
In a moment the pony started nearly from one side of the way
to the other, so sudden came a shout from the field which
gave him this alarm. On my stopping to ask my servant
what all that noise was about, he seemed surprised by the
question, and said, 'it was only the people making their
games, as they always did, to the spirit of the harvest.'
Such a reply was quite sufficient to induce me to stop
immediately, as I felt certain here was to be observed
some curious vestige of a most ancient superstition; and
I soon gained all the information I could wish to obtain
upon the subject. The offering to the 'spirit of the
harvest' is thus made:--
"When the reaping is finished, towards evening the
labourers select some of the best ears of corn from the
sheaves; these they tie together, and it is called the nack.
Sometimes, as it was when I witnessed the custom, the
nack is decorated with flowers, twisted in with the seed,
which gives it a gay and fantastic appearance. The reapers
then proceed to a high place (such, in fact, was the field, on
the side of a steep hill, where I saw them), and there they
go, to use their own words, to 'holla the nack.' The man
who bears the offering stands in the midst and elevates it,
whilst all the other labourers form themselves into a circle
about him; each holds aloft his hook, and in a moment
they all shout as loud as they can these words, which I
spell as I heard them pronounced, and I presume they are
not to be found in any written record: 'Arnack, arnack,
arnack, wehaven, wehaven, wehaven.' This is repeated
// 099.png
.pn +1
several times; and the firkin is handed round between
each shout, by way, I conclude, of libation. When the
weather is fine, different parties of reapers, each stationed
on some height, may be heard for miles round, shouting, as
it were, in answer to each other.
"The evening I witnessed this ceremony many women
and children, some carrying boughs, and others having
flowers in their caps, or in their hands, or in their bonnets,
were seen, some dancing, others singing, whilst the men
(whose exclamations so startled my pony) practised the
above rites in a ring."
.pm offblock
Mrs. Bray goes on to add a good deal of antiquated
archæological nonsense about Druids, Phœnicians,
and fantastic derivations. She makes "wehaven" to
be "a corruption of wee ane" "a little one," which
is rubbish. "Wehaven" is "we have'n," or "us
have'n," "we have got him." As I remember the
crying of the neck at Lew Trenchard, there was a
slight difference in the procedure from that described
by Mrs. Bray. The field was reaped till a portion
was left where was the best wheat, and then the
circle was formed, the men shouted, "A neck! A
neck! We have 'n!" and proceeded to reap it.
Then it was hastily bound in a bundle, the ears
were plaited together with flowers at the top of the
sheaf, and this was heaved up, with the sickles raised,
and a great shout of "A neck! A neck!" etc., again,
and the drink, of course.
The wheat of the last sheaf was preserved apart
through the winter, and was either mixed with the
seed-corn next year or given to the best bullock.
My old coachman, William Pengelly, who had been
// 100.png
.pn +1
with my grandfather, father, and then with myself,
and who died at an advanced age in 1894, was wont
annually, till he became childish with age, to make
the little corn man or neck, and bring it to be set up
in the church for the harvest decorations. I kept a
couple of these for some years, till the mice got at
them and destroyed them.
In Essex a stranger passing a harvest field stands
the chance of being run up to by the harvesters, caught
in a loop of straw twisted, and held till he has paid a
forfeit. To the present day in Devon, at haysel, the
haymakers will make a twist of dry grass, and with
this band catch a girl--or a girl will catch a boy--and
hold her or him till the forfeit of a kiss has been
paid, and this is called "making sweet hay."
Hereby hangs a tale.
The Quakers in Cornwall have, as elsewhere, their
Monthly Advices read to them in the meeting-house,
wherein are admonitions against various sorts of evil.
Among these is one against "vain sports." Now,
just about haymaking-time a newly-joined member
heard this injunction, and he timidly inquired
whether "making sweet hay with the mīdens"
came under the category. "Naw, sure!" was the answer;
"that's a' i' the way o' Natur'."
Our Guy Fawkes is actually the straw man transferred
from harvest to November.
These straw men take the place of human victims,
and the redemption with silver or a kiss is also a last
reminiscence of the capture of a victim to be
sacrificed for the sake of a future harvest to the
Earth Spirit. In Poland the man who gives the last
// 101.png
.pn +1
stroke at thrashing is wrapped in corn and wheeled
through the village. In Bavaria he is tied up in
straw and cast on a dunghill.
Among the Pawnees, as late as 1838, the sacrifice
was carried out in grim reality. A girl was burnt
over a slow fire, and whilst her flesh was still warm it
was cut to pieces, and bits were carried away to be
buried in the cornfields. At Lagos, in Guinea, it was
till quite recently the custom to impale a young girl
alive to ensure good crops. A similar sacrifice was
offered at Benin. The Marimos, a Bechuana tribe,
sacrifice a human being for the crops. He is
captured, then intoxicated, carried into the fields,
and there slaughtered. His blood and ashes, after
the body has been burned, are distributed over the
tilled land to ensure a good harvest next year. The
Gonds of India kidnapped Brahman boys for the
same purpose. The British Government had to act
with great resolution in putting down the similar
sacrifices of the Khonds some half-century ago.
The mode of performing these sacrifices was as
follows. Ten or twelve days before the sacrifice
the victim's hair was cut. Crowds assembled to
witness the sacrifice. On the day before, the victim
was tied to a post and anointed with oil. Great
struggles ensued to scrape off some of this oil or
to obtain a drop of spittle from the victim. The
crowd danced round the post, saying, "O god, we
offer this sacrifice for good crops, seasons, and
health." On the day of the sacrifice the legs and
arms were first broken, and he was either squeezed
to death or strangled. Then the crowd rushed on
// 102.png
.pn +1
him with knives and hacked the flesh from the
bones. Sometimes he was cut up alive. Another
very common mode was to fasten the victim to the
proboscis of a wooden elephant, which revolved
on a stout post, and as it whirled round the crowd
cut the flesh off while life remained. In some
villages as many as fourteen of these wooden
elephants were found, all of which had been used for
this purpose. In one district the victim was put
to death slowly by fire. A low stage was erected,
sloping on each side like a roof; upon this the
victim was placed, his limbs wound about with cords
to prevent his escape. Fires were then lighted and
hot brands applied to make him roll up and down
the slopes of the stage as much as possible, for
the more tears he shed the more abundant would be
the supply of rain. The next day the body was
cut to pieces. The flesh was at once taken home
by delegates of the villages. To secure its rapid
arrival it was sometimes forwarded by relays of men,
and conveyed with postal fleetness fifty or sixty
miles. In each village all who had remained at
home fasted until the flesh arrived. When it came
it was divided into two portions, one of which was
offered to the Earth Goddess by burying it in a hole
in the ground. The other portion was divided into
as many shares as there were heads of houses
present. Each head of a house rolled his share in
leaves and buried it in his favourite field. In some
places each man carried his portion of flesh to the
stream that watered his fields.
Since the British Government has suppressed the
// 103.png
.pn +1
human sacrifices inferior victims have been substituted,
such as goats.
Here, then, we have almost before our eyes a
change of the victim. A still further change takes
place when an image is used as a substitute; and
there is again modification when the person captured
and destined for sacrifice is allowed to redeem
himself with a handsel or a kiss. But the fact that
in Europe, aye, and in England, we have these
modified customs only now dying out, is an almost
sure proof that at a remote period our ancestors
practised the awful rites at harvest and in spring, of
which a description has been given as still in use in
Africa, and as only just put an end to in America
and in India.
North and west of Launceston is the Petherwin
district; the former of these is in Devon, although
lying west of the Tamar, as is also Werrington.
These three churches, all dedicated to S. Padarn,
form a large territory once under his government.
It was his Gwynedd, but whether so called from
its being open moorland or from its being exposed
to the winds--windblown (Gwynt)--I cannot say.
Padarn was son of Pedredin and Gwen Julitta, and
was first cousin of S. Samson. He was born in
Brittany, but owing to a family revolution his father
and uncles fled to Wales, but Padarn remained as
a babe with his mother. Finding her often in tears,
he asked her the reason, and she told him that she
mourned the loss of his father. So when Padarn
had come to man's estate he went in quest of him,
and finally found him in Ireland, where, old rascal,
// 104.png
.pn +1
he had embraced the monastic life, entirely regardless
of what was due to the wife of his bosom. As
Pedredin absolutely refused to leave his newly-chosen
mode of life, Padarn returned to his mother,
and they went together to Wales, passing through
Cornwall. In Wales he founded Llanbadarn Fawr
in Cardiganshire, which became an episcopal see;
but he got across with Maelgwn, king of North
Wales, as also with King Arthur, who in the lives
of the Welsh saints is always represented as a bully,
showing that they were written before that king
had been elevated into the position of a hero of
romance by Geoffrey of Monmouth in the twelfth
century. His position now became untenable, and
he left Wales. It was then, I presume, that he made
his great settlement in East Cornwall.
According to one account he crossed into Brittany
with Caradoc Strong-i'-th'-Arm, but the expedition
ended in no results, and he returned. Now after
a while Cousin Samson arrived in Padstow harbour,
and resolved on making a Cornish tour before he
crossed into Brittany, whither he much desired to
go and see what could be done towards the recovery
of his paternal acres. At Padstow he visited S.
Petrock. Then he went along the north-east,
and as he approached Gwynedd, or Padarn's
Venedotia, he sent word that he was coming. Now
Padarn was getting out of bed when the tidings
reached him, and he had pulled on one stocking and
shoe; but so delighted was he to hear that his
cousin was at hand, that he ran to meet him with
one leg shod and the other bare.
// 105.png
// 106.png
// 107.png
.pn +1
The dates of his life are approximately these. He
came to Wales in 525, remained there till 547, when
he migrated to Devon and Cornwall, where he
remained to his death in 560.[6] When the Saxons
obtained the mastery, North Petherwin and Werrington
were given to the abbey of Tavistock, and the
old Celtic foundation of Padarn ceased--monastically.
.pm illo i_106 i_106.jpg 700px "TREWORTHA MARSH"
A pleasant excursion may be made from Launceston
to Trewartha Marsh. This occupies the site of a
lake, but it has been filled by detritus from the
granite tors around, and this rubble has been turned
over and over by tin-streamers, who not only
extracted the baser metal, but also gold.
On the way Trebartha is passed, one of the
loveliest sites in England, second in my mind only
to Bolton Abbey. It is the seat of F. R. Rodd, Esq.
The parish church of Northill is a foundation of
S. Tighernach or Torney, godchild of S. Bridget.
There are two ways up to Trewortha: one is by
Higher and Lower Castick, where a picturesque old
farm is passed, by Trewartha Tor, on which is shown
King Arthur's bed; the other is by the bridge at the
back of Trebartha. The stream flowing from the
marsh forms a really beautiful fall in the grounds.
The marsh itself and its surroundings are desolate,
but Killmar (Cêl-mawr, the great place of shelter)
rising above it is a noble tor, and the view from the
north-west, by Grey Mare Rock looking over the
// 108.png
.pn +1
flat marsh to Killmar, is as fine as anything on the
Bodmin moors. On the west side of the marsh is an
ancient British settlement, apparently unconnected
with the stream-works for tin. The houses were
long and quadrangular; one was apparently a council
chamber, having a judge's seat in granite and
benches of granite down the sides. Unfortunately
these have been wantonly destroyed recently by a
man who was building pigsties. The houses had
separate bakeries, and two or three of these with
their ovens remain in a tolerably perfect condition.
The same long building was occupied by two or
three families, divided off from each other by an
upright slab of granite, making so many horseboxes,
but each family had its own hearth. The pottery
found there was all wheel-turned; and as many hones
were found, no doubt could exist that the occupants
belonged to the iron age. No other village of the
kind has as yet been noticed on the moors except
another somewhat higher up the stream that feeds
Trewartha Marsh, and this has been much mutilated
of late years. Independent of these singular quadrangular
buildings are hut circles belonging to a far
earlier age, before steel and iron were known.
.pm illo2 i_109 i_109.jpg 700px "PLAN OF HABITATION ON TREWORTHA MARSH" "(By kind permission of \"The Daily Graphic\")"
The whole of the hillside is cut up into paddocks,
and a conduit of water was brought from the little
stream at Rushleford Gate to supply the settlers with
pure drinking water. No traces of burnt slag were
found, and consequently the ovens cannot be pronounced
to have been made to smelt the ore, but
it is strange that there should be several of these
ovens. The whole settlement is so curious that I
// 109.png
// 110.png
// 111.png
.pn +1
give a plan and a sketch of some of the hovels.
The doorways are in several instances perfect.
Against the wind and rain the hovels were protected
by a high bank to the west. From the
Cheesewring, about two and a half miles distant, a
line of rails was carried to just above this singular
village, and there abandoned. The visitor may well
wonder why a railway was carried into the heart of
this desolate region; it was apparently an excuse for
wasting the money of investors. The bulk of their
deposits have disappeared, and no profits have been
realised. Trewartha Marsh occupies the bed of a lake
that decants over a granite lip into the valley of
the Lynher. At some remote period the miners cut
down the lip and let off the water, and then turned
over the lake bed. A former owner of Trebartha
Hall gave to his daughters on their marriage heavy
gold rings from the precious ore washed out of the
gravel of Trewartha. A stroll among the refuse-heaps
that occupy the lake-bed among lanes of water
and stretches of morass will show the visitor how great
was the industry of the ancient streamers. There are
several cairns and barrows on the heights, but none
that have been explored have given other results
than small stone cists containing bone and wood ash.
.pm illo2 i_110 i_110.jpg 700px "THE \"COUNCIL HALL,\" TREWORTHA MARSH" "(By kind permission of \"The Daily Graphic\")"
On the north side of the marsh were some old
cottages, that have been destroyed, and their
materials employed for building purposes, in which
coins of Elizabeth and Queen Mary were found.
A vague tradition exists that a town existed at
Tresillern, one of the reaches of the lake, which was
submerged for the iniquity of the inhabitants.
// 112.png
.pn +1
A basin of bog--also once a lake--exists at Redmire,
and near it is a small circle of upright stones.
I was as near lost as might be in this bog in 1891.
The Ordnance Survey Office had sent down an
official to go over and correct the map of this
district, and I was with him. When dusk set in we
started for Five Lanes, and lost our way. We both
got into Redmire, and had to trip along warily from
one apparently firm spot to another. The winter
and summer had been unusually wet, and the marsh
was brimming with water. Six bullocks had already
been lost in it that year.
All at once I sank above my waist, and was being
sucked further down. I cried to my companion, but
in the darkness he could not see me, and had he seen
me he could have done nothing for me. The water
finally reached my armpits. Happily I had a stout
bamboo, some six feet long, and I placed this
athwart the surface and held it with my arms as
far expanded as possible. By jerks I gradually
succeeded in lifting myself and throwing my body
forward, till finally I was able to cast myself full
length on the surface. The suction had been so
great as to tear the leather gaiters I wore off my
legs. I lay full length gasping for nearly a quarter
of an hour before I had breath and strength to
advance, and then wormed myself along on my
breast till I reached dry land.
Some of the Cornish bogs are far worse than those
on Dartmoor. Crowdy is particularly ugly and
dangerous. In a dry summer they may, however,
be traversed, as the surface becomes caked.
// 113.png
.pn +1
Dozmare Pool is, next to Loe Pool, the largest
sheet of sweet water in Cornwall. It abounds in
fish, and was formerly a great resort of the worker
in flint, as innumerable traces of the industry testify.
Arrow- and spear-heads, scrapers, and an almost
unlimited amount of chips and flakes may be found
near it. In the lake is a cranogue, or subaqueous
cairn, on which was formerly a palafite dwelling.
The bottom of the pool is certain to richly repay
exploration.
For those who desire to enjoy moor air at a high
elevation, there is a pleasant little inn at Bolventor,
called the "Jamaca Inn"; but the visitor must take
with him his own supply of liquor, as it is a
"temperance house."
The moors about well reward exploration; they
abound in prehistoric antiquities, and in scenes of
great but desolate beauty.
Lewanick (Llan-Winoc) was an interesting church
with good bench-ends, but an unfortunate fire
destroyed the interior, and almost everything of
interest has disappeared. There is, however, in the
church a cresset-stone. This is a structure like a
font, but with the surface scooped out into five
little bowls for containing oil and floating wicks.
Formerly, in the days when there existed a difficulty
in kindling a fire, it was important that a light should
be kept perpetually burning in the church, to which
the parishioners might have resort in the event of
their fires going out. But such cresset-stones are
now extremely rare. There is one at Calder Abbey
with sixteen bowls, one at Furness with five. At
// 114.png
.pn +1
Ballagawne, in the Isle of Man, is one with one
large bowl and nine small ones. A cresset-stone
exists in the court before San Ambrogio, Milan,
and I saw one set up before a very early church
at Civeaux, in Vienne, upon which the schoolboys
amused themselves with jumping and dancing.
There are inscribed stones and oghams in the
churchyard. The village carpenter, an unusually
intelligent man, has been zealous in search after, and
the discovery of, these stones. In the porch, under
the stone bench, a hare-hunt is carved on polyphant
stone. The quarry of this beautiful stone is near by.
There are several crosses and holy wells in the
parish, one of S. Blaunder, which is a corruption of
Branwalader, who is identical with S. Brendan, the
great navigator and explorer in the sixth century.
He is even supposed to have reached America, but
actually, it may be suspected, visited only the Canary
Isles and Madeira.
In Northill Church is a curious monument to a
chrisom child.
Trecarrel is the old house of Sir Henry, who
erected Launceston Church. The hall is specially
fine. He never completed the mansion. The chapel
remains, and when I saw it a goose was sitting
on her eggs on the site of the altar. But it was
never consecrated. About the yard lie the richly-carved
stones intended for the gateway to the court,
but the gatehouse was not set up. There are several
old houses which may be visited from Launceston.
Bradstone, on the Devon side of the Tamar, has a
most picturesque gatehouse. The venerable mansion
// 115.png
.pn +1
formerly belonged to the Cloberry family, whose
cognisance was bats; it is quite intact. Bradstone
takes its name from a broad stone, in fact, a
cromlech that has been thrown down, but the cap
remains, and is used as a stile.
Kelly Church has some fine old glass. Sydenham
is an untouched seventeenth-century mansion; so
is Wortham, in Lifton parish. A magnificent relic
is Penheale, with its granite entrance and panelled
rooms. It is in Egloskerry parish, and formerly
belonged to the Earl of Huntingdon. It passed
by sale from one hand to another, and is now the
property of Mr. Simcoe.
In Egloskerry Church is a remarkably good helmet.
The church contains an alabaster figure of an Italian
flower-girl. Treguddick, once a seat of a family
of that name, has been so mutilated in alteration
that it presents little of interest. The same may
be said of Basil.
Botathen, once the seat of the Bligh family, has
not in it anything of interest, but is associated
with one of the best ghost stories on record, written
by the Rev. John Ruddle, vicar of Launceston, who
laid a ghost in a field that appeared to and tormented
a boy of the name of Bligh.
Ruddle was parson of Launceston between 1663
and 1698. Defoe got hold of Ruddle's MS. account
of the transaction, and published it in 1720. It
has been often surmised that Defoe had touched
up the original, or had invented the whole story;
but Mr. A. Robins has carefully entered into an
examination of the circumstances, and has proved
// 116.png
.pn +1
that the account was by Ruddle, and all those persons
mentioned in it actually lived at the period.
In 1665 John Ruddle was schoolmaster in
Launceston as well as vicar, and one of his pupils
died. He preached a sermon at the funeral on
June 20th, and after leaving church he was addressed
by an old gentleman, who informed him that his own
son was sadly troubled by having several times met
a ghost, or, at all events, the boy pretended that he
had. The gentleman, Mr. Bligh, of Botathen, invited
Ruddle to his house to see the lad.
After conferences with the boy Ruddle gained his
confidence, and, says he, "he told me with all naked
freedom and a flood of tears that his friends were
unjust and unkind to him, neither to believe nor
pity him, and that if any man would go with him
to the place he might be convinced that the thing
was real." The rest of the story shall be told from
a MS. now in the possession of a lady in Launceston,
copied by William Ruddle, the son, from his father's
original MS.:--
.pm onblock
"By ys time he found me able to comisrate his condition
and to be attentive to his relation of it, therefore he went
on in ys manner. This woman wch appears to me (saith
he) Lived a nighbour here to my father, and dyed about
8 years since. Her name Dorothy Dingle, of such a
stature, such an age and complexion. She never speaks
to me, but passeth by hastyly and always Leaves ye footpath
to me, and she comonly meets me twice or thrice in
ye breadth of ye field. It was abt 2 months before I took
any notice of it, and tho' ye shape of ye face was in my
memory yet I could not recal ye name of ye person, but
// 117.png
.pn +1
without more thoughtfullnes I did suppose it was some
woman who lived thereabout and had frequent occasion
that way, nor did I imagine anything to ye contrary before
she began to meet me constantly morning and evening,
and always in ye same field, and sometimes twice or thrice
in ye breadth of it. The first time I took notice of her was
abt a year since and when I first began to suspect and
beleive it to be a Ghost I had courage enough not to be
affraid, but kept it to myself a good while and only pondered
very much at it. I did often speak to it, but never had
a word in answer. Then I changed my way and went to
school ye Under Horse Road, and then she always met
me in ye narrow Lane between ye Quarry Park and ye
Nursery, which was worse. At Length I began to be
terrifyd at it, and prayed continually that God would either
free me from it, or Let me know ye meaning of it. Night
and day, sleeping and wakeing ye shape was ever runing
in my mind.
"Thus (said he) by degrees I grew very pensive, in so
much that it was taken notice of by all our family, whereupon,
being urg'd to it, I told my brother William of it,
and he privately acquainted my father and mother wth
it, and they kept it to themselves for sometime. Ye
successe of this discovery was only that they sometimes
Laugh at me, sometimes elude me, but still comanded
me to keep my school and put such fageries out of my
head. I did accordingly go often to school, but always
met ye woman in ye way.
"This and much more to ye same purpose (yea as much
as held a Dialogue of near 2 hours) was our conference
in ye orchard, which ended wth my profer to him that
(without makeing any privy to our intent) I would next
day walk wth him to ye place abt 6 o'clock. He was
even transported wth joy at ye mention of it, and replyed,
'but will ye sure Sr, will ye sure Sr? Thank God! now
// 118.png
.pn +1
I hope I shall be beleived!' Upon this conclusion we
retired to ye hous. The gent, his wife, and Mr. S. were
impatient to know ye event, insomuch that they came out
of ye parlour into ye hall to meet us, and seeing ye Lad
Look chearfully ye first complement from ye old man was
'Come, Mr. Ruddle! ye have talked with S. I hope now
he will have more wit, an idle boy, an idle boy.' At these
words ye Lad ran up ye stairs to his chamber without
replying, and I soon stopt ye curiosity of ye 3 expectants
by telling them that I had promised silence, and was
resolved to be as good as my word; but when things were
riper they might know all, at prsent I desired them to
rest in my faithfull pmise that I would do my utmost in
their service and for ye good of their son. With this they
were silenced, I cannot say satisfyed.
"The next morning before 5 o'clock ye Lad was in my
chamber and very brisk. I arose and went with him. Ye
field he Led me to I guested to be abt 20 acres in an open
country and abt 3 furlongs from any hous. We went into
ye field, and had not gone above a third parte before the
Spectrum in ye shape of a woman wth all ye circumstances
he had described her to me in ye orchard ye day before
(as much as ye suddennesse of itts appearance and
evanition would prmit me to discover) met us and passed
by. I was a Little surprised at it, yet I had not ye power,
nor indeed durst I Look back, yet took care not to show
any fear to my pupil and guide, and therefore, only telling
him that I was satysfyed in ye truth of his complaint we
walked to ye end of ye field and returned, nor did ye
Ghost meet us at yt time above once. I perceved in ye
young man a kind of boldnes mixt wth astonismt, ye first
caused by my prsence, and ye proof he had given of his
own relation, ye other by ye sight of his prsecutor.
"In short he went home; I somewhat puzled, he much
animated. At our return ye gentlewoman (whose inquisitiveness
// 119.png
.pn +1
had mist us) watched to speak with me, I
gave her a convenience, and told her that my opinion was
her son's complaint was not to be slighted, nor altogether
discredited, yet that my judgment in his case was not
setled. I gave her caution moreover that ye thing might
not take wind Lest ye whole country should ring wth what
we yet had no assurance of. In this juncture of time I
had busines wch would admit no delay, wherefore I went
for Launceston that evening, but prmised to see him again
next week,--yet I was prevented by an occasion which
pleaded a sufficient excuse, for my wife was that week
brought home from a nighbours house very ill. However
my mind was upon ye adventure. I studyed ye
case, and abt 3 weeks after went again resolving by ye
help of God to see ye utmost.
"The next Monday, being ye 27th day of July 1665,
I went to ye haunted field by myself and walked ye baedth
of it without any encounter. I returned and took ye other
walk, and then ye Spectrum appeared to me, much about
ye same place I saw it before when ye young gent was wth
me. In my thoughts it moved swifter than ye time before,
and abt 30 feet distant from me on my right hand in so
much that I had not time to speak, as I determined with
myself beforehand.
"The evening of that day ye parents, ye son, and myself
being in ye chamber where I Lay, I propounded to them
our going altogether to ye place next morning, and after
some asseverration that there was no danger in it we all
resolved upon it.
"The morning being come Lest we shd alarm ye family
of servts, they went under pretence of seeing a field of
wheat, and I took my horse and fetched a compas another
way, and so met at ye stile we had appointed; thence we
al four walked Leisurely into ye Quartils, and had not
passed above half ye field before ye Ghost made appearance.
// 120.png
.pn +1
It then came over ye stile just before us, and moved
with such swiftness that by ye time we had gone 6 or 7
steps it passed by; I 'mediately turned head and ran after
it wth ye young man by my side. We saw it passe over
ye stile at wch we entred, but no further. I stept upon
ye hedg at one place, he at another, but could discern
nothing, whereas I dare averr that ye swiftest horse in
England could not have conveyed himself out of sight in
yt short space of time.
"Two things I observed in this day's appearance, viz.:
1. that a spaniel dog which followed ye company unregarded,
did bark and run away as ye Spectrum passed
by, whence 'tis easy to conclude yt it was not our fear
or fancy wch made ye apparition. 2. that ye motion of
ye Spectrum was not gradatim, or by steps and moveing
ye feet, but a kind of glideing as children upon ye ice,
or a boat down a swift river, which punctually answers
ye descriptions ye antients gave of ye motion of their
Lemures.
"But to prceed: this ocular evidence clearly convinced,
but withall sharply affrighted ye old gent and his wife who
knew ys D. D. in her Lifetime,--were at her buryal, and
now plainly saw her features in this prsent apparition.
I encouraged them as wel as I could, but after this they
went no more. However I was resolved to prceed and
use such Lawfull means as God hath discovered and
Learned men have successfully practiced in these unvulgar
cases.
"The next morning being Thursday I went out very
early by myself and walked for abt an hour's space in
meditation and prayer in ye field next adjoyning to ye
Quartils. Soon after five I stept over ye stile into ye
disturbed field, and had not gone above 30 or 40 paces
before ye Ghost appeared at ye further stile. I spake
to it with a Loud voice in some such sentences as ye
// 121.png
.pn +1
way of these dealings directed me, whereupon it approached,
but slowly. When I came near it, it mov'd
not. I spake again and it answered in a voice neither
very audible nor intelligable. I was not in ye Least
terrifyed, and therefore persisted untill it spake again,
and gave me satisfaction.
"But ye work could not be finished at this time; wherefore
ye same evening, an hour after sun-set, it met me
again near ye same place, and after a few words of each
side it quietly vanished, and neither doth appear since,
nor ever will more to any man's disturbance.
"N.B. The discourse in ye morning Lasted abt a quarter
of an hour.
"These things are true. I know them to be so with
as much certainty as eyes and ears can give me; and until
I can be perswaded that my senses do deceve me abt their
proper objects (and by that perswasion deprive myself of
ye strongest inducement to beleive ye Christian Religion)
I must and will assert that these things in this paper are
true."
.pm offblock
I omit the reflections made on this by the writer,
who signs: "September 4th, 1665, John Ruddle."
Every person and every place can be and has been
identified by Mr. Robins, to whose article I refer
the reader, should he care to go over the ground.[7]
.pm onblock
Note.--Books on Launceston:--
Robins (A. F.), Launceston, Past and Present. Launceston, 1884.
Peter (R.), The Histories of Launceston and Dunheved. Plymouth,
1885.
.pm offblock
// 122.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 callington "CHAPTER VII." "CALLINGTON"
.pm onhanghead
A town with a past--The principality of Gallewick--A royal residence--The
Boy and the Mantle--Caradock and Tegau--Arthur
and Guenever--Southill--S. Samson--Callington Church--The
Borough--Dupath Well--Hingesdon Hill--S. Ive--Linkinhorne--Story
of S. Melor--The Cheesewring--Camp--The Hurlers--Trethevy
stone--S. Cleer--The Tamar--Arsenic manufacture--Poisoning--Production--Pentillie.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "Callington"
is a town with a past; whether
it has a future is problematical. Its past is
remote; and if it has a future, that will be equally
distant. Issachar was a strong ass couching between
two burdens; and Callington lies low between the
great bunches of Caradon and Hingesdon, two huge
masses of moor said to be rich in minerals. In
the times of Callington's prosperity it throve on these
lodes of tin and copper. But now the mines are
abandoned and the population has leaked away.
Should the two mountains be again worked, then
the profits will go to Liskeard, seated on a railway,
on one side, and to Gunnislake, planted on the
Tamar, on the other.
.pm illo i_123 i_123.jpg 700px "CALLINGTON"
Callington occupies the site of the royal residence
of the kings of Cornwall as princes of Gallewick.
Here Selyf and his wife S. Wenn had their residence,
and here S. Cuby was born. Here it is asserted
// 123.png
// 124.png
// 125.png
.pn +1
that Arthur once had his court. And here also at
one time was Caradoc Freichfras with his wife Tegau,
the most honest woman in Arthur's court.
Who can say that it was not here that the boy
appeared with the mantle, the ballad concerning
which is in Percy's Reliques, though indeed in that
it is said to have occurred in Carlisle?
.pm onpoem
"'Now have thou here, King Arthur,
Have this here of mee,
And give unto thy comely queen
All-shapen as you see.
"'No wife it shall become
That once hath been to blame.'
Then every knight in Arthur's court
Slye glaunced at his dame.
"And first came Lady Guenever,
The mantle she must trye.
This dame, she was new-fangled,
And of a roving eye.
"When she had tane the mantle,
And all was with it cladde,
From top to toe it shiver'd down,
As tho' with sheers beshradde.
"Down she threw the mantle,
She longer would not stay;
But, storming like a fury,
To her chamber flung away."
.pm offpoem
So one lady after another attempted to wear the
mantle, and it curled and became contracted on each,
and all were shamed in the sight of Arthur and
the whole court.
.pm onpoem
"Sir Cradock call'd his lady,
And bade her to come neare:
'Come win this mantle, lady,
And do me credit here.'
// 126.png
.pn +1
"The lady gently blushing
With modest grace came on,
And now to trye the wondrous charm
Courageously is gone.
"When she had tane the mantle,
And put it on her backe,
About the hem it seemed
To wrinkle and to cracke.
"'Lye still,' she cryed, 'O mantle!
And shame me not for naught,
I'll freely own whate'er amiss
Or blameful I have wrought.
"'Once I kist Sir Cradocke
Beneathe the greenwood tree:
Once I kist Sir Cradocke's mouth
Before he married me.'
"When thus she had her shriven,
And her worst fault had told,
The mantle soon became her
Right comely as it shold.
"Most rich and fair of colour
Like gold it glittering shone;
And much the knights in Arthur's court
Admir'd her every one."
.pm offpoem
I do not hold that this story belongs to Carlisle,
but to Caerleon or to Callington.
This last place was one of the three royal cities
of Britain, of which Caerleon was the second, says a
Welsh triad, and the third I cannot identify. At one
of these three Arthur was wont to celebrate the high
festivals of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide.
Caradoc Freichfras, the Sir Cradock of the ballad,
was chieftain in Gelliwig, or the region of which
Callington was capital, and Bedwin was the bishop
// 127.png
.pn +1
there. But this Bedwin is only known through the
mediæval romances. It was here that Gwenever
held court when insulted by Modred, Arthur's
nephew, during the king's absence in Brittany,
when he dragged her with contumely from her
throne and drove her from the palace. The fatal
battle of Camalon was fought to avenge this
insult. The region of Gelli, which gives its name
to or derives its name from Brown Willy and
Brown Gelli, two tors in the upland metalliferous
district, was valuable because of the abundance of
stream-tin and of gold that was found there.
Callington is a corruption of Gellewick-ton.
Caradoc Freichfras, that is to say Strong-i'-th'-Arm
was son of Llyr Merini, a Cornish prince, and his
wife Gwen, who was a granddaughter of Brychan
of Brecknock. According to a saying attributed to
Arthur himself, he was styled "the pillar of the
Cymry."
His prowess in the great battle of Cattraeth against
the Saxons is commemorated by the contemporary
poet Aneurin, who is the same as the sour Gildas,
historian of the Britons:--
.pm onpoem
"When Caradoc rushed into the battle
It was like the tearing onset of the woodland boar,
The bull of combat in the field of slaughter,
He attracted the wild dogs by the motion of his hand.
My witnesses are Owen ap Eulat
And Gwrien, and Gwynn and Gwriat.
From Cattraeth and its carnage,
From the battle encounter,
After the clear bright mead was served,
He saw no more the dwelling of his father."
.pm offpoem
// 128.png
.pn +1
Aneurin represents Caradoc as having fallen in
this battle.
It is possible that Caradon may take its name
from him, and that it may have been Dun Caradock.
Caradoc and his true wife Tegau were laid hold
of by the Anglo-Norman romancers. They could
not understand his nickname, and rendered it
"Brise-Bras," and supposed that his arm was wasted
away, whereas the Celtic title implies that it was
brawny. To explain the wasted arm they invented
a story. They told of an enchanter who made a
serpent attach itself to the arm of Caradoc, from
whose wasting tooth he could never be relieved until
she whom he loved best should consent to undergo
the torture in his stead. The faithful Tegau, on
hearing this, was not to be deterred from giving him
this proof of her devotion. As, however, the serpent
was in the act of springing from the wasted arm
of the knight to the lily-white neck of the lady, her
brother Cado, Earl of Cornwall, struck off its head
with his sword, and thus dispelled the enchantment.[8]
If Tegau was actually the sister of Cado, then we
may flatter ourselves that Cornwall presented the
two noblest and purest types of womanhood at the
Arthurian period--Tegau and Enid, the wife of
Geraint.
Three miles out of Callington is the parish church--Southill--one
of the many instances of an ecclesiastical
settlement at a respectable distance from the
secular caer or tribal centre, that each might live its
own life and have its own independent organisation.
// 129.png
.pn +1
Southill was founded by S. Samson. As we have
already seen, he had landed on the north Cornish
coast and made his way to Petherwin, where he had
visited his first cousin Padarn. On his way, he
passed through the district of Trecor, now Trigg,
deriving its name from three notable caers or camps,--Helborough,
Warbstow, and Launceston. As
Samson was in this district, he found the people
performing idolatrous rites about a tall upright
stone, and this with the sanction of their chief, who
was called Gwythian. Samson did not throw down
the menhîr; he contented himself with cutting a
cross upon it.
I wonder whether this is the stone that still stands
at Southill, on which is cut the cross of Constantine.
It is an inscribed stone to one Connetoc, and is of
the period of S. Samson.
Whilst tarrying in Cornwall, Samson heard that
his old master, Dubricius, was very infirm and failing,
and he hastened to South Wales to revisit him. The
old man, who was dying, committed to his charge a
favourite disciple named Morinus. Samson did not
particularly relish the charge, for he did not believe
the young man was sincere. However, he took
Morinus back with him, but soon after, the disciple
became insane and died. The monks, regarding this
as possession, removed his body and buried it outside
their cemetery. Samson was, however, very uneasy,
because the deacon had been entrusted to him with
such solemnity by Dubricius, whom he loved and
reverenced with all his heart, and he prayed incessantly
for the poor fellow who had died mad,
// 130.png
.pn +1
till one night he dreamed that Dubricius appeared
to him and assured him that Morinus was admitted
to the company of the blessed. With a glad heart
Samson ordered the body to be at once exhumed
and laid in consecrated ground.
One night in midwinter a thief got into the church,
and stole thence a cross adorned with gems and gold
and all the money he could lay his hands on, and ran
away with the spoil wrapped in a bundle. He made
for the moors and ventured over a bog, trusting that
the frozen surface would bear him. But his weight
broke through the thin ice, and he sank to his waist.
Afraid of going under altogether, he threw away his
burden, and did that which everyone who has wits
will do in a bog--spread out his arms on the crust.
There the man remained till morning, when a hue
and cry was set up after the stolen goods. He was
found and the plunder recovered. He was dead
of cold when discovered next day. At Southill is
S. Samson's Well, and it was in clearing it out,
having become choked, that the stone with the inscription
on it was found.
The old tribeland or principality of Gallewick was
reduced in the Middle Ages to a manor of Kelliland,
which, however, remained of considerable importance,
and is now held by Countess Compton. The church
is Perpendicular, of no particular interest, but it
possesses an Easter sepulchre, and an early font on
which are carved grotesque animals and a representation
of the Tree of Life. Callington has in it
a fine church that is chapel-of-ease to Southill.
It is good Perpendicular, and suffered a "restoration"
// 131.png
// 132.png
// 133.png
.pn +1
under the hands of an incompetent architect.
Happily, since then, genius has been invoked to supplement
the defects of mediocrity, and the north aisle
that was added by Mr. Edmund Sedding is one of the
ablest works of that clever architect. Viewed internally
or externally it is delightful.
.pm illo i_132 i_132.jpg 700px "CALLINGTON CROSS"
There are a few quaint old cottages in Callington,
and there is a late mediæval cross that is picturesque.
In the church, moreover, is a very fine monument to
Sir Robert Willoughby de Broke, who died in 1503;
he was steward of the Duchy of Cornwall, and took
part in the battle of Bosworth.
Callington was made a borough in 1584, and its
earliest patrons were the Pauletts. From them the
patronage passed to the Rolles, who divided it with
the Corytons. Then it went to the Walpoles, next
to Lord Clinton, and finally to the first Lord
Ashburton. It never bore arms, nor had a
corporation, but there is an early and interesting
silver mace, now in the custody of the portreeve,
who is elected with other officers annually at the
manor court of Kelliland.
Perhaps the most quaint and beautiful of the
chapel wells in Cornwall is Dupath, near Callington,
though not in the parish, but in that of S. Dominick.
Unhappily dirty farmyard surroundings disfigure the
scene, and make one fear pollution of the sparkling
water.
Hingesdon, on the N.E., rises to the height of
1091 feet, its highest point being called Kit Hill,
where are remains of a camp; the moor, moreover,
is strewn with barrows. It was on Hingesdon that
// 134.png
.pn +1
the Britons, uniting their forces with some Danes
who had come up the Tamar, met and fought Egbert
in 833, and were defeated. The surface of Hingesdon
and Kit Hill has been much interfered with by
mines, and the summit is crowned with a ruined
windmill erected to work the machinery in a mine
hard by. The road to Tavistock passes over
Hingesdon at a height of 900 feet, and thence after
nightfall can be seen the Eddystone light.
On the Liskeard road, beside the Lynher, is a
well-preserved oval camp called Cadsonbury. Other
camps are at Tokenbury and Roundbury.
S. Ive (pronounced Eve) is probably a foundation
of one of the Brychan family, and certainly not
dedicated to S. Ive of Huntingdonshire, who is an
impostor, nor to S. Ive of the Land's End district.
The church is interesting, but has been unfeelingly
"restored." The east window, with its niches,
deserves special notice.
By far the finest church in the neighbourhood is
Linkinhorne (Llan Tighern), the church of the king,
that is, of S. Melor. It was erected by Sir Henry
Trecarrel, who built Launceston Church, but Linkinhorne
is in far superior style. The story of S. Melor
is this. He was the son of Melyan, prince of Devon
and Cornwall and of Brittany. Melyan's brother
was Riwhal, or Hoel the Great, cousin of King
Arthur. Hoel, being an ambitious man, murdered
his brother Melyan, and cut off the hand and foot of
his nephew Melor, so as to incapacitate him from
reigning; as a cripple, according to Celtic law, might
not succeed to the headship of a clan or of a
// 135.png
.pn +1
principality. In the place of the hand and foot of
flesh and blood the boy was supplied with metal
substitutes, and the hand was formed of silver.
For precaution the child was sent to Quimper, and
placed there in a monastery.
Now it fell out that Melor and other boys were
nutting in a wood, and his comrades made their little
pile of hazel nuts and brought them to Melor. To
their great surprise they found that, notwithstanding
that his hand was of metal, he was able therewith
to twitch off the nuts from the trees.
As the misfortunes of the unhappy prince attracted
much sympathy, Howel sent for a man named
Cerialtan, Melor's foster-father, and promised him an
extensive grant of lands if he would make away
quietly with the young prince. Cerialtan consented,
and confided his purpose to his wife. She was
horrified, and resolved on saving the boy. During
her husband's temporary absence, she fled with her
nephew to the wife of Count Conmor at Carhaix
in Brittany, who was Melor's aunt. When Howel
heard of this he was incensed, and urged Cerialtan
to get the boy back into his power. Accordingly this
worthless fellow took his son Justan with him, a lad
who had been Melor's playmate, and to whom the
young prince was much attached. The treacherous
foster-father persuaded Melor that no harm was
intended, and he and Justan were given the same
bed as Melor in which to sleep.
During the night Cerialtan rose and cut the
young prince's throat, then roused his son, and they
escaped together over the walls of Carhaix. But in
// 136.png
.pn +1
so doing Justan missed his hold and fell, and was
killed.
On reaching the residence of Howel, Cerialtan
produced the head of Melor, which he had cut off,
in token that he had accomplished his undertaking.
Howel grimly promised to show the man the lands
he had promised him, but first put out his eyes.
In Brittany it is held that Melor was buried at
Lan Meur, near Morlaix, but no tomb exists there,
nor does there seem to have ever been one.
The whole story is legendary, yet certainly is
framed about some threads of historic truth. But
whether the murder was committed in Brittany or in
Cornwall is uncertain. That Melor's father was
assassinated in Cornwall I shall show later on to be
probable. Mylor Church as well as Linkinhorne are
dedicated to this boy martyr; Thornecombe Church
in Dorset is also named after him, and it was held
that his body had been transferred to Amesbury,
where, during the Middle Ages, his relics attracted
pilgrims.
From Callington a pleasing excursion may be
made to the Cheesewring; and there is a very
comfortable little inn there, where one can tarry and
be well fed and cared for.
The height is a thousand feet, and the view thence
over the fertile rolling land of Devon and East
Cornwall is magnificent, contrasting strikingly with
the desolation of the moors to the north. Here is
Craddock Moor, taking its name in all probability
from that Caradoc who ruled for Arthur in Gallewick,
or Gelliwig.
// 137.png
// 138.png
// 139.png
.pn +1
The whole of the neighbourhood has been searched
for metal, and the Phœnix Mines employed many
hundreds of hands till the blight fell on Cornish tin
mining, and they were shut down.
.pm illo i_137 i_137.jpg 700px "THE CHEESEWRING"
The head of the Cheesewring hill has been enclosed
in a stone caer. The common opinion is that every
stone composing it was brought up from the bed
of the Lynher, but this is almost certainly a fiction.
The circles of the Hurlers are near, with a couple
of outstanding stones. The legend is that some
men were hurling the ball on Sunday, whilst a
couple of pipers played to them. As a judgment
for desecration of the Lord's-day they were all turned
into stone. There are three circles, eleven stones in
one, of which all but three have fallen; fourteen in
the second, of which nine are standing; twelve in the
third, but only five have not fallen. A curious instance
of the persistency of tradition may be mentioned
in connection with the cairn near the Hurlers and
the Cheesewring, in which a gold cup was found
a few years ago.
The story long told is that a party were hunting the
wild boar in Trewartha Marsh. Whenever a hunter
came near the Cheesewring a prophet--by whom an
Archdruid is meant--who lived there received him,
seated in the stone chair, and offered him to drink
out of his golden goblet, and if there were as many
as fifty hunters approach, each drank, and the goblet
was not emptied. Now on this day of the boar hunt one
of those hunting vowed that he would drink the cup
dry. So he rode up to the rocks, and there saw the
grey Druid holding out his cup. The hunter took
// 140.png
.pn +1
the goblet and drank till he could drink no more,
and he was so incensed at his failure that he dashed
what remained of the wine in the Druid's face, and
spurred his horse to ride away with the cup. But
the steed plunged over the rocks and fell with his
rider, who broke his neck, and as he still clutched
the cup he was buried with it.
Immediately outside the rampart of the stone fort
above the Cheesewring is a large natural block of
granite, hollowed out by the weather into a seat
called the Druid's Chair.
Just below the Cheesewring is a rude hut cell
or cromlech, formed of large slabs of granite,
which is called "Daniel Gumb's House." It was
inhabited in the last century by an eccentric individual,
who lived there, and brought up a family
in a state of primæval savagery. On one of the
jambs is inscribed, "D. Gumb, 1735," and on the
top of the roofing slab is an incised figure of the
diagram of Euclid's 47th proposition in the First
Book.
At some little distance is the very fine cromlech
called the Trethevy Stone. It is well worth a digression
to see, as being, if not the finest, at least
the most picturesque in Cornwall.
S. Cleer has a holy well in very good condition,
carefully restored. Near it is a cross.
In the parish is the inscribed stone of Doniert, the
British king, who was drowned in 872.
From Callington, Calstock--the stock or stockade
in the Gelli district on the Tamar--may be visited.
The river scenery is of the finest description, rolling
// 141.png
// 142.png
// 143.png
.pn +1
coppice and jutting crags, the most beautiful portion
being at Morwell.
.pm illo i_142 i_142.jpg 487px "ARSENIC MANUFACTURE"
There are several arsenic works in this district.
The mundic (mispickel-arsenic), which was formerly
cast aside from the copper mines as worthless, is
calcined.
The works consist in the crushing of the rock, it
being chewed up by machinery; then the broken
stone is gone over by girls, who in an inclined
position select that which is profitable, and cast
aside the stone without mundic in it. This is then
ground and washed, and finally the ground mundic is
burnt in large revolving cylinders.
The fumes given off in calcining are condensed in
chambers for the purpose, and deposited in a snow-white
powder. The arsenic is a heavy substance
with a sweetish taste, and is soluble in water. In
the process of calcining a large amount of sulphurous
acid is given off--a pungent, suffocating gas--and
this, escaping through the stack, is so destructive to
trees and grass, that it blights the region immediately
surrounding. When, however, a stack is of sufficient
height the amount of damage done to herbage is
greatly reduced, as at Greenhill, where there is a
healthy plantation within two hundred yards of the
stack.
When the workmen have to scrape out the receivers
or condensers, the utmost precaution has to
be taken against inhaling the dust of arsenic. The
men engaged wear a protection over the mouth and
nostrils, which consists in first covering the nostrils
with lint, and then tying a folded handkerchief outside
// 144.png
.pn +1
this with a corner hanging over the chin. When
the arsenic soot has been scraped out of the flues and
chambers in which it has condensed, it is packed in
barrels.
Every precaution possible is adopted to reduce
danger, but with certain winds gases escape in puffs
from the furnace doors, which the men designate
"smeeches," and these contain arsenic in a vaporised
form, which has an extremely irritating effect on the
bronchial tubes.
One great protection against arsenical sores is
soap and water. Arsenic dust has a tendency to
produce sore places about the mouth, the ankles,
and the wrists. Moreover, if it be allowed to settle
in any of the folds of the flesh it produces a nasty
raw. On leaving their work the men are required to
bathe and completely cleanse themselves from every
particle of the poison that may adhere to them.
.pm illo i_145 i_145.jpg 700px "ARSENIC WORKS"
As touching inadvertent arsenical poisoning, I will
mention a circumstance that may be of use to some
of my readers.
When living in the East of England I found my
children troubled with obstinate sores, chiefly about
the joints. They would not heal. I sent for the local
doctor, and he tinkered at them, but instead of mending,
the wounds got worse. This went on for many
weeks. Suddenly an idea struck me. I had papered
some of my rooms with highly æsthetic wall coverings
by a certain well-known artist-poet who had a
business in wall-papers. I passed my hand over the
wall, and found that the colouring matter came off
on my hand. At once I drove into the nearest town
// 145.png
// 146.png
// 147.png
.pn +1
and submitted the paper to an analyst. He told
me that it was charged with sulphuret of arsenic,
common orpiment, and that as the glue employed
for holding the paint had lost all power, this arsenical
dust floated freely in the air. I at once sent my
children away, and they had not been from home a
week before they began to recover. Of course, all
the wall-papers were removed.
About a month later I was in Freiburg, in Baden,
and immediately on my arrival called on an old
friend, and asked how he and all his were.
"Only fairly well," he replied. "We are all--the
young people especially--suffering from sores.
Whether it is the food--"
"Or," said I, interrupting him, "the paper."
Then I told him my experience.
"Why," said he, "a neighbour, a German baron,
has his children ill in the same way."
At once he ran into the baron's house and told
him what I had said. Both proceeded immediately
to the public analyst with specimens of the papers
from the rooms in which the children slept. The
papers were found to be heavily laden with arsenic.
Unhappily, in spite of all precautions, the work at
the arsenic mine and manufactory is prejudicial to
health. The workers are disabled permanently at
an average age of forty. Of deaths in the district,
eighty-three per cent. are due to respiratory diseases,
while sixty-six per cent. are due to bronchitis alone.
For the last three years, out of every hundred deaths
among persons of all ages in the parish of Calstock
twenty-six have been due to diseases of the respiratory
// 148.png
.pn +1
organs, but out of every hundred employés
at the arsenic works who have died or become disabled
eighty-three deaths have been due to respiratory
diseases. It is evident that with such an unusual
proportion of one particular disease in the most able-bodied
portion of the community there must be a
definite existing cause.
No doubt that a very minute amount of arsenic
may pass through the nostrils and down the throat,
but what is far more prejudicial than that is the
sulphurous acid which cannot be excluded by the
handkerchief and lint, but passes freely through
both. This is extremely irritating to the mucous
membrane. But the fact of working for hours with
the breathing impeded by the wraps about mouth
and nose is probably the leading cause of the
mischief.
Suggestions of remedies have been made, but
none practical. A mask has been proposed, but
this does not answer, as it causes sores, and is
difficult to keep clean.
Devon Consols produces about 150 tons of arsenic
per month; Gawlor, 100 tons; Greenhill, 50;
Coombe, 25; and Devon Friendship about the
same. In all about 350 tons per month. This to
the workers is worth £10 per ton, or a revenue to
the neighbourhood of £42,000 per annum.
In S. Mellion parish, on the Tamar, finely situated,
is Pentillie Castle.
The original name of the place was Pillaton, but
it was bought by a man of the name of Tillie in
the reign of James II., who called it after his own
// 149.png
.pn +1
name. He was a self-made man, who was knighted,
and not having any right to arms of his own, assumed
those of Count Tilly, of the Holy Roman empire.
But this came to the ears of the Herald's College,
and an inquisition into the matter was made, and
Sir James was fined, and his assumed arms were
defaced and torn down.
He died in 1712, and by will required his adopted
heir, one Woolley, his sister's son, not only to
assume his name, but also not to inter his body in
the earth, but to set it up in the chair in which he
died, in hat, wig, rings, gloves, and his best apparel,
shoes and stockings, and surround him with his
books and papers, with pen and ink ready; and
for the reception of his body to erect a walled
chamber on a height, with a room above it in
which his portrait was to be hung; and the whole
was to be surmounted by a tower and spire.
About two hours before he died Sir James said,
"In a couple of years I shall be back again, and
unless Woolley has done what I have required, I will
resume all again."
Mr. Woolley accordingly erected the tower that
still stands above Sir James' vault. But the knight
did not return. He crumbled away; moth and
worm attacked his feathers and velvets; and after
some years nothing was left of him but a mass of
bone and dust that had fallen out of the chair.
// 150.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 camelford "CHAPTER VIII." "CAMELFORD"
.pm onhanghead
A rotten borough--Without a church or chapel-of-ease--History of
the borough--Contest between the Earl of Darlington and Lord
Yarmouth--Brown Willy and Rough Tor--Helborough--S. Itha--Slaughter
Bridge--King Arthur--The reason for the creation
of the Arthur myth--Geoffrey of Monmouth--The truth about King
Arthur--The story of his birth--Damelioc and Tintagel--How
it is that he appears in so many places--King Arthur's Hall--The
remains of Tintagel--The Cornish chough--Crowdy Marsh--Brown
Willy and the beehive cottages on it--Fernworthy--Lord
Camelford--His story--Penvose--S. Tudy--Slate monuments--Basil--S.
Kew--The Carminows--Helland--A telegram--Battle.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "That"
this little town of a single street should
have been a borough and have returned two
members to Parliament is a surprise. It is a
further surprise to find that it is a town without a
church, and that no rector of Lanteglos, two miles
distant, should have deemed it a scandal to leave
it without even a chapel-of-ease is the greatest
surprise of all.
Camelford was invested with the dignity of a
borough in 1547, when it was under the control
of the Roscarrock family. From them it passed
to the Manatons living at Kilworthy, near Tavistock.
Then it fell into the hands of an attorney named
Phillipps. He parted with his interest to the Duke
// 151.png
.pn +1
of Bedford, and he in turn to the Earl of Darlington,
afterwards Duke of Cleveland.
The electors were the free burgesses paying scot
and lot. "Scot" signifies taxes or rates. But the
mayor was the returning officer, and he controlled
the election.
In George IV.'s reign there was a warm contest
between the Earl of Darlington and Lord Yarmouth.
The latter ran up a great building, into which he
crowded a number of faggot voters. But the Earl
of Darlington possessed rights of search for minerals;
so he drove a mine under this structure, and blew it
up with gunpowder. The voters hearing what was
purposed, ran away in time, and consequently
Lord Yarmouth lost the election.
In the election of 1812 each voter received a
hundred pounds for his vote. In the election of
1818 the mayor, Matthew Pope, announced his
intention of giving the majority to Lord Darlington's
nominee, and of turning out of their freeholds all
who opposed. The other party had a club called
"The Bundle of Sticks," and engaged a chemist
named William Hallett, of S. Mary Axe, to
manage the election for them, and put £6000
into his hand to distribute among the electors,
£400 apiece.
Hanmer and Stewart got ten votes apiece,
Milbrook and Maitland thirteen. But there was an
appeal, and a new election; but this again led to
a petition, and a scandalous story was told of
bribery and corruption of the most barefaced
description. The election was declared void, and
// 152.png
.pn +1
many persons, including Hallett, the chemist, were
reported. It was proposed to disfranchise the
borough, but George III. died in 1820, and new
writs had to be at once issued.
Camelford has no public buildings of interest. It is
situate on very high ground, on a wind-blown waste
700 feet above the sea, exposed to furious gales from
the Atlantic; but it has this advantage, that it forms
headquarters for an excursion to the Bodmin moors,
to Brown Willy (1375 feet), and Rough Tor (1250 feet).
These tors, though by no means so high as those
on Dartmoor, are yet deserving of a visit, on account
of their bold outlines, the desolation of the wilderness
out of which they rise, and the numerous relics of
antiquity strewn over the moors about them.
Of these presently.
The parish church of Camelford, two miles off,
is Lanteglos. The dedication is to S. Julitta, but
this would seem to have been a rededication, and
the true patroness to have been either Jutwara or
Jutwell, sister of St. Sidwell, or of Ilut, one of King
Brythan's daughters.
There was a royal deer-park there, as the old
castle of Helborough, though not occupied, was in
the possession of the Duke of Cornwall.
This is really a prehistoric camp of Irish construction,
and in the midst of it are the ruins of a
chapel to S. Sith or Itha, the Bridget of Munster.
Itha had a number of churches ranging from the
Padstow estuary to Exeter, showing that this
portion of Dumnonia received colonists from the
south-west of Ireland. Her name is disguised as
// 153.png
.pn +1
Issey and as Teath. She was a remarkable person,
as it was she who sent her foster-son Brendan with
three ships, manned by thirty in each, on an exploring
excursion across the Atlantic to the west, which,
possibly, led to the discovery of Madeira in the sixth
century. But the truth is so disguised by fable that
little certainty can be obtained as to the results of
the voyage. Brendan made, in fact, two expeditions;
in the first his ships were of wicker, with three coats
of leather over the basket frame; the second time,
by Itha's advice, he made his boats of timber.
Itha never was herself in Cornwall, her great
foundation was Kill-eedy in Limerick, and she was
taken as the tutelary saint or patroness of Hy-Conaill,
but there were establishments, daughters of
the parent house, what the Irish called daltha
(i.e. pupil) churches, enjoying much the same rights
as the mother house.
Camelford has by some been supposed to be the
Gavulford where the last battle was fought between
the West Welsh and Athelstan; but there was no
reason for his advancing into Cornwall this way,
where all was bleak, and by no old road.
There is, however, a Slaughter Bridge on the Camel,
but this is taken to have acquired its name from having
been the scene of the fight between King Arthur and
his rebellious nephew Mordred, circ. 537.
King Arthur is a personage who has had hard
measure dealt out to him. That there was such an
individual one can hardly doubt. There is a good
deal of evidence towards establishing his existence.
He was chief king over all the Britons from Cornwall
// 154.png
.pn +1
to Strathclyde (i.e. the region from the Firth of Clyde
to Cumberland). He was constantly engaged, first
in one part, then in another, against the Saxons; but
his principal battles were fought in Scotland. He
occurs in the Welsh accounts of the saints, but never
as a hero, always as a despot and tyrant. His immediate
predecessor, Geraint, in like manner is met
with, mainly in Cornwall, but also in Wales, where
he had a church, and in Herefordshire. He had to
keep the frontier against the Saxons.
What played the mischief with Arthur was that
Geoffrey of Monmouth, who became bishop of S.
Asaph in 1152, published, about 1140, his fabulous
History of the Britons, which elevated Arthur into
a hero. Geoffrey had an object in view when he
wrote this wonderful romance. The period was one
in which the Welsh had been horribly maltreated,
dispossessed of their lands, their churches taken from
them and given to Normans, who neither understood
their language nor regarded their traditions. The
foreigners had castles planted over the country filled
with Norman soldiery, tormenting, plundering, insulting
the natives. Poor Wales wept tears of blood. Now
Henry I. had received the beautiful Nest, daughter
of Rhys, king of South Wales, as a hostage when
her father had fallen in battle, and, instead of
respecting his trust, he had wronged her in her
defenceless condition in a cruel manner, and had by
her a son, Robert, who was raised by him to be Duke
of Gloucester. To this Robert, half Welsh, Geoffrey
dedicated his book, a glorification of the British
kings, a book that surrounded the past history of the
// 155.png
// 156.png
// 157.png
.pn +1
Welsh with a halo of glory. The book at once
seized on the imagination of English and Normans,
and a change took place in the way in which the
Welsh were regarded. The triumph of the Saxon
over the Briton came to be viewed in an entirely
new light, as that of brutality over heroic virtue.
Geoffrey succeeded in his object, but he produced
bewilderment among chroniclers and historians, and
seriously influenced them when they began to write
on the history of England.
.pm illo i_155 i_155.jpg 417px "KING ARTHUR"
Now, although all the early portion of Geoffrey's
work is a tour de force of pure imagination, yet he was
cautious enough as he drew near to historic times,
of which records were still extant, to use historic
facts and work them into his narrative, so that in the
latter portion all is not unadulterated fable; it is a
hotch-potch of fact and fiction, with a preponderance
of the latter, indeed, but not without some genuine
history mixed up with it. The difficulty his book
presents now is to discriminate between the false and
the true.
As far as can be judged, it is true that Arthur was
son of Uthr, who was Pendragon, or chief king of the
Britons, and of Igerna, wife of the Duke of Cornwall,
whom Geoffrey calls Gorlois, but who is otherwise
unknown. Uthr saw Igerna at a court feast, and
"continually served her with tit-bits, and sent her
golden cups, and bestowed on her all his smiles,
and to her addressed his whole discourse." Gorlois
naturally objected, and removed his wife into Cornwall,
and refused to attend the king when summoned
to do so. Uthr now marched against him. The
// 158.png
.pn +1
Duke placed Igerna in the cliff-castle of Tintagel,
but himself retreated into Damelioc, a strong caer,
that remains almost intact, in the parish of S. Kew.
Uthr invested Damelioc, and whilst Gorlois was thus
hemmed in he went to Tintagel and obtained
admission by an artifice. Gorlois was killed in a
sally, Damelioc was taken and plundered, and Uthr
made Igerna his wife. It was the old story over
again of David and the wife of Uriah the Hittite.
The result of this union was a son, Arthur, and a
daughter, Ann, who eventually became the wife of
Lot, king of Lothian, and mother of Modred.
We have no means of checking this story and
saying how much of it is fact and how much false.
But it is worth pointing out that in Geoffrey's account
there is one significant thing mentioned that looks
much like truth. He says that when Uthr was
marching against him, Gorlois at once appealed for
help from Ireland. Now, considering that all this
district was colonised by Irish and half-Irish, this is
just what a chieftain of the country would have done,
but Geoffrey almost certainly knew nothing of this
colonisation. Moreover, he had something to go
upon with regard to Damelioc and Tintagel, unless,
which is hardly likely, he had lived some time in
North-eastern Cornwall, and had seen the earthworks
of the former and the fortified headland of the latter,
and so was able to use them up in his fabulous tale.
Damelioc is but five or six miles from Tintagel,
and in Geoffrey's story they are represented as at no
great distance apart. Had Geoffrey been in this part
of Cornwall and invented the whole story, he would
// 159.png
.pn +1
have been more likely to make Gorlois take refuge in
the far stronger and more commanding Helbury,
occupying a conical height 700 feet above the sea,
than Damelioc, 500 feet, only, on an extensive plateau.
King Arthur has been so laid hold of by the
romancers, and his story has been so embellished
with astounding flourishes of the imagination, that
we are inclined to doubt whether he ever existed,
and all the more so because we find legend attached
to him and associated with localities alike in Cornwall,
Wales, and Scotland. Mr. Skene has shown
very good cause for identifying the sites of some of
his battles with remains of fortifications in Scotland.[9]
How, then, can we account for his presence in
Cornwall and Wales? As a matter of fact, this is
perfectly explicable. The Saxons held possession
of the whole east of Britain as far as the ridge
which runs between Yorkshire and Lancashire; as
also the region about Leeds, which latter constituted
the kingdom of Elmet. Needwood and Arden forests
lay between the rival people. Strathclyde, Cumberland,
Rheged, now Lancashire, all Wales, with Powis
occupying Shropshire and Cheshire, Gloucester, Bath,
and Dumnonia, extending through Cornwall, Devon,
and Somerset, formed one great confederation of
Britons under a head king. Geraint had previously
been head of the confederacy, and we find traces of
him accordingly in Cornwall, Somerset, Wales, and at
Hereford. The Pendragon, or chief king, had to be
at every post along the frontier that was menaced.
So with Arthur; he was in Cornwall, indeed, but he
// 160.png
.pn +1
was also in Wales, where he is spoken of in the lives
of some of the saints, as we have seen, always as
a bully. And he was in Scotland opposing the
advance of the Bernicians. His father, Uthr, had
been head king before him, but Geraint had been
chosen as Pendragon on the death of Uthr; Geraint
fell in 522, and it is held that Arthur perished in
537. There are several reminiscences of King Arthur
in the district. At Slaughter Bridge he is thought
to have fallen. Above Camelford rise Dinnevor
(Dinnas-vawr), the Great Castle, and King Arthur's
Downs, with a singular oblong rectangular structure
on it called King Arthur's Hall, the purport of which
has not been discovered. At Tintagel are his cups and
saucers, hollows in the rock, and his spirit is said to
haunt the height as a monstrous white gull wailing
over the past glories of Britain. At Killmar is
his bed. At Tintagel is Porth-iern, which is either
the Iron Port or that of Igerna, Arthur's mother;
at Boscastle is Pentargon (Arthur's Head). The
Christian name of Gwenivere, his faithless wife, is
still by no means rare, as Genefer.
Tintagel is but a fragment. There was anciently
a rift with a bridge over it between one court of the
castle and the other; but the rift has expanded to
a gaping mouth, and rock and wall have fallen to
form a mound of débris that now connects the mainland
with what, but for this heap, would be an islet.
.pm illo i_161 i_161.jpg 700px "TINTAGEL"
Tintagel, properly Dun-diogl, the "Safe Castle,"
has been built of the black slate rock, with shells
burnt for lime. A few fragments of wall remain on
the mainland, and a few more on the island, where
// 161.png
// 162.png
// 163.png
.pn +1
is also the ruin of a little chapel, with its stone altar
still in situ. The situation is superb, and were the
ruins less ruinous, the scene from the little bay that
commands the headland would be hardly surpassed.
On Barras Head, opposite, a company are erecting a
fashionable modern hotel.
About the cliffs may still be seen the Cornish
chough, with its scarlet legs, but the bird is becoming
scarce. The south coast of Cornwall is now entirely
deserted by the choughs, and the only remaining
colonies are found at intervals on the side facing the
Atlantic. Unhappily visitors are doing their utmost
to get them exterminated by buying the young birds
that are caught and offered for sale. But the jackdaws
are also driving them, and probably in-and-in
breeding is leading to their diminution. The choughs
not being migratory birds, and sticking much to the
same localities, those who desire to obtain their eggs
or rob the nests of the young know exactly which
are their haunts year by year.
.pm onblock
"The free wild temperament of choughs," writes Mr.
A. H. Malan, "will not brook any confinement, but must
have absolute liberty and full exercise for their wings. If
this is not the case, they generally get an attack of asthma,
which usually proves fatal, in their first year.
"Everyone has seen a chough, if only in a museum; and
therefore knows the beautiful glossy black of the adult
plumage, the long wings crossed over the back and extending
beyond the squared tail, the long, slender red legs,
and the brilliant red curved bill. But only those who have
kept them know their marvellous docility. You may train
a falcon to sit on your wrist and come down to the lure,
with infinite labour; but to a chough brought up from the
// 164.png
.pn +1
nest it comes quite natural to be at one moment flying
in high air--it may be hotly pursued by a party of rooks,
and leading them a merry dance, since, being long-winged
birds, choughs hold the rooks, crows, and jackdaws very
cheap, inasmuch as these baser creatures can never come
near enough to injure them--and the next to come in at
the open window, alight on the table, or jump on one's
knee and sit there any length of time, absolutely still, while
the head and back are stroked with the hand or a pen,
combining the complete confidence of a cat or a dog with
the wild freedom of the swallow. No other bird with
which I am acquainted thus unites the perfection of tameness
with the limitless impetuosity of unreclaimed nature."[10]
.pm offblock
Brown Willy and Rough Tor are fine hills rising
out of really ghastly bogs, Crowdy and Stannon
and Rough Tor marshes, worse than anything of
the sort on Dartmoor, places to which you hardly
desire to consign your worst enemies, always excepting
promoters of certain companies. I really
should enjoy seeing them flounder there.
Brown Willy (bryn geled=conspicuous hill) has five
heads, and these are crowned with cairns.
Owing mainly to the remoteness of this mountain
from the habitations of men, and from the mischievous
activity of stone quarriers for buildings, there are
scattered about this stately five-pointed tor some
very interesting relics of antiquity, of an antiquity
that goes back to prehistoric times. Among these
most interesting of all are the beehive huts that
cluster about the granite rocks like the mud nests
of swallows.
// 165.png
.pn +1
The whole of the Cornish moors, like Dartmoor,
are strewn with prehistoric villages and towns of
circular houses, sometimes within rings of rude
walling that served as a protection to the settlement,
and connected with enclosures for the cattle against
wolves. But though in many cases the doorways
remain, of upright jambs with a rude lintel of granite
thrown across, complete examples roofed in are rare,
and those to which we direct attention now are
known to very few persons indeed. The huts in
question measure internally from six to eight feet in
diameter; the walls are composed of moorstones
rudely laid in courses, without having been touched
by any tool or bedded in mortar. The walls are
some two to three feet thick. Sometimes they are
formed of two concentric rings of stones set upright
in the ground, filled in between with smaller stones,
but such huts were never stone-roofed. Beehive-roofed
they were, but with their dome formed of oak
boughs brought together in the centre, the ends
resting on these walls, and the whole thatched with
straw or heather or fern. But the stone-built and
roofed huts have walls of granite blocks laid in
courses, and after five feet they are brought to dome
over by the overlapping of the coverers, in the
primitive fashion that preceded the invention of the
arch.
.pm illo2 i_168 i_168.jpg 584px "BEEHIVE HUT (Beehive Hut Fernaker, Logan Rock Lenden, Section of the Fernaker Hut.)" "(By kind permission of \"The Daily Graphic\")"
The roof was thus gathered in about a smoke-hole,
which was itself finally closed with a wide, thin
granite slab, and thus the whole roof and sides were
buried in turf, so that the structure resembled a huge
ant-hill. Most of this encasing flesh and skin has
// 166.png
.pn +1
gone, and the bone beneath is exposed. Nevertheless;
it does remain in some cases, and has been
the means of preserving these curious structures.
One such, very perfect, is on the river Erme, above
Piles Wood, on Dartmoor. Into this it is quite
possible to crawl and take refuge from a shower.
It is completely watertight, but it is not easy to find,
as it is overgrown with dense masses of heather.
Another is close to the farmhouse of Fernaker,
between Brown Willy and Rough Tor, and it has
been spared because the farmer thought it might
serve his purpose as a pig-sty or a butter-house.
This Fernaker hut is rudely quadrangular, and one
side is formed by a great block of granite rising out
of the ground five feet and nine feet long. On
this basis the house has been built and roofed
in the usual manner by five courses of overlapping
stones. The highest peak of Brown Willy is
occupied by a huge cairn that has never been
explored, owing to the expense and labour of
working into it. It probably covers some old
Cornish king. Immediately below it, some forty
feet, are two beehive huts, in very fair condition, one
eight feet in diameter, with a second, much smaller,
only four feet six inches in diameter, close to it,
opposite the door, with an entrance so small that
it probably served as a store-chamber. One huge
slab of granite, some twelve feet long and six feet
wide, forms half the roof of the larger hut; the
remainder has fallen in.
On the other side of Brown Willy, the west side, at
no great distance from the source of the river Fowey,
// 167.png
// 168.png
// 169.png
.pn +1
is another beehive hut, not absolutely perfect, but
nearly so; one course and the smoke-hole coverer
have fallen in on one side. The doors to these hovels
are so low that he who enters one must crawl on hands
and knees. In the beehive hut last mentioned the
height in the middle is but three feet six inches, so
that those who tenanted it could not stand upright
inside. On Rough Tor, divided from Brown Willy by
a valley, are three or four more of these huts, and the
flanks of the mountains are covered with others,
hundreds of them, in a more or less dilapidated
condition. Some of these were originally stone-roofed;
others were not. In connection with these
remains of habitations are numerous relics of
interments at some distance from them, for our
primeval population always buried their dead away
from the living. These consist of cairns, covering
stone coffins or kistvaens that have been for the most
part rifled by treasure-seekers. One has a somewhat
pathetic interest, for beside the large stone
chest just outside the ring of upright stones that
encloses it is a child's cist, formed of four blocks
of granite two feet seven inches long, the covering-stone
removed, and the contents scattered to the
winds. Near at hand also is the largest circle of
upright stones in Cornwall. The stones themselves
are not tall, and are much sunk in the boggy soil, but
it is very perfect, consisting of fifty-five stones, and
140 feet in diameter. On the neighbouring height
of Leudon is a logan rock that still oscillates easily.
The question naturally arises, Do these beehive huts
actually date back to prehistoric times? That is
// 170.png
.pn +1
not a question we can answer with certainty, for we
know that the same methods of construction were
observed to a comparatively late period, and that in
the Isles of Lewis and Harris, in the Hebrides,
precisely similar huts are even now inhabited, and are
certainly in many cases of recent construction. But
what is extremely interesting to find is the existence
in Cornwall of these beehive habitations of man
exactly like those found in Scotland; and in Cornwall,
as in Scotland, associated with rude stone monuments
of pre-Christian times. In the Hebrides the beehive
huts still occupied are not stone-roofed. The roof is
of straw, and is renewed every year because of the
value as manure of the peat smoke that saturates
it. But there remain earlier beehive huts in Lewis
of exactly the same nature as those in Cornwall.
It is therefore by no means unlikely that both
belong to the primitive race that first colonised our
isles.
Camelford has given a title, and that to a remarkable
man, Lord Camelford, the duellist. He was
the great-grandson of Governor Pitt, who acquired
an ample fortune in India. He was born in 1775,
and even when a boy was violent and unmanageable.
He was put in the navy, but owing to his refractory
conduct was treated with severity by his captain,
Vancouver, and on his return home, meeting Vancouver
in Bond Street, was only prevented from
striking his captain by his brother throwing himself
in the way.
In town he was incessantly embroiled. On the
night of April 2nd, 1799, during a disturbance
// 171.png
.pn +1
at Drury Lane Theatre, he savagely attacked and
wounded a gentleman, and was fined for so doing
the sum of £500 by the Court of Queen's Bench.
He attacked watchmen, insulted anyone who crossed
his humour in the least degree, committed all kinds
of violence, till his name became a terror, and he was
involved in first one quarrel and then in another.
His irritable and ungovernable temper at length
brought about fatal consequences to himself. He had
been acquainted with a Mrs. Simmons. He was told
that a Captain Best had reported to her a bit of
scandal relative to himself. This so incensed his
lordship, that on March 6th, 1804, meeting with Best
at a coffee-house, he went up to him, and in the
hearing of everyone called him "a scoundrel, a liar,
and a ruffian." A challenge followed, and the
meeting was fixed for the next morning. The
seconds having ascertained the occasion of Lord
Camelford's wrath, Best declared himself ready to
apologise, and to retract any words that had given
offence which he had used to Mrs. Simmons, but his
lordship refused to accept such an apology. Agreeably
to an appointment made by the seconds, Lord
Camelford and the captain met early next morning
at a coffee-house in Oxford Street, where Captain
Best made another effort to prevail on Lord Camelford
to make up the quarrel and to withdraw the
expressions he had addressed to him in public. To
all remonstrance he replied, "Let it go on."
Accordingly both mounted their horses and took
the road to Kensington, followed by their seconds in
a post-chaise. On their arrival at the "Horse and
// 172.png
.pn +1
Groom" they dismounted, and entered the fields
behind Holland House. The seconds measured the
ground, and took their stations at the distance of
thirty paces. Lord Camelford fired first, but without
effect. An interval ensued, and those who looked
on from a distance believed that Best was again
urging his lordship to come to amicable terms. But
Lord Camelford shook his head; then Best fired,
and his lordship fell at full length. The seconds,
together with the captain, at once ran to his assistance,
when he seized his antagonist by the hand and
said, "Best, I am a dead man; you have killed me,
but I freely forgive you." The report of the pistols
had attracted the attention of some of Lord
Holland's gardeners and servants, who ran to the
spot and endeavoured to arrest Captain Best and
his second, who were making off. Lord Camelford
asked "why they endeavoured to detain the gentlemen;
he himself was the aggressor, and he frankly
forgave the gentleman who had shot him, and he
hoped that God would forgive him as well."
A chair was procured, and Lord Camelford was
carried into Little Holland House, where he expired
after three days of suffering.
On the morning after his decease an inquest was
held on the body, and a verdict of wilful murder was
returned against "some person or persons unknown."
A bill of indictment was, however, preferred against
Captain Best and his second, but was ignored by the
grand jury, who were sensible that Lord Camelford
had brought his death on himself.
In the neighbourhood of Camelford are several very
// 173.png
.pn +1
charming old mansions of Cornish families, small
but eminently picturesque, all now converted into
farmhouses. In next generation they will not be
considered good enough for labourers. One of these
is Penvose in S. Tudy, another Trewane, hard by
the station of Port Isaac Road. Both these belonged
to the Nicholls family, to two brothers it is
said, and the magnificent carved slate monuments
of the family are to be seen in S. Tudy Church. The
slate in this district was sculptured in a way really
marvellous, and there are numerous examples in the
churches round. In S. Endellion are Treshunger,
the seat of the Matthews family, and Rosecarrock--a
fragment only. Basil, previously mentioned, is in
S. Clether. It belonged to the Trevillians. One day
a party of Roundheads came to Basil to seize on the
squire. Trevillian looked out of the window. "If
you come on," said he, "I will send out my spearmen
against you." As they did come on, he threw a beehive
among them, and away they fled, every man.
Near Slaughter Bridge is Worthyvale, the seat of
a family of the same name.
The churches of this district are planted, some on
the top of hills, and with high towers, to serve as
waymarks over land that was all formerly waste, or
else nestle into sweet dells surrounded by Cornish
elms--warm, sunny nooks where the primrose comes
out early and the grass is emerald-green all the
winter. Of the former description are S. Tudy and
S. Mabyn. Of the latter S. Kew, a church on no
account to be passed over, as it is not only
singularly beautiful and well restored, but also
// 174.png
.pn +1
contains superb old glass, moved from Bodmin
Priory at its dissolution. One window represents
the Passion, and is perfect; another once contained a
Jesse tree, but is much broken and defective.
S. Kew is really Docwin, otherwise called Cyngar,
the founder of Congresbury, in Somersetshire. He
was a son of Gildas the historian, that sour
creature who threw all the dirt he could at the
princes, people, and clergy of his own blood and
tongue, and told us the least possible about their
history, filling his pages with pious scurrility.
In S. Teath (S. Itha) is a very fine churchyard
cross. Here may be noticed the arms of the
Carminow family, once perhaps the most powerful
in Cornwall, now gone--without a living representative
remaining of the name. A junior branch
was settled at Trehannick, in S. Teath, at which
place William Carminow died in 1646, the last
male heir of this ancient family, which was at
home when the Conqueror came. Their arms are
simplicity itself--azure, a bend or--the same as
those of Scrope and of Grosvenor. In the reign of
Richard II. there was a great heraldic dispute over
these arms, and it was carried before the Earl of
Northampton, who was king of arms, and was then
in France. As the Carminows could show that they
had borne this coat from time immemorial, certainly
as long as any Scropes and Grosvenors, it was allowed.
If there be churches dedicated to odd and out-of-the-way
saints in this region, there be also parishes
with odd and out-of-this-world names, as Helland
and Blisland. Of the former a tale circulates.
// 175.png
.pn +1
The vicar was going to town, and hoped that the
Archdeacon of Cornwall could be induced to take his
service on the Sunday following, and he left it to his
neighbour at Blisland to negotiate this little arrangement
for him. All went well, and the latter gave in
a telegram at the nearest office:--
"The Archdeacon of Cornwall is going to Helland;
you need not return."
But when it was delivered in London it was thus
divided:--
"The Archdeacon of Cornwall is going to Hell;
and you need not return."
Slaughter Bridge, the scene as reputed of the fatal
battle between Arthur and his nephew Modred,
should be seen, a bleak spot hard by Camelford
Road Station. Under a rock, prostrate by the river-bank,
lies an early inscribed stone to Latinus, son of
Macari, an Irish form of name. Here--
.pm onpoem
"All day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea;
Until King Arthur's Table, man by man,
Had fall'n in Lyonness about their Lord."
.pm offpoem
// 176.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 bude "CHAPTER IX." "BUDE"
.pm onhanghead
An ugly place--Its charm in the air--Stratton--The battle of Stamford
Hill--Churches--Norman remains--Frescoes at Poughill--Pancras
Week--Bench-ends--Tonnacombe--Marhayes--Old Stowe--Church
towers--Landmarks--The candle-end in Bridgerule
Church--Bridget churches--The clover-field--Ogbeare
Hall--Whitstone--Camps--Thomasine Bonaventura--Week S. Mary--The
coast about Bude--Morwenstow--Robert S. Hawker--One
of his ballads.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "An"
unpicturesque, uninteresting place, windblown,
treeless, but with sands--not always
obtainable on the north coast--and with noble cliff
scenery within easy reach.
There is nothing commendable in the place itself;
the houses are as ugly as tasteless builders could
contrive to erect; the church is of the meanest cheap
Gothic of seventy years ago; but the air is exhilarating,
the temperature is even, there are golf-links,
and a shore for bathers.
.pm illo i_177 i_177.jpg 700px "BUDE"
Nestling in a valley by a little stream newly
designated the "Strat," as though Stratton were
called from the stream and not the street--the
Roman road that runs through it--is the parent
town, crouching with its hair ruffled, and casting a
sidelong, dissatisfied eye at its pert and pushing offspring,
Bude. But Stratton has no reason to be
// 177.png
// 178.png
// 179.png
.pn +1
discontented. It is sheltered from the furious gales,
which Bude is not; it has trees and flowers about it,
which Bude has not; it has a fine parish church,
which Bude has not; and it has a history, deficient
to Bude, which is a parvenu, and self-assertive
accordingly.
And Stratton further has got its battlefield. The
height above the town was the scene of one of those
encounters in which the Royalist forces for Charles I.
were successful. The following description of the
battle is from Professor Gardiner's History of the
Great Civil War:--[11]
.pm onblock
"The Earl of Stamford placed himself at the head of the
army under his command, and resolved on carrying the
war into Cornwall. As he could dispose of 6800 men,
whilst Hopton and the Cornish leaders at Launceston had
with them less than half the number, he determined to
despatch the greater part of his horse to Bodmin in order
to suppress any attempt to muster the trained bands there.
With his infantry and a few remaining horse he established
himself near Stratton, in the extreme north-west of the
county, in a position apparently strong enough to secure
him from attack, at least till his cavalry returned.
"The ground occupied by Stamford was well chosen.
A ridge of high ground running from the north to south
parallel with the coast dips sharply down, and rises as
sharply again to a grassy hill, from the southern end of
which there is a still deeper cleft through which the road
descends steeply to the left into the valley in which lies the
little town of Stratton. On the top of this hill, the sides of
which slope in all directions from the highest point to the
edge of the plateau, the Parliamentary army lay. Beyond
// 180.png
.pn +1
this plateau the ground falls away in all directions, more
especially on the eastern side, where the position was
almost impregnable if seriously defended. The ascent
from the west was decidedly the easiest, but an earthwork
had been thrown up on this side, the guns from which
commanded the whole approach from this quarter.[12]
"Undismayed by the odds against them, Hopton and
his comrades resolved to break up from Launceston in
order to seek the enemy. As they approached Stratton
on the morning of the 16th (May, 1643) they had the
advantage of having amongst them one to whom every
inch of ground must have been perfectly familiar. But a
few miles to the north, on the bleak hillside above the
waves of the Atlantic, lay that house of Stowe from which
Sir Richard Grenville had gone forth to die in the Revenge,
and where doubtless the Lady Grenville of a younger
generation was watching anxiously for the return of him
who had ventured his life in the king's quarrel. It would
have been strange if on this day of peril the ordering of
the fight had not fallen into Sir Bevil Grenville's hands.
"The little army of Royalists consisted of but 2400,
whilst their adversaries could number 5400, well provided
with cannon and ammunition. The attacking force was
divided into four bands, prepared to storm, or at least to
threaten, the hill from every side. For some hours every
effort was in vain against superiority of numbers and
superiority of position. At three in the afternoon word
was brought to the commanders that their scanty stock
of powder was almost exhausted. A retreat under such
circumstances would have been fatal, and the word was
given that a supreme effort must be made. Trusting to
// 181.png
.pn +1
pike and sword alone, the lithe Cornishmen pressed onwards
and upwards. Their silent march seems to have
struck their opponents with a sense of power. The
defence grew feeble, and on the easier western slope,
where Grenville fought, and on the northern, on which
Sir John Berkeley led the attack, the outer edge of the
plateau was first gained. Immediately the handful of horse
which had remained with Stamford turned and fled, the
commander-in-chief, it is said, setting the example. In
vain Chudleigh, now second in command, rallied the force
for a desperate charge. For a moment he seemed to make
an impression on the approaching foe, but he incautiously
pressed too far in advance, and was surrounded and
captured. His men, left without a commander, at once
gave way, and retreated to the further part of the plateau.
By this time the other two Royalist detachments, finding
resistance slackening, had made their way up, and the
victorious commanders embraced one another on the
hard-won hill-top, thanking God for a success for which
at one time they had hardly ventured to hope. It was
no time to prolong their rejoicings, as the enemy,
demoralised as he was, still clung to the heights. Seizing
the cannons which had been abandoned in the earthwork,
the Royalist commanders turned them upon Stamford's
cowed followers. The frightened men had no one to
encourage them to deeds of hardihood, and, following the
example of the cavalry, they too dashed down the slope in
headlong flight. Of the Parliamentary soldiers, 300 had
been killed and 1700 were taken prisoners, besides
Chudleigh and thirty of his officers. All the cannon, with
a large store of ammunition and provisions, fell into the
hands of the victors. From that day the spot on which
the wealthy earl demonstrated his signal incompetence
as a leader of men has been known as Stamford
Hill."
.pm offblock
// 182.png
.pn +1
The scene of the battle deserves a visit, as it has
remained almost unaltered since that day. Whether
the earthworks belong to the period or were earlier,
utilised by Stamford, remains open to question.
They hardly seem disposed with skill and intelligence
for the use of cannon.
The Royalists were not merely about half in
number to the Roundheads, but they were short
of ammunition, and without cannon. They were
also "so destitute of provisions, that the best officers
had but a biscuit a man."
A monument erected on the hill in commemoration
of the battle was destroyed a few years ago, and
the plate with an inscription on it recording the
victory moved to the front of a house in Stratton.
There is a good deal to be seen in the way of
old houses and churches near Bude. Stratton Church
itself is fine, and contains a good tomb of an
Arundell. It has suffered less than most of the
sacred edifices in the neighbourhood from the
wrecker. Week S. Mary under his hands has become
a shell out of which life and beauty have fled. Morwenstow
has been reduced to nakedness, but its
grand Norman pillars and arches and doorway
remain. Kilkhampton has been lovingly treated
and the wrecker held at bay. It also has a Norman
doorway, and very fine bench-ends; Poughill has
these latter, also two frescoes of S. Christopher that
have been restored--one, through a blunder, as King
Olaf. The idea grew up in the fifteenth century
that he who looked on a figure of S. Christopher
would not that day die a sudden death. Consequently
// 183.png
.pn +1
representations of the saint were multiplied.
On the river Wulf in Devon at a ford it was held
that at night anyone who came to the side of the
water and cried out was caught up and carried over
by a gigantic spirit, and there are those alive who
protest that they have been so transported across the
Wulf. Recently the County Council has built a
bridge, and so this spectral Christopher's occupation
is gone.
Pancras Week has a very fine waggon roof of
richly-carved wood. Holsworthy is a good church
well restored. Here during the restoration a skeleton
was found in the wall, evidently hastily covered up
with mortar and stone.
At Poundstock and Launcells are good bench-ends.
The most interesting old house in the district,
because best preserved, is Tonnacombe in Morwenstow,
very small, with hall and minstrel gallery and
panelled parlours, but perfect and untouched by the
restorer, except in the most conservative manner.
Penfound in Poundstock, the seat of the ancient
family of Penfound, is in a condition verging on
ruin. The family has its representatives in Bude as
plain labourers. The last squire died in the poor-house
in 1847.
What is so delightful about these old Cornish
houses is the way that, in a wind-swept region, they
nestle into leafy combes.
Elford, now the parsonage of Bude, was the seat
of the Arundells, but it has been so altered as
to have lost most of its character. Marhamchurch
has a good Jacobean pulpit, and in the parish is
// 184.png
.pn +1
Marhayes, an interesting house, the basement Tudor,
on top of which a Charles II. house was reared.
In one room is a superb ceiling of plaster-work. At
Dunsland is another, richer, but not so good in
design. Sutcombe Church has the remains of a
remarkably good screen and some bench-ends.
The church has been judiciously restored and not
wrecked.
In Poughill, close to Bude, old Broom Hill, now
turned into cottages, has a good Elizabethan ceiling.
It was here that Sir Bevil Grenville slept the night
before the battle of Stamford Hill.
In the deep glen that leads from Kilkhampton to
the sea is the site of Stowe House, built by John,
Earl of Bath, in 1680. The title became extinct in
1711, and Stowe became the property of the widow
of Lord Carteret, who was created Countess Grenville.
The house was pulled down in 1720, so that
the same persons saw it built and saw its destruction.
The Earl of Bath had the best artists brought there
to decorate the mansion, and it is due to this that
so much splendid plaster-work is to be seen in North-east
Cornwall and near Holsworthy. An exquisite
plaster ceiling of delicate refinement and beauty
existed at Whitstone, but was destroyed by the
owner of the house, who had not any idea of its
artistic beauty.
Marsland in Morwenstow, without any architectural
features, is a charming example of a small country
squire's house of the seventeenth century. Stowe
Barton, though much altered and spoiled, is the
ancient seat of the Grenvilles; that has stood, whilst
// 185.png
.pn +1
the splendid mansion has disappeared, leaving only
its terraces to show where it once was.
Bridgerule Church stands high; its tower, that of
Pancras Week, and that of Week S. Mary were landmarks
when all the land except the combes was a
great furzy and rushy waste. The soil is cold,
clayey, and unproductive. It serves for the breeding
of horses and for rough stock, and grew grain when
grain-growing paid; now it is reverting to moor, but
anciently it was entirely uncultivated and open,
saving in the valleys. Bridgerule has a fine tower,
and in the church is a respectable modern screen,
though not of local character. About the rood-loft
door hangs a tale.
There was a widow who had a beautiful daughter,
and one evening a gentleman in a carriage drawn
by four black horses and with a black-liveried driver
on the box drove to the cottage door. The gentleman
descended. He was a swarthy but handsome
man. He entered the cottage on some excuse, sat
by the fire and talked, and eyed the damsel. Then
he called, and his liveried servant brought in wines
from the sword-case of his carriage, and they drank,
till the fire was in their veins, and the gentleman
asked the girl if she would accompany him home if
he came for her on the following night. She consented.
He would arrive at midnight, so he said.
Now next morning the mother's mind misgave
her, and she went to Bridgerule and consulted the
parson. Said he, "That was the devil. Did you see
his feet?"
"No--that is, I saw one," said the widow. "One
// 186.png
.pn +1
that was stretched out by the fire, but the other he
kept under the chair, and he had let fall his cloak
over it. But I did notice that he limped as he walked."
"Now," said the parson, "here is a consecrated
candle; it has burned on the altar. Take it home,
and when the visitor asks your wench to go with
him, let her say she will do so as soon as the candle
is burnt out. He will consent. At once take the
candle and run to Bridgerule Church and give it to
me, and see what happens."
Next night the woman lit the candle and set it on
the table, and it burnt cheerily. But just before midnight
the tramp of horses was heard and the roll of
wheels, and the black coach drew up at her door and
the gentleman descended. He entered the cottage
and asked if Genefer were ready to attend him.
"She is upstairs dressing in her Sunday gown,"
replied the mother.
"I am impatient; let her come as she is," said the
stranger.
"Suffer her to have time till this candle burns into
the socket," asked the mother.
"I consent, but not for a moment longer," was
his reply.
Then the widow took the candle, and saying she
went in quest of her daughter, she left the room,
went out at the back door, extinguished the candle,
and ran till she reached the church, where the
parson awaited her with his clerk, who was a mason.
He took the candle, gave it to his clerk, who placed
it in a recess in the wall, and at once proceeded to
build up the recess.
// 187.png
.pn +1
The mother hastened home. But as she came to a
moor called Affaland she saw the coach drawn by
four black horses arrive on it, and proceed to a pool
that was there, but is now dried up or drained away,
and in went horses, driver, coach, and all, and a great
spout of blue flame came up where they descended,
and after that, they were seen no more. When she
came home, she found her daughter in a dead faint.
Now that candle remains behind the wall that
closes up the rood-stair door. And the devil cannot
claim the girl, because the candle is not burnt out.
But if ever that wall be pulled down and the candle
be removed, and anyone be wicked enough to burn
it, then he will ascend from the place of outer
darkness and the gnashing of teeth, and snatch the
soul of Genefer away, even though it be in Abraham's
bosom.
Bridgerule is Llan-Bridget, that was granted at the
Conquest to a certain Raoul. It is one of the cluster
of Bridget churches that are found near the Tamar,
of which the others are Virginstow and Bridestow,
and Landue--now only a house with a holy well of
S. Bridget and the foundations of a chapel. Clearly
there was in this district a colony from Leinster,
from Magh Brea, the great plain in which Bridget
had her foundations. S. Bridget was a real person,
and one of great force of character; but what gave
her such an enormous popularity in Ireland was that
she inherited the name of one of the old pagan
goddesses, she of the fire, also the earth mother, and
the great helper of women in their trouble.
When the real Bridget saw the vast plain in
// 188.png
.pn +1
Leinster covered with white clover, from which the
wind that wafted over it was sweet as if it had
breathed from paradise, "Oh!" said she, "if this
lovely plain were mine I would give it to God."
S. Columba heard this story. He smiled, and
said, "God accepts the will for the deed. It is the
same to Him as if Bridget had freely given Him the
wide white clover field."
The centre of the cult of S. Bridget in ancient
Dumnonia must have been Bridestow, for there is
a sanctuary which marks the main monastic
establishment.
One day a party of bishops and clergy arrived
at Bridget's house of Kildare very hungry and
clamorous for food, and particularly desirous to
know what they were going to have for dinner.
"Now," said Bridget, "I and my spiritual daughters
also suffer from hunger. We have not the Word
of God ministered to us but exceptionally when a
stray priest comes this way. Let us go to church
first, and do ye feed us with spiritual nourishment
whilst dinner is getting ready, and then do you eat
your fill."
It is a long way to North Tamerton, but worth a
visit, for the church is well situated above the Tamar,
and contains some good bench-ends; and in the
parish is Ogbeare with a very fine old hall, but a
very modern villa residence attached to it--new
cloth on the old garment.
Whitstone is so called from the church being
founded on a piece of white sparry rock. When
the late Archbishop Benson was bishop of Truro
// 189.png
.pn +1
he came to open the church after restoration. As
the rector was taking him in he pointed out the
white stone. Bishop Benson at once seized on the
idea suggested, and preached to the people on the
text, "To him that overcometh will I give ... a
white stone." (Rev. ii. 17.) In the churchyard is a
holy well of S. Anne, not of the reputed mother of
the Virgin, for her cult is comparatively modern,
not much earlier than the fifteenth century, but
dedicated to the mother of S. Sampson, sister of
S. Padarn's mother. There must have been much
fighting at some time in this neighbourhood. There
is a fine camp in Swannacot Wood over against
Whitstone. Week S. Mary occupies an old camp
site, and another is in West Wood, and another, again,
in Key Wood, all within a rifle-shot of each other.
Week S. Mary occupies a wind-blasted elevation,
over 500 feet above the sea, and with no intervening
hills to break the force of the gales from the Atlantic.
The place has interest as the birthsite of Thomasine
Bonaventura. She was the daughter of a labourer,
and was one day keeping sheep on the moor, when
she engaged the attention of a London merchant
who was travelling that way, and stayed to ask of
her his direction.
Pleased with her Cornish grace of manner, with her
fresh face and honest eyes, he took her to London as
servant to his wife, and when the latter died he made
her the mistress of his house. Dying himself shortly
afterwards, he bequeathed to her a large fortune.
She then married a person of the name of Gale,
whom also she survived. Then Sir John Percival,
// 190.png
.pn +1
Lord Mayor of London, succumbed to her charms of
face, and above all of manner, and he became her
third husband. But he also died, and she was once
more a widow. The lady was by this time content
with her experience as a wife, and returning from
London to Week S. Mary--think of that! to Week
S. Mary, the wind-blown and desolate--she devoted
her days and fortune to good works. She founded
there a college and chantry, and doubtless largely
contributed towards the building of the parish
church. She repaired the roads, built bridges, gave
dowries to maidens, and relieved the poor. She
contributed also to the building of the tower of S.
Stephen's by Launceston.
Her college for the education of the youth of the
neighbourhood continued to flourish till the Reformation,
and the best gentlemen's sons of Devon and
Cornwall went there for their education. But as
there was a chantry attached to the school, this
served as an excuse for the rapacity of those who
desired to increase their goods at the cost of Church
and poor, and school and chantry were suppressed
together. Week S. Mary till lately had its mayor,
and was esteemed a borough, though it never
returned members.
Externally it is fine, the tower remarkably so. In
the tower may be observed curious results of a lightning
flash.
The coast of North Cornwall right and left of
Bude is very fine; the carboniferous rocks stand
up with their strata almost perpendicular, but there
are bays and coves that allow of descent to the sea.
// 191.png
.pn +1
Widmouth promises to become some day a great
watering-place.
To see this coast it is in vain to take the coach
road to Bideford or to Boscastle. The road runs on
the ridge of high land from which the streams descend
and spill into the sea. The only way in which to
appreciate its wildness and beauty is to take the
coast road that climbs and descends a succession
of rocky waves. By that means scenes of the
greatest picturesqueness and of the utmost variety
are revealed. One excursion must on no account be
omitted, that to Morwenstow, for many years the
home of a fine poet, an eccentric man, the Rev.
Robert S. Hawker.
He was born at Stoke Damerel on December 3rd,
1804, and was the son of Mr. Jacob Stephen Hawker,
at one time a medical man, but afterwards ordained
and vicar of Stratton. Mr. J. S. Hawker was the
son of the famous Dr. Hawker, incumbent of Charles
Church, Plymouth, author of Morning and Evening
Portions, a book of devotional reading at one time
in great request.
Young Robert was committed to his grandfather
to be educated. He was sent to Oxford, but his
father, then a poor curate, was unable to maintain
him there, and told him so. The difficulty was,
however, happily surmounted. He proposed to a
lady rather older than his mother, but who had
about £200 per annum. She accepted him; he was
then aged twenty and she was forty-one, and had
taught him his letters. By this means he was enabled
to continue his studies at Oxford. He was
// 192.png
.pn +1
given the living of Morwenstow in 1834, and remained
there till his death in 1875.
A writer in the Standard of this latter year thus
describes his first acquaintance with the vicar of
Morwenstow:--
.pm onblock
"It was on a solemn occasion that we first saw Morwenstow.
The sea was still surly and troubled, with wild
lights breaking over it and torn clouds driving through the
sky. Up from the shore, along a narrow path between
jagged rocks and steep banks tufted with thrift, came the
vicar, wearing cassock and surplice, and conducting a sad
procession, which bore along with it the bodies of two
seamen flung up the same morning on the sands. The
office used by Mr. Hawker at such times had been
arranged by himself, not without reference to certain
peculiarities which, as he conceived, were features of the
primitive Cornish Church, the same which had had its
bishops and its traditions long before the conference of
Augustine with its leaders under the great oak by the
Severn. Indeed, at one time he carried his adhesion to
these Cornish traditions to some unusual lengths. There
was, we remember, a peculiar yellow vestment, in which he
appeared much like a Lama of Thibet, which he wore in
his house and about his parish, and which he insisted was
an exact copy of a priestly robe worn by S. Padarn and
S. Teilo. We have seen him in this attire proceeding
through the lanes on the back of a well-groomed mule--the
only fitting beast, as he remarked, for a churchman."
.pm offblock
We have here an instance out of many of the
manner in which he delighted in hoaxing visitors.
The yellow vestment was a poncho. It came into
use in the following manner:--
Mr. Martyn, of Tonnacombe, was in conversation
// 193.png
.pn +1
one day with Mr. Hawker, when the latter complained
that he could not get a greatcoat to his
fancy, and one that would keep him dry against the
rainstorms.
"Why not have a poncho?" asked his neighbour.
"Poncho! what is that?"
"Nothing but a blanket with a hole in the middle."
"Do you put your legs through the hole and tie
the four corners over your head?"
"No," answered Mr. Martyn. "I will fetch you
mine, and you shall try it on."
The poncho was produced; it was dark blue,
and the vicar was delighted with it. Next time he
went to Bideford he bought a yellowish brown rug,
and had a hole cut in the middle through which
to thrust his head.
"I wouldn't wear your livery, Martyn," said he,
"nor your political colours, so I have got a yellow
poncho."
Those who knew him can picture to themselves
the sly twinkle in his eye as he informed his
credulous visitor that he was invested in the habit of
S. Padarn and S. Teilo.
But his dress was extraordinary enough without
the poncho. He was wont to wear a knitted blue
sailor's jersey, sea-boots above his knees, and a
claret-coloured coat and a clerical wide-awake of the
same colour. He had a great aversion to black.
"Why should we parsons be like crows--birds of ill-luck?"
he would say. "Black--black--are we
children of darkness? Black is the colour of devils
only."
// 194.png
.pn +1
A real poet he was, but desultory, rarely able to
remain fixed at work and carry out a project to the
end. He was an excellent ballad-writer, but he
could do better than write ballads. He began a
great poem on the "Quest of the Sangreal," but it
remains a fragment.
Here is one short specimen of a ballad, the lament
of a Cornish mother over her dead child:--
.pm onpoem
"They say 'tis a sin to sorrow--
That what God doth is best,
But 'tis only a month to-morrow
I buried it from my breast.
"I know it should be a pleasure
Your child to God to send;
But mine was a precious treasure,
To me and my poor friend.
"I thought it would call me mother,
The very first words it said;
Oh! I never can love another
Like the blessed babe that's dead.
"Well, God is its own dear Father,
It was carried to church and bless'd;
And our Saviour's arms will gather
Such children to their rest.
"I will check this foolish sorrow,
For what God doth is best;
But oh! 'tis a month to-morrow
I buried it from my breast."
.pm offpoem
.pm onblock
Note.--For further information see my Vicar of Morwenstow. New
and revised edition. Methuen. 1899.
.pm offblock
// 195.png
// 196.png
// 197.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 saltash "CHAPTER X." "SALTASH"
.pm onhanghead
Old Town Hall demolished--Nicholas Tyack--Borough of Esh--Charters--Albert
Bridge--Harbour dues--Contested elections--Continued
contests--Situation of Saltash--Old houses--The Porter
family--The Bonds of Earth--The boatwomen--Ann Glanville--In
the Civil War--Sentences of the court--Chapel of the Guildhall--Silver
cup--Trematon Castle--Riot at Saltash--Modern Guildhall--Maces--Old
shop.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "\"Just"
three weeks too late."
That was the answer I received on reaching
Saltash and inquiring after the old Town Hall. It
had been pulled down and carted away, and now a
hole in a range of buildings, like that in the jaw
produced by the extraction of a tooth, shows where
the old Town Hall had been.
It is a pity it is gone.
.pm illo i_196 i_196.jpg 700px "MACES AND SEAL OF SALTASH"
Beside it stood an ancient house that had been
occupied during the Commonwealth and the reign
of Charles II. by Nicholas Tyack, the mayor.
Nicholas Tyack was a turncoat, but somehow, whichever
way he turned his coat he always turned it to
his advantage.
Under the Commonwealth he was not only mayor,
but a great Presbyterian luminary. He harangued
and expounded Revelation always in favour of the
Commonwealth and Presbyterianism, and against
the Crown and the Mitre. But no sooner did
// 198.png
.pn +1
Charles II. land than he swung completely round.
All his political and religious views changed, and he
declared that the great horn was Old Noll and the
little horn was Dickon. By this means Nicholas
Tyack secured his position, and remained mayor of
Saltash. He had been high-handed in his proceedings
before; he became more high-handed under the
Restoration. He wanted to apprentice his son in
London; so he took the youth to town, lived well
whilst there, and on his return charged the expenses
to the town.
Nicholas had a great advantage in living next door
to the Town Hall, for he was able to break a way into
it through the intervening wall. According to custom
and rule, when a meeting of the Town Council was
convened, the Town Hall bell had to be rung; but
there was no specification as to the hour at which a
meeting was to be held, nor was it laid down in
black and white that the Hall door was to be unlocked
for the occasion. Now when Nicholas Tyack
desired to pass his accounts, or to transfer some bit
of Corporation land to himself, or legitimatise any
other little game to his advantage and the detriment
of the public, he rang the bell at night, kept the Hall
door locked, and admitted his adherents through his
private door, held the meeting in the council-chamber,
and passed his accounts and resolutions nem. con.
But now both the Town Hall and Tyack's house
have been swept away. The latter had a fine
mullioned and many-light window. The house went
first; then the Guildhall.
.pm illo i_199 i_199.jpg 514px "IN SALTASH"
The story of the borough of Esh, Esc, or Saltash
// 199.png
// 200.png
// 201.png
.pn +1
is specially interesting, as it affords us a precious
glimpse into the history of the origin and growth of
our municipal towns.
Esh, that is to say, water, was so-called because
situated on the tidal estuary of the united Tamar and
Tavy, which junction bears the name of the Hamoaze
(Hem-uisg), the border water between Devon and
Cornwall, between the English and the British tongues.
Here by the water-side settled some serfs, or
"natives in stock," of the Baron de Valletort.
.pm onblock
"Natives of stock were the purest and most absolute
bondmen. They were entirely subject to the will of
their lord, and were subject to being placed in any tenement
in which he might think fit to place them; and were
compelled to do for him any work he might call upon them
to do; and to pay a sort of capitation tax if they were
allowed to be employed elsewhere."[13]
.pm offblock
Living beside the water, these serfs ferried across
to Devonport, managed the fishery, raised oysters,
had a mill, and tilled the land for their lord. But
a charter of 1381 exists which is a confirmation by
Reginald de Valletort of earlier charters, wherein
his ancestors had emancipated these serfs, and had
conferred on them considerable liberties. They had
been granted certain holdings of land as customary
tenants. They were given a certain tract of land for
common use, for pasturage, etc.; they were accorded the
"ferébote," the mill, and the right to organise themselves
into a corporation with an elected "prepositur."
For all this and other liberties they were required to
pay a small acknowledgment to the feudal lord.
// 202.png
.pn +1
This charter was confirmed by royal grant in 1385.
Now the number of conventional tenancies was
always the same, but some of the old habitations on
them were pulled down and the sites converted into
gardens, and others were divided up and numerous
houses erected on them. The holders of the
tenancies were free burgesses, and formed the sole
body which elected the aldermen and mayor.
In course of time a very curious condition of affairs
arose. The ancient burgage holdings were 160; but
many had fallen and were not rebuilt, and the population
of Saltash had vastly extended beyond the
bounds of the ancient borough.
The corporators, or holders of the old free
burgages, engrossed to themselves all power and
profit, and excluded from participation the inhabitants
who were not living in the old tenements
or on the land where these had stood. This led to a
series of angry disputes. The privileges were worth
fighting for. The corporators grew fat on them,
and their faces shone. The harbour dues--one
shilling from every English vessel and two from
every foreign keel that anchored in the Hamoaze,
and seven from each Spanish ship, charged after the
Armada[14]--this brought in much money; so did
the common land now built over, so did the oyster
fishery, so did the ferry.
Almost every election of mayor and aldermen led
to riots, and the place simmered perpetually with
// 203.png
.pn +1
discontent. This angry feeling was greatly aggravated
when Saltash became a borough, returning
two members, and political controversy was added
to the local and borough grievance. By this time,
moreover, the number of free burgages had sunk to
about sixty. Contest succeeded contest, the inhabitants
claiming a right to vote.
In 1784 the corporation, won over by Government
promises and appointments, voted as one man for
their nominees. But forty-five freeholders tendered
their votes for the opposition candidates put forward
by their overlords. The House of Commons decided
against these latter, and the Government candidates
and the rights of the corporators were confirmed.
Two years later, this decision against the freeholders
was reversed. During four years (1786-1790) the
question in whom the right of voting rested was
four times decided--now in one way, then in
another. Finally a compromise was arrived at--one
representative of each set of electors sat for Saltash
and "tied" on every important vote in the House.
In 1806 the corporation was again successful.
By the Reform Bill of 1832 it was curtailed in its
representation--it returned one member. Croker
tried to prove borough and parish to be conterminous,
but when it was discovered that this
was not the case Saltash was put on Schedule A,
and its representative history came to an end. More
fortunate than some other Cornish boroughs, it has
retained its municipal privileges, and boasts of a
mayor and corporation to the present day.
Saltash was enfranchised in 1553 by Edward VI.
// 204.png
.pn +1
"A little town," as described by Captain Courtney,
"screening itself under the patronage of the Earls
of Cornwall, and then of the Dukes, it paid tribute to
the Black Prince, and received charters and royalties
from Elizabeth."
In her time great sailors and ships of merchandise
sailed from Saltash. The Castle of Trematon, which
had belonged to the Valletorts, became a royal
castle, and it was hoped by the advisers of Edward
VI. that the newly-enfranchised borough would be
completely subservient to the Crown.
But, like most of the other creations of this period,
it passed almost at once into other hands, and the
history of the borough shows the rise and supremacy
of the Buller interest, unbroken during the Protectorate
and unimpaired under the Stuarts. In
spite of occasional lapses, the electors of this little
borough continued faithful to the Bullers till within
a few years before the Reform Bill, the connection
broken now and then with flashes of independence.
In 1722 the electors gave thirty-two votes to
Swanton and Hughes against twenty-five for the
Buller candidates. The borough, however, soon
learned to repent its independence, and returned to
subservience.
For fifty years there was no contested election, but
in 1772 the Buller candidate was defeated. Nevertheless,
on petition he secured the seat.
In 1780 ensued another struggle with the patrons,
and the Bullers were defeated, much to the joy of
George III.
Again there was a contest in 1784, rendered, like the
// 205.png
.pn +1
former struggles, doubtful because of the ambiguity
in the right of voting, as already described.
As early as 1393 the county assizes were held in
Saltash. The first charter of incorporation--that
already alluded to--was granted in the reign of
Henry III., and received confirmation under Richard
II. Charles II. renewed it, with additional privileges,
in 1662. Thus, like Camelford, Saltash has had six
centuries of corporate existence, and, grey and
antique, seems to gaze with scorn upon the odious
Albert Bridge flung across the Hamoaze by Brunel
in 1857-9, at a cost of £230,000, for the Cornwall
line, and which, from whatever point it be looked at,
is an eyesore.
Saltash occupies the steep slope of the hill that
descends to the water's edge. The main street is
as steep as the side of a roof. In it on each side
are the remains of very ancient houses that were
once those of merchants of substance and corporators
exercising almost despotic power in the
little town. Old windows, carved doorways, and
even, when these have disappeared, panelled rooms
and handsome plaster ceilings, proclaim at once
antiquity and wealth.
There is much of interest remaining in Saltash.
Not only are there in it still many ancient houses,
but several of the ancient families that were burgage
tenants hundreds of years ago are still represented
there. As an instance we may notice the Porters.
These were the janitors of Trematon Castle. The
first of this family in a deed of the thirteenth century,
noticed as gatekeeper of Trematon, was granted a
// 206.png
.pn +1
plot of land outside the castle walls, which has
remained in the hands of the Porters to the present
day. The arms of the family--sable, three bells
argent, a canton ermine--have undoubted reference
to the duties of the porter to answer the bell
and to ring the alarum. The motto "Vigilantibus"
is no less significant.
The Bonds of Earth were landholders under the
Valletorts; they remained for centuries on the soil,
and in their name recalled their origin; and the name
Tyack has much the same significance in Cornish.
Saltash has long been famous for its boatwomen.
Mr. Justice Boucaut, a Saltash man, and late
Premier of South Australia, at a recent banquet at
Adelaide, spoke with affection of his native Ashe,
and in the course of his speech said:--
.pm onblock
"I won't even dilate on the pluck and endurance of the
Saltash women rowers. It was a pretty sight to see half a
dozen boats start in a regatta with all the women in
snow-white frilled caps and frilled jackets. One crew, of
which Ann Glanville was stroke, and which I have seen
row, would beat a crew of men of the same number, and
would not, I believe, have thought it anything very wonderful
to beat a crew of men with a couple of men extra. I read
in the Times that Ann Glanville, then an old woman, upwards
of eighty, was introduced to the Duke of Cornwall
when he was down West, and I have often heard that she
used to row round the captain's man-of-war gigs in the
Hamoaze and chaff the bluejackets."
.pm offblock
.pm illo i_207 i_207.jpg 446px "ANNE GLANVILLE"
This Ann Glanville (stroke), Jane House, Emilia
Lee, and Hyatt Hocking formed the crew of the
celebrated Saltash rowing women who won against
crews of men at Plymouth, Portsmouth, Liverpool,
// 207.png
// 208.png
// 209.png
.pn +1
and Hull. In 1850 a match was arranged between
the Saltash women and a crew of Frenchmen, and
Ann Glanville with the rest went to Havre in the
Brunswick (Captain Russell). They were escorted
into the town by bands and the military, and
received by the mayor and corporation.
The Saltash crew, steered by Captain Russell, won
easily in the match. The women were dressed in
black skirts, long white bedgowns, and nightcaps.
Mrs. House was so elated at the victory, that on
reaching the committee-boat she plunged into the
water, dived under the vessel, and came up with
dripping and drooping nightcap on the opposite side.
Ann was well known to H.R.H. the Duke of
Edinburgh, R.N., and Lord Charles Beresford, R.N.
She died in 1880 at the age of eighty-four.
A boat of Saltash women still appears at regattas,
but it is now difficult to--can we say man it? The
present generation of women do not take to the water
as did their mothers.
Saltash has for long been an unrivalled nursery for
the navy, and a place to which old salts love to retire.
In 1643 the Cornish forces, about 7000 strong, lay
at Saltash under Slanning, at Liskeard under Lord
Mohun, at Launceston under Trevanion, and at
Stratton under Sir Bevil Grenville. At the outbreak
of war, King Charles fortified Saltash, but in the
following year, 1644, it was taken by the Parliamentary
forces under Lord Essex, who at once
strengthened the works, and also added a 400-ton
ship, and sixteen pieces of cannon at the bottom of
the hill. After the Royalist victory at Braddock
Down, near Liskeard, the vanquished, under General
// 210.png
.pn +1
Ruthven, retreated to their stronghold at Saltash,
and here made an obstinate resistance; but the
Royalists, led by Grenville and Mohun, attacked
the place, took it, and made havoc among the rebels,
many of whom were drowned. Their leader, Ruthven,
succeeded in effecting his escape to Plymouth, which
was held for the Parliament by a member of my own
family, Colonel William Gould.
This resulted in the Royalists recovering the whole
of Cornwall. Saltash, however, was again occupied
by the Parliamentary forces in 1645.
.pm illo i_212 i_212.jpg 443px "CHALICE, SALTASH"
Among the rights and privileges exercised by the
borough of Saltash was that the mayor or recorder
held a court of quarter sessions till 1886. In 1772 a
woman was sentenced to be stripped to her waist
and whipped in public for stealing a hat. But this
sentence, if repugnant to our sense of decency, was
light compared to one passed in 1844 on two women
for stealing some shirting wherewith to make
garments for their husbands. They were transported
for seven years. The natural result was that they
married again and settled in Botany Bay, and the
husbands found for themselves fresh mates at
Saltash. In this century the mayor sentenced a
man to transportation for stealing a watch at a
regatta. The only church at Saltash is the chapel
of the Guildhall, and the chaplain formerly had a
bad time of it as the creature of the mayor. Happily
the advowson was sold in 1836 for £405, and fell to
the bishop. The church possesses a splendid piece of
plate, a silver cup over a foot high. This was given
to the church in 1624 by Ambrose and Abraham
Jennens and William Pawley, but it is far older.
// 211.png
// 212.png
// 213.png
.pn +1
It is said in the place that it is of Spanish workmanship,
and was part of the spoil of a vessel of
the great Armada. This, however, is not the case;
it is a fine example of English silversmith's work
of the reign of Henry VII.
The Castle of Trematon, to which the original
serfs of Saltash owed service, still exists. It is not
remarkable for picturesqueness. It occupies the top
of a wooded hill on the banks of the Lynher, overlooking
the Hamoaze and Plymouth harbour, and
consists of a keep, the base-court, and the gate-house.
The keep, placed at the north-east angle of the
court, is oval in form, and dates from the thirteenth
century. The walls are ten feet thick and thirty feet
high. It was wrecked by the Cornish peasants, who
rose against the Reformation, stormed the castle, and
took the governor prisoner.
Among the many broils that took place in Saltash
between the corporation and the great body of townsmen
the most serious was in 1806, when the Rev. John
Buller was mayor. On this occasion the mob broke
into the Guildhall, where the mayor stood to his post
on the stairs, and for some time held back the crowd,
dealing mighty blows with the silver-gilt mace, and
cracking therewith many crowns. Finally the rioters
succeeded in getting hold of the chest, and they destroyed
or purloined all the documents it contained,
with the object of getting rid of the evidence in favour
of the corporation. At the same time they carried off
the silver oar, the symbol of jurisdiction over the
Hamoaze, and this was not recovered for fifty years.
The corporation maces are singularly handsome
and weighty, and are of silver-gilt.
// 214.png
.pn +1
The present Guildhall is erected over the market-house,
and was built in 1770. It is ugly, and has
this alone to recommend it, that it is unpretentious.
On the daïs within are three handsome carved oak
chairs, that for the mayor having the arms of the
borough on the panel--a lion rampant within a
bordure bezanted. On each side of the shield is
a Prince of Wales' ostrich plume.
A late mayor was the brother of the famous
astronomer, Professor Adams.
The official costume of the mayor includes a robe of
scarlet cloth trimmed with sable and a cocked hat;
the justice or ex-mayor has a black mantle; and the
mace-bearers have scarlet, silver-laced gowns and
three-cornered hats. The maces date from 1696,
and were presented by Francis Buller, Esq., and are
three feet seven inches high.
Near the water, almost crushed under the mighty
arch of Brunel's viaduct, is a little old shop with the
date on it of 1584, and it is one of the very few
specimens of a shop of that period that remain to us
absolutely untouched.
It is precisely the sort of shop "in our alley" from
which Sally must have issued to meet her lover.
And verily, as I stood drawing the quaint old place,
there peeped out at me an absolutely ideal Sally.
.pm onpoem
"Her father he makes cabbage nets,
And through the streets does cry 'em;
Her mother she sells laces long,
To such as please to buy 'em.
But sure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley."
.pm offpoem
// 215.png
// 216.png
// 217.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 bodmin "CHAPTER XI." "BODMIN"
.pm onhanghead
Grown up about a monastery--S. Petrock--Theft of his relics--Ivory
reliquary--"Lord's measures"--The Allan rivers--Pencarrow--S.
Breock--Padstow--The Hobby-horse--The neighbourhood--The
Towans--Pentyre--Porth Isaac--A cemetery.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "A town"
that has grown up about a monastery.
The name is a contraction of Bod-minachau,
"the habitation of monks"; and it owes its origin to
S. Petrock. Petrock is Peter or Pedr, with the
diminutive oc added to the name. He was a son of
Glwys, king of Gwent or Monmouthshire, according
to one account, but according to another his father's
name was Clement. Anyhow, he formed one of the
great migration from Gwent to North-east Cornwall.
He found a hermit occupying a cell at Bodmin
whose name was Guron, and this man surrendered
to him his humble habitation. S. Guron's Well is in
the churchyard near the west end of the church.
.pm illo i_216 i_216.jpg 700px "PADSTOW HARBOUR"
For his education he went to Ireland, where for
twenty years he studied profane and sacred literature.
He was probably a disciple of S. Eugenius, for
Kevin, when aged seven, was entrusted to him by
his parents to be reared for the monastic life, and
Kevin, we know, learned his psalms from Eugenius.
So soon as Petrock considered that he knew as
much as could be taught him by his master, he
// 218.png
.pn +1
resolved on returning to Cornwall, and embarked
on the same boat which had borne him to Ireland
twenty years before--a great vessel of wicker-work,
covered with three coatings of hide, and with a
leathern sail.
Petrock and his companions came ashore in the
Hayle, or saltflats, by Padstow. He was ill received
on his arrival by a party of harvesters, who refused
him water. In fact, the north of Cornwall had suffered
so severely from the Irish, that the natives looked with
suspicion on anyone coming from the Green Isle.
Petrock landed, and inquired whether any religious
man lived in the neighbourhood, and was
told that Samson was there. This was Samson
who afterwards became Bishop of Dol. His chapel
was demolished when Place House, above Padstow,
was built. At Padstow, Petrock remained for thirty
years with his disciples, one of whom was Dagan,
who disputed with Laurence, Archbishop of Canterbury
(597-604) and other Roman missionaries. He
refused not only to eat with them, Bede tells us, but
even to be under the same roof with them. The
story of Petrock's pilgrimage to the East is full of
myth, but the account of the reason why he undertook
it is probably true.
There had been a rainy season. One day Petrock
assured his disciples that next day the rain would
cease, and it would be fine. But on the morrow the
rain came down in streams. Petrock was so disgusted
at his prophecy having failed, that he left the
place, and resolved on visiting the East.
The rest is mere romance.
// 219.png
.pn +1
He went to India. There he saw a silver bowl
floating on the sea. He stepped into it, whereupon
the silver bowl carried him far away to a certain
island in which he spent seven years, living on a
single fish that he caught daily, and which, however
often eaten, always returned sound to be eaten
again next day.
At the end of the seven years the shining bowl
reappeared. He stepped into it again, and was
conveyed back to the coast whence he had started.
There he found a wolf that had kept guard over his
sheepskin and staff which he had left on the shore
seven years before.
Clearly we have here ingrafted into the history a
Cornish myth relative to the man in the moon; for
the silver bowl cannot be mistaken--it is the latter--and
for the dog of the modern version, we here have
a wolf.
Through the rest of his journeyings the wolf
attended Petrock. On his return to Cornwall he
had some unpleasantness with Tewdrig, the king,
who had opposed the landing of the Irish at St. Ives,
and had killed some of them. He remonstrated with
him for some of his barbarities, and Tewdrig had
sufficient grace to make him grants of land.
Petrock now moved to Bodmin, and thence he
made many excursions through Devon, founding
churches and monasteries. The date of his death
was about A.D. 575.
A curious circumstance occurred relative to his
relics. In 1177 a canon of Bodmin, named Martin,
made a clean bolt with the shrine of the saint, an
// 220.png
.pn +1
ivory box that contained his bones, and carried them
to S. Maen, in Brittany. There were "ructions."
The Prior of Bodmin appealed to Henry II., who
sent orders to the Justiciary of Brittany to insist on
their surrender. Accordingly the prior and this
officer went to S. Maen, but when required to give
up the holy bones the abbot demurred. However,
the justiciary would stand no nonsense, and
threatened to use such severe measures that the
abbot was forced to give way, and Prior Roger, of
Bodmin, marched away with the recovered ivory box
and its contents.
Curiously enough this identical box, quaintly ornamented
with paintings, still exists, and belongs to the
municipality: the contents have, of course, disappeared.
In the market-house is a very interesting granite
corn measure.
It will not be out of place to notice here the
"lord's measures" found in great numbers about
Cornwall. They are small basins cut in granite or
in some volcanic free stone, usually with lobes
or ears outside. At S. Enodoc, near the "Rock
Inn" on the Padstow estuary, a quantity of them
have been collected, and are ranged beside the
churchyard path. There is another large collection
in the parsonage garden at Veryan.
They were probably standard measures for grain,
and were preserved in the churches.
In Bodmin Church, which is fine, is the rich
monument of Prior Vivian, 1533.
The bench-ends were carved by one Matthew
More in 1491.
// 221.png
.pn +1
Castle Canyck is a fine circular camp, probably
Celtic, and west of the town is a quadrangular
entrenchment where Roman remains have been
found. The Allan and the Camallan, or Crooked
Allan, unite to form the Hayle or Saltings. Allan
is the name of the river at S. David's, Pembrokeshire.
The name is found also in Scotland, as the Ilen in
Ireland, and as the Aulne in Finistère. The derivation
is doubtful.
On the right hand are the woods of Pencarrow
(Pencaerau), the headland of camps, with, in fact,
remains of two; one must have been important.
Here, perhaps, dwelt a chieftain Conan.
S. Breock was on his way from Cardigan to
Brittany when his hide-covered boat was nearly
upset by a whale, and so great was the alarm of
those sailing with him that the vessel put into Hayle
estuary and ran up to the head.
Breock was now an old man, and could not walk,
so his companions made for him a sort of cart in
which he could sit, and in which they drew him
about. One day they left him to sing psalms in his
cart whilst they were engaged at a distance over
some pressing business. When they returned they
found a pack of wolves round the old man, but
whether his sanctity, or toughness, kept them
from eating him is left undecided. They drove the
wolves off, and were careful in future not to leave
him unattended. Conan, the chief, who lived
at Pencarrow, came to know him, and, if we may
believe the Life, was baptised by him, and made him
a grant of land; this is S. Breock on the opposite
// 222.png
.pn +1
side of the river to Pencarrow, where there is an
interesting church in a lovely situation. It is only a
coincidence that at the foot of Pencarrow is a chapel
bearing Conan's name. It is dedicated to a tenth-century
bishop.
From Cornwall Breock departed for Brittany,
about the year 500, and died there at an advanced
age--over ninety--about 510.
Padstow should be visited on May Day. It is
one of the few places where the hobby-horse still
prances; but the glory of the old May Feast is much
curtailed.
During the days that precede the festival no
garden is safe. Walls, railings, even barbed wire,
are surmounted by boys and men in quest of flowers.
Conservatories have to be fast locked, or they
will be invaded. The house that has a show of
flowers in the windows is besieged by pretty children
with roguish eyes begging for blossoms which
they cannot steal.
During the evening before May Day in years gone
by, before shipbuilding had ceased to be an industry
of Padstow, when the shipwrights left work they
brought with them from the yard two poles, and
carried them up the street, fastened one above the
other, decorated at the top with branches of willow,
furze, sycamore, and all kinds of spring flowers made
into garlands, and from it were suspended strings of
gulls' eggs. There hung from it also long streamers
of coloured ribbon.
A pit was dug, and the Maypole secured by ropes
fastened to stakes. In the pavement was a cross
// 223.png
.pn +1
laid in with paving stones differently coloured from
the rest in the street; these were taken up every time
the Maypole was planted, to be again relaid when
the merry-making was over. But a doctor who lived
in the house facing the pole objected, and so opposed
the planting of the Maypole and the dancing before
his door, that the merry-makers moved to an open
space somewhat higher up the street, which was
much less convenient. Opposition followed them
even there, and a few years ago the Maypole was
finally abandoned.
The "Hobby-horse Pairs," as it was called, i.e.
a party of eight men, then repaired to the "Golden
Lion," at that time the first inn in Padstow, and sat
down to a hearty supper of leg of mutton and plum-pudding,
given them by the landlord. After supper
a great many young men joined the "Pairs," i.e.
the peers, the lords of the merriment, and all started
for the country, and went round from one farmhouse
to another, singing at the doors of each, and soliciting
contributions to the festivities of the morrow.
They returned into Padstow about three o'clock in
the morning, and promenaded the streets singing
the "Night Song." After that they retired to rest
for a few hours. At ten o'clock in the morning the
"Pairs" assembled at the "Golden Lion" again, and
now was brought forth the hobby-horse. The
drum and fife band was marshalled to precede, and
then came the young girls of Padstow dressed in
white, with garlands of flowers in their hair, and their
white gowns pinned up with flowers. The men
followed armed with pistols, loaded with a little
// 224.png
.pn +1
powder, which they fired into the air or at the
spectators. Lastly came the hobby-horse, ambling,
curvetting, and snapping its jaws. It may be
remarked that the Padstow hobby-horse is wonderfully
like the Celtic horse decoration found on old
pillars and crosses with interlaced work. The
procession went first to Prideaux Place, where the
late squire, Mr. Prideaux Brune, always emptied a
purse of money into the hands of the "Pairs." Then
the procession visited the vicarage, and was welcomed
by the parson. After that it went forth from the
town to Treator Pool "for the horse to drink."
The Mayers finally arrived at the Maypole, and
danced round it singing the "Day Song."
.pm onpoem
Refrain. "Awake, S. George, our English knight, O!
For summer is a-come, and winter is a-go.
1. "Where is S. George? and where is he, O?
He's down in his long boat, upon the salt sea, O!
2. "Where are the French dogs that made such a boast, O?
They shall eat the goose feathers, and we'll eat the roast, O!
3. "Thou might'st ha' shown thy knavish face and tarried at home, O!
But thou shalt be a rascal, and shalt wear the horns, O!
4. "Up flies the kite, down falls the lark, O!
Aunt Ursula Birdwood she had an old ewe.
5. "Aunt Ursula Birdwood she had an old ewe,
And she died in her own park long ago."
.pm offpoem
It is obvious that the song is very corrupt, but
the air to this and to the "Morning Song" are very
bold and ancient.[15]
Although the Maypole has been given up, the
hobby-horse still prances on May Day.
Padstow Harbour is spoiled by the Doom Bar,
// 225.png
.pn +1
a shifting bank of sand at the mouth. But this
might be placed under control and rectified by the
expenditure of money, and the mouth of the Hayle
be made into what is sorely needed, a harbour of
refuge on the north coast.
The neighbourhood of Padstow abounds in
interest; the cliffs are superb, towering above a
sea blue as a peacock's neck, here and there
crowned with cliff castles. In the sand-dunes or
Towans is the buried church of S. Constantine, a
convert of S. Petrock, Duke or King of Cornwall,
who was so ballyragged by Gildas. There are old
Cornish mansions, such as Treshunger, lying in
dips among trees; and churches on wind-blown
heights, their towers intended as landmarks.
But this is not a guide-book, and such details
must be passed over.
On no account should Pentyre Point be missed.
It is a grand and glorious cliff, and a projection
called the Rumps is occupied by a well-preserved
cliff-castle. Porth Gaverne, Porth Isaac, Porthquin,
Polzeath are all delightful little bays. The pilchard
cellars cut in the rocks should be noticed. Porthquin
was once a flourishing little place, but in a
terrible storm nearly every man connected with
the place, being out fishing, was lost, and it has
never recovered.
Porth Isaac--let not those amiable faddists who
hold that we are Anglo-Israelites fasten on the name--means
the Corn Port, Porthquin the White Port,
from the spar in the rock, and Porth Gaverne the
Goat Port. A curious fact, to be noted, is that there
exists an extensive ancient cemetery close to where
// 226.png
.pn +1
is now rising a cluster of new houses at Trevose.
Bones are continually turned up by the sea as it
encroaches, but all record of a church with burial-ground
there is lost. There is a ruined chapel of
S. Cadoc, but that is half a mile distant. Cadoc
was an elder brother or cousin--it is not certain
which--of S. Petrock of Padstow. He must have
come here to visit his kinsman.
The story goes that he had made a pilgrimage
to the Holy Land, and he brought back with him
some of the water of Jordan, and this he poured
into a well at this place, which thenceforth possessed
marvellous powers. The well is not now easily
traced, but bits of carved stone of the chapel lie
strewn around. Cadoc was for a while in an island
of the lagoon d'Elet, near Belz, in the Morbihan,
where he constructed a causeway to the mainland,
of which traces remain. He was one of the most
restless beings conceivable, and no sooner had he
established a monastic centre in one place than he
tired of it, and started off to found another somewhere
else. He played a scurvy trick once on a
South Welsh chief, who with a large party came
down on him and imperiously demanded meat and
drink. They took all they could get, and got drunk
and incapable on the spot. Cadoc shaved half of
their heads and beards as they thus lay, but, worse
than this, cut off the lips of their horses. He was
a violent-tempered man, of tremendous energy in
all he did. According to one account he fell a
victim to his rashness or enthusiasm; he tried to
carry the Gospel to the Saxons, but was cut down
by their axes at the foot of the altar.
// 227.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 twolooes "CHAPTER XII." "THE TWO LOOES"
.pm onhanghead
East Looe--Church--Narrow and picturesque streets--A fair--A strolling
company--West Looe--Looe Island--The Fyns--Smuggling--The East Looe
river--Duloe--S. Keyne's Well--Liskeard--Menheniot--The West Looe
river--Trelawne--The Trelawny ballad--Polperro--Privateers--Robert
Jeffrey--Tom Potter--Lanreath.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "East"
and West Looe, separated by a tidal
stream, the Looe (the same as Liffey from
Welsh llifo to flow, llif a flood[16]), and united by a
long bridge, at one time returned four members to
Parliament.
East Looe is the more considerable place of the
two, and possesses a new and respectable Guildhall,
and some quaint old houses and an ancient picturesque
market-house. The church is modern and poor of
its kind--one of those structures that do not
convey an idea to the mind of either beauty or of
ugliness, but are mediocre in conception and execution.
It occupies the site of an earlier church
dedicated to S. Keyne, but it is now dedicated to
S. Anne, who formerly had a chapel on the bridge.
The streets are narrow and full of quaint bits. As
// 228.png
.pn +1
I first saw Looe it struck me as one of the oddest
old-world places in England. A man had been there
selling paper flags and coloured streamers also of
paper, and the children in the narrow alleys were
fluttering these, and had hung them from the
windows, and were dancing with coloured paper
caps on their heads or harlequin sashes about their
bodies, whilst an Italian organ-grinder played to
them. From the narrow casements leaned their
mothers, watching, laughing, and encouraging the
dancers. A little way back was a booth theatre,
hardly up to the level of that of Mr. Vincent
Crummel's, enclosed in dingy green canvas. Reserved
seats, 6d.; back seats, 3d. and 1d. The
répertoire comprised blood-curdling tragedies. I
went in and saw "The Midnight Assassin; or, The
Dumb Witness."
Next evening was to be given "The Vampire's
Feast; or, The Rifled Tomb." The tragedy was
followed by Allingham's play, "Fortune's Frolick"
(1799), adapted to the narrow capacities of the
company. It was performed in broad Cornish, and
interspersed with some rather good and, I fancy,
original songs. But surely nowhere else but at Looe
could such a reminiscence of the old strolling
company-show of fifty or sixty years ago be seen.
But this is not all. A stranger having seen something
I wrote about puppet-shows in a paper, wherein
I said that the last I had sat through was sixty years
ago, wrote to me:--
.pm onblock
"At West Looe, far more recently, at the annual fair,
which commences on the 6th May, I saw a show in which
// 229.png
.pn +1
the figures were all moved by strings manipulated from
above. I regret that I am unable to remember the subject
of the play, but the droll antics of the puppets, the rapidity
of their movements, and the cleverness of the whole thing,
remains distinctly impressed on my mind."
.pm offblock
I believe that venerable amusements we old folks
saw in our childhood are "resurrected" at West
Looe at that 6th May fair. Therefore, if you want
to see funny things, go there. The place is still out
of the world, but will not long be so, as a London
company has bought the cliffs, and is blasting a
road in them to make promenade, hotel, and bring
the world and the twentieth century to Looe and
rumple up the old place.
East Looe is properly in S. Martin's parish, and
the church was a chapel-of-ease to it. At S. Martin's
are a Norman doorway and an early font.
West Looe has a little church, dedicated to S.
Nicholas, that long served as town hall and as a
theatre for strolling players. Here also are some
quaint old slated houses; the "valleys" are not
leaded, but the slates are so worked as to fold over
the angles very ingeniously and picturesquely, and
admirably answering the object in view of carrying
off the water.
Off the coast lies Looe Island. This was for many
years the dwelling-place of a man named Fyn and
his sister, "Black Joan." They were son and
daughter of an outlaw, who had spent his life since
his outlawry on the Mewstone off Gara Point, at
the entrance of Plymouth Sound. Here he and his
wife lived a wild life like sea-mews, and there reared
// 230.png
.pn +1
their young, who grew up without any religious,
moral, or intellectual training. The outlaw died on
the Mewstone, and Fyn and his sister, accustomed
from infancy to an island life, could not endure the
thought of going to the mainland for the rest of their
days, and so they settled on Looe Island. Here
they were joined by a negro, and by their united
efforts honeycombed the ground under their hovel
and the large barn adjoining for the accommodation
of smuggled goods. Their only associates were the
free-traders.
One day the black man vanished, and it was never
known what had become of him, whether he had left
or been murdered by Fyn and his sister. There
were naturally no witnesses; nothing could be proved
against them. Recently a skull has been dug up
near the house, and is kept in a box in the dwelling,
but it is not that of a negro. Actually there is a
layer of human remains about two feet below the
surface of the turf, exposed on the east side of the
island, where wind and spray are gnawing away the
cliff, and any number of teeth and bones may be
picked out. Whether these are the remains of an
early Christian monastic cemetery, or of shipwrecked
sailors buried on the cliffs, cannot be told, as no
investigation has been made to discover the approximate
period to which this layer of dead men's bones
belongs.
Formerly there was a chapel on the summit of the
island, but only its foundations remain. The island
belonged to the monastery of Lamana (lan-manachau,
the church of the monks) on the mainland.
// 231.png
.pn +1
But to return to the Fyns.
On that island they spent many years, hand in
glove with the smugglers.
There was an old fellow, a farmer on the mainland,
who rode a white horse into Looe. He acted as spy,
and was intimate with the preventive men, who
trusted him, and perhaps some of them had their
palms greased to give him information. If the white
horse were seen returning along the coast road to
the west, that was a signal to Fyn that all was safe.
But sometimes the horse was too lame or tired to
return home, and the farmer went his way on foot;
that always coincided with activity among the
officers of the revenue.
From Looe Island, Fyn or his sister signalled by
lights to the smugglers lying in the offing.
At length their daring and their success induced
the Government to establish one of their guard on
the island itself--the station is still there--and the
man was bidden keep a watchful eye on Black Joan
and her brother.
Now the Fyns had their secret stores full of a
cargo they desired to run ashore, but were afraid of
being seen by this man.
One day Black Joan hastened to the preventive
officer with, "Oh, my dear! Now ther's that
terr'ble put out I be. What du'y think now? My
boat hev a broke her moorings, and is driftin' wi' the
tide out to say. Oh, my dear man, du'y now bring
her in for me." The officer ran to the cliff, and sure
enough there was the boat slowly floating away on
the ebb of the tide.
// 232.png
.pn +1
Being a good-natured man, and suspecting no ill,
he at once got into his own boat and rowed hard
after that which was adrift. The moment he was
gone, a swarm of boats and men appeared on the
shore on the further side of the island, and before the
fellow was back, every keg had been carried across to
the mainland.
But the officer in command had great difficulties
with the station on Looe Isle. Partly through
Black Joan's fascinations, mainly through the liberal
flow of drink at the hut of the Fyns, and the tedium
of the long evenings in solitude, he could never rely
on a man who was sent to Looe Island. In some
way or other he was bamboozled, so that goods were
landed there and transferred to the mainland almost
as freely as formerly.
What was the end of this family I have not
learned.
A few years ago, when a picnic party went to the
island and were allowed the barn to feed in, as a
drizzle had come on, suddenly the floor collapsed, and
it was thus discovered that beneath was a cellar for
the accommodation of spirits that were not intended
to pay duty.
The East and the West Looe rivers unite above
the bridge, where also formerly stood a most picturesque
tidal mill. Each stream runs through a
narrow, well-wooded valley, and passes points of
some interest. Ascending the East Looe, we have
on the right the creek of Morval with the ancient
house of the Bullers. Further up on the left is Duloe,
with S. Cuby's holy well, and a so-called Druidical
// 233.png
.pn +1
circle. The place takes its name from being between
the two Looes. Higher up again on the same side is
S. Keyne, with an interesting church and a well, the
story of which is sufficiently known, made the subject
of a ballad by Southey.
Liskeard is a town that was surmounted by a
castle that has now disappeared. Its name implies
that it was a lis or court on a rock. A copious
spring, once a holy well, pours forth from the rock
and supplies the town. But no ancient masonry
remains about it.
Liskeard Church has an interesting lych-gate, a fine
tower, and a good pulpit of 1627. At Menheniot
(Maen-hên-Niot, the old stone of S. Neot) are some
fine camps, Padesbury and Blackaton Rings. Clicker
Tor, under which runs the line, is an outcrop of serpentine,
which stone does not reappear till the Lizard
is reached. A visit to S. Neot, with its superb old
windows, should on no account be omitted. No
collection of ancient stained glass comparable to it
exists elsewhere in Devon or Cornwall.
The West Looe flows past several camps, two of
which are in Pelynt parish. The church here is
dedicated to S. Nun, mother of S. David, and her
gabled holy well remains in tolerable condition.
In this parish also is Trelawne, the seat of the
Trelawny family, an ancient house, but much
modernised. It contains some fine portraits, and
in the church is a model of the pastoral staff of
Bishop Jonathan Trelawny, Bishop of Bristol, and
afterwards successively of Exeter and Winchester.
He was one of the seven bishops who had
// 234.png
.pn +1
been committed to the Tower by James II. Of him
the song was sung:--
.pm onpoem
"A good sword and trusty sword!
A merry heart and true!
King James's men shall understand
What Cornish lads can do!
"And have they fixed the where and when?
And shall Trelawny die?
There's twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why.
"Out spake their captain brave and bold,
A merry wight was he;
If London Tower were Michael's hold,
We'll set Trelawny free!
"We'll cross the Tamar, land to land,
The Severn is no stay--
With One and All and hand in hand,
And who shall bid us nay?
"And when we come to London Wall,
A pleasant sight to view,
Come forth! come forth! ye cowards all,
Here's men as good as you.
"Trelawny he's in keep and hold,
Trelawny he may die--
But twenty thousand Cornish bold
Will know the reason why!"
.pm offpoem
With the exception of the choral lines--
.pm onpoem
"And shall Trelawny die?
Here's twenty thousand Cornishmen
Will know the reason why!"
.pm offpoem
.ti 0
the rest is mainly, if not wholly, the composition
of the late Rev. R. S. Hawker, of Morwenstow.
It was written by him in 1825, and was printed
first in a Plymouth paper, and then by Mr. Davies
// 235.png
.pn +1
Gilbert, the antiquary and historian. It appeared
in the Gentleman's Magazine of November, 1827.
Sir Walter Scott, and later, Lord Macaulay, quite
thought it was a genuine ancient ballad.
That it is not an antique is almost certain, as
it has no local and original air to which it is set;
it is sung to "Le Petit Tambour," and no old miners
or labourers know it.
There is a novel by Mrs. Bray, Trelawny of
Trelawne, written in 1834, that relates to this house,
and by no means deserves to be forgotten. Mrs.
Bray's novels, though old-fashioned, are guides to
the neighbourhood of Tavistock, and that just mentioned
interests the reader in the district about
Trelawne.[17]
.pm onblock
"Looe," says she, "beautiful as it is, is not to be
compared to Polperro, two miles distant from Trelawne.
The descent to it is so steep, that I, who was not
accustomed to the path, could only get down by clinging
to Mr. Bray's arm for support; it was slippery, and so
rocky that in some places there were steps cut in the road
for the convenience of the passenger. The view of the
little port, the old town in the bottom (if town it can be
called), the cliffs, and the spiked rocks, that start up in
the wildest and most abrupt manner, breaking the direct
sweep of the waves towards the harbour, altogether produced
such a combination of magnificent coast scenery
as may truly be called sublime."
.pm offblock
Access to Polperro is very much easier than it
was in 1833, when visited by Mrs. Bray. A good
many of the quaint old houses have been pulled
// 236.png
.pn +1
down, but the place is still eminently picturesque,
and is a haunt of artists.
In 1807, the year of the treacherous peace of
Tilsit, privateering was carried on briskly at Polperro.
Among other vessels, the Lord Nelson sailed from
this port, manned by a crew of hardy and experienced
sailors. After cruising in the Channel
for a week without success, she put into Falmouth
for provisions. Here she was boarded by the
Recruit, and several of the men were impressed.
Amongst these was one Robert Jeffrey, who had
been brought up as a blacksmith by his stepfather.
The Recruit was a sloop-of-war commanded by
Captain Lake, which at once sailed for the West
Indies. Whilst cruising in the Caribbean Sea,
Jeffrey got at a barrel of spruce beer. The captain,
very angry, ordered the boat to be lowered, and
Jeffrey to be taken to a barren rock and left there.
The order was obeyed with some reluctance, and
the poor young fellow was deserted on the rock,
without food, and with nothing save a kerchief, a
knife, and a piece of wood, which had been given
him by his comrades for the purpose of signalling
any passing ship.
The place on which he had been left was the
islet of Sombrero, one of the Leeward group, desolate
and treeless, a naked lump of rock, with no springs.
Jeffrey suffered frightfully from hunger, and worse
from thirst.
The Recruit, on leaving the island, steered for
Barbadoes to join the squadron under the command
of Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane. The story
// 237.png
.pn +1
of Jeffrey's punishment got wind, and the admiral,
hearing of it, severely reprimanded Captain Lake
for his brutality, and ordered him to return to
Sombrero and rescue Jeffrey if he were still alive.
Captain Lake accordingly went back to the islet,
but found no one on it. A pair of trousers (not
Jeffrey's) and a tomahawk handle were the only
vestiges of humanity discoverable. The admiral
was satisfied that the poor fellow had been rescued
by some passing ship, and let the matter rest.
The story was, however, so widely circulated, that
on his return to England Captain Lake was court-martialled
and cashiered.
Whilst this was passing, the greatest uncertainty
existed as to the man's fate. His wrongs were commented
on in the House by Sir Francis Burdett, and
the case was kept so perseveringly before the public,
that the Government issued orders for a strict
inquiry to be made as to whether he were still
alive or dead.
Presently an account was received, purporting to
be by Jeffrey, giving an account of his rescue and
his condition in America; but as to this was appended
a cross for his signature, whereas Jeffrey
was known to have been able to write, the public
were led to suspect that this was a fabrication contrived
by Lake's relatives and friends.
To settle the matter finally, a ship was despatched
to bring Jeffrey home, and he arrived at Portsmouth
in October, 1810, three years after his adventure on
the island of Sombrero.
His escape had been due to his signals of distress
// 238.png
.pn +1
having been seen and responded to by the captain
of an American schooner, but when taken on board
he was too exhausted to speak. He was conveyed
to Marblehead, in Massachusetts, where he had
remained working at a forge, and had culpably
neglected to send home word of his escape. The
reason he gave for not having signed the paper
relative to his being taken off Sombrero was that
it was presented to him by gentlemen, and he was
too nervous in their presence to append his proper
signature.
There was vast rejoicing at Polperro on his return.
Almost the whole village turned out to welcome him,
with a band playing and flags flying.
He was then persuaded to let himself be made a
public show, and hired himself out at some of the
minor London theatres to be exhibited as "Jeffrey
the Sailor." After a few months he returned to
Polperro with money in his pocket enough to purchase
a small schooner intended for the coasting
trade.
The speculation was unsuccessful. Jeffrey fell into
consumption, and died leaving a wife and daughter
in great poverty.
Polperro was also a notorious hole for smugglers.
The last affair with them in which life was lost was
in 1810, or thereabouts.
One morning a lugger was descried by the crew of
the revenue boat, then stationed on shore. She was
lying becalmed in Whitsand Bay. The glass informed
them that it was the Lottery, of Polperro,
well known for her fast sailing qualities, as well as
// 239.png
.pn +1
for the hardihood of her crew. There was little
doubt that with the springing up of the breeze she
would put to sea. Accordingly the officer in
command, with all despatch, manned two or three
boats and put off, making sure of a rare capture,
for there seemed little chance of an escape.
Their movements were, however, observed by the
smugglers, who made preparations for resistance.
The boats, on seeing their intentions, commenced
firing when at a considerable distance; but it was
not until they had approached her pretty near that
the shots were returned from the lugger, which now
assumed an unmistakable attitude of defiance.
When within a few yards of the expected prize,
Ambrose Bowden, who pulled the bow-oar of one
of the attacking boats, fell mortally wounded.
It was plain that the Polperro men had come to
a determination not to give up their fine craft and
valuable cargo without a struggle, so the boats
withdrew, and allowed the Lottery to proceed to
sea. This affray was reported to the authorities,
and orders were issued at all hazards to arrest the
vessel and her crew. The smugglers were alarmed
at what had been done, and at the dogged manner in
which the officers of justice pursued them. They
were kept continually concealed in pilchard cellars, in
barns, in closets, and were liable at dead of night to
have their houses surrounded and searched by a troop
of dragoons, who made stealthy descents on the town.
At length a certain Toms, who had formed one of
the crew of the Lottery, gave himself up, and declared
that a man named Tom Potter had fired the fatal shot.
// 240.png
.pn +1
The Polperro people made common cause of this,
and resolved at once to preserve Potter and to punish
Toms. The revenue men knew the danger in which
the latter stood, and they took him on board a cutter
cruising off the coast.
On a certain occasion the cutter was off Polruan,
when some of the Polperro men persuaded Toms'
wife to decoy him on land, solemnly assuring her
that they would not touch his life, and that all they
desired was to remove the only evidence that existed
against Potter.
She fell in with their wishes, and by her means
Toms was seized and at once carried off, kept in
hiding-places till an opportunity occurred, when he
was shipped to Guernsey, preparatory to conveying
him to America. But he was traced, and was
pounced on by the Government officers in the hold
of an outward-bound vessel.
Meanwhile the dragoons, who had been engaged
in the search at home, discovered that their movements
were observed, and that intelligence of their
approach from Plymouth was sure to precede them
to Polperro. A detachment was therefore sent to
Truro, with orders to march from the west, in which
way they were enabled to come on Polperro unobserved.
On one of these visits Potter was
captured. He was taken to London, tried at the
Old Bailey, convicted on the evidence of Toms,
and hanged. The evidence, however, was strongly
believed to be false. The shot had entered the
breast of Bowden in a direction opposite to the fire
of the smugglers; and one of the coastguardsmen
// 241.png
.pn +1
who were engaged in the affair averred that the
unfortunate man Bowden was accidentally shot by
one of his own crew.
Toms was never able to show his face again in
Polperro, and a place was found for him in a menial
capacity in Newgate, where he ended his days.
Lanreath stands between the Fowey and the Looe
rivers, about midway. It has a fine church with a
beautiful screen. Usually the paintings on these
screens are mere daubs, but such as remain at
Lanreath, though sadly defaced, show that there
was at the end of the fifteenth or beginning of the
sixteenth century a school of real artists in the West.
Unhappily, only scanty remains of the paintings can
be seen. A late rector is said to have proposed to
scrape one half the screen if the parish would do the
other half. Accordingly he effaced all the beautiful
painted work of the portion between nave and chancel.
The parish, however, did not like this sort of
"restoration," and happily refused to complete the
defacing of this work of art.
Court, near the church, is the old nest of the
Grylls family, a picturesque mansion containing
much of interest. It is in such a ruinous condition
that it will have to be largely rebuilt, but the owner,
Mr. T. H. Spry, purposes doing this in a thoroughly
conservative spirit. The house contains one very
handsome room with rich carved oak panelling.
.pm onblock
Note.--Books to be consulted on Looe and Polperro:--
Bond (T.), Topographical and Historical Sketches of East and West
Looe. London, 1823.
Couch (T. Q.), The History of Polperro. Truro, 1871.
.pm offblock
// 242.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 fowey "CHAPTER XIII." "FOWEY"
.pm onhanghead
Derivation of the name Fowey--The Fowey river--Lostwithiel--A
rotten borough--Old Stannary Court--S. Winnow--His Settlement
in Brittany--Beating the bounds--Golant--S. Samson--Dol--Tower
of Fowey--Place--S. Finbar--The "Lugger Inn"--Polruan--The
Mohun family--Death of Lord Mohun--The Rashleigh
family--Sale of the borough.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "Although"
pronounced Foye, the name of the
place is spelled Fowey; it takes its appellation
from the river. Mr. Ferguson, in his River Names of
Europe, derives this from the Gaelic fuair, sound, faoi,
a rising stream, and instances the Foyers in Inverness,
and the Gaur in Perthshire, for fuair takes also the
form gaoir, signifying din, and the Foyers is noted as
forming one of the finest falls in Britain. But this
won't do. The Foye is the meekest, quietest, and
most unbrawling of rivers. The name is identical
with that of the Fal, but the l has been dropped,
and both derive from falbh, running, waving, flowing.
.pm illo i_243 i_243.jpg 700px "FOWEY HARBOUR"
The river takes its rise on High Moor under
Buttern Hill on the Bodmin moors, a mile north-west
of Fowey Well that is under Brown Willy, which
probably takes its name from being supposed to ebb
and flow with the tide, which, however, it does not.
The river has a fall of nine hundred feet before it
// 243.png
// 244.png
// 245.png
// 246.png
// 247.png
.pn +1
reaches the sea. It does not present anything remarkable
till it comes in sight of the highway from Liskeard
to Bodmin, as also of the railway, when at once it
turns sharply to the west, at right angles to its
previous course, and runs through a well-wooded and
picturesque valley under the camp of Largin. Then,
after flowing side by side with road and rail till it
reaches Bodmin Road Station, it turns abruptly south,
attending the railway to Lostwithiel, slipping under
Restormel Castle.
.pm illo i_246 i_246.jpg 700px "LOSTWITHIEL BRIDGE"
Lostwithiel is not Lost-wi'in-a-hill as is the popular
derivation, but Les-Gwythiel, the palace in the wood,
as Liskeard is that on the rock. It is charmingly
situated.
It is an old rotten borough, once in the hands of
the Earls of Mount Edgcumbe. But before that it
was a seat of the Stannary Court for Cornwall, and
here the Dukes of Cornwall had their palace. Of
this considerable remains exist, but it has been
meddled with, and vulgarised by the insertion of
quite unsuitable windows.
The church is interesting; it possesses a fine lantern
of a character nowhere else met with in the West.
Anciently the tide came up as far as the town, and
the portreeve had rights over the river, for which
reason the town arms are represented with an oar.
Below the town the river to Fowey is full of
beauty. It passes S. Winnow, with fine fifteenth-century
glass; the church is beautifully situated. Here is
a chapel of S. Nectan, of Hartland, to which latter
was attached a college of secular priests endowed by
Gytha, wife of Godwin, Earl of Kent. The priests
// 248.png
.pn +1
of this college were married and allowed to marry, as
all Celtic clergy were.
S. Winnow was son of Gildas the historian.
Gildas and Finian were together for some time at
S. David's monastery, and became close friends.
Then Gildas entrusted his son Winnoc, or Winnow,
to Finian to be educated, and Finian took the boy
with him to Clonard and educated him. When
Winnoc thought that it was time for him to leave, he
returned to Britain and settled in Cornwall. As he
was allied to the royal family, he received large
grants of land, and certainly chose a lovely spot for
his establishment. S. Veep, or Wennapa, was his aunt,
and he served as her spiritual adviser. After a while,
for some reason unknown, but probably on account of
a breeze with his kinsman King Constantine, whom
Winnow's father, Gildas, has abused in the most uncompromising
terms, and Constantine's mother as well,
Winnow left Cornwall and settled in Brittany. He
was accompanied by his brother Madoc and his
sister, whom the Welsh call Dolgar and the Bretons
Tugdonia. He landed in the neighbourhood of
Brest, where he was found by Conmor, Count of
Pouhir, the usurper, who was killed in 555. Conmor
granted him as much land as he could enclose in a
day. The story goes that Madoc, or Madan, as the
Bretons call him,[18] took a pitchfork and drew it
behind him, and it formed a ditch and a bank that
enclosed a bit of land. The fosse and embankment
// 249.png
.pn +1
exist to the present day, and the story means no
more than that under Madoc's supervision the lis or
rath was thrown up to enclose the monastic settlement.
Within this defensive work Winnow constituted
his establishment, built a church, and erected a
number of beehive cells. Outside he set up stones
to mark the bounds of his minihi, or sanctuary, and
all who took refuge in this were allowed to pass under
his protection and become members of his tribe.
One day Winnow went to Quimperlé, where some
building was in progress. He incautiously stood
under the scaffolding, and a mason who was above
let fall his hammer on his head. This killed him.
The Welsh call him Gwynnog, and the Bretons
Gouzenou. A very funny story is told of his
establishment. It became a custom to beat the
bounds every Ascension Day. The clergy with
banners, and preceded by a cross, led the procession.
One day the rain came down in torrents, and the
clergy did not relish being wet to the skin, so they
decided not to beat the bounds. However, cross and
banners would not be done out of their little flirt,
and to the astonishment of all, away they trotted,
none bearing them, and made the rounds by themselves.
Popular tradition is prudently silent as to
when this took place.
That Winnow should have been forced to leave
Cornwall after his father had addressed the king in
such forcible but inelegant terms as "Tyrannical
whelp of the unclean lioness of Dumnonia," is not
surprising. You could not well stay in the house of
// 250.png
.pn +1
a man in whose face your venerable father has spat--not
if you have any self-respect.
A little further down the river is Golant, or S.
Samson. This is a foundation of a man better
known than S. Winnow. His story deserves telling,
at least so much of it as pertains to Cornwall.
Samson was son of Amwn the Black, Prince of
Bro-Weroc in Brittany, that is to say, the country
about Vannes which had been colonised by British
settlers. There ensued a little family brawl, which
obliged Amwn to fly for his life. He escaped into
Wales, where he married Anne, daughter of the
Prince of Glamorgan. Samson was educated by S.
Iltyd in Caldey Isle, and was taught "all the Old
and New Testament, and all sorts of philosophy, to
wit, geometry and rhetoric, grammar and arithmetic,
and all the arts known in Britain."
He devoted himself to the ecclesiastical state, and
spent many years in Wales. He paid a visit to
Ireland, inspected the monasteries there, and then
returned to Wales, where he was ordained bishop.
After a while he considered that he might just as
well try to get back to Brittany, and see whether he
could recover some of the authority and the lands
and position of which his father had been deprived.
Accordingly he crossed to Cornwall and landed at
Padstow, where he dedicated a little chapel, where
now stands Prideaux Place. Here he was visited by
S. Petrock on his arrival, as also by S. Winnow, not
the Winnow of the Fowey river, but another, a brother
of S. Winwaloe, who had settled at Lewanick. He
was related to Samson through his mother.
// 251.png
.pn +1
The arrival of Petrock determined Samson to
depart. He went on to Petherwin, where his first
cousin, S. Padarn, was settled. He had brought
with him all the sacred vessels and books he could
collect, and had laden with them a waggon, drawn
by two horses that he had brought from Ireland.
He sent forward a messenger to tell Padarn that
he was on his way, and drawing near. The story
has been already told how the news reached Padarn
at the time he was dressing. Whilst in the district
of Trigg Samson made the acquaintance of the chieftain,
named Gwythian, and rendered him some service
with his son, who was stunned by a fall from his
horse. Gwythian seems to have followed him. Later
on he became a disciple of S. Winwaloe, and founded
a church in West Cornwall. Samson went on to
Northill, where he remained for some time, and then
proceeded to Golant. His main object in remaining
in Cornwall was to watch affairs in Brittany. He had
with him several companions--disciples from Wales,
Austell, and Mewan and Erme. At Golant Samson
continued till the arrival of his cousin, Maglorius, with
tidings from Brittany, whereupon he entrusted his
church to a disciple, crossed over, and settled at
Dol. Conmor, usurper of Domnonia, had murdered
Jonas, the reigning prince, in 540, and had usurped
the throne. Judual, the son of the murdered king,
had fled to the court of Childebert, King of the
Franks. Samson visited Paris, and used persuasion
to induce the Frank king to interfere and reinstate
Judual. Childebert would not do this, but finally
gave Samson leave to do what he could off his own
// 252.png
.pn +1
bat. Samson then retired to the Channel Islands,
where he enlisted soldiers and drilled them, and then
landed on the Brittany coast, and proclaimed Judual.
In the meantime Mewan had acted as his agent,
travelling through the country preparing for a
general revolt. Three bloody battles were fought,
and in the third Conmor was killed by the hand of
Prince Judual, A.D. 555, whereupon Judual ascended
the throne, and rewarded Samson as liberally as
he could have desired, but the bishop died five years
later. Samson must have spent a good many years
in Cornwall if he left Wales in 548 to escape the
yellow plague which was then ravaging the land.
At Golant the saying is that there is to be seen
"a tree above the tower, a well in the porch, and a
chimney in the roof." The tree was probably once
growing out of the stones on the top of the tower;
the well is there still, close to the entrance to the
church, under a rude arch. It is a holy well, and
is said to have been a spring elicited by Samson
with his staff.
The church is late Perpendicular.[19] The pulpit
and reading-desk are made up of old bench-ends,
representing S. Samson, the M of Mary, and the lily
of the Annunciation, and instruments of the Passion.
On the tower of S. Austell under niches are representations
of S. Samson habited as an archbishop--which
he was not--and his disciple S. Austell. The
// 253.png
.pn +1
reason of his being represented as an archbishop
is curious. In 848 Nominoe, King of Brittany, determined
to free his country from being Frenchified,
and he not only made it independent of the Frank
crown, but he also dismissed the Frank bishops from
the Breton sees, and filled their places with native
prelates. He also elevated the see of Dol into an
archbishopric over all the British-speaking races in
Armorica. Now it so happened that there had been
a Samson of York, but he was never more than a
priest, and he was quite a different man from
Samson, son of Amwn the Black, who settled at
Dol. However, because York was an archiepiscopal
see, and a Samson had once been there, it was supposed
that he had been archbishop. Next he was
confounded with Samson of Dol, and it was pretended
that he had resigned York and come to Dol
to set up his archiepiscopal see there. This served
quite well enough as an excuse for withdrawing Dol
and all the Breton bishoprics from allegiance to the
Metropolitan of Tours; and Dol was able to
maintain itself as a Breton archbishopric till 1199,
that is to say, for over three hundred years.
Near S. Samson, or Golant, is Castle Dor, a very
early fortification, that was, in historic times, held
by the Crown, and a castle erected on the spot to
keep the Cornish in order.
Fowey itself lies near the river-mouth; it much
resembles a miniature Dartmouth. Opposite the
town opens the creek that runs to Lanteglos.
There were and are two castles, as at Dartmouth,
commanding the entrance to the harbour, but they
are insignificant, and form no feature of the scenery.
// 254.png
.pn +1
Fowey is a curious, rambling place--one long street
twisting in and out among houses, commanded by
Place, the beautiful mansion of the Treffry family,
that would have been entirely beautiful but for
absurd and tasteless additions. This stands on a
rock above the town, which is crowded below it.
The very fine church, with noble tower, is dedicated
to, because founded by, S. Finbar, afterwards
Bishop of Cork. In 1336 Bishop Grandisson rededicated
the church to S. Nicholas. He sought persistently
to drive out the local and Celtic saints and
substitute for them such as were in the Roman calendar.
But he has failed; the Irish patron maintains his
place. Finbar was a disciple of S. David. His origin
was not very creditable. He was the son of a noble
lady by a vulgar intrigue with a smith, for which both
were sentenced to be burnt alive, but the sentence
was commuted to expulsion from the kingdom of
Connaught. Finbar's real name was Lochan, but he
received the other in allusion to his fair hair.
In a gloss by the O'Clerys on the martyrology of
Oengus is a funny legend of S. Finbar. One day,
as he was walking on the sea, on his way home to
Ireland from Cornwall, he met S. Scuthin similarly
walking, starting on his pilgrimage to Rome.
"Arrah, now!" said Finbar, "how come you to
be walkin' on the salt say?" "Why not?" answered
Scuthin;" "ain't I now walking over an illegant
meadow?" Then he stooped, plucked a purple
flower, and threw it at Finbar. The latter at once
bowed, put down his hand, caught a salmon, and
threw it flop into S. Scuthin's face. The O'Clerys
got this from popular legend. Finbar died in 623.
// 255.png
.pn +1
The only really picturesque old house in Fowey
is the "Lugger Inn," where Mr. Varco, the kindly
host, has, more than once, made me very comfortable.
A beam in the house bears the date 1633. The
"Ship" is older; it was built in 1570, as the date
over the chimney-piece records, but the house has
been modernised externally. Near the club, on the
south side, stands the house of Peter Pindar.
Immediately opposite Fowey is Polruan, the Pool
of S. Ruan, who was an Irishman like Finbar. His
bones were translated by Ordgar, Earl of Devon, to
Tavistock in 960. Thence an excursion can be made
to Lanteglos, dedicated to S. Wyllow, a local saint,
murdered by a kinsman, Melyn. The church is
chiefly interesting as containing monuments of the
Mohun family. Indeed, it would seem to have been
their principal place after Dunster.
Reginald, a younger son of Baron John Mohun
of Dunster (died 1330), married a daughter of John
Fitz-William, and settled at Hall, in Lanteglos.
From Hall the Mohun family removed to Boconnoc,
and a baronetcy was obtained in 1612 for the head
of the house. John, son of the first baronet, was
a venal adherent of Charles I., and owed his elevation
to the peerage mainly to the clamorous importunities
of a still more venal placeman, Sir James
Bagg. Writing to the Duke of Buckingham, the
latter urged, "Mr. Mohun is so your servant, as in
life and fortune will be my second. Enable him by
honour to be fit for you; so in the Upper House or
in the country will he be the more advantageous to
your grace."
Mohun was created Baron of Okehampton in 1628.
// 256.png
.pn +1
His great-grandson was Charles, the fifth and last
Lord Mohun. This man, possessed of a passionate
and vindictive temper, lost his father early; his
mother married again, and his education was
neglected. When he had scarcely attained the age
of twenty he was mixed up in the murder of Mountford,
the actor. He was tried before his peers in
1692, and was acquitted; but there can be no doubt
that he was associated in the murder. Seven years
afterwards, in 1699, he was again tried for his life,
along with the Earl of Warwick, for the murder of
Captain Coote. He was again acquitted. This second
escape sobered him for a while. For long he and the
Duke of Hamilton entertained ill-feeling towards
each other, occasioned by some money disagreement.
This came to a head in 1712, when it ended in a
challenge. Which it was, however, who challenged the
other was never certainly decided. Colonel Macartney
was Lord Mohun's second, and Colonel Hamilton
exercised the same office for the duke. They
met in Hyde Park on Saturday morning, the 15th
November, and swords were the weapons employed.
A furious encounter ensued, the combatants fighting
to the death with the savagery of demons, so that
when the keepers of the park, hearing the clash of
swords, hurried to the spot, they found both the Duke
of Hamilton and Lord Mohun weltering in their
blood and dying, and the two seconds also engaged
in mortal combat. The keepers separated the latter.
Then Colonel Hamilton and one keeper lifted the
duke; Macartney and the other endeavoured to do
the same by Lord Mohun, who, however, expired,
and his body was sent home in the coach that had
// 257.png
.pn +1
brought him. Swift, writing to Stella at the time, says
that, "while the duke was over him, Mohun shortened
his sword, and stabbed him in the shoulder to the
heart." According to the evidence of the surgeons
who examined the bodies, each had received four
frightful wounds, and both appeared to have given
each other the mortal thrust at the same instant.
Fowey has for long been a nursery of Treffrys
and Rashleighs, though the latter really issue from
a place called by the same name near Eggesford, in
Devon, where is an interesting old house, their
mansion, with beautiful Elizabethan plaster-work,
and their very peculiar arms--a cross or between,
in the dexter chief quarter a Cornish chough arg.,
beaked and legged gu., in the sinister chief quarter
a text T, and in base two crescents, all arg. A coat,
this, that suggests that some story must be connected
with its origin, but what that story was is now forgotten.
The history of Fowey is interwoven with
that of the Rashleighs and the Treffrys.
Fowey was one of the rotten boroughs that were
disfranchised. It was created by Elizabeth in 1571.
In 1813 the borough manor of Fowey, formerly the
property of the Duchy, passed from the control of
the Rashleighs to Lucy of Charlescot, in Warwickshire;
it was sold for £20,000 and an expenditure
of £60,000 to acquire whole influence over voters.
The Lucys opposed Lord Valletort, who had represented
the borough since 1790--a long time for a
Cornish borough--and desperate contests ensued,
with varying success. When disfranchisement came
they found they had laid out vast sums, and had
nothing to show for it.
// 258.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 fal "CHAPTER XIV." "THE FAL"
.pm onhanghead
Truro--The cathedral--Probus tower--S. Kea--Polgerran--King
Geraint--His tomb--S. Just--Mylor--Falmouth a modern town--How
it sprang up--The Killigrews--Arewenack--A station for
the packets--Church--Pendennis Castle--The Manacles--The
Black Rock--Mr. Trefusis of Trefusis--S. Mawes Castle--Roseland--Smuggling--S.
Mawes a borough--S. Tudy--The climate of
Falmouth--A sunbeam.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "The"
cathedral city of Cornwall is planted at the
head of a long creek that unites with the Tresillian
river, and together they join the Fal. The
name is thought to signify Three Roads, that united
at this point. The town lies in a hollow, and the
descent into it from the railway station is considerable.
It has been a place of more consequence in
the past than Bodmin, and several of the Cornish
county families had their town residences in Truro,
going there for the winter, to enjoy assembly balls
and card parties.
The cathedral soars up above the houses, and is a
fine structure, doing vast credit to the county, which
has strained every nerve to erect it at a time of depression
and the death of the chief industry. When
completed the effect will be very noble. One may
regret that the architect chose as his style a foreign
type--French Early Pointed--instead of adhering to
// 259.png
.pn +1
the Perpendicular, which is that of the churches of the
county. Now, instead of looking like the mother of
these, which are her chicks, she holds herself up as of
a distinct and alien breed. The poorest features are
its over-enriched porch, which is elaborate without
being pleasing, and the reredos, which looks as if
shorn away at the head, and cries out for rich pinnacle-work
to take off its ugly baldness. But perhaps the
most pleasing portion of the cathedral is S. Mary's
aisle, that belonged to the old parish church. An
enduring debt of gratitude is due to the first Bishop
of Truro, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, in
making a bold stand against the designing of the
building being left to local incapacity.
A visit to Probus should on no account be
omitted. The magnificent tower is interesting as
having been erected so late as the reign of Elizabeth.
The church is dedicated to S. Probus, to whom also
Sherborne Abbey was dedicated by Cenwalch. His
history is not known.
Just below Malpas, the point of juncture of the
Truro river and that of Tresillian, are the remains
of Old Kea Church.
Kea is a contraction for Kenan. He was one of
the hostages held by Laogaire when S. Patrick came
before him. Every high king in Ireland retained
about him hostages delivered over by the under
kings who acknowledged his sway. In fact, as an
Irish law tract says, "No hostages, no king," and a
king's dun was always provided with a court for the
hostages. When S. Patrick preached before Laogaire
Kenan believed, and he obtained his release through
// 260.png
.pn +1
the intervention of the apostle, and was consecrated
bishop by him.
For some unknown reason he left Ireland and
visited Wales, where he tarried for a while. Then
he went further through Britain till he reached the
Fal estuary, then called Hir-drech, or the long tidal
creek. As he lay there on the grass where is now
Tregothnan, he heard men talking on the further side
of the creek. Said one to another, "Have you seen
my cows anywhere?" The other replied, "Aye, I
have; I saw them yesterday in Rosinis." Then
Kea remembered having heard a voice come to him
in a dream, which said, "Settle where you hear the
name Rosinis called."
So he crossed the water along with his comrades,
and they set to work to build huts where now stands
Old Kea.
Now the king, or prince, lived at Goodern, where
are still mounds of a lis, and he was by no means
pleased to hear that foreign monks had settled on the
river-bank without his permission.
He sent and had seven of the oxen and a cow
belonging to Kea taken from him. The legend
says that seven stags came from the forest, and
allowed Kea to yoke them and make them draw the
plough. But this is a fabulous addition to the history.
What is really true is that he went to Goodern and
remonstrated with the prince, who was none other
than Tewdrig, who behaved so roughly to the colony
of Irish saints in the Land's End district. Tewdrig
flew into a passion and struck Kea in the mouth, so
as to break one of his front teeth.
// 261.png
.pn +1
However, shortly after this Tewdrig fell ill--caught
a heavy head-cold perhaps--and, thinking that he had
been "ill-wished" by Kea, hastily reconciled himself
with the saint, and restored his oxen. The Rosinis
in the narrative is Roseland, but the Kestell Carveth,
or Stag's Castle, where Kea made his first settlement,
cannot be identified by name, though it was probably
what is now called Woodbury.
But the relations with Tewdrig continued strained,
and the condition of affairs was worse when the king
fell from his horse and broke his neck. Kea, fearing
lest this should be imputed to him, as occasioned by
his "ill-wishing," resolved on flight to Brittany. He
went to Landegu, i.e. Landege, the old name of the
place, as we learn from Bishop Stapleton's Register
(1310). Here was a merchant about to send a cargo
of corn to Brittany, and Kea, with his companions,
were permitted by the merchant to depart in the
grain ship.
He reached the Brittany coast at Cleder, and there
he remained till the discord broke out between Arthur
and Mordred, when Kea returned to Britain, and endeavoured,
but in vain, to reconcile them. After the
death of Arthur, it was Kea who told Queen Gwenever
some unpleasant home-truths, and induced her
to retire into a convent. Then, in 542, he returned
to Cleder, where he died shortly after at an advanced
age. But this story of his connection with Arthur
and Gwenever is very problematical, indeed impossible
to reconcile with his history, if he was converted in
433. In Brittany he is called S. Kay, or Kea, as in
Cornwall.
// 262.png
.pn +1
A little lower down the river is the wooded slope
of Polgerran, and an ancient chapel stands above
it. Gerran, or Geraint, was King of Cornwall, and
married Enid, daughter of the Count-in-Chief of
Caerleon. Tennyson has revivified her charming
story. After the death of Arthur, he seems to have
been elected Pendragon, or high king, over the
Britons, and his life was spent in fighting the Saxons
along the frontier from the Roman wall down to the
Severn. S. Senan, of the Land's End, was on good
terms with him, and there is a story told in the life
of that saint concerning Geraint. The king had a
fleet of six score vessels in the Severn, and the
fatal battle in which he fell was at Langport on the
Parret, whither at that time vessels could ascend.
His palace was at Dingerrein, in the parish of
S. Gerrans in Roseland. His tomb is shown at Carn
Point, where he was said to lie in a golden boat with
silver oars, an interesting instance of persistence of
tradition in associating him with ships. When the
tumulus was broken into, in 1855, by treasure-seekers,
a kistvaen was discovered and bones, but no precious
metal. As Geraint fell at Langport he would hardly
have been brought to Cornwall for interment. But
there were two other princes of Cornwall of the same
name, who reigned later.
The long Restronguet Creek enters the estuary of
the Fal where that estuary becomes wide and a fine
sheet of water. The peninsula is Roseland, the old
Rosinis--Moorland Isle.
Restronguet Creek has been choked with the
wash coming down from the ancient tin mines. At
// 263.png
.pn +1
one time it was a fine long arm of water. Immediately
opposite each other are Mylor and S. Just,
the latter hidden in a lovely creek and buried in
trees. The interesting little church stands by the
water-side. It was founded by Just, or Justin, one
of the sons of Geraint. By an odd mistake, over the
north porch is inscribed, "I was glad when they said
unto me, Let us go up unto the house of the Lord,"
whereas the congregation have to descend to it some
two hundred feet, and the churchyard gate is level
with the ridge of the roof.
Mylor Church is interesting as possessing old
crosses with Celtic interlaced work. There were
formerly curious frescoes in the church. It is dedicated
to a prince of the blood royal. His father,
Melyan, was brother of the ruffian Tewdrig, who
carried off S. Kea's cows and killed some of the
Irish colonists. His uncles were S. Oudoc, Bishop
of Llandaff, and Ismael, a favourite pupil of S. David.
But he had another, an ambitious uncle named
Howel, who asked Melyan to meet him, and suddenly
and treacherously stabbed him, in 537. This
probably took place not far from Par, where are a
Lan-melyan and a Merthan close together, indicative
of a place of martyrdom, and a chapel to the martyred
prince. Howel at once assumed the crown
over Cornwall and Devon. In order to incapacitate
his nephew Melor, son of the murdered Melyan,
from menacing his throne, he had his right hand
and one foot cut off, as by Celtic law no cripple or
disfigured person is qualified to become a chief or a
prince. Melor was sent into Brittany. But there he
// 264.png
.pn +1
became such an object of interest and sympathy,
that Howel was afraid, and had him also secretly
assassinated.
The wonderful harbour of Falmouth now bursts
on the view, almost closed between the jaws of Pendennis
Point and S. Anthony's Head.
A creek runs up to the right to Penryn, and on
the left, another penetrates deep into Roseland.
Falmouth is a modern place with a modern name.
Anciently it was but a fishing hamlet--Penycomequick,
i.e. Pen-y-cwm-wick, the village at the head of
the valley--with another, Smithick, hard by about a
forge. But the Killigrews had a fine place and deer-park
at Arwenack.
Leland (about 1520), who mentions every place
worth notice, including every "praty" and every "pore
fisching town," says nothing of Falmouth beyond it
being "a havyn very notable and famox."
Arwenack and the fortifications of Pendennis are
noticed by Carew, but nothing is said of Falmouth.
Camden (in 1607) mentions Penryn, Pendennis
Castle, S. Mawes Castle, and Arwenack, but says
nothing of Falmouth.
When, however, Sir Walter Raleigh put into Falmouth
Harbour on his way homewards from Guiana,
he was entertained at the great house, but his men
could hardly find any accommodation, and he represented
the matter to Government, urging the importance
of this splendid harbour.
Sir John Killigrew went repeatedly to town on the
matter, but was opposed by the Penryn interest.
However, he obtained a licence to build four houses
// 265.png
.pn +1
on the spot. As the place rapidly increased beyond
the licence, in 1613 Sir John was disposed to further
extend it, and build a town, but was interrupted in
his attempt by Truro, Penryn, and Helston, which
exerted all their influence to prevent it. Truro was
jealous of the prosperity of Penryn, and was deadly
opposed to the growth of a new town so near the
entrance of the harbour, one which would have many
advantages over itself in point of situation.
In a petition to James I. it was said that the
erection of a town at Smithick would tend to the
impoverishment of the ancient coinage towns and
market towns aforenamed, and therefore humbly
prayed that Killigrew might be restrained in his
undertaking. The king thereupon stopped the
builders, and ordered his privy councillors to get
information from the Governor of Pendennis Castle
relative to the projected town. The latter replied
that the project was excellent, as such a place, being
at the mouth of the Fal Harbour, could at once and
readily supply such ships as put in there, instead of
forcing them to go up two miles to Penryn or nine to
Truro. The king then resolved on erecting a town
at Smithick, and Sir John Killigrew was encouraged
to proceed.
During the protectorship of Cromwell, although
the Killigrews had been staunch Royalists, yet Sir
Peter succeeded in having the custom-house removed
from Penryn to Smithick, and in 1652 in
getting the place elevated to the position of market
town. Smithick continued to be the name until August
20th, 1660, when, in consequence of an application
// 266.png
.pn +1
from Sir Peter Killigrew, a proclamation was issued
by Charles II. ordering "that Smithike, alias Penny-come-quick,
should for ever after that day be called,
named, and known by the name of Falmouth." In the
following year a charter of incorporation was granted,
and thenceforth the story of Falmouth is one of incessant
quarrels between the corporation and the Killigrews,
the former intent on jobbing for their private
advantage, whereas the Killigrews were ambitious in
every way to benefit and enlarge the town.
The old mansion of Arwenack has almost disappeared--it
has given its name to a street--and the
Killigrews have also vanished. The last was killed
in a tavern brawl at Penryn in 1687, and through
females the property has passed to Erisey, to West,
to Berkeley, and to Wodehouse, and is now owned
by Lord Kimberley.
What made Falmouth at one time a place of
importance was that from it sailed the packets. At
first they were a matter of contract between the
General Post Office and the captains of the several
boats; and this system continued till 1823, when the
packets were placed under the orders of the Board
of Admiralty. The transfer of the packets from the
Post Office to the Admiralty at first excited much
alarm among the inhabitants, and doubtless many of
them suffered, owing to the decreased demand for
ships' stores of all descriptions, as the sloops-of-war
were provided by the Government; but the change
did not prove so disastrous as was expected, for
many persons were drawn to live at the place, persons
who belonged to the families of the commanders, and
// 267.png
.pn +1
also because a greater number of men were employed
on the new system. Packets were first
stationed at Falmouth in or about the year 1688,
when some were employed to sail to Corunna; and
in 1705 they ran to the West Indies; in 1709 five
sailed to Lisbon; and the number gradually increased.
In 1827 there were thirty-nine packets
employed. But all this came to an end in 1850,
when the mails were sent from Southampton in
place of Falmouth.
The church was dedicated in 1663 to Charles the
Martyr. It is a mean building, without architectural
merit, and with a stumpy tower, vastly inferior to
the other church dedicated to the royal martyr at
Plymouth.
Pendennis Castle (Pen-Dinas, the Castle on the
Head) is not a very striking feature. It was erected
in the reign of Henry VIII., but it has been since
somewhat extended. In 1644 Pendennis sheltered
the unfortunate Henrietta Maria, when embarking
for France. It was from hence that Arwenack
House, esteemed the finest mansion in Cornwall, was
fired, during the siege by the Parliamentary troops,
lest it should furnish them with shelter. John
Arundell, of Trerice, commonly called Jack-for-the-King,
defended it for six months, he being in his
eighty-seventh year, and only surrendered when
starved out.
From the ramparts a fine view is obtained of the
Lizard promontory, and of the terrible Manacles, on
which the Mohegan was lost in October, 1898.
Perhaps even more terrible was the wreck of the
// 268.png
.pn +1
Despatch, in January, 1809, when, two days before
Sir John Moore's death, three officers and seventy-two
non-commissioned officers and privates were
lost on Lowland Point; and almost simultaneously
the Primrose, with 120 officers and men and six
passengers, was wrecked on the Manacles.
About half-way across the mouth of the harbour
is the Black Rock, exposed at low water, but covered
when the tide rises. An eccentric Mr. Trefusis, of
Trefusis, opposite Falmouth, one day invited his wife
to boat with him to the Black Rock and picnic there.
She incautiously accepted, and when he had landed
her, he made his bow, and rowed away with, "Madam,
we are mutually tired of each other, and you will
agree with me that it were best to part."
Fortunately a fishing-smack picked her off just as
the tide was flowing over it, and brought her back
to Trefusis. "Be hanged to you rogues," said the
husband. "I'd have given you a guinea each to
let her drown; now you shan't have a shilling from
me."
.pm illo i_269 i_269.jpg 700px "S. MAWES' CASTLE"
S. Mawes Castle commands the harbour entrance
from the other side, as also that to S. Mawes Creek.
The long promontory, over four miles in length, that
intervenes between the creek and the sea is Roseland.
The neck of land dividing them is in two places
very contracted. Roseland was a great harbour for
smugglers, whose headquarters were at Porthscatho.
When employed in conveying their goods ashore in
Gerrans Bay, they always had their scouts on the
hills, and as the customs station was at S. Mawes,
no sooner did the preventive boat put forth, than
// 269.png
// 270.png
// 271.png
.pn +1
notice was given, and the boats dispersed; so that by
the time she came into the bay all was quiet. Finding
this to be the case, the officer in command one
day took his boat up the river, and had her carried
by the crew across the neck of land, and he dropped
into Gerrans Bay before the scouts were aware that
he had left the harbour. He secured a good prize,
and struck a severe blow at the contraband trade.
Porthscatho, perhaps, takes its name from Cado, or
Cathaw, the son of Geraint, and Duke of Cornwall.
The whole of the district from Roseland to Grampound
teems with reminiscences of the Cornish royal
family. Lansallos is a foundation of Salomon, or
Selyf, son of Geraint; and in S. Gerrans parish is a
holy well of S. Non, mother of S. David, and sister
to Selyf's wife, S. Wenn. Tregony Church is a
foundation of S. Cuby, son of Selyf, and grandson of
Geraint. Filleigh was founded by a son of Gildas,
who was grandson of Geraint. Dingerrein, the royal
palace, is now represented by a mound, but hence
hailed one of the early bishops of Cornwall, Kenstig,
who submitted to Canterbury in or about 850.
S. Mawes was formerly a borough returning two
members. It consists of a row of houses looking upon
the creek. It takes its name from an Irish settler, who
perhaps came with S. Ruan. He arrived with two
disciples. Tudy was one, or, as the Welsh call him,
Tegwyn, so that in all likelihood he had halted for
some time on his way in Wales, doubtless at S.
David's. There was formerly a stone chair near the
beach, but it has been built into the sea-wall. From
this he taught the many pupils who came to him.
// 272.png
.pn +1
But whilst they listened to or pondered over his
instructions, they were much distracted by the frolics
of a great seal that came near, stared at them, and
made grunting noises. This was so vexing that one
day Mawes jumped out of his chair and, taking a
big stone in his hand, ran into the shallow water
to try conclusions with the seal. He got near
enough to throw the stone at it, and to hit it on
the head, after which he was no more troubled
with the interruption.
The reason why Mawes settled where he did was
probably this. His disciple, Tudy, was a cousin
of S. Wenn, who was queen, the wife of Selyf, or
Salomon, and Tudy doubtless advised his master
to go to Cornwall, and see whether his kinsfolk
would do something for them. However, Mawes
does not seem to have been long satisfied with his
entertainment, for he crossed into Brittany, where
he died.
The holy well of S. Mawes is immediately opposite
the post office, and supplies the place with drinking
water. The pointed arched door is walled up, and
two ugly ventilating shafts have been inserted to
keep the air sweet above the spring.
From the land side, the castle of S. Mawes is a
picturesque object.
One of the main charms of Falmouth and its neighbourhood
is the climate. Sharp frosts are almost
unknown, the mild and balmy air is wonderfully even
in temperature, and the marvellous gardens of Enys
show delicate kinds of rhododendron--elsewhere
growing in greenhouses--luxuriating in the open air.
// 273.png
.pn +1
The climate is that of the lotus-eaters, pleasant but
enervating.
.pm onpoem
"Propt on beds of amaranth and moly,
How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
With half-dropt eyelids still,
Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
His waters from the purple hill--
Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.
\_\_\_\_\_\_*\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_*\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_*\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_*\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_*
"Let us swear an oath, and keep it with equal mind,
In the hollow lotus-land to live, and lie reclined
On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind."
.pm offpoem
And there are good hotels at Falmouth where the
lotus-eaters may do this.
Finally, a story of S. Just. He left Cornwall and
settled in North Brittany, at Plestin, but left it for a
pilgrimage. On his return he found his cell occupied
by an Irish chief, S. Efflam, who had settled into it
to follow a religious life. Whose should the cell be?
"Let us sit down," said Just, "and he on whom
the sun first falls, his the cell shall be." So they sat
down. The golden streak through the little window
travelled on, as the sun declined, and lighted up the
face of Efflam. Just rose and departed, but surely
bore away on his face the radiance of Charity, not
on face only, but also in his heart.
// 274.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 newquay "CHAPTER XV." "NEWQUAY"
.pm onhanghead
Mr. Austin Treffry--The sands--Cliff-castles--Castel-an-Dinas--The
Gannel--S. Carantock--Newlyn--Perranzabuloe--Church of S.
Piran--History--Roche--S. Denis--Columb Major and Minor--S.
Agnes--The Cornish rotten boroughs--How they passed away from the
Crown--Mitchell--The town hall--Kit Hawkins--Trerice--Lanherne--Church--William
Noye--S. Mawgan--The educator--The
early missionaries.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "Newquay"
is a very new place; it was projected
by Mr. J. T. (Austin) Treffry, of Place House,
Fowey, a very remarkable man, far in advance of
his time, to whom not Fowey only, but Cornwall
generally owes a debt of gratitude. His projects
have been worked out since his death with complete
success.
In itself uninteresting to the last degree, it is the
key to very fine coast scenery, and the air is bracing
without being cold. It possesses excellent sands,
both at Newquay and Fistral Bays. There is further
a long tract of sand, two and a quarter miles long, to
the north of S. Columb Porth, the Tregurian Beach.
The rocks will interest the geologist as well as form
a subject for the artist.
The coast presents examples of several cliff-castles,
as at Kelsey, Trevelgue and Griffith's Heads, and
// 275.png
.pn +1
Redcliff above Bedruthan; but the finest example of
a castle is Castel-an-Dinas, near S. Columb Major.
This fortress comprises about six acres of land,
enclosed within three concentric rings of bank and
moat, built up of earth and stone together, about a
pyramidal hill. The innermost enclosure contains
about an acre and a half, and there were at one time
indications of habitations therein, but these have now
disappeared. There are, however, traces of a pit that
was a well or tank for rain-water, as there is no spring
on the hill. There are two entrances to this interesting
camp or dinas.
According to legend, King Arthur lived here and
hunted the wild deer on Tregoss Moors.
Near Perranzabuloe are Caer Kieff (eyf, perfect)
and Caer Dane (dinas).
To the south of Newquay is the curious creek
called the Gannel (gan-hael, the mouth of saltings).
A very slight thread of sweet water descends from the
land into a creek of three miles of salt marsh and
sand, filled at high water with the tide. Here it was
that S. Patrick's companion, adviser, and friend,
Carantock, on leaving Ireland, set up his residence.
He was a remarkable man, for he was one of the
three bishops chosen by Laogaire at Tara to revise
the laws of Ireland. When the Irish accepted Christianity
it was obvious that the laws needed modification.
King Laogaire was not and never did become
a Christian, but he accepted the situation, and appointed
a commission for the revision of the laws,
and on this sat Carantock. The result was the
Senchus Mor, the great code by which the Irish were
// 276.png
.pn +1
ruled till 1600. Carantock was an acquaintance of
King Arthur, but he met him, not at Castel-an-Dinas,
but on the Severn at Dinedor, and did not get on
well with him.
An odd story is told of his fixing the site for his
church at Crantock. After he had landed in the
Gannel he went up on the land, and began to till a
scrap of land granted him; and when not at work on
the soil, he whittled his staff, to make the handle
smooth. Then, when he resumed his mattock, he
saw a wood-pigeon fly down, pick up the shavings,
and carry them off. He was curious to know what
she did with them, so he followed, and saw that she
dropped them in one spot in a little heap. "There
must be some meaning in this," said Carantock, and
he resolved to build his church there. Those Celtic
saints looked out for some omen to direct them in
all their doings.
Crantock Church was collegiate; it fell into a condition
of decay, and was shockingly mutilated, but is
about to be restored carefully and conservatively.
Another interesting church, one with a fine screen
and in good condition, is Newlyn. This is probably
situated on the patrimony of S. Newlyna--"the white
cloud," as her name signifies. She was of noble
birth, but, like the rest of the Celtic saints, thought
she must travel, so she took ship at Newlyn West,
where she has also left her name, and arrived in
Brittany with her foster-mother as chaperon.
There she had an unpleasant experience. She
caught the fancy of a local magnate, who pursued
her when she fled from him, and as she stubbornly
// 277.png
.pn +1
repelled his advances, in a fit of fury, struck her with
his sword and killed her. She is commemorated at
Noualen, or Noyal-Poutivy, where the screen was
formerly painted with a series of subjects relative
to her story. This was destroyed in 1684 by order
of the vicar-general, because it concealed the new
reredos in the debased style of the period. This
tasteless construction has been in turn demolished, and
the paintings that formerly decorated the jubé have
been reproduced in coloured glass in the windows.
The great towans, or sand dunes, of Penhale
extend three miles in length, and almost two in
parts inland. They are held in check to the north
and north-east by the little stream that finds its way
into Holywell Bay. In these sands was found
S. Piran's Chapel, of the eighth or ninth century, in
1835, exactly resembling similar structures of the
same date in Ireland. It was cleared out by Mr.
William Mitchell, of Comprigney, near Truro, and
he thus describes it:--
.pm onblock
"The church, which is built nearly east and west,
inclining only 4° north of west, is of but small dimensions,
the length without the walls being 30 feet and within the
walls 25 feet; the width within 13 feet in the chancel and
12 feet in the nave, and the height about 13 feet. There is
a very neat arched doorway in a good state of preservation
at the date of the work, viz. the day when I removed the
sand from it, 7 ft. 4 in. by 2 ft. 4 in., ornamented with
Saxon tracery [this is inaccurate, no Saxon about it], the
arch itself having on its keystone the head of a tiger, and
the points of its curve (i.e. label-terminations) the head of
a man and that of a woman, rudely sculptured in stone, in
the centre of the nave on the south wall; and another
// 278.png
.pn +1
doorway in the north-east corner, near the altar, of similar
dimensions and style, if we may judge from the remains of
its arch lying near it, and which may be assumed to be
that intended for the priest himself, leading into the
chancel. The chancel is exactly 9-1/2 feet long, and shows
in the north and south walls the precise spots where the
railing (screen) separating it from the nave was fixed.
Attached to the eastern wall of the church is an altar
nearly equidistant between the north and south walls,
5 ft. 3 in. long by 2 ft. 3 in. wide, and 4 feet high, built
of stone and neatly plastered with lime. Eight inches
above this altar is a recess or niche about 12 inches high
by 8 inches wide, in which, undoubtedly, was once S.
Piran's shrine.... There is only one small aperture or
window, 12 inches high by 10 inches wide, about 10 feet
above the floor, in the south wall of the chancel.... A
stone seat, raised 14 inches above the level of the floor,
and 12 inches wide, covered with lime-plaster, runs all
round the walls except the east and south walls of the
chancel. The nave is exactly 15-1/2 feet long, its floor,
together with the floor of the chancel, being composed of
lime and sand, apparently as perfect as when first laid down.
Each door has two low steps to descend into the church.
The church itself is plastered with beautiful white lime.
The masonry of the entire building is of the rudest kind,
and evidently of very remote antiquity. There is not the
slightest attempt at regular courses, but the stones, consisting
of granite, quartz, sandstone, porphyry, etc., appear to
have been thrown together almost at random--horizontally,
perpendicularly, and at every angle of inclination--just
as the hand, not the eye, of the workman happened to
direct him. To render the church as perfect as when it
was originally erected, nothing seemed wanting but its
doors and roof. Not an atom of wood, except a piece
of about 8 inches long by 2 inches wide, and an inch
thick, was found within the walls. That there were many
// 279.png
.pn +1
bodies interred both in the chancel and nave of the church
is an unquestionable fact. Several skeletons have been
found deposited about 2 feet below the floor. Three were
discovered with their feet lying under the altar, one of them
of gigantic dimensions, measuring about 7 ft. 6 in....
Their heads, which appeared to be almost cemented
together, lay between the knees of the skeleton deposited
nearest to the south wall.
"On the southern and western sides of this venerable
ruin is the ancient burying-ground, strewed over tens of
thousands of human bones and teeth as white as snow;
and, strange as it may seem, the showers of sand which
fall all around hardly ever remain on these melancholy
relics of mortality."[20]
.pm offblock
Unhappily nothing was done to preserve this little
church after it had been excavated from the sand.
The three heads from the doorway were carried off
for Truro Museum; visitors pulled out stones, boys
tore down the walls, and now little more than a gable
remains. But to this was added the mischievous
meddlesomeness of the curate-in-charge, the Rev.
William Haslam, who turned the altar-stones about,
as he had got a theory into his head that they had
formed a tomb, and rebuilt them in this fashion, pointing
east and west, and cut upon the altar-slab the
words "S. Piranus." It is purposed to undo Mr.
Haslam's work, and replace the altar as originally
found. More should be done. Cement should be
run along the top of such wall as remains to save it
from falling.
// 280.png
.pn +1
The Rev. C. Collins Trelawny, soon after the
discovery, wrote an account in a book entitled
Perranzabulo, the Lost Church Found, which went
through seven editions (1837-72).
In 1844 Mr. Haslam published another book on
the subject, and again another in 1888, From Death
unto Life, in which he assumed to himself the credit
of Mr. Mitchell's discovery. The church has not the
extreme antiquity attributed to it. The fact of there
being a chancel is sufficient evidence that it does not
belong to the sixth century, as none of the earliest
Irish churches possess this feature.[21] It is about two
centuries later, though doubtless a reconstruction of
the old materials, and perhaps on the old lines.
Judging from Irish examples, in one point only is
Mr. Haslam more correct than Mr. Mitchell. He
considered the niche over the altar to have been a
walled-up window, and in this was right.
The story of S. Piran, or Kieran, as he is called in
Ireland, is of sufficient interest to be given.
He was born in Clear Island, in the county of
Cork, the extreme south point of Ireland. He
established a monastery at Saighir, in the extreme
north of Munster. The legend is that his first
disciples were a boar, a fox, a badger, a wolf, and a
doe. And in this we have an instance of the
manner in which simple facts assume a fabulous
character in the hands of late writers. The district
was that of the clan of Hy Sinnach, i.e. the foxes;
// 281.png
.pn +1
an adjoining tribe was that of the Hy Broc, or the
badgers; an Ossorian disciple was regarded as Os,
i.e. a doe; and his wolf was no other than one of
the Hy Faeladh, which has a double meaning of
"hospitable" or "wolfish;" another disciple was
S. Tore, and the name means "boar."
Kieran, as his name is in Irish, invoked the
assistance of his mother, Liadhain, and induced her
to start a school for girls at Kellyon, not far from
Saighir. The arrangement was not happy, as at
least one of his disciples carried on a lively flirtation
with Liadhain's damsels.
How Kieran placed Buriena the Slender with
Liadhain, and how a chief ran away with her, and
how Kieran got her back, shall be told when we
come to Land's End. It was possibly on account of
this unpleasantness that he withdrew to Cornwall, and
brought with him both his nurse, Cocca, and Buriena.
But there were other reasons. Kieran belonged to
the royal race of Ossory, and in his time Ossory was
overrun by Cucraidh, who massacred all he could lay
hands on of the royal race of the O'Bairrche, to
which Kieran belonged. Most of Kieran's clan
migrated to the north of Ossory, where they maintained
their independence till 642. It was not likely
that Kieran cared to remain in the country under
an usurper whose hands were steeped in the blood
of his brethren. Cucraidh tried to make terms with
the saint, and his granddaughter was either put
under his rule, or else voluntarily entrusted herself
to him. But even if Cucraidh invited Kieran to
remain, he was but under-king to Aengus, King of
// 282.png
.pn +1
Munster, and Kieran quarrelled with the latter and
denounced him to death. In fact, Aengus was killed
in battle in 489. There was consequently very good
reason why the saint should leave Ireland.
Kieran's monastery at Saighir was on a princely
scale. "Numerous were his cattle; there were ten
doors to the shed of his kine, and ten stalls at every
door, and ten calves for every stall, and ten cows
with every calf.... Moreover, there were fifty tame
horses with Kieran for tilling and ploughing the
ground. And this was his dinner every night: a
little bit of barley bread and two roots, and water of
a spring. Skins of fawns were his raiment, and a
haircloth over these. He always slept on a pillow
of stone." Carantock was his scribe, and some of the
books written by Carantock were long preserved at
Saighir. One of Kieran's disciples was Carthag, who,
although a saint, was a somewhat loose fish, and gave
the abbot not a little trouble. S. Itha put one of his
escapades in as delicate a way as might be when she
said--
.pm onpoem
"A son will be born to Carthag,
And Carthag will not be thought better of accordingly."
.pm offpoem
On account of his disreputable conduct, Kieran
kicked him out, and bade him go to Rome, hoping
that he might sow his wild oats in that chaste and
holy place.
One day Kieran of Clonmacneis and the two
Brendans came to visit him. The steward approached
him in dismay. "There is nothing to offer these
distinguished guests except some scraps of rusty
bacon and water."
// 283.png
.pn +1
"Then serve up the bacon and the water."
Now there was at table a lay brother, and when
the bacon was set before him he thrust his platter
contemptuously from him, for he was tired of bacon,
and when out visiting, by dad! he expected to be fed
like a gintleman.
"Hah!" said Kieran turning angry, "you are
dainty, son of Comgal; it is just such as you who
would not scruple to eat ass's flesh in Lent."
Across the backbone of Cornwall is Ladock, and
if I am not mistaken, Kieran planted there his old
nurse, Cocca, who also became head of a religious
house for women.
It is said that every Christmas night, after divine
service at his own monastery, Kieran started off
walking, and arrived at early morning to perform
divine worship for his old nurse, and give her the
compliments of the season. The date of his death
is not known, but it is thought to have been about
550.
A friend writes to me:--
.pm onblock
"It may be foolishness, but to me such a place as the
ruined church of Peranzabulo appeals most powerfully.
I determined to find it unaided, and when found I spent
hours there, sometimes at dark, trying as best I might
to recall the place as it once was, and to revivify the
bones which were lying in several little heaps where the
workmen, who had been railing about the ruin, had
collected them.
"It seems to me that one loses a great deal in stifling
and choking the imagination.
"In the dusk of evening, with the swallows in vast
quantities gathered for their flight to the south, and the
// 284.png
.pn +1
white bones lying before me, the wind sighing and piping
in the grass, and the sea moaning in the distance, the
scene was one that deeply impressed me, and will never
be forgotten."
.pm offblock
There is now some talk of a very careful and
conservative restoration, so as to preserve what yet
remains.
The rock and hermitage of Roche, standing up in
a district that has been turned over and undermined
for tin, and is strewn with ruined engine-houses,
deserve to be seen. The rock is a prong shooting
up boldly, and a chapel and the cell of an ancient
hermit have been constructed on it.
S. Denis is a conical hill with an earthwork round
it; in fact, it was an old Dinas, or palace of a chief.
The church within was called Lan-dinas. The
bishops of Exeter, not understanding the real
meaning, concluded that it was the church of
S. Denis, and dedicated it to the Bishop-martyr of
Paris, a somewhat apocryphal personage. So two
fortified headlands were each Lan-an-dinas,[22] and
they were converted into churches of S. Anthony.
S. Columb Major has a fine church, which unhappily
suffered from an explosion of gunpowder in 1676,
when three boys carelessly set fire to a barrel of this
explosive, which had been placed in the rood-loft
staircase. The windows and roof were blown away,
and the pillars thrown out of the perpendicular.
Happily the fine carved benches were unhurt; they
are curious. Apparently a travelling show of wild
// 285.png
.pn +1
beasts passed through the town when they were
being carved, and the workmen reproduced on them
the strange beasts they saw.
There is an interesting and picturesque old slated
house at the entrance to the churchyard.
The old custom of hurling is still observed at
S. Columb on the feast, which is in November, and
the silver ball is thrown in the market-place.
S. Columb Minor bench-ends, according to Hals,
were of black oak, and bore the date 1525, and it had
a fine rood-screen with loft, "a most curious and
costly piece of workmanship, carved, and painted
with gold, silver, vermillion, and bice, and is the
masterpiece of art in those parts of that kind." This
has all disappeared now.
S. Agnes' Head, pronounced S. Anne's, presumedly
takes its name from Ann, the mother of the gods
among the Irish Celts, and probably also among the
Cymri. She gives her name to the Two Paps of Ana,
in the county of Kerry. The parish was constituted
late. There was no such parish at the time of the
Conquest, and the present church was built and
consecrated in 1484.
A story is told of a house in S. Agnes. When
Wesley visited this part of Cornwall preaching, he was
refused shelter elsewhere than in an ancient mansion
that was unoccupied because haunted by ghosts.
Wesley went to the house, and sat up reading by
candlelight. At midnight he heard a noise in the
hall, and on issuing from his room saw that a banquet
was spread, and that richly-apparelled ladies and
gentlemen were about the board.
// 286.png
.pn +1
Then one cavalier, with dark, piercing eyes and a
pointed black beard, wearing a red feather in his cap,
said: "We invite you to eat and to drink with us,"
and pointed to an empty chair.
Wesley at once took the place indicated, but before
he put in his mouth a bite of food or drank a drop,
said: "It is my custom to ask a blessing; stand all!"
Then the spectres rose.
Wesley began his accustomed grace, "The name of
God, high over all----" when suddenly the room
darkened, and all the apparitions vanished.
The story of the creation, subsequent history, and
extinction of those English boroughs which were
swept away by the Reform Bill of 1832, and which
were commonly designated as pocket or rotten
boroughs, is too curious an episode in Parliamentary
history to be allowed to remain in the limbo of
Parliamentary reports--a charnel-house of the bones
of facts--unclothed with the personal reminiscences
and local details which invest these dry bones with
flesh, and give to them a living interest.
In a very few years there will not be a man alive
who can recall the last election for them. Their
story is this: They were creations of the Crown
when its tenure of power was insecure, and the object
aimed at was to pack the House of Commons with
members who were mere creatures of the Crown.
The shock of the Reformation had upset men's
minds. What had been held sacred for ages was
sacred no longer, and the men who had been encouraged
to profane the altar were ready enough to
turn their hands against the throne. The revolt of
// 287.png
.pn +1
the Parliament under Charles I. was long in brewing;
its possibility was seen, and the creation of pocket
boroughs was devised as an expedient to prevent it.
In order that the Crown might have a strong body
of obedient henchmen in the House, a number of
villages or mere insignificant hamlets were accorded
the franchise, villages and hamlets on land belonging
to the Duchy of Cornwall that went with the royal
family as an appanage of the Prince of Wales, or
were under the control of pliant courtiers. As the
country was in a ferment of religious passion, many,
if not most, of these new boroughs were specially
chosen because far removed from ecclesiastical influence,
either because they lay at the junction of
several parishes, or because they were places remote
from churches.
In Cornwall in the reign of Edward VI. eight
petty places were given the privilege of returning two
members apiece. These were Bossiney, a mound in
a field, with a farmhouse adjoining, West Looe,
Grampound, Penryn, Newport, Camelford, and
Mitchell.
Queen Mary followed by raising S. Ives to the
position of a borough; Elizabeth proceeded to confer
the same privileges on S. Germans, S. Mawes,
Tregony, East Looe, Fowey, and Callington. Those
called into existence by Edward were all under
Duchy influence with the exception of Mitchell,
"the meanest hamlet within or without Cornwall,"
which was under the control of the Arundels of
Lanherne.
Four of the new boroughs had been places belonging
// 288.png
.pn +1
to monastic establishments, but since the suppression
of the religious houses they had passed under
the domination of the Crown. S. Ives, which had
been constituted a borough by Philip and Mary, was
in the hands of Paulet, Marquis of Winchester
who could be relied upon. For the same reason
Callington was given two members in 1584, as this
also was held by the Paulets. The fear of ecclesiastical
influence is conspicuous in numerous instances.
Camelford is two miles distant from a church, and
the only chapel in it was confiscated and demolished.
Saltash was another churchless place; it belonged to
the parish of S. Stephen's, two miles distant, and had
in it no other place of worship than a municipal
chapel. Grampound was at a like distance from its
parish church, S. Creed; Tregony was planted at
the junction of several parishes; Mitchell divided
between two equidistant churches two miles away.
Another remarkable feature in these boroughs is that
they rapidly slipped away from the influence of the
Crown, and fell under the control of great landlords.
Founded for the servile support of the Throne, they
became a prey, not even to Duchy tenants, but to
private owners, and resolved into saleable commodities,
that passed rapidly from hand to hand. In 1783
it was noticed that seven peers directed or influenced
the return of twenty members; eleven commoners
controlled the election of twenty-one; and the people
one only, that of S. Ives. It was a recognised thing
that the man who held six boroughs in his hand, that
is to say, who could return twelve members to support
the Ministry, could demand and obtain a peerage.
// 289.png
.pn +1
Even a foreign Jew who, at a pinch, could assist
the Ministry by means of three boroughs which he had
bought, could exact a baronetage in part payment.
Cornwall returned forty members, as many,
excepting one, as the entire kingdom of Scotland;
more by two than Durham, Northumberland, and
Yorkshire together; and along with Wiltshire,
where was another nest of pocket boroughs, more
than Yorkshire, Lancashire, Middlesex, Warwick,
Worcester, and Somersetshire.
Another interesting feature in the pocket boroughs
was the various methods of voting. In some it
was close and secret; in others open and democratic.
In some the electors were nominated by
the patron; in others they maintained a measure
of independence, and disposed of their votes to the
highest bidder.
One of the most notorious of the rotten boroughs
was Mitchell, Modishole, or, as it was sometimes
called in error, S. Michael. It is a wretched hamlet
on a bleak portion of the great backbone of Cornwall,
exposed to every blast from the Atlantic,
without trade, without manufacture, almost without
agriculture, so poor and unremunerative is the soil.
It owed its origin solely to the fact that it was a
convenient centre for the distribution of contraband
goods that had been run ashore in the bays between
Crantock and Newquay. When raised into a borough
it existed, without thriving, on the two demoralising
businesses of smuggling and elections. In Parliamentary
lists it figures as S. Michael's, but the
archangel has never had anything to do with it,
// 290.png
.pn +1
never had even a chapel there. The place belongs
in part to the parish of S. Enoder, in part to that
of S. Newlyn.
The name of Mitchell given it was surely given
in satire, for in Cornish this word signifies greatness.
The place consists at present of nineteen houses.
At the time of its disfranchisement it had 180 inhabitants,
but only three of these were qualified to vote,
whose names were Retallack, Vincent, and Parker,
and these three returned the two last members who
sat for Mitchell.
A few sycamore and ash and thorn trees brave
the gales that sweep the desolate slope on which
the old borough stands. It has a handsome old
inn with granite porch, some quaint old houses, one
with the date 1683 on the parvise, and a diminutive
town hall.
Whether the borough ever had a seal is uncertain:
no impressions are known to exist. The town hall
has gone through a series of uses since the place
ceased to be a borough. For a while after 1832
it was a dame's school, then was converted into a
Wesleyan chapel, then into one of the Church of
England, next into a manure store, then into a
carpenter's shop, and now it is a beer brewery, in
a hamlet made up almost wholly of total abstainers.
The place, as already said, consists of nineteen
houses. There is not a shop there. The dame's
school has been transferred from the town hall to
a one-roomed cottage, that crouches under a bank,
and is overshadowed by sycamores.
// 291.png
.pn +1
The privileges it possessed proved to it a curse,
for if there were voters in it sufficiently independent
to think differently from the patron, he tore down
their dwellings. After the last election but one
Sir Christopher Hawkins swept away numerous
cottages from his land, so as to reduce the number
of voters, not because they were recalcitrant, but
because all demanded payment for their votes; and
to diminish the voters, as he did, from eighty to
three meant a corresponding reduction in election
expenses. At the election of 1831 there was no
voting at all. The steward invited some two dozen
individuals to dine with him in the inn; of these
three only were nominated to vote. A worm-eaten
chair was thrust on the balcony of the inn, and the
nominee of the patron was declared chosen and
chaired.
Immediately after this election the same patron,
Sir Christopher Hawkins, pulled down twelve more
houses; amongst these a handsome mansion opposite
the town hall, that had been erected by Lord
Falmouth in 1780, when he was dominant in the
borough, and all the stonework was carried away
for the construction of Lord Falmouth's new house
at Tregothnan.
In the penultimate election there were but thirteen
electors, who were nominated by the patron. But
even these were not altogether submissive. A
stranger came amongst them, and by large promises
induced most of them to agree to vote for him as
second representative. Dread of their patron, however,
in the end proved too strong, and they returned
// 292.png
.pn +1
both his nominees. The stranger, however, assured
them that he would send them presents all round,
and on a certain day the carrier arrived with a
large chest addressed to the free and independent
electors of Mitchell. On opening it, the chest was
found to be full of stones, and to have thirteen
halters on the top properly addressed to the several
electors, among whom, by the way, were three
parsons.
The unfortunate borough during the later years
of its existence was a battleground of many combatants.
It was never certain who had the right
to vote. This question was left in ambiguity till
1700, and every successive election gave rise to a
petition and Parliamentary inquiry.
In 1639, when Courtenay and Chadwell were
elected, a petition was sent up to the House appealing
against it, and the plea set up was that the
members had got in by the aid of voters who were
not qualified.
Between this date and 1705 the borough came
before the Election Committee no less than fifteen
times, and the right of voting was altered from time
to time.
In 1660 the question arose whether the right of
voting lay in the commonalty at large or in two
functionaries called Eligers, nominated by the lord
of the manor, and in twenty-two free men of their
appointment. The Committee of the House considered
that it rested with these nominees, and that
the householders of Mitchell had no electoral rights
whatever. But in 1689 the Committee decided that
// 293.png
.pn +1
"the right of election lay with the lords of the
borough, who were liable to be chosen portreeves, and
in the householders of the same not receiving alms."
Here was a fundamental change. All at once universal
suffrage was introduced. Next year (1690)
Rowe, for the second place, got in by thirty-one votes
against twenty given for Courtenay. Upon investigation,
it was proved that Rowe had bribed a dozen
voters with £5 or £6 apiece.
In 1695 another election took place, when four
members were returned, two by a deputy-portreeve,
and two by the actual portreeve, a certain Timothy
Gully, who was an outlaw, and lived in White
Friars.
The struggles of Anthony Rowe and Humphrey
Courtenay occupy and almost proverbialise this epoch.
About 1698 it was noted that "the cost of these
struggles had been enormous, and William Courtenay,
son and heir of Humphrey, was forced to petition
the House to be allowed to sell his entailed estates to
defray them."
Rowe was pronounced elected in 1696, but was
unseated as speedily on appeal from the defeated
side.
In 1707 "the traditional contest takes place at
Mitchell between Rowe and two others. Rowe, who
was elected, was soon confronted with the inevitable
petition."
The right of voting for this distracted borough
had already been changed from one of nominees of
the patron to one purely democratic, and now, in
1701, it was again changed. This time it was invested
// 294.png
.pn +1
in the portreeve, and in the inhabitants paying
scot and lot.
For nearly half a century no election petition came
up from Mitchell, but in 1754 the scandals became
more flagrant than before, and the interest of the
political world was drawn to this obscure and ragged
hamlet. Lord Sandwich had squared the returning
officer, and his candidate was elected by thirty
against twenty-five. The Duke of Newcastle now
disputed this election. There were, at that period,
two taverns at Mitchell, each with its picturesque
projecting porch on granite pillars. Each of these
became the centre of party cabal and caucus, and
this continued for ten months, during which ale
and wine flowed and money circulated, and the
electors ate and drank at the expense of the Earl
of Sandwich and the Duke of Newcastle, and devoted
all their energies to swell their several factions at
the expense of the other. At last the duke's candidates,
Luttrell and Hussey, were returned vice
Clive (a cousin of the Indian Clive) and Stephenson,
who were sustained by the earl.
After this "stranger succeeded stranger in the representation
of Mitchell." In 1784 the two patrons
were Lord Falmouth and Francis Basset, Esq. No
sooner was the election declared than a petition
against the return was sent up to the House, and
the Committee found that the evidence of bribery
and corruption by one of the returned members was
so gross that he was forthwith unseated.
Sir Christopher Hawkins of Trewithen, Bart., was
sole owner of the borough between 1784 and 1796, and
// 295.png
.pn +1
he held it with an iron grasp. By means of pulling
down houses, this crafty baronet thinned down the
electors to sixteen, and finally further reduced the
number to three. Sir Christopher held Grampound
and Tregony as well in his fist, and had runners at
his several boroughs to keep him informed how
election proceedings went on in each place. His
high-handed proceedings and his closeness in everything
not connected with elections made him vastly
unpopular. One morning a paper was found affixed
to the gates of Trewithen.
.pm onpoem
"A large house, and no cheer,
A large park, and no deer,
A large cellar, and no beer.
Sir Christopher Hawkins lives here."
.pm offpoem
Sir Kit died in 1829, unmarried, when the title
became extinct, but his memory continues green, if
not sweet, in the minds of Cornishmen of the parts
where he ruled.
In 1806 one of the representatives of the borough
was Arthur Wellesley, the subsequent Duke of
Wellington.
During eleven years, 1807-1818, there were nine
elections at Mitchell. No event of importance
occurred after 1818, except the extraordinary and
significant revelation made at the contested election
of 1831, when Hawkins, the nephew of Sir Christopher,
got two votes; Kenyon, a Tory, five; and
Bent three. In the following year the five electors
of Mitchell found their borough disfranchised.
There were, when I visited Mitchell in 1893, two
// 296.png
.pn +1
old men, brothers, of the name of Manhire, one aged
ninety-four, who could recollect the last election, and
could tell some good stories about it.
Trerice, the ancient seat of the Arundells, is near
Mitchell, which, it may be remembered, was made
into a borough because completely under their control.
But their influence rapidly declined, and they
lost all power over the voters. The old house is
converted into a farm, and is no longer in the possession
of the Arundells. Its fine carved oak
furniture was scattered.
More charmingly idyllic than Trerice is Lanherne,
another seat of the Arundells. Roger de Arundell
was at home when the Conqueror came to England.
William Arundell had his lands forfeited for rebellion
in the reign of King John, but they passed to his
nephew, Humphrey Arundell, in 1216. His son, Sir
Renfrey Arundell of Treffry, married the daughter
and heiress of Sir John de Lanherne in the reign of
Henry III., and since then Lanherne became one of
the favourite family seats of a house that acquired
the baronies of Wardour and Trerice.
Lanherne lies in the loveliest vale in Cornwall, shut
in and screened from the blasts that sweep from
the Atlantic. The old house was abandoned
in 1794 to the nuns of Mount Carmel, who fled
to England for refuge from the storms of the
French Revolution. The front of the mansion is
of the date 1580, and is eminently picturesque.
A modern range of buildings has been added
for the accommodation of the nuns, but it is not
unsightly. The lovely pinnacled tower of the church
// 297.png
.pn +1
of S. Mawgan rises beside the ancient mansion, at
a considerably lower level, and the interior is rich
with sculptured oak, and with monuments of the
Arundells.
Alas! the mighty family that once dominated in
Cornwall, second in power only to the Princes of
Wales, royal dukes of that duchy, is now represented
in Cornwall by empty mansions, alienated to
other holders, and by tombs.
The motto of the family is "Deo data--Given by
God." It might be properly supplemented, If the
Lord gave, the Lord hath also taken away.
Lanherne is in the parish of S. Mawgan. The
church has been coldly and unsympathetically
renovated by Mr. Butterfield. It contains very fine
carved bench-ends and a screen that deserve inspection.
The tower of the church is peculiarly
beautiful, and the church rises above a grove of the
true Cornish elm, growing like poplars, small-leaved.
Carnanton was formerly the dwelling of William
Noye, a farmer of Buryan, who was bred as student-at-law
in Lincoln's Inn, and afterwards became M. P.
for S. Ives in Cornwall, in which capacity he stood
for several Parliaments in the beginning of the reign
of Charles I., and was one of the boldest and stoutest
champions of the rights of Parliament against
absolute monarchy. Charles I. then made him his
attorney-general, 1631, whereupon his views underwent
a complete change, "so that," as Halls says,
"like the image of Janus at Rome, he looked forward
and backward, and by means thereof greatly enriched
himself." He it was who contrived the ship-money
// 298.png
.pn +1
tax, which was so obnoxious, and was a principal
occasion of the Rebellion.
The attorney-general one day was entertaining
King Charles I. and the nobility of the court at
dinner in his house in London. Ben Jonson and
other choice spirits were at the same time in a tavern
on the opposite side of the street, very much out of
pocket, and with their stomachs equally empty.
Ben, knowing what was going on opposite, wrote
this little metrical epistle and sent it to the attorney-general
on a white wood trencher:--
.pm onpoem
"When the World was drown'd
No deer was found,
Because there was noe Park;
And here I sitt
Without een a bitt,
'Cause Noyah hath all in his Arke."
.pm offpoem
The presentation of this billet caused great amusement,
and Noyes sent back a dish of venison with
the rhymes recast, at the dictation of the king, in this
fashion:--
.pm onpoem
"When the World was drown'd
There deer was found,
Althoe there was noe Park;
I send thee a bitt
To quicken thy witt,
Which comes from Noya's Arke."
.pm offpoem
Halls says:--
.pm onblock
"William Noye was blow-coal, incendiary, and stirrer up
of the Civil Wars by assisting and setting up the King's
prerogative to the highest pitch, as King James I. had done
before, beyond the laws of the land. As counsell for the
// 299.png
.pn +1
King he prosecuted for King Charles I. the imprisoned
members of the House of Commons, 1628; viz., Sir John
Elyot, Mr. Coryton, and others; whom after much cost
and trouble he got to be fined two thousand pounds each,
the others five hundred pounds."
.pm offblock
A portrait of William Noye, by Cornelius Jansen,
is at Enys, the property of D. G. Enys, Esq.
S. Mawgan, the founder of the church, as also of
that in Kerrier, was a man of extraordinary importance
to the early Celtic Church in Ireland, Wales,
Scotland, and Cornwall. He was the great educator
of the saints, and perhaps the first head of a
college in Britain. He had under him S. David,
Paulinus, and the ill-conditioned Gildas; and he is
probably the same as Maucan, "the master," entrusted
by S. Patrick with the education of the clergy
for the Irish mission. S. Euny and S. Torney were
disciples of his, and it was he who gave to Brig, or
Breaca, the rules by which a religious community of
women should be governed.
His great educational establishment was at Ty
Gwyn, or the White House. This was planted on
the slope of Carn Llidy, a purple, heather-clothed
crag close to S. David's Head in Pembrokeshire,
whence in the evening the sun can be seen setting
behind the mountains of Wexford.
Here remains of a rude old chapel can be traced,
and around it are countless very early interments
in unhewn stone graves, pointing east and west. In
fact, this is the necropolis of the great missionary
home whence streamed the first Christian teachers
// 300.png
.pn +1
into Ireland, and whence Scotland, Cornwall, and
Wales were supplied with evangelists.[23]
His establishment was a double one, of female
disciples as well as of males, and the consequences
were not always satisfactory.
A British king named Drust (523-28) sent his
daughter to Ty Gwyn to be educated. In the
college were at the time Finnian, afterwards of
Clonard, and two other Irishmen, Rioc and Talmage.
Rioc fell in love with the girl, and bribed Finnian
to be his go-between and get her for him as wife by
the promise of a copy of all Mawgan's books that
he undertook to make. Finnian agreed, but by
treachery, or as a joke, did the courting for Talmage
in place of Rioc. When the circumstances came
to the ears of Mawgan he was very angry, and he
gave his boy a hatchet, and told him to hide behind
the chapel, and when Finnian came to matins to
hew at him from behind. But instead of Finnian, the
first to arrive was Mawgan himself, and he received
the blow destined for Finnian. Happily, either
because the boy missed his aim in the dark, or more
probably because the order had been given to beat
Finnian and not kill him, Mawgan was not mortally
wounded.
Non, the mother of S. David, was brought up in
the same house, and was there when it was visited
by Gildas the historian, whose works we have.
It does not at all appear that the rule of celibacy
was required of clergy, even of abbots, in the early
// 301.png
.pn +1
Celtic Church, for this same Gildas was father of two
founders of churches in Cornwall--S. Eval and S.
Filius, of Philleigh; and S. Kenneth, the crippled
Abbot of Gower, was the father of S. Enoder.
S. Patrick in Ireland did not require his bishops
to be unmarried; all he demanded of them was that
they should follow the apostolic rule, and that each
should be the husband of one wife. The same
regulation continued in force in Wales till the
Norman invasion in the twelfth century.
S. Patrick was no doubt mainly guided in making
his rule by what was ordered in Scripture, but he
was also doubtless satisfied that on practical grounds
it was the best course, for he had a difficult team of
missionaries to drive. This comes out clearly enough
in the "Lives" extant.
// 302.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 lizard "CHAPTER XVI." "THE LIZARD"
.pm onhanghead
Meneage--The meaning of Lizard--The character of the district--Helston--The
Furry Day--Pixy pots--Loe Pool--Tennyson--Serpentine--The
Cornish heath--The Strapwort--Other plants--Woad--S.
Piran and the woad--Windmill--Peter Odger--Mullion--Tregonning
Hill--S. Ruan--S. Winwaloe--One and All--Gunwalloe
Church--Cury--The colonisation of Brittany--Wrecks.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "\"The"
learned Scotus," says Addison in the 174th
number of the Tatler, "to distinguish the race
of mankind, gives to every individual of that species
what he calls a seity, something peculiar to himself,
which makes him different from all other persons in
the world."
What the learned Scotus said of individuals may
as truly be said of localities; and indisputably the
seity of the Lizard is most pronounced.
.pm illo i_303 i_303.jpg 700px "THE LIZARD"
In itself the district is not beautiful. It consists
of a tableland elevated a few hundred feet above the
sea, very bald and treeless, and without hills to break
its uniformity.
Properly it is not the Lizard at all, but Meneage,
i.e. the land of the Minachau, the monks. Lizard--Lis-arth,
the high-placed or lofty Lis(court)--applies
merely to the head and point where stands now
Lizard Town, and where was formerly the enclosed
// 303.png
// 304.png
// 305.png
.pn +1
court of a prince of the district, or perhaps that of
the Irish monks, who occupied the region and appropriated
it.
It is almost an island, for the Helford river runs
up to Gweek, five miles from the Helston river, that
opens into Loe Pool.
Helston is not a particularly interesting place in
itself. It consists of a long street leading to the old
bowling-green, which is preserved, and stands above
the ravine of the Cober (Gael. cobhair, foam), where
is an archway to William Millett Grylls, designed
for execution in sugar-candy, and carried out in
granite.
What makes Helston interesting is the annual
observance of the Furry Day, on May 8th. It has
been often described. The morning is ushered in
by a peal of bells from the church tower, and at
about nine o'clock the people assemble and demand
their prescriptive holiday. They then collect donations,
and repair to the fields "to bring home the
May."
About noon they return, carrying flowers and
branches, and a procession of dancing couples is
formed at the Town Hall; and this proceeds down
the town, dancing in at the front door of every house
and out at the back, and so along their way, with
a band preceding them, performing the traditional
Furry Dance tune, which is not of any remarkable
age, being a hornpipe. The dancers first trip in
couples, hand in hand, during the first part of the
tune, forming a string of from thirty to forty couples,
or perhaps more; at the second part of the tune the
// 306.png
.pn +1
first gentleman turns, with both hands, the lady
behind him, and her partner turns in like manner
as the first lady; then each gentleman turns his
own partner, and they trip on as before. The other
couples pair and turn in the same way and at the
same time.
It is considered a slight to pass a house and not
to dance through it. Finally the train enters the
Assembly Room, and there resolves itself into an
ordinary waltz.
As soon as the first party has finished another goes
through the same evolutions, and then another, and
so on; and it is not till late at night that the town
returns to its peaceful propriety.
The dancers on the first day are the gentlemen
and ladies. The servants go through the same
proceedings on the morrow.
I have given both the song and tune in my
Songs of the West.
A few years ago the celebration was discontinued;
but this provoked such dissatisfaction that it was
revived with fresh zest.
The visitor to Helston may see an occasional pixy
pot on a roof-ridge of an old house. This is a
bulbous ornament, on which the pixies are supposed
to dance, and in dancing drop luck on the house
below.
Loe Pool is the largest lake in Cornwall; the
only other is Dozmare. It is a beautiful sheet of
fresh water cut off from the sea by a pebble ridge,
which it was wont to overflow, but a culvert has
been bored through the rocks to enable the Cober to
// 307.png
.pn +1
discharge without, as formerly rising and inundating
the land below Helston.
It is really marvellous to see how the mesembryanthemum
flourishes here, throwing up masses of
pink and white blossom.
In the neighbourhood it is fondly dreamed that
this was the tarn into which Arthur had Excalibur
cast.
.pm onpoem
"On one side lay the ocean, and on one
Lay a great water----"
.pm offpoem
After the sword had been cast in, hither Arthur
was carried by Sir Bedivere.
.pm onpoem
"To left and right
The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based
His feet on juts of slippery crag, that rang
Sharp smitten with the dint of armed heels--
And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,
And the long glories of the winter moon."
.pm offpoem
Hither came the "dusky barge" that was to bear
Arthur away to the isles of the blessed. This is
very pretty; the lake, the black serpentine rocks
agree well enough, but how was the fairy barge to
get over the pebble ridge? Mr. Rogers had not then
cut the culvert. No doubt it was brimming, but it
must have been risky over the bar. I do not believe
a word of it. Arthur never was down there. The
reputed site of the battle is at Slaughter Bridge,
near Camelford. But before we settle where the
battle was fought, we must fix Arthur himself, and
he is slippery (historically) as an eel.
What makes the Lizard district interesting is in
// 308.png
.pn +1
the first place the serpentine rock that forms it, and
then the plants which luxuriate on the serpentine.
The serpentine lies to the west, reared up in the
magnificent cliffs of Mullion and Kynance coves,
but the main body of the upheaved plateau consists
of another volcanic rock called gabbro. The serpentine
is so called because it has something of the
glaze and greenness of a snake's skin.
The Lizard rocks have long been an object of
interest and dispute among geologists. For a study
of them I must refer to the papers of Mr. T. Clark
in the Transactions of the Polytechnic Institution of
Cornwall.
The most casual visitor must be struck, if in
Meneage at the season of flowering, with the
abundance of the beautiful Cornish heath (Erica
vagans), which in growth and general appearance
cannot for a moment be mistaken for the common
heath. The Rev. C. A. Johns says of it in his Week
at the Lizard:--
.pm onblock
"The stems are much branched, and in the upper
parts very leafy, from two to four feet high. The flowers
are light purple, rose-coloured, or pure white. In the
purple variety the anthers are dark purple; in the white,
bright red; and in all cases they form a ring outside the
corolla until they have shed their pollen, when they droop
to the sides. On the Goonhilley Downs in Cornwall
these varieties of heath grow together in the greatest profusion,
covering many hundreds of acres, and almost
excluding the two species so common elsewhere."
.pm offblock
It flowers from July to September.
// 309.png
.pn +1
Another heath found there and near Truro is the
Erica ciliaris, with bright purple flowers of oblong
form; it is by far the most beautiful of our English
heaths. The flowers are half an inch in length,
growing down the upper part of the stem, and the
leaves are delicately fringed with hairs. It has a
somewhat glutinous feel. It is rare except in Cornwall.
A rare plant, and pretty withal, is the strapwort
(Corrigiola littoralis), trailing among the shingle on
the bar of Loe Pool. It has minute white flowers
and glaucous leaves. The plant has a curious habit
of shifting its quarters almost every year from one
part of the shore to another.
.pm onblock
"Sometimes, for instance, it abounds on the slaty beach
at Penrose, but scarcely a single specimen is to be found
on the opposite side of the lake. Next year, perhaps, it
grows in profusion on the eastern beaches, but has disappeared
from its former station." (Johns.)
.pm offblock
The strapwort grows nowhere else in Britain but
here and in two places in Devonshire.
On the cliffs may be seen the sky-blue vernal squill
in May and June, but by midsummer it has disappeared
to make room for the autumnal squill, a
much less beautiful species.
In marshy spots may be found the pale pinguicula
and the buckbean. Four kinds of genistas are to be
seen in flower, bright and yellow.
The purple allium, or chive garlic, may be found
where water has stood during the winter.
The common asparagus grows in great abundance
// 310.png
.pn +1
in the clefts of the rocks. In ravines flourishes the
blood-red crane's-bill, and the common harebell, so
desiderated on the granite formation, but not found
there, may here be met with.
Mr. Johns says:--
.pm onblock
"A sloping bank on the right hand of Caerthillian valley,
about a hundred yards from the sea, produces, I think,
more botanical rarities than any other spot of equal
dimensions in Great Britain. Here are crowded together
in so small a space that I actually covered with my hat
growing specimens all together of Lotus hispidus, Trifolium
Bocconi, T. Molinerii, and T. Strictum. The first of these
is far from common, the others grow nowhere else in
Great Britain."
.pm offblock
The cross-leaved heath, found elsewhere pretty
generally, with its little cluster of pale waxlike bells
at the head of the stalk, does not affect the Lizard.
The woad, wherewith our British ancestors dyed
themselves, flourishes abundantly in the Meneage
peninsula. It has bright yellow flowers in panicles
growing on an upright stem, some two or three feet
high, and appears in June and July.
The woad (Isatis tinctoria) yields true indigo, but
it contains only about one-thirtieth of the quantity
found on the indigo tinctoria cultivated in India.
The leaves are ground to a paste in a mill, and
then allowed to ferment during eight or twelve
days. After that they are formed into balls and
dried.
In ancient times this pasty mess was directly used
in dyeing by those who carried on all kinds of
// 311.png
.pn +1
domestic works at home. During the putrefactive
fermentation of the woad ammonia is formed and
hydrogen evolved. The latter, while in the nascent
state, reduces the blue indigo to the state of white
indigo, which, being soluble, can penetrate the wool
to be dyed, where it is deposited in the insoluble
state as blue indigo, on exposure to the oxygen of
the air.
There is an incident in the life of S. Piran, or
Kieran, who founded a church, S. Keverne, in the
Lizard district, which is connected with dyeing with
woad.
His mother was one day engaged in preparing
the dye, called by the Irish glasin. Kieran, then
a child, was present; and as it was deemed unlucky
for a male person to witness the preparation of the
dye, she bundled him out of the cabin, whereon he
uttered a curse, "May there be a dark stripe in the
wool," and the cloth in dyeing actually did exhibit
a dark grey stripe in it. The glasin was again
prepared, and again Kieran was turned out of the
house, whereon he again cursed the process that the
material to be dyed might be whiter than bone, and
again it was as he had said. The woad was prepared
a third time, and Kieran's mother asked him not to
spoil it, but, on the contrary, to bless it. This he
did with such effect that there was not made before
or after a glasin that was its equal, for what remained
in the vat served not only to colour all the cloth of the
tribe, but made the cats and dogs that touched it blue
as well. The explanation of the miracle is very simple.
The two failures were due to imperfect fermentation
// 312.png
.pn +1
in one case and over-fermentation in the other,
accidents to which woad was always liable, especially
when prepared, as it was in ancient times, from the
fresh leaves, in different stages of growth, and at
one period of the year, when the weather was warm
and changeable.[24]
We can see in this story how a fable of a miracle
grew up. The circumstance certainly may have
happened, and it was afterwards attributed to the
saintly boy being turned out of doors, and ill-wishing
the dye-vat.
Before the introduction of indigo, woad was
specially cultivated in Europe, but after the former
was brought in, the woad was no longer raised.
At first, indeed, indigo and woad were employed
together in dyeing; then came the plan of using
certain chemicals in place of woad, which injured
the wool and destroyed the quality of cloths; so
that in Thuringia orders were issued by the
Government prohibiting the employment of indigo.
There is plenty of material for dyeing to be found
in Meneage. The moss Hypnum cupressiformum
is still employed in the county of Mayo for the
purpose of giving wool for stockings a reddish
brown colour mottled with white. The white
woollen yarn to be dyed is made into skeins;
these are tied at intervals by very tight ligatures
of linen thread, and then put into the dye vat.
The binds prevent the dye from penetrating into
that portion of the wool compressed by them, and
// 313.png
.pn +1
these portions remain pure white, whereas the rest
comes out a rich orange-brown colour. When this
thread is knitted into stockings it produces a pretty
mottled pattern--the heather, as it is now called.
And in all probability the speckled garments to
which old King Brychan owed his name were thus
produced.
Bed-straw and madder again yield yellow and
red, and alder and bogbean a fine black. So the
Lizard, when other trades fail, can go in for dyeing.
There is a single windmill in the district.
The story goes that at one time it was rumoured
that a second was about to be constructed. The
miller was concerned. He went to see the man
who entertained the scheme.
"I say, mate, be you goin' to set up another
windmill?"
"I reckon I be; you don't object? There's
room for more nor one."
"Oh, room, room enough! But there mayn't be
wind enough to sarve us both."
An old chap named Peter Odger lived near
Mullion. He was somewhat given to the bottle.
One day he went with a cart and horse along the
road, and took a keg of cider with him. The
day was hot, the cider got into his head, and he
fell asleep. Some boys found the horse standing
in the road feeding. They took the brute out and
drove it away.
An hour later Peter awoke, rubbed his eyes, and
sat up. "Well, if iver!" said he. "Be I Peter
Odger or be I not? 'Tes contrary any way. If I
// 314.png
.pn +1
be Peter Odger, I've lost an 'orse; if I bain't, why
I've gained a cart."
Peter and his wife did not get on very "suant"
together. At last Peter could endure domestic
broils no longer; so one day he took every penny
he had, and started for the United States. He
shipped from Liverpool.
As the vessel neared the Newfoundland coast
it got into the cold current setting down from the
north, and an iceberg hove in sight. This was too
much for Peter. "I likes warmth," said he, "and
the only warmth I don't like is when my wife
gives it me. I reckon I'll go home." So he
covenanted to work his passage back, and by some
means or other he did not surrender his ticket for
the passage across.
Without landing in America, Peter returned in
the vessel in which he had gone out, and with his
ticket in his pocket. He walked quietly into his
cottage, and put the ticket up on the mantel-shelf.
"Thear, old woman," said he, "I've been and
got your ticket for the other world. It cost a sight
o' money, but I don't grudge it."
Mrs. Odger in the meanwhile had been hard put
to it, with no money in the house, and had led a
hand-to-mouth existence, mainly on charity. She
did not like it. She was glad to see Peter back.
"You've been a long time away," she said.
"Ees, I reckon. I just tripped over to see that
all were ready for you in the other world. They'm
expectin' of you, and here's your ticket."
It is said that Mrs. Odger was amiable after
// 315.png
.pn +1
that. The ticket was ever held in terror over her
head.
At Mullion, once a quiet, lost corner of the world,
are now three monster hotels with electric light;
their windows look out seaward across the great bay
towards Penzance and the granitic headlands of
Penwith. From the Lizard the only prominent hill
visible is Tregonning, which was held by the Irish
colony in the beginning of the sixth century against
the Cornish King Tewdrig, and is still crowned with
their stone camp.
One of the Irish who settled in Meneage was
S. Ruan, or Rumon. How long he remained there
we do not know, but he not only founded two
churches in the Lizard district and blessed there
a holy well, but he also planted an establishment
at Ruan Lanihorne, near Tregony, and a chapel at
the mouth of the Fal; his bones were translated
to Tavistock Abbey in 960. He was a convert of
S. Patrick, but left his native island early for Britain,
where he was ordained. On leaving Cornwall he
visited Brittany, and got into trouble there, for the
people took it into their heads that he was a magician,
who every night went about in the form of
a wolf and devoured their sheep and carried off their
children. One woman even denounced him to the
prince, Gradlo, for having eaten her daughter. The
prince, or duke, could not directly oppose the superstition
of his people, so he announced that he would
expose Ruan to his wolf-dogs, and if they smelt anything
of the wild beast about him they would tear
him to pieces. This was a satisfactory decision; it
// 316.png
.pn +1
promised sport. But, in the meantime, Gradlo
suffered his hounds to be with Ruan, and to be fed
from his hand. Accordingly, when the old Irish
monk was produced before his accusers and the
hounds let in on him, they licked his hands. The
people were quite satisfied, and Ruan doubtless then
had a hint to make tracks for Cornwall once more,
where there were no wolves--at least, in the Lizard
district.
Mullion Church is perhaps dedicated to S. Melyan,
a prince of Cornwall, who was treacherously murdered
by his brother-in-law, Riwhal, at a conference.
I have already told the story. But it is also possible
that the patron saint may be a Brittany bishop.
Landewednack and Gunwalloe are foundations of
S. Winwaloe, related to the Cornish royal family, but
chiefly known as a founder in Brittany.
His great foundation there was Landewennec; but
that he visited Britain to see what was the rule
observed in British monasteries is what we are expressly
told in his Life. However, he clearly came
to Britain to make foundations as well, and he not
only established the Cornish Landewednack and
Gunwalloe in the Lizard district, but churches near
Launceston, and Portlemouth on the estuary of the
Kingsbridge creek in Devon.
His mother is called Gwen the Three-breasted,
and she is actually represented with three breasts
on a monument in Brittany. She was niece of
Constantine I. of Cornwall and Devon, and cousin
of Geraint. Gwen had been married before, and
had become the mother of S. Cadfan. She and
// 317.png
// 318.png
// 319.png
.pn +1
her husband had a rough time of it when they
landed in Brittany, at Brehat, at the mouth of
the Gouet, as the region was almost void of population,
and given up to wilderness and wood.
Winwaloe was sent into the little islet of Brehat
to S. Budoc, who lived there and received and
taught disciples. It is interesting to know that
the circular huts, or foundations of the huts, of his
monastery still exist there as well as the cemetery,
and the abbot's beehive habitation is kept in repair
as a landmark for fishermen.
When Winwaloe came to man's estate he resolved
on founding a monastery of his own. He
gathered together a certain number of disciples,
thirteen in all, and they settled on a bleak island
off the western coast, and remained there for three
years.
On this islet was a rocky hill, whereon S. Winwaloe
sat and taught; and far away to the east, as
he taught, he saw the green forests and the smiling
pastures of the mainland golden with buttercups,
and there rose the smoke from the hearths of the
inhabitants.
Now when the three years were ended, one day
there came an extraordinary ebb-tide. And when
the saint saw that there was a way dry, or almost
dry, to the land, "Arise," said he; "in God's name
let us go over;" and he bade his disciples follow
him. "But," said he, "let none go alone; let one
hold my hand, and with his other hand hold his
brother's, and so let us advance in chain, and we
shall peradventure be able to reach the land before
// 320.png
.pn +1
the tide turns and overwhelms all. Let us hold
together, that the strong may support the weak, and
that if one falls the others may lift him up."
Now when Winwaloe said this, he spoke like
a true Cornishman, and it shows that the great
Cornish principle of One and All was seated in his
heart all those centuries ago; in fact, in the sixth
century.
An old miner from Australia said to me the other
day, "Never saw such fellows as those Cornishmen;
they hold together like bees. When I was out in
Australia there was a Cornishman with me, my pal.
One day someone said to us, 'There is a Cornishman
from Penzance just landed at Melbourne.' 'Where's
his diggings?' asked my pal. 'Oh, he is gone up
country to ----' I forget the name of the mine.
Will you believe it, off went my pal walking,
I can't tell you how far, and was away several
days from his work--gone off, to see that newly-arrived
chap; didn't know his name even, but
he was a Cornishman, and that was enough to draw
him."
Sir Redvers Buller told me a story. He was on
his way with a regiment of soldiers to Canada. Off
the entrance to the S. Lawrence the vessel was enveloped
in fogs and delayed, so that provisions ran
short. Now there was a station on an islet there for
shipwrecked mariners, where were supplies. So Sir
Redvers went ashore in a boat to visit the store and
ask for assistance.
When he applied, he found a woman only in
charge.
// 321.png
.pn +1
"No," said she; "the supplies are for those who
be shipwrecked, not for such as you."
"But this is a Government depôt, and we are servants
of the Crown."
"Can't help it; you'm not shipwrecked."
Now there was a very recognisable intonation in
the woman's voice. Sir Redvers at once assumed
the Cornish accent, and said, "What! not for dear
old One and All, and I a Buller?"
"What! from Cornwall, and a Buller! Take
everything there is in the place; you'm heartily
welcome."
.pm illo i_317 i_317.jpg 700px "GUNWALLOC CHURCH"
Gunwalloe is a chapelry in the parish of Cury. It
has a singular tower standing by itself against the
sandhill at the back. There is a holy well on the
beach, but the tide has filled it with stones. It was
formerly cleared out on S. Gunwalloe's Day, but this,
unfortunately, is one of the good old customs that
have fallen into neglect.
About Cury a word must be said. It is dedicated
to S. Corentine, a saint of Quimper, in Brittany, and
this is probably a place where Athelstan placed
one of the batches of Bretons who fled to him for
protection in 920, but whom he could not have
planted in Cornwall till 936. That Cornwall should
have received refugees from Brittany was but just,
for Brittany had been colonised from Devon and
Cornwall to a very considerable extent. As the facts
are little known, I will narrate them here.
The advance of the Saxons and the rolling back
of the Britons had heaped up crowds of refugees in
Wales and in Devon and Cornwall, more in fact than
// 322.png
.pn +1
the country could maintain. Accordingly an outlet
had to be sought.
The Armorican peninsula was thinly populated.
In consequence of the exactions of the decaying
empire, and the ravages of northern pirates, the
Armorican seaboard was all but uninhabited, and the
centre of the peninsula was occupied by a vast untrodden
forest, or by barren stone-strewn moors.
Armorica, therefore, was a promising field for colonisation.
Procopius says that in the sixth century swarms of
immigrants arrived from Britain, men bringing with
them their wives and children. These migrations
assumed large dimensions in 450, 512-14, and between
561 and 566.
So early as 461 we hear of a "Bishop of the
Britons" attending the Council of Tours. In 469
the British settlers were in sufficient force at the
mouth of the Loire to become valuable auxiliaries
against the invading Visigoths.
The author of the Life of S. Winwalloe says:--
.pm onblock
"The sons of the Britons, leaving the British sea, landed
on these shores at the period when the barbarian Saxon
conquered the isle. These children of a beloved race
established themselves in this country, glad to find repose
after so many griefs. In the meantime the unfortunate
Britons who had not quitted this country were decimated
by plague. Their corpses lay without sepulchre. The
major portion of the isle was depopulated. Then a small
number of men, who had escaped the sword of the invaders,
abandoned their native land to seek refuge, some
among the Scots (Irish), the rest in Belgic Gaul."
.pm offblock
// 323.png
.pn +1
The plague to which reference is made is the
Yellow Death, that carried off Maelgwn Gwynedd,
King of Wales, 547.
The invasion was not a military occupation; the
settlers encountered no resistance. Every account
we have represents them as landing in a country that
was denuded of its population, except in the district
of Vannes and on the Loire.
In or about 514 Riwhal, son of a Damnonian king,
arrived with a large fleet on the north-east coast,
and founded the colony and principality of Domnonia
on the mainland.
One swarm came from Gwent, that is to say, Monmouthshire
and Glamorganshire, where the Britons
were hard pressed by the Saxons; and this Gwentian
colony planted itself in the north-west of the Armorican
peninsula, and called it Leon, or Lyonesse, after
the Caerleon that had been abandoned.
This Leon was afterwards annexed to Domnonia
in Brittany, so as to form a single kingdom.
Again another swarm took possession of the
western seaboard, and called that Cornu, either
after their Cornwall at home, or because Finisterre is,
like that, a horn thrust forward into the Atlantic.
By degrees Vannes, itself a Gallo-Roman city, was
enveloped by the new-comers, so that in 590 the
Bishop Regalis complained that he was as it were
imprisoned by them within the walls of his city.
The Gallo-Roman prelate disliked these British invaders
and their independent ways. S. Melanius of
Rennes and S. Felix of Nantes shared his dislike.
The prelates exercised much of the magisterial
// 324.png
.pn +1
authority of the imperial governors, and to this the
newly-arrived Britons refused to submit. The Britons
brought with them their own laws, customs, and
organisation, both civil and ecclesiastical, as well as
their own language.
They were at first few in numbers, and did not
desire to emancipate themselves wholly from Britain.
Consequently, although establishing themselves in
clans, they held themselves to be under the sovereignty
of their native princes at home.
This appears from the coincidence of the names of
the kings in Armorica and in insular Domnonia.[25]
About the downs may be seen numerous cairns
and barrows. Some of these have been explored,
and some fine urns of the Bronze Age, that were
found near Gunwalloe, are now in the Truro Museum.
Alas! there is one thing for which Lizard is notorious,
and that is wrecks. The last great tragedy
of that nature was the loss of the Mohegan, in 1898.
A mysterious loss, for the two lights of Lizard shone
clear to the left, and she was steered straight on the
deadly Manacles, where she went to pieces. The
churchyards of S. Keverne, Landewednack, and
Mullion contain the graves of many and many a
drowned man and woman thrown up by the sea.
But, be it remembered, formerly those thus cast
up, unless known, were not buried in churchyards,
but on the cliffs, as there was no guarantee that the
// 325.png
.pn +1
bodies were those of Christians. For this reason it
is by no means uncommon on these cliffs to come on
bones protruding from the ground on the edge of
the sea--the remains of drowned mariners, without
name, and of an unknown date. Indeed, it was not
till 1808 that an Act was passed requiring the bodies
of those cast up by the sea to be buried in the parish
churchyard. "What is the usual proceeding?" said
a curate to some natives, as a drowned man from a
wreck was washed ashore. "In such a case as this
what should be done?"
"Sarch 'is pockets," was the prompt reply.
.pm onblock
Note.--Books on the Lizard:--
Johns (C. P.), A Week at the Lizard. S.P.C.K., 1848. Though
an old book, quite unsurpassed.
Harvey (T. G.), Mullyon. Truro, 1875.
Cummins (A. H.), Cury and Gunwalloe. Truro, 1875. Good,
but all these books are wild in their derivation of place-names, and
not too much to be trusted in their history, as, for instance, when they
mistake the Breton Cornouaille for Cornwall, and relate as occurring
in the latter what actually belongs to the Breton Cornouaille.
.pm offblock
// 326.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 smuggling "CHAPTER XVII." "SMUGGLING"
.pm onhanghead
A cache--Smugglers' paths--Donkeys--Hiding-places--Connivance
with smugglers--A baronet's carriage--Wrecking--"Fatal
curiosity"--A ballad--Excuses made for smuggling--Story by
Hawker--Desperate affrays--Sub-division of labour--"Creeping"--Fogous--One
at Porth-cothan.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "The"
other day I saw an old farmhouse in process
of demolition in the parish of Altarnon, on the
edge of the Bodmin moors. The great hall chimney
was of unusual bulk, bulky as such chimneys usually
are; and when it was thrown down it revealed the
explanation of this unwonted size. Behind the back
of the hearth was a chamber fashioned in the thickness
of the wall, to which access might have been
had at some time through a low walled-up doorway
that was concealed behind the kitchen dresser and
plastered over. This door was so low that it could
be passed through only on all-fours.
Now the concealed chamber had also another way
by which it could be entered, and this was through a
hole in the floor of a bedroom above. A plank of
the floor could be lifted, when an opening was disclosed
by which anyone might pass under the wall
through a sort of door, and down steps into this
apartment, which was entirely without light. Of
// 327.png
// 328.png
// 329.png
.pn +1
what use was this singular concealed chamber?
There could be little question. It was a place in
which formerly kegs of smuggled spirits and tobacco
were hidden. The place lies some fourteen or fifteen
miles from Boscastle, a dangerous little harbour on
the North Cornish coast, and about a mile off the
main road from London, by Exeter and Launceston,
to Falmouth. The coach travellers in old days consumed
a good deal of spirits, and here in a tangle of
lanes lay a little emporium always kept well supplied
with a stock of spirits which had not paid duty, and
whence the taverners along the road could derive the
contraband liquor, with which they supplied the
travellers. Between this emporium and the sea the
roads--parish roads--lie over wild moors or creep
between high hedges of earth, on which the traveller
can step along when the lane below is converted into
the bed of a stream, also on which the wary smuggler
could stride whilst his laden mules and asses stumbled
forward in the concealment of the deep-set lane.
A very curious feature of the coasts of the West
of England, where rocky or wild, is the trenched and
banked-up paths from the coves along the coast.
These are noticeable in Devon and Cornwall and
along the Bristol Channel. That terrible sea-front
consists of precipitous walls of rock, with only here
and there a dip, where a brawling stream has sawn
its course down to the sea; and here there is, perhaps,
a sandy shore of diminutive proportions, and
the rocks around are pierced in all directions with
caverns. The smugglers formerly ran their goods
into these coves when the weather permitted, or the
// 330.png
.pn +1
preventive men were not on the look-out. They
stowed away their goods in the caves, and gave
notice to the farmers and gentry of the neighbourhood,
all of whom were provided with numerous
donkeys, which were forthwith sent down to the
caches, and the kegs and bales were removed under
cover of night or of storm.
As an excuse for keeping droves of donkeys, it
was pretended that the sea-sand and the kelp served
as admirable dressing for the land, and no doubt so
they did. The trains of asses sometimes came up
laden with sacks of sand, but not infrequently with
kegs of brandy.
Now a wary preventive man might watch too
narrowly the proceedings of these trains of asses.
Accordingly squires, yeomen, farmers, alike set to
work to cut deep ways in the face of the downs,
along the slopes of the hills, and bank them up, so
that whole caravans of laden beasts might travel up
and down absolutely unseen from the sea, and greatly
screened from the land side.
Undoubtedly the sunken ways and high banks
are some protection against the weather. So they
were represented to be, and no doubt greatly were
the good folks commended for their consideration
for the beasts and their drivers in thus, at great cost,
shutting them off from the violence of the gale.
Nevertheless, it can hardly be doubted that concealment
from the eye of the coastguard was sought by
this means quite as much as, if not more than, the
sheltering the beasts of burden from the weather.
A few years ago an old church house was demolished.
// 331.png
.pn +1
When it was pulled down it was found
that the floor of large slate slabs in the lower room
was undermined with hollows like graves, only of
much larger dimensions, and these had served for
the concealment of smuggled spirits. The clerk had,
in fact, dug them out, and did a little trade on
Sundays with selling contraband liquor from these
stores.
The story is told of a certain baronet, who had
a handsome house and park near the coast. By the
way, he died at an advanced age only a couple of
years ago. The preventive men had long suspected
that Sir Thomas had done more than wink at the
proceedings of the receivers of smuggled goods.
His park dipped in graceful undulations to the sea,
and to a lovely creek, in which was his boathouse.
But they never had been able to establish the fact
that he favoured the smugglers, and allowed them
to use his grounds and outbuildings.
However, at last, one night, a party of men with
kegs on their shoulders was seen stealing through
the park towards the mansion. They were observed
also leaving without the kegs. Accordingly, next
morning the officer in command called, together
with several underlings. He apologised to the
baronet for any inconvenience his visit might
occasion--he was quite sure that Sir Thomas was
ignorant of the use made of his park, his landing-place,
even of his house--but there was evidence
that "run" goods had been brought to the mansion
the preceding night, and it was but the duty of the
officer to point this out to Sir Thomas, and ask him
// 332.png
.pn +1
to permit a search--which would be conducted with
all the delicacy possible. The baronet, an exceedingly
urbane man, promptly expressed his readiness
to allow house, cellar, attic--every part of his house
and every outbuilding--unreservedly to be searched.
He produced his keys. The cellar was, of course,
the place where wine and spirits were most likely
to be found--let that be explored first. He had a
cellar-book, which he produced, and he would be
glad if the officer would compare what he found
below with his entries in the book. The search was
entered into with some zest, for the Government
officers had long looked on Sir Thomas with mistrust,
and yet were somewhat disarmed by the frankness
with which he met them. But they ransacked
the mansion from garret to cellar, and every part
of the outbuildings, and found nothing. They had
omitted to look into the family coach, which was
full of rum kegs, so full that to prevent the springs
being broken, or showing that the carriage was laden,
the axle-trees had been "trigged up" below with
blocks of wood.
Wrecking was another form of sea-poaching.
Terrible stories of ships lured to destruction by the
exhibition of false lights are told, but all belong to
the past. I remember an old fellow--the last of the
Cornish wreckers--who ended his days as keeper
of a toll-gate. But he never would allow that he
had wilfully drawn a vessel upon the breakers.
When a ship was cast up by the gale it was another
matter. The dwellers on the coast could not believe
that they had not a perfect right to whatever was
// 333.png
.pn +1
washed ashore. Nowadays the coastguards keep so
sharp a look-out after a storm that very little can be
picked up. The usual course at present is for those
who are early on the beach, and have not time to
secure--or fear the risk of securing--something they
covet, to heave the article up the cliff and lodge it
there where not easily accessible. If it be observed--when
the auction takes place--it is knocked down
for a trifle, and the man who put it where it is
discerned obtains it by a lawful claim. If it be not
observed, then he fetches it at his convenience. But
it is now considered too risky after a wreck to carry
off anything of size found, and as the number of
bidders at a sale of wreckage is not large, and they
do not compete with each other keenly, things of
value are got for very slender payments.
The terrible story of the murder of a son by his
father and mother, to secure his gold, they not
knowing him, and believing him to be a cast-up
from a wreck--the story on which the popular
drama of Fatal Curiosity, by Lillo, was founded--actually
took place at Boheland, near Penryn.
To return to the smugglers.
When a train of asses or mules conveyed contraband
goods along a road, it was often customary to
put stockings over the hoofs to deaden the sound of
their steps.
One night, many years ago, a friend of the writer--a
parson on the north coast of Cornwall--was
walking along a lane in his parish at night. It was
near midnight. He had been to see, or had been
sitting up with, a dying person.
// 334.png
.pn +1
As he came to a branch in the lane he saw a man
there, and he called out "Good-night." He then
stood still a moment, to consider which lane he
should take. Both led to his rectory, but one was
somewhat shorter than the other. The shorter
was, however, stony and very wet. He chose the
longer way, and turned to the right. Thirty years
after he was speaking with a parishioner who was
ill, when the man said to him suddenly, "Do you
remember such and such a night, when you came
to the Y? You had been with Nankevill, who was
dying."
"Yes, I do recall something about it."
"Do you remember you said 'Good-night' to
me?"
"I remember that someone was there; I did not
know it was you."
"And you turned right, instead of left?"
"I dare say."
"If you had taken the left-hand road you would
never have seen next morning."
"Why so?"
"There was a large cargo of 'run' goods being
transported that night, and you would have met it."
"What of that?"
"What of that? You would have been chucked
over the cliffs."
"But how could they suppose I would peach?"
"Sir! They'd ha' took good care you shouldn't a'
had the chance!"
I was sitting in a little seaport tavern in Cornwall
one winter's evening, over a great fire, with a company
// 335.png
.pn +1
of very old "salts," gossiping, yarning, singing,
when up got a tough old fellow with a face the
colour of mahogany, and dark, piercing eyes, and
the nose of a hawk. Planting his feet wide apart,
as though on deck in a rolling sea, he began to sing
in stentorian tones a folk-song relative to a highwayman
in the old times, when Sir John Fielding, the
blind magistrate at Westminster, put down highway
robbery.
The ballad told of the evil deeds of this mounted
robber of the highways, and of how he was captured
by "Fielding's crew" and condemned to die. It
concluded:--
.pm onpoem
"When I am dead, borne to my grave,
A gallant funeral may I have;
Six highwaymen to carry me,
With good broad swords and sweet liberty.
"Six blooming maidens shall bear my pall,
Give them white gloves and pink ribbons all;
And when I'm dead they'll tell the truth,
I was a wild and a wicked youth."
.pm offpoem
At the conclusion of each verse the whole
assembly repeated the two final lines. It was a
striking scene; their eyes flashed, their colour
mounted, they hammered with their fists on the
table and with their heels on the floor. Some, in
the wildness of their excitement, sprang up, thrust
their hands through their white or grey hair, and
flourished them, roaring like bulls.
When the song was done, and composure had
settled over the faces of the excited men, one of
them said apologetically to me, "You see, sir, we
// 336.png
.pn +1
be all old smugglers, and have gone agin the law
in our best days."
There is something to be said in extenuation of
the wrongfulness of English smuggling.
The customs duties were imposed first in England
for the purpose of protecting the coasts against
pirates, who made descents on the undefended
villages, and kidnapped and carried off children
and men to sell as slaves in Africa, or who waylaid
merchant vessels and plundered them. But when all
danger from pirates ceased, the duties were not only
maintained, but made more onerous.
It was consequently felt that there had been a
violation of compact on the side of the Crown, and
bold spirits entertained no scruple of conscience in
carrying on contraband trade. The officers of the
Crown no longer proceeded to capture, bring to
justice, and hang notorious foreign pirates, but to
capture, bring to justice, and hang native seamen and
traders. The preventive service became a means of
oppression, and not of relief.
That is the light in which the bold men of Cornwall
regarded it; that is the way in which it was regarded,
not by the ignorant seamen only, but by magistrates,
country gentlemen, and parsons alike. As an illustration
of this, we may quote the story told by the
late Rev. R. S. Hawker, for many years vicar of
Morwenstow, on the North Cornish coast:--
"It was full six o'clock in the afternoon of an
autumn day when a traveller arrived where the road
ran along by a sandy beach just above high-water
mark.
// 337.png
.pn +1
"The stranger, a native of some inland town, and
entirely unacquainted with Cornwall and its ways,
had reached the brink of the tide just as a landing
was coming off. It was a scene not only to instruct
a townsman, but to dazzle and surprise.
"At sea, just beyond the billows, lay a vessel, well
moored with anchors at stem and stern. Between
the ship and the shore boats laden to the gunwale
passed to and fro. Crowds assembled on the beach
to help the cargo ashore.
"On the one hand a boisterous group surrounding
a keg with the head knocked in, into which they
dipped whatsoever vessel came first to hand; one
man had filled his shoe. On the other side they
fought and wrestled, cursed and swore.
"Horrified at what he saw, the stranger lost all
self-command and, oblivious of personal danger, he
began to shout: 'What a horrible sight! Have you
no shame? Is there no magistrate at hand? Cannot
any justice of the peace be found in this fearful
country?'
"'No, thanks be,' answered a hoarse, gruff voice;
'none within eight miles.'
"'Well, then,' screamed the stranger, 'is there no
clergyman hereabouts? Does no minister of the
parish live among you on this coast?'
"'Aye, to be sure there is,' said the same deep
voice.
"'Well, how far off does he live? Where is
he?'
"'That's he, sir, yonder with the lantern.' And
sure enough, there he stood on a rock, and poured,
// 338.png
.pn +1
with pastoral diligence, 'the light of other days' on a
busy congregation."
It may almost be said that the Government did
its best to encourage smuggling by the harsh and
vexatious restrictions it put on trade. A prohibitory
list of goods which might under no conditions
whatever be imported into Great Britain included
gold and silver brocade, cocoanut shells, foreign
embroidery, manufactures of gold and silver plate,
ribbons and laces, chocolate and cocoa, calicoes
printed or dyed abroad, gloves and mittens.
Beside these a vast number of goods were charged
with heavy duties, as spirits, tea, tobacco. The duties
on these were so exorbitant, that it was worth while
for men to attempt to run a cargo without paying
duty.
To quote a writer in the Edinburgh Review, at the
time when smuggling was fairly rife:--
.pm onblock
"To create by means of high duties an overwhelming
temptation to indulge in crime, and then to punish men for
indulging in it, is a proceeding wholly and completely
subversive of every principle of justice. It revolts the
natural feelings of the people, and teaches them to feel
an interest in the worst characters, to espouse their cause
and to avenge their wrongs."
.pm offblock
Desperate affrays took place between smugglers
and the preventive men, who were aware that the
magistracy took a lenient view of the case when one
of them fell, and brought in "murder" when an officer
of the Crown shot a "free-trader."
One of the most terrible men on the Cornish
// 339.png
.pn +1
coast, remembered by his evil repute, was "Cruel
Coppinger." He had a house at Welcombe on the
north coast, where lived his wife, an heiress. The
bed is still shown to the post of which he tied her
and thrashed her with a rope till she consented to
make over her little fortune to his exclusive use.
Coppinger had a small estate at Roscoff, in
Brittany, which was the headquarters of the smuggling
trade during the European war. He was paid
by the British Government to carry despatches to
and from the French coast, but he took advantage
of his credentials as a Government agent to do much
contraband business himself.
I remember, as a boy, an evil-faced old man, his
complexion flaming red and his hair very white,
who kept a small tavern not in the best repute. A
story of this innkeeper was told, and it is possible
that it may be true--naturally the subject was not
one on which it was possible to question him. He
had been a smuggler in his day, and a wild one
too.
On one occasion, as he and his men were rowing
a cargo ashore they were pursued by a revenue boat.
Tristram Davey, as I will call this man, knew this
bit of coast perfectly. There was a reef of sharp
slate rock that ran across the little bay, like a very
keen saw with the teeth set outward, and there was
but one point at which this saw could be crossed.
Tristram knew the point to a nicety, even in the
gloaming, and he made for it, the revenue boat
following.
He, however, did not make direct for it, but steered
// 340.png
.pn +1
a little on one side and then suddenly swerved and
shot through the break. The revenue boat came
straight on, went upon the jaws of the reef, was torn,
and began to fill. Now the mate of this boat was
one against whom Tristram entertained a deadly
enmity, because he had been the means of a capture
in which his property had been concerned. So he
turned the boat, and running back, he stood up,
levelled a gun and shot the mate through the heart;
then away went the smuggling boat to shore, leaving
the rest of the revenue men to shift as best they
could with their injured boat.
The most noted smuggling centre between Penzance
and Porthleven was Prussia Cove, and there
to this day, stands the house of John Carter, "The
King of Prussia," as he was called, the most successful
and notorious smuggler of the district. His reign
extended from 1777 to 1807, and he was succeeded
by his son-in-law, Captain William Richards, under
whom Prussia Cove maintained its old celebrity.
The story goes that John Carter, as a boy, playing
at soldiers with other boys, received the nickname of
"The King of Prussia." Formerly the cove was called
Porthleah, but in recollection of his exploits it is
now known as Prussia Cove.
On one occasion, during his absence from home,
the excise officers carried off a cargo that had lately
arrived for Carter from France. They conveyed it
to the custom-house store. On his return, Carter
summoned his men, and at night he and they broke
into the stores and carried off all that he held to be
his own, without touching a single article to which
// 341.png
.pn +1
he considered he had no claim. On another occasion,
when Carter was pursued by a revenue cutter, and
sore pressed, he ran through a narrow passage in the
reefs, and fired on the cutter's boat sent after him.
The fire was continued till night fell, and Carter was
then able to effect his escape.
Three classes of men were engaged in the smuggling
business. First came the "freighter"--the man
who entered on the business as a commercial speculation.
He engaged a vessel and purchased the cargo,
and made all the requisite arrangements for the landing.
Then came the "runners," who transported the
goods on shore from the vessels. And lastly the
"tub-carriers," who conveyed the kegs on their backs,
slung across their shoulders, up the cliff to their
destination.
The tub-carriers were usually agricultural labourers
in the employment of farmers near the coast.
These farmers were in understanding with the
smugglers, and on a hint given, supplied them with
their workmen, and were repaid with a keg of spirits.
The entire English coast was subjected to blockade
by the Government to prevent the introduction into
the country of goods that had not paid duty, and the
utmost ingenuity and skill had to be exercised to run
the blockade. But after that was done the smuggler
still ran great risk, for the coast was patrolled.
Smuggling methods were infinitely varied, depending
on a great variety of circumstances. Much daring,
skill, and cleverness were required. The smuggler and
the preventive man were engaged in a game in which
each used all his faculties to overreach the other.
// 342.png
.pn +1
One means employed where the coast was well
watched was for the kegs to be sunk. A whole
"crop," as it was called, was attached to a rope, that
was weighted with stones and fastened at both ends
by an anchor. When a smuggling vessel saw no
chance of landing its cargo, it sank it and fixed it
with the anchors, and the bearings of the sunken
"crop" were taken and communicated to the aiders
and abettors on land, who waited their opportunity
to fish it up.
But the revenue officers were well aware of this
dodge, and one of their duties was to grope along
the coast with hooks--"creeping" was the technical
term--for such deposits. A crop that had been sunk
in a hurry, and not in very deep water, was likely to
suffer. The ropes chafed and broke, or a floating
keg, or one washed ashore, was a certain betrayal of
the presence of a crop not far off.
As a rule the contents of the sunken kegs suffered
no deterioration from being under water for some
time; but if submerged too long the spirits turned
bad. Such deteriorated spirits were known amongst
coastguardsmen as "stinkibus."
Every barrel of liquor as provided by the merchants
at Roscoff and elsewhere was furnished with a pair
of sling ropes ready for attachment to the cord in the
event of sinking, and for carrying by the tub-men
when safely worked on shore.
Very often when a rowboat, towing a line of kegs
after it, was pursued, the smugglers were forced to
let go the casks. Then the coastguard secured them,
but found the magistrates loath to convict, because
// 343.png
.pn +1
they could not swear that the kegs picked up were
identical with those let go by the smugglers. Accordingly
they were ordered, whenever such an event
happened, to mark the line of kegs by casting to
them a peculiarly painted buoy.
In order to have information relative to the
smugglers, so as to be on the alert to "nab" them,
the Government had paid spies in the foreign ports,
and also in the English ports.
Woe betide a spy if he were caught! No mercy
was shown him. There is here and there on the coast
a pit, surrounded on all sides but one by the sea, that
goes by the name of "Dead Man's Pool," in which
tradition says that spies have been dropped.
Mr. Hawker, who has already been quoted, had
as his man-of-all-work an ex-smuggler named Pentire,
from whom he got many stories. One day Pentire
asked Mr. Hawker:--
"Can you tell me the reason, sir, that no grass will
ever grow on the grave of a man that's hanged unjustly?"
"Indeed! How came that about?"
"Why, you see, they got poor Will down to
Bodmin, all among strangers; and there was bribery
and false swearing, and so they agreed together and
hanged poor Will. But his friends begged the body
and brought the corpse home here to his own parish,
and they turfed the grave, and they sowed the grass
twenty times over, but 'twas all of no use, nothing
would grow; he was hanged unjustly."
"Well, but, Pentire, what was he accused of?
What had Will Pooly done?"
// 344.png
.pn +1
"Done, your honour? Oh, nothing at all--only
killed an exciseman."
There are around the coast a great number of what
are locally called Vougghas, or Fogous (Welsh
Ogofau), caves that were artificially constructed for
the stowing away of "run" goods.
There is one at Stoke Fleming, near Dartmouth.
All along both south and north coasts they are
fairly common. On Dartmoor there are also some,
but these were for the preparation of spirits, most
likely, and the stowing away of what was locally
"burnt." They are now employed for turnip cellars.
At one of the wildest and most rugged points of a
singularly wild and rugged coast, that of the north of
Cornwall, are two tiny bays, Porth Cothan and Porth
Mear, in the parishes of S. Merryn and S. Eval, at
no great distance from Bedruthan, which has the
credit of being the finest piece of cliff scenery on
this coast. Here the cliffs tower up a hundred to a
hundred and fifty feet above the sea; the raging surf
foams over chains of islets formed by the waves,
which burrow among the slaty, quartzose rocks, form
caves, work further, insulate crags, and finally convert
into islands these nodes of more durable rock. At
Porth Cothan the cliffs fall away and form a lap of
shore, into which flows a little stream, that loses itself
in the shifting sands. A manor-house, a mill, a farmhouse
or two are all the dwellings near Porth Cothan,
and of highways there is none for many miles, the
nearest being that from Wadebridge to S. Columb.
About a mile up the glen that forms the channel
through which the stream flows into Porth Cothan, is
// 345.png
.pn +1
a tiny lateral combe, the steep sides covered with
heather and dense clumps and patches of furze.
Rather more than half-way down the steep slope
of the hill is a hole just large enough to admit of a
man entering in a stooping posture. To be strictly
accurate, the height is 3 ft. 6 in. and the width 3 ft.
But once within, the cave is found to be loftier, and
runs for 50 feet due west, the height varying from
7 ft. 6 in. to 8 ft. 6 in., and the width expanding
to 8 ft. 3 in. Immediately within the entrance may
be observed notches cut in the rock, into which a
beam might be thrust to close the mouth of the cave,
which was then filled in with earth and bramble
bushes drawn over it, when it would require a very
experienced eye to discover it. As it was, though
the mouth was open, my guide was in fault and
unable to find it, and it was by accident only that
I lit upon it.
At 7 feet from the entrance a lateral gallery
branches off to the right, extending at present but
17 feet, and of that a portion of the roof has fallen
in. This gallery was much lower than the main one,
not being higher than 3 feet, but probably in a
portion now choked it rose, at all events in places, to
a greater height. This side gallery never served for
the storage of smuggled goods. It was a passage
that originally was carried as far as the little cluster
of cottages at Trevethan, whence, so it is said,
another passage communicated with the sands of
Porth Mear. The opening of the underground way
is said to have been in a well at Trevethan. But the
whole is now choked up. The tunnel was not carried
// 346.png
.pn +1
in a straight line. It branched out of the trunk at an
acute angle, and was carried in a sweep through the
rocks with holes at intervals for the admission of
light and air. The total length must have been
nearly 3500 feet. The passage can in places be just
traced by the falling in of the ground above, but it
cannot be pursued within. At the beginning of this
century this smugglers' cave was in use.
There is still living an old woman who can give
information relative to the use of this cave.
"Well, Genefer, did you ever see smugglers who
employed the Vouggha?"
Vouggha, as already stated, is the old Cornish
word for cave.
"Well, no, sir. I can't say that; but my father
did. He minded well the time when the Vouggha
was filled wi' casks of spirits right chuck-full."
"But how were they got there?"
"That was easy enough. The boats ran their
loads into Porth Cothan, or, if the preventive men
were on the watch, into Porth Mear, which is hidden
by the Island of Trescore, drawn like a screen in
front. They then rolled the kegs, or carried 'em, to
the mouth of the Vouggha or to Trevemedar, it did
not matter which, and they rolled 'em into the big
cave, and then stopped the mouth up. They could
go and get a keg whenever they liked by the little
passage that has its mouth in the garden."
"Did the preventive men never find out this
place?"
"Never, sir, never. How could they? Who'd be
that wicked as to tell them? and they wasn't clever
// 347.png
.pn +1
enough to find it themselves. Besides, it would take
a deal of cleverness to find the mouth of the
Vouggha when closed with clats of turf and drawn
over with brambles; and that in the garden could be
covered in five minutes--easy." After a pause the
old woman said, "Ah! it's a pity I be so old and
feeble, or I could show you another as I knows of,
and, I reckon, no one else. But my father he had
the secret. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what is the world
coming to--for education and all kinds o' wickedness?
Sure, there's no smuggling now, and poor
folks ha'n't got the means o' bettering themselves
like proper Christians."
There are other of these smugglers' resorts extant
in Cornwall, usually built up underground--one such
at Marsland, in Morwenstow; another at Helliger,
near Penzance. The Penrose cave is, however, cut
out of the solid rock, and the pickmarks are distinctly
traceable throughout. At the end, someone has cut
his initials in the rock, with the date 1747.
// 348.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 penzance "CHAPTER XVIII." "PENZANCE"
.pm onhanghead
Penzance, the Holy Headland--Madron--A disciple of S. Piran--Madron
Well--The Feast--Climate--The Irish Colonisation--Penwith--S.
Breage--Tregonning Hill--Pencaer--Movements of
S. Breage--Cross of coagulated blood--Frescoes--Former extent of
Breage--Sithney--Germoe Church and Chair--Germoe's story--Pengersick
Castle--The Millatons--The Giant's throw--Godolphin
Hall--Skewis and Henry Rogers--Clowance--The Irish invaders--Gwinear--Ludgvan--The
flower farms--S. Hilary--S. Michael's
Mount--Submerged forest--Castel-an-Dinas--Chysauster huts--The
"Rounds"--Newlyn--The Breton Newlyna.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "Penzance,"
the most western market town in
Cornwall, is of comparatively modern growth.
Formerly it was but a fishing village, occupying a
promontory now distinguished as the quay, where
stood a chapel dedicated to S. Anthony. The name
signifies the Holy Head, or Headland, and there was
probably a chapel on the projecting finger of land
long before the time of S. Anthony of Padua (1231),
whose cult was fostered by the Franciscan Order.
It is not improbable that on this headland there may
have been a camp, in which case the dedication is
merely a misconception of An-Dinas. The town
arms are S. John the Baptist's head on a charger,
also through misconception, the Holy Head being
supposed to be his.
// 349.png
.pn +1
On the east side of the town near the shore was
Lis-Cadock, or the Court of Cadock. At one time
the entrenchments were very distinct, but they
have now disappeared. This Cadock is probably
Cado, Duke of Cornwall, cousin of King Arthur,
and famous as a warrior in Geoffrey of Monmouth's
lying history. The termination oc is a
diminutive.
Penzance is in the parish of Madron, the founder
of which, S. Maternus, as he is called in Latin, is the
Irish Medrhan, a disciple of S. Kieran, or Piran.
His brother Odran was closely attached to S. Senan.
Madron and Odran were but lads of from ten to
fourteen when they first visited S. Piran to ask his
advice about going a pilgrimage. He very sensibly
recommended them to go to school first, and he
retained them with himself, instructing them in
letters. The Irish have no tradition that he was
buried in the Emerald Isle, so that in all probability
he laid his bones in Cornwall.
There was a famous well at Madron, but it has
lost its repute of late years, and has fallen into
ruin.
Children were formerly taken to the well on the
first three Sunday mornings in May to be dipped
in the water, that they might be cured of the rickets,
or any other disorder with which they were troubled.
They were plunged thrice into the water by the
parent or nurse, who stood facing the east, and then
they were clothed and laid on S. Madron's bed;
should they go to sleep after the immersion, or
should the water in the well bubble, it was considered
// 350.png
.pn +1
a good omen. Strict silence was observed during
the performance. At the present time the people go
in crowds to the well on the first Sunday in May,
when the Wesleyans hold a service there and a
sermon is preached; after which the people throw
two pins or pebbles in, or lay small crosses made of
pieces of rush-pith united by a pin in the middle,
in the water and draw auguries therefrom.
Miss Couch in her book on the Cornish holy wells
says:--
.pm onblock
"About thirty years ago I visited it, and it was then in
a ruined state. There was nothing of the shapely and
sculptured form of many of our eastern wells about it. It
was merely an oblong space enclosed by rough old walling,
in which were, in the south-west corner, a dilapidated well,
with an inlet and outlet for water, a raised row of stones
in front of this, and the remains of stone benches."
.pm offblock
A plan exists drawn by Mr. Blight before the
well was as ruined as at present. It is a crying
scandal that it should be allowed to remain unrestored.
The altar-stone remains with a square
depression in the middle to receive the portable altar
placed there on such occasions as the chapel was
used for mass.
.pm illo i_327 i_327.jpg 700px "MOUNT'S BAY"
Penzance, on the glorious Mount's Bay, enjoys a
warm and balmy climate, and scarlet geraniums
scramble up the house-fronts, camellias bloom in
the open air, and greenhouse rhododendrons flourish
unprotected from frosts that never fall.
It is a relaxing place, and the visitor, till he is
acclimatised, feels limp and lifeless. For this reason
many now resort to St. Ives, on the north coast,
// 351.png
.pn +1
which is open to the Atlantic breezes straight from
Labrador, and Penzance is declining in favour.
But it is a pleasant, it is a most pleasant town,
well furnished with all that can make a winter
sojourn delightful; it has in addition to libraries
and concert-halls and clubs, that may be found in
any seaside place, an unrivalled neighbourhood, and
with the warm climate it enjoys a winter may be
spent delightfully in making excursions to the many
surrounding objects of interest.
In #my next chapter:landsend# I shall treat of the Land's
End district, and in this I shall attempt to give some
idea of what is to be seen to the east.
As already intimated, the whole of this part of
Cornwall was occupied at the end of the fifth and
the first years of the sixth century by the Irish from
the south, mainly from Ossory. An invasion from
Munster into that kingdom had led to the cutting
of the throats of most of the royal family and its
subjugation under the invaders, who maintained
their sovereignty there from 470, when the invasion
took place, to the death of Scanlan, the descendant
of the invader, in 642. It was probably in consequence
of this invasion that a large number of
Ossorians crossed over to Cornwall and established
themselves in Penwith--the Welsh spell it Pengwaeth,
the bloody headland; the name tells a
story of resistance and butchery. Unhappily we
have the most scanty references to this occupation;
records we have none.
But a single legend remains that treats of it at
some length; and with regard to the legends of the
// 352.png
.pn +1
other settlers we have the meagre extracts made
by Leland, the antiquary of Henry VIII., whose
heart, so it is said, broke at the dispersion of the
monastic libraries, and the destruction of historical
records of supreme value. As far as we know, the
great body of settlers all landed at Hayle. One
large contingent, with S. Breaca at its head, made
at the outstart a rush for Tregonning Hill, and established
itself in the strong stone fort of Pencaer, or
Caer Conan, on the summit.
Tregonning Hill is not very high, it rises not six
hundred feet above the sea; but from the sea and
from the country round it looks bold and lofty,
because standing alone, or almost so, having but the
inferior Godolphin Hill near it.
The fortress consists of at least two concentric
rings of stone and earth. The interior has been
disturbed by miners searching for tin, and the wall
has also been ruined by them, but especially by roadmakers,
who have quite recently destroyed nearly
all one side.
Here the Irish remained till they were able to
move further. S. Breaca went on to Talmeneth (the
end of the mountain), where she established herself
and erected a chapel.
Another of her chapels was further down the hill
at Chynoweth, and a tradition of its existence
remains there. Finally she went to Penbro. The
church was, however, at a later period moved from
that place to where it now stands. The local legend
is that she saw the good people building this church,
and she promised to throw all her bracelets and rings
// 353.png
.pn +1
into the bell-metal if they would call it after her
name.
She was a favourite disciple of S. Bridget, and
this latter saint commissioned her to visit the great
institution of the White House, near S. David's
Head in Wales--to obtain thence rules by which
her community might be directed. She was, it
appears, the sister of S. Brendan the navigator,
and it was in his sister's arms that the saint died.
Brendan was a disciple of S. Erc, or Erth, on the
Hayle river, and as Erc was one of the party, it is
probable that Brendan made one as well.
Erc had been much trusted by S. Patrick, who
appointed him as judge in all cases brought to him
for decision, regarding him as a man of inviolable
integrity and great calmness of judgment.
The church of Breage is large and fine. In the
churchyard is an early cross of reddish conglomerate.
The local story goes that there was a great fight,
between Godolphin Hill and Tregonning Hill,
fought by the natives with the Danes, and so much
blood was shed that it compacted the granitic sand
there into hard rock, and out of this rock Breaca's
cross was cut. The fight was, of course, not with
Danes, but was between the Cornish and the Irish.
The cross is rude, with the Celtic interlaced work
on it. The pedestal was also thus ornamented, but
this is so worn that it can only be distinguished in
certain lights.
In the church have been discovered several frescoes--S.
Christopher, gigantic, of course; an equally
gigantic figure of Christ covered with bleeding
// 354.png
.pn +1
wounds; full-length representations of SS. Samson,
Germoe, Giles, Corentine, etc. The church has been
much decorated rather than restored. The modern
woodwork screen and bench-ends are indifferent
in design and mechanical in execution. Some
Belgian carved work of the Adoration of the Magi
blocks the east window, which was filled with
peculiarly vulgar glass, and this is a possible excuse
for completely obscuring it.
The sacred tribe under S. Breaca must have
occupied a very extensive tract, for four parish
churches are affiliated to it--S. Germoe, Godolphin,
Cury, and Gunwalloe. This leads one to suspect
that her territory stretched originally along the
coast a good way past Loe Pool. She had as
neighbours S. Crewena, another Irishwoman, and
Sithney, or Setna, a disciple and companion of
S. Senan, of Land's End. His mother was an aunt
of S. David.
Sithney was asked:--
.pm onpoem
"Tell me, O Setna,
Tidings of the World's end.
How will the folk fare
That follow not the Truth?"
.pm offpoem
.ti 0
He answered in a poem that has been preserved.
Prophecy is a dangerous game to play at, even for a
saint, and Sithney made a very bad shot. He foretold
that the Saxons would hold dominion in Ireland
till 1350, after which the Irish natives would expel
them.
Sithney almost certainly accompanied Kieran or
// 355.png
.pn +1
Piran, and he succeeded him as abbot in his great
monastery at Saighir.
The little church of Germoe is curious. It has a
very early font, and a later Norman font lying broken
outside the church. There is a curious structure,
called Germoe's Chair, in the churchyard, that looks
much like a summer-house manufactured out of old
pillars turned upside-down. But it was in existence
in the time of Henry VIII., for Leland mentions it.
A new east window, quite out of character with the
church, has been inserted, but the modern glass is
good. A bust of S. Germoe is over the porch. He
is represented as crowned, as he is supposed to have
been an Irish king.
This is not quite correct. He was a bard, and
perhaps of royal race, but we do not know his
pedigree. He was a disciple of S. Kieran, and was
the father of the first writer of the lives of the saints
in Ireland. He composed a poem in honour of S.
Finnan of Moville, and he had the honour of having
under him, for a short while, the great Columba
of Iona. He had several brothers, who passed into
France, and are mentioned by Flodoard, the historian
of the Franks. The date of his death was
about 530. I have elsewhere told a story about
him tubbing with S. Kieran, and catching a fish
in the tub.
Near Germoe, but nearer the sea, is the very fine
remnant of a castle, Pengersick. It was erected in
the reign of Henry VIII. by a certain man of the
name of Millaton, probably of Millaton in Bridestowe,
Devon. He had committed a murder, and to
// 356.png
.pn +1
escape justice he fled his native county and concealed
himself in the dip of the land facing the sea at
Pengersick, where he constructed a tower amply
provided with means of defence. The basement is
furnished with loopholes for firing upon anyone
approaching, and above the door is a shoot for
melted lead. The whole building is beautifully constructed.
Here Millaton remained in concealment till he
died, never leaving his tower for more than a brief
stroll. The land had not been purchased in his own
name, but in that of his son Job, who, after his death,
was made Governor of S. Michael's Mount. Job had
a son, William, who was made Sheriff of Cornwall in
1565, and he married Honor, daughter of Sir William
Godolphin of Godolphin.
According to a local legend, William Millaton and
his wife Honor lived a cat-and-dog life. They hated
each other with a deadly hate, and at length each
severally resolved that this incompatible union must
come to an end.
William Millaton said to his wife, "Honor, we
have lived in wretchedness too long. Let us resolve
on a reconciliation, forget the past, and begin a new
life."
"Most certainly do I agree thereto," said she.
"And," continued William, "as a pledge of our
reunion, let us have a feast together to-night"
So a banquet was spread in Pengersick Castle for
them twain and none others.
And when they had well eaten, then William
Millaton said, "Let us drink to our reunion."
// 357.png
.pn +1
"I will drink if you will drink," said she.
Then he drained his glass, and after that, she
drained hers.
With a bitter laugh she said, "William, you have
but three minutes to live. Your cup was poisoned."
"And you," retorted he, "have but five, for yours is
poisoned."
"It is well," said Honor; "I am content. I shall
have two minutes in which to triumph over your
dead carcass, and to spurn it with my foot."
On the death of this William, the estate passed to
his six sisters, who married into the families of Erisy,
Lanyon, Trefusis, Arundell, Bonython, and Abbot of
Hartland.
On the road from Breage, before the turn to Pengersick
is reached, a stone lies by the roadside. It is
one of those cast by the Giant of Godolphin Hill
after his wife, of whom he was jealous, and who was
wont to visit the Giant of Pengersick. The stone
has often been removed, but such disaster has ensued
to the man who has removed it, that it has
always been brought back again. Godolphin Hill
has been esteemed since the days of Elizabeth as
one of the richest of ore deposits, and it was due
to the urgency of Sir Francis Godolphin that miners
were induced to come to Cornwall from the Erz
Gebirge, in Saxony, to introduce new methods and
machinery in the tin mines.
Godolphin Hall is an interesting old mansion,
partly dating from the time of Henry VII. and partly
belonging to the period of the Restoration. Some
remains from a ruined church or chapel have been
// 358.png
.pn +1
worked into one of the gateways. The old house
has its stewponds and a few fine trees about it.
On the Marazion road, west of Millpool, in the
hedge, are the impress of the devil's knees. One
day, feeling the discomfort and forlornness of his
position, his majesty resolved on praying to have it
changed; so he knelt on a slab of granite, but his
knees burned their way into the stone. Then he
jumped up, saying that praying superinduced rheumatics,
and he would have no more of it. The holes
are not tin-moulds, for the latter are angular and
oblong, but are very similar to the cup-markings
found in many places in connection with prehistoric
monuments. Some precisely similar are at Dumnakilty
in Fermanagh.[26]
A strange circumstance occurred in 1734 at Skewis,
close to the line from Gwinear Road Station to
Helston.
Skewis had been for many generations the freehold
patrimony of a yeoman family of the name of Rogers.
There were two brothers. The elder married and
lived on the farm, but without a family. The younger
brother, Henry Rogers, was married and had several
children. He carried on for several years in Helston
the trade of a pewterer, then of considerable importance
in Cornwall, although it is now at an end. A
large portion of the tin raised was mixed with lead
and exported in the form of pewter made into
dishes, plates, etc., now superseded by earthenware.
At the first introduction of earthenware,
// 359.png
.pn +1
called cloam, in the West of England, a strong
prejudice existed against it as liable to damage the
tin trade, and it was a popular cry to destroy all
cloam, so as to bring back the use of pewter.
The elder Rogers died, and bequeathed the house
of Skewis and the farm and everything thereon to
his wife Anne. Henry was indignant. He believed
in the inalienability of "heir land." He was suspicious
that Anne Rogers would make over Skewis to
her own relatives, of the name of Millett. Henry
waited his opportunity, when his sister-in-law was
out of the house, to enter it and bring in his wife
and children and servants. He turned out the
domestics of Anne, and occupied the whole house.
The widow appealed to law, but the voice of the
whole county was against her, and the general
opinion was that the will had been extorted from
her husband. Even Sir John S. Aubyn, living at
Clowance, hard by, favoured him, and had Henry
Rogers acted in a reasonable manner would have
backed him up. But Rogers took the law into his
own hands, and when a judgment was given against
him, he still refused to surrender.
The Sheriff of Cornwall accordingly was directed
to eject him by force. Rogers, however, barricaded
the house, and prepared to defend it. He supplied
himself with gunpowder and slugs, and cut loopholes
in his doors and shutters from which to fire at the
assailants.
On June 18th, 1734, the Under-Sheriff and a posse
went to Skewis and demanded the surrender of the
house. From two to three hundred people attended,
// 360.png
.pn +1
for the most part sympathisers with Rogers, but not
willing to render him effectual assistance.
As the Under-Sheriff, Stephen Tillie, persisted in
his demands, and threatened to break into the house,
Rogers fired. The bullet passed through Tillie's wig,
singed it, and greatly frightened him, especially as
with the next discharge one of his officers fell at his
side, shot through the head.
Several guns were fired, and then the Under-Sheriff
deemed it advisable to withdraw and send
for soldiers.
On the arrival of a captain with some regulars,
Tillie again approached, when Rogers continued
firing, and killed a bailiff and shot a soldier in the
groin. Two more men were wounded, and then the
military fired at the windows, but did no harm. Mrs.
Rogers stood by her husband, loading and handing
him his gun.
The whole attacking party now considering that
discretion constituted the best part of valour, withdrew,
and Rogers was allowed to remain in possession
till March in the following year, that is to say,
for nine months. Then he was again blockaded by
soldiers, and the siege continued for several days,
with the loss of two more men, when at last cannon
were brought from Pendennis Castle.
Many years after, one of Rogers' sons gave the
following account of his reminiscences of the siege:--"He
recollected that his father was fired at, and had
a snuff-box and powder-horn broken in his pocket by
a ball. He recollected that whilst he himself (then a
child) was in the bed several balls came in through
// 361.png
.pn +1
the window of the room, and after striking against
the wall rolled about on the floor. One brother and
sister who were in the house went out to inquire what
was wanted of their father, and they were not permitted
to return. On the last night no one remained
in the house but his father, himself, and the servant-maid.
In the middle of the night they all went
out, and got some distance from the house. In
crossing a field, however, they were met by two
soldiers, who asked them their business. The maid
answered that they were looking for a cow, when
they were permitted to proceed. The soldiers had
their arms, and his father had his gun. The maid
and himself were left at a farmhouse in the neighbourhood."
Henry Rogers, whom the soldiers had not recognised
in the darkness, managed to escape, and pushed
on in the direction of London, resolving to lay his
grievances before the king. He was dressed in a
whitish fustian frock, with imitation pearl buttons,
and a blue riding-coat over it.
As soon as it was discovered that he had decamped,
a reward of £350 was offered for his apprehension.
He had already shot and killed five men, and had
wounded seven. He was not, however, taken till he
reached Salisbury Plain, where he hailed a postboy,
who was returning with an empty chaise, and asked
for a lift. He was still carrying his gun. The boy
drove him to the inn, where he procured a bed;
but the circumstances, and the description, had excited
suspicion; he was secured in his sleep, and
was removed to Cornwall, to be tried for murder
// 362.png
.pn +1
at Launceston along with his serving-man, John
Street.
His trial took place on August 1st, 1735, before
Lord Chief Justice Hardwicke. Rogers was arraigned
upon five indictments, and Street upon two. Both
received sentence of death, and were executed on
August 6th.
The house at Skewis has been recently in part
rebuilt, when a bag of the slugs used by poor Rogers
was found.
It is in Crowan parish.
The church of S. Crewenna stands on a hill, and
has a good tower. It contains numerous monuments
of the S. Aubyn family, and some brasses only
recently restored to the church, after having lain for
many years lost or forgotten in a cupboard at
Clowance.
It is hard to say whether the fulsome memorial
of Sir John S. Aubyn, who died in 1839, is more
painful or amusing reading to such as know his
story.
The church has been "restored" in a cold and
unsympathetic fashion.
Clowance, the seat of the Molesworth S. Aubyn
family, has noble trees, and is an oasis in the midst
of the refuse-heaps of mines. There are some early
crosses in the grounds.
But to return to the Irish invasion.
A second party of the colonists was under Fingar
or Gwinear, son of Olilt, or Ailill, probably one of
the Hy Bairrche family, which was expelled their
country about 480. He brought over with him
// 363.png
.pn +1
his sister Kiara, whose name has become Piala or
Phillack in Cornish, according to a phonetic and
constant rule. According to the legend he had over
seven hundred emigrants with him. He and his
party made their way from Hayle to Connerton,
where they spent the night, and then pushed south
to where now stands Gwinear. Here Fingar left
his party to go ahead and explore. He reached
Tregotha, where is a fine spring of water, and there
paused to refresh himself, when, hearing cries
from behind, he hurried back, and found that
Tewdrig, the Cornish king or prince, who lived at
Riviere, on a creek of the Hayle river, had hastened
after the party of colonists, and had fallen on them
and massacred them. When Fingar came up Tewdrig
killed him also. Piala, the sister, does not seem to
have been harmed; and as in the long-run the Irish
succeeded in establishing themselves firmly in the
district, she settled near Riviere and founded the
church of Phillack.
Ludgvan has a fine tower and some old crosses,
the font also is early, of polyphant stone; but the
church has been badly churchwardenised and meanly
restored. It was founded by Lithgean, or Lidgean,
an Irish saint, son of Bronfinn or Gwendron. There
is a representation of the mother in the rectory
garden wall, where she is figured holding what is
apparently a tree in one hand and in the other a
fleur-de-lis.
Hereabouts the whole country is devoted to early
potatoes and spring flowers. In March the fields
are white with narcissus or golden with daffodil, or
// 364.png
.pn +1
rich brown with the Harbinger wallflower. It is
a curious fact that yellow wallflowers meet with
no sale; consequently one kind only, and that dark,
is grown.
The kinds of narcissus mostly grown are the Scilly
White; of daffodils the Soleil d'Or, Grand Monarch,
Emperor and Empress, Sir Watkin, and Princeps.
These flowers are packed in baskets or boxes in
bunches, a dozen blossoms in each bunch, and four
dozen bunches in each basket. Women are employed
to pick in the morning and to tie in bunches
in the afternoon.
A special train takes up the flowers daily to
London. The rate charged is £4 10s. per ton, but
for fish £2 10s., as they take less room. The flower
harvest lasts from February to June, and is followed
by one of tomatoes.
Between Ludgvan and Perran-uthnoe intervenes
the parish of S. Hilary. The church is devoid of
interest, but there are inscribed stones in the
churchyard. On the village inn may be read the
invitation:--
.nf c
"THE JOLLY TINNERS."
.nf-
.pm onpoem
"Come, all true Cornish boys, walk in,
Here's Brandy, Beer, Rum, Shrub, and Gin.
You cannot do less than drink success
To Copper, Fish, and Tin."
.pm offpoem
A local riddle asked is:--
.pm onpoem
"As I went down by Hilary's steeple
I met three people.
They were not men, nor women, nor children.
Who were they then?"
.pm offpoem
// 365.png
.pn +1
The answer, of course, is one man, one woman, and
a single child.
S. Michael's Mount is a grand upshoot of granite
from the sea. As a rock it is far finer than its
corelative in Brittany, but the buildings crowning
the Cornish mount are vastly inferior to the
magnificent pile on Mont Saint Michel. Nevertheless,
those that now form the residence of Lord
S. Levan are by no means insignificant or unworthy
of their position. The masses of granite
crag, especially to the west, are singularly bold, and
if some of the modern work be poor in design, it
might have been much worse.
Within there is not much to be seen--a chapel of
no great interest, and a dining-hall with good
plaster-work representation of a hare hunt running
round it. The drawing-room is new and spacious,
and contains some really noble portraits.
At the foot of the rock is a draw-well, and a little
way up is a tank called the Giant's Well. S.
Michael's Mount was the habitation of the famous
giant with whom Tom Thumb tried conclusions.
In or about 710, according to William of
Worcester, an apparition of S. Michael the archangel
was seen on the Tumba in Cornwall. This
Tumba was also called Hore-rock in the Wood,
"and there was formerly grove and field and tilled
land between the Mount and the Scilly Isles, and
there were a hundred and forty churches of parishes
between the said Mount and Scilly that were submerged....
The district was enclosed by a most
vast forest stretching for six miles in from the sea,
// 366.png
.pn +1
affording a most suitable refuge for wild beasts,
and in this were formerly found monks serving the
Lord."
It is quite true that there is a submerged forest
in Mount's Bay, and that the marshy snipe-ground
near Marazion Road Station covers large timber, a
portion of this great forest, but the submergence
cannot have taken place in historic times. That
there was, however, an encroachment of the sea in
the middle of the sixth century, we learn from the
Life of S. Paul, Bishop of Leon. He came to the
bay to visit his sister, Wulvella, of Gulval, when
she complained to him that she was losing much
of her best land by the advance of the sea; and
he, who had been brought up in the Wentloog levels,
and taught by his master, S. Iltyd, how to keep
up the dykes against the tides in the Severn, banked
out the sea for her.
This was precisely the time when the district of
Gwaelod was submerged in the Bay of Cardigan.
The king of the district was Gwyddno Longshanks.
It was the duty of the warden of the dykes to
ride along the embankments, that had probably
been thrown up by the Roman legionaries, and see
that they were in order. Seithenyn was the Dyke-grave
at the time.
One night Gwyddno and his court were keeping
high revel, and the dyke-master was very
drunk. There was a concurrence of a spring-tide
and a strong westerly wind, and the waves overwhelmed
the banks. The king escaped with difficulty
before the inrolling stormy sea. A poem by
// 367.png
.pn +1
the king, who thus lost his kingdom, has been preserved.
In Brittany about the same time there was a
similar catastrophe.
In Mount's Bay, however, an extraordinary tide
may have done damage, but certainly did not cause
such a submergence as was supposed by William
of Worcester.
It has been supposed that the Mount is the Ictis
of the ancients, which was the site of the great
mart for tin, but this is more than unlikely. What
would have been the advantage of making a market
on this conical rock? It is much more likely that
the great tin mart was in one of the low-lying islands
of Kent.
Castel-an-Dinas commands an extensive view;
it stands 763 feet above the sea, and is within sight
and signalling distance of the two other similar
castles on Trencrom and Tregonning. It is more
perfect than either, and is very interesting, as it
has got its wall with the face showing through the
greater portion of the circuit. There were at least
two concentric rings of fortifications and numerous
hut circles within the area, but these have been
much pulled about when an absurd imitation ruinous
tower was erected on the summit. Within the camp
is a well, and outside it on the west side is one cut
in the rock, to which a descent is made by about
twenty steps.
On the side of the hill is the very interesting
and indeed wonderful group of clustered huts
called Chysauster. Of these there remain four
// 368.png
.pn +1
distinct groups, two of which have been dug
out. They consist of an open space in the midst,
with numerous beehive huts and galleries running
out of it.
The period to which they pertain is very uncertain.
They ought to be investigated by such as are
experienced and trained in excavation of such
objects, and not be meddled with by amateurs.
The tenant has begun (1899) to destroy one of the
groups. In the centre of one of the huts may be
seen neatly cut the socket-hole of the pole which
sustained the roof, and in another the lower stone
of the quern in which grain was pounded. There
are other collections of a similar character, but none
so perfect.
In the neighbourhood of Penzance are some of the
"Rounds," formerly employed for the representation
of sacred dramas. They are, in fact, open-air
amphitheatres. The well-known Gwennap Pit, in
which John Wesley preached, has been mistaken
for one of these, but was actually a disused mine-hole.
In these pits the miracle-plays in the old Cornish
tongue were performed. Of these plays we have
a few preserved, that have been printed by Professor
Whitley Stokes. But the Cornish language
ceased to be spoken, and after the Reformation
religious plays ceased to be required. The people
were learning the art of reading, and the press
gave them the Bible, then these miracle-plays were
replaced by low comedies, often very coarse in
their humour, and spiced with many local allusions
// 369.png
.pn +1
and personal jokes. This continued till Wesleyanism
denounced stage-plays, and then these pits
were devoted to revival-meetings and displays of
hysterical religion. There were two Rounds near
Penzance, Tolcarre, and one at Castle Horneck.
Adjoining Penzance to the south is Newlyn, a
fishing village formerly, now both a fishing village
and a settlement of artists; for the advantage of
the latter a good place of exhibition for their pictures
has been provided by that generous-hearted son of
Cornwall, who has done so much for his native
county, Mr. Passmore Edwards.
Newlyn takes its name probably from S. Newlyna,
whose church, founded on her own land, is near
Crantock and Newquay. The name means the
White Cloud. She migrated to Brittany, embarking,
it may be supposed, at this port in Guavas
Bay. She is a Breton replica of S. Winefred, for
she had her head cut off by an admiring chieftain,
whose affection was changed into anger at her
resistance. In Brittany she has a fine church at
Pontivy Noyala.
A cantique is sung there by the children, the
first verse of which runs thus:--
.pm onpoem
"Deit, Créchénion, de gleuet
Buhé caër Santes Noaluen,
Ha disguet guet-he miret
Hag hou fé hag non lézen,"
.pm offpoem
.ti 0
which means, "Come, ye Christians, hearken all,
and hear the tale of S. Noewlyn. From her
example learn to keep your faith and your innocence."
// 370.png
.pn +1
S. Paul's takes its name from a founder who was
born in Glamorganshire, and was educated by S. Iltyd.
He was schoolfellow with S. David, S. Samson, and
Gildas. He is said to have gone to a King Mark, but
whether this were the Mark, King of Cornwall of the
romancers, the husband of the fair and frail Ysseult,
we cannot be sure. He quarrelled with the king, and
left him, because he was refused a bell in Mark's
possession, which he admired and asked for. He
settled in Brittany, in Leon.
// 371.png
// 372.png
// 373.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 landsend "CHAPTER XIX." "THE LAND'S END"
.pm onhanghead
The Irish settlers in Penwith--Difference between Irish and Cornish
languages--The Irish saints of Penwith--Other saints--Penzance--S.
Ives--Restored brass--Wreck of Algerine pirates in 1760--Description
of Penwith--The pilchard fishery--Song--Churches
of the Land's End--S. Burian--S. Paul's and Dolly Pentreath--The
Cornish language--Cornish dialect--Old churches and
chapels--Madron--Prehistoric antiquities.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "The"
Land's End is properly Penwith, either
Pen-gwaed, the Bloody Headland, or Pen-gwaedd,
the Headland of Shouting. Probably it is
the former, for it was the last place of refuge of the
Ibernian population, and in the first years of the
sixth century, even perhaps earlier, it was occupied
by Irish settlers, and that there was fighting is
clearly shown us in the legend of SS. Fingar and
Piala. It must have been to the original people of
the peninsula what Mona was to the Welsh.
.pm illo i_372 i_372.jpg 700px "LAND'S END"
All we know about this invasion is what is told
us in the legend just mentioned, and that states that
Fingar, son of an Irish king, came to Hayle, landed
there with his party, and was fallen upon by Tewdrig,
the Cornish duke or king, who massacred some of
the party. But the names of the parishes tell us
more than that. They show us that the Irish were
// 374.png
.pn +1
not defeated, that they made good their landing, and
that they spread and occupied the whole of Penwith
and Carnmarth, that is to say, the entire district
of West Cornwall up to Camborne and the Lizard
district.
The colonists cannot have been few, and they
must have purposed settling, for they brought women
along with them; and that they were successful
is assured by the fact that those killed by Tewdrig
are recognised as martyrs. Had the Irish been
driven away they would have been regarded as
pirates who had met their deserts.
Now this inroad of saints was but one out of a
succession of incursions, and the resistance of Tewdrig
marks the revolt against Irish domination which took
place after the death of Dathi in 428, the last Irish
monarch who was able to exact tribute from Britain;
though Oiliol Molt may have attempted it, he was
too much hampered by internal wars to make Irish
authority felt in Britain. Oiliol fell in 483.
The Irish saints came across in detachments.
Senan, Erc (Erth), Setna (Sithney), Brig (Breage),
Just were some of the earliest. There was trouble
when Brig arrived, and she and her party fled from
Tewdrig and fortified themselves on Tregonning
Hill, where their camp still remains. But Kieran
and his pupils, Medran (Madron) and Bruinech
(Buriena), were unmolested; so also was S. Ruan.
One thing they could not do, and that was
impress on the people the Scottish or Irish pronunciation.
They were few among many, and they
not only could not make the natives pronounce a
// 375.png
.pn +1
hard c, but they were themselves obliged to suffer
their own names to be softened, and the c in them
to be turned into p, and the f into gw. Thus Kieran
became Piran, and Fingar became Gwinear. The
Irish c is always sounded like k, and the Cornish
disliked this sound. When S. Kiera settled in
Cornwall she had to accustom herself to be called
Piala; and Eoghain was melted down into Euny,
and Erc softened into Erth.
Just one advantage to Cornwall did this invasion
afford; by it we know the histories of the founders
of churches in West Cornwall; because the Irish had
the wit to preserve their records and biographies,
whereas of the home-grown saints, princes of blood
royal, the Cornish have not kept a single history.
Consequently, if we desire to know about the early
kings and saints of the peninsula, we have to
ask the Irish, the Welsh, and even go hat in
hand to the Bretons. It is a sorry truth, but
truth it is.
How thoroughly occupied by the Irish this district
was may be judged when we come to look at who
the saints were.
Let us take them in order from Newquay.
First we have Carantock, the fellow-worker with
S. Patrick, who assisted him on the commission to
draw up the laws of Ireland. Then we have
Perranzabuloe, the settlement of Kieran of Saighir.
Across the ridge, four miles off, is Ladock, where he
planted his nurse as head of a community of women.
Some of Kieran's young pupils found it not too far
to trip across and flirt with the girls at Ladock, and
// 376.png
.pn +1
there was a pretty to-do when this was discovered.
He was wont, when he had ploughed his own lands,
to send over his oxen to plough the fields of his
nurse. At Redruth was S. Euny, whom the Irish
called Eoghain, and who later was Bishop of
Ardstraw. He was brother of S. Erc of Erth, as
it was said in later times, but earlier writers
frankly call Erc his father.
Illogan was son of Cormac, King of Leinster.
Piety ran in the family. Cormac abdicated and
assumed the monk's cowl in 535. The sisters of
Illogan were Derwe and Ethnea, who accompanied
him to Cornwall, and are numbered with its saints.
He was father of S. Credan of Sancreed. Phillack
is S. Piala, the sister of Gwynear (Fingar). S. Elwyn
is but another form of the name Illogan. Erth, as
already said, was father of S. Euny; he was a disciple
of S. Brendan, the voyager, and was nursed by
S. Itha, who was a woman almost as famous in
Ireland as S. Bridget, and who has churches in
Cornwall and Devon. S. Ives is really S. Hia, an
Irishwoman. Zennor is, perhaps, dedicated to a
disciple of S. Sennen of Land's End, the very woman
about whom Tom Moore wrote his song of "The
Saint and the Lady." S. Just was the deacon of
S. Patrick, and he was S. Kieran's tutor. Sennen
is Senan of Inscathy, in the Shannon. S. Levan was
metal-worker for S. Patrick, but in holy orders also.
S. Burian was the female disciple of S. Kieran.
Germoe was a bard, and an intimate friend of Kieran,
and so we see him planted near his friend, who was
at Perran-uthnoe. Breage was a disciple of S. Bridget
// 377.png
.pn +1
and a friend of S. Kieran. Crewenna was another
Irishwoman. Sithney is Setna, a disciple of S. Senan.
S. Ruan, in the Lizard district, and S. Kea, on the
Fal--Irishmen as well--I have spoken of them elsewhere.
But along the south coast are some settlements of
a different kind. Paul is Paul of Leon, a Briton,
who came there to visit his sister, Wulvella, at Gulval
before he crossed into Brittany; and Towednack is
not an Irish foundation.
Senan and Kieran, or Piran, were such allies
that the former was wont to call the latter "his
inseparable friend and comrade." It is therefore no
wonder that we find settlements of the two in West
Cornwall together.
Senan and Kieran probably came to Cornwall
some years later than Hia and Breaca, Fingar and
Piala. Senan was very much attached to S. David,
and both are said to have died on the same day in
the same year.
As Sithney's mother was a sister of Non, the
mother of S. David, it is possible that David may
have induced his cousin to study with his friend
Senan, and that when Senan came to Cornwall he
hoped that Sithney would be able to smooth his
way, as an aunt of his was queen there. This I
have already pointed out.
It is noteworthy that Sithney parish is close to
that of his first cousin Constantine.
The key to the Land's End district is Penzance.
This is a comparatively modern town, and it was
but a village in the parish of S. Madron, with a little
// 378.png
.pn +1
chapel of S. Anthony on a spit of land running into
the bay, till incorporated by James I.
That bay is singularly fine, and, facing the south,
the climate is warm. Out of it stands up S. Michael's
Mount crowned with a castle, formerly a monastery,
now the residence of Lord S. Levan, and connected
by a causeway with Marazion, or Market Jew. The
name has nothing to do with "Bitter Waters of
Zion," or with Israelites. Marazion is the Cornish
for Thursday Market, and Market Jew is a corruption
for Jeudi (Thursday) Market.
From Penzance a visit should be paid to S. Ives
and to Hayle. The Hayle river flows in a natural
furrow from near Germoe, and the whole of the
district west is, as it were, cut off from the rest
of the peninsula. It needed to have been but a
little more depressed, and it would have been
converted almost into an island, linked to the
mainland only by the ridge between S. Hilary and
Godolphin.
The great S. Ives Bay is conspicuous through its
white hills of blown sand that form what are locally
called Towans.
The church of S. Ives is interesting, and is, like
most others in Cornwall, Perpendicular. It is of
granite, and contains some fine oak carving in bench-ends
and waggon-roof, and a portion of the screen
presented, it is supposed, by Ralph Clies, a master
smith; also a brass to Otho Trenwith and his wife.
The latter is represented kneeling to and invoking
the archangel Michael. The head of S. Michael
has a comical effect. "Some perplexity may be felt
// 379.png
.pn +1
at the appearance of Saint Michael's head, which
looks like nothing so much as a Dutch cheese.
The fact is, that when this brass lay on the floor,
the feet of passers-by had gradually erased the
features of the archangel, leaving only the circular
nimbus or glory round his head. Some well-meaning
but misguided restorer of later days has evidently
taken the nimbus to be the outline of the head,
and has roughly filled in eyes, nose, and mouth to
correspond."[27]
An event occurred at Penzance in 1760 that was
curious.
A large vessel was driven ashore on the beach.
Numbers of persons crowded to the wreck to get
from it what they could, when they were startled
to see it manned by swarthy mariners with scimitars
and turbans. At once a panic seized on those who
had come out of interested motives to the wreck,
and they scuttled off as hard as their legs would
take them. Presently a company of volunteers
was called out to roll of drum, and marched down
to surround the 172 men who had disembarked
from the wreck. These were gallantly captured
and driven like sheep into a spacious barn, and
left there under guard through the night.
Next morning it was ascertained from the
men who had come ashore (some of whom could
speak broken French), by means of some English
officers who could understand a little French,
especially when broken, that the vessel was an
Algerine corsair, carrying twenty-four guns, and
// 380.png
.pn +1
that the captain, finding his ship making water
rapidly, had run her ashore in Mount's Bay, fully
believing he was about the latitude of Cadiz.
The instant it was known that the sailors were
Algerines, a deadly panic fell on the neighbourhood,
for now the plague was feared. The volunteers
could hardly be kept at their posts, where they
quaked, and felt internal qualms. Intelligence was
conveyed to the Government, and orders were issued
for troops to march from Plymouth. Happily, however,
the panic rapidly abated; the local authorities
convinced themselves that there was no plague
among the strangers, and, slowly and cautiously,
people approached to look and gape at the dark-moustached
and bearded men with dusky skin,
bare legs, and turbans. The pirates were on the
whole kindly treated, and after some delay were
sent back to Algiers.
The whole country is wind-blown, and everything
looks small: the trees are stunted; the hills
rise to no great heights, the very highest point
reached is 827 feet; and Tregonning, which does
not mount above 600 feet, assumes the airs of
a mountain. The coast is fine, but by no means
as fine as that of the Lizard. The rocks are of
granite, and not of serpentine. But, on the other
hand, the surface is less level than that of Meneage.
It is crowded with prehistoric antiquities, cromlechs,
camps, and stone circles. And the Land's End
district has this great advantage, that if you are
overdone with the soft and relaxing air on the
south coast, you have but to ascend a hill and
// 381.png
.pn +1
inhale the invigorating breath that comes from the
Atlantic on the north.
Newlyn and Hayle are great fishing stations, and
in the Land's End district as in the Lizard chances
arise for watching the pilchard fishery.
So many seans, or nets, about 220 fathoms long and
about 15 fathoms deep, belong to each fishing station,
and three boats go to each sean. The first boat,
which is also the largest, is called the sean-boat, as it
carries the net and seven men; the next is termed
the vollier, probably a corruption for "follower," and
carries another sean, called the tuck-sean, which is
about 100 fathoms long and 18 deep, this boat also
carries seven men; the third boat is called the
lurker, and contains but three or four men, and in
this boat is the master, or commander.
Pilchards are migratory and gregarious fish, rather
smaller than herrings, which they much resemble,
but are cased in larger scales. They begin to appear
at the end of June, but they are then at a great
distance from the coast, and the boats have to go
out far to sea before they encounter the shoals. It
is a pretty sight to see a flight of fishing-smacks,
with their white wings spread, issuing from one of
the harbours, and all making for the spot where the
fish are ascertained or supposed to be.
At nightfall the nets are set either across or
parallel to the drift of the tide, and are suffered to
be carried along by the current. About midnight
the nets are hauled, and the fish having become
entangled by their gills, are taken into the boats,
and the nets are again set. It is only by night that
// 382.png
.pn +1
fish can be caught in this way, as they are keen-sighted.
This is drift-net fishing.
In the morning the boats return with the spoil,
and the port, or harbour, is alive with women and
children; these latter on such occasions can by no
persuasion be induced to attend school. A string of
carts is drawn up on the beach, each containing
several "maunds," or panniers, to receive the silver
load.
As the season advances the shool, or shoal, comes
nearer the shore.
A saying is that
.pm onpoem
"When the corn is in the shock,
Then the fish are at the rock."
.pm offpoem
And now the time for drift-net fishing is over, and
that of sean, or seine, fishing begins.
Pilchards swim in dense hosts, so that the sea
seems to be in a state of effervescence.
On the cliffs men and boys are to be seen all day
long lying about smoking, apparently doing nothing.
But their keen eyes are on the sea. They are
watching for the coming of the pilchards. It is not
possible to see from the boat so as to surround a
shoal; that is why a watch is maintained from the
cliffs by "huers" (French huer, to shout). The
moment their experienced eyes see by a change in
the colour of the water that the shoal is approaching,
by preconcerted signals the crew are informed
as to the place where it is, and the direction it is
taking.
The fish playing on the surface are called
// 383.png
.pn +1
skimmers. The colour of the water, as seen from
above where the fish are dense, is almost red; it
is always darker than the water around.
Another token of the presence of a shoal is the
sea birds hovering about, expecting their prey.
The boats are all in readiness.
The shoal is also known by the stoiting, or jumping,
of the fish. When fish are observed stoiting
a signal is given, whereupon the sean-boat and
vollier get on the spot, and the crew of the foremost
boat pass a warp, that is, throw a rope, which is
fixed to the end of the sean on board the vollier,
and then shoot the net overboard, which, having
leaden weights at bottom, sinks, and the top is
buoyed up with corks. The sean-boat is rowed
in a circular course round where the fish are stoiting,
and when they have reached the vollier the fish
are enclosed. They then hem the two ends of the
sean together with a cord to prevent the fish from
breaking out, and whilst this is being done a man is
engaged in frightening the fish away from the still
open end by means of a stone fastened to a rope.
This is termed throwing the minnies (maen stone,
pl. meini). When the two ends of the net are laced
together, grapes, i.e. grapnels, are let down to keep
the net expanded and steady till the fish have
been taken up. This latter process is called tucking
the sean. The boat with the tuck-sean on board
passes the warp of that sean to one of the other
boats and then shoots this tuck-sean within the stop-sean,
and next draws up the same to the edge of the
water, when it is seen to be one quivering mass
// 384.png
.pn +1
of silver. The fish are now taken or dipped out
with baskets into the boats. When the boats are
filled, if more fish remain in the large sean, it is left
in the water, till by successive tuckings all the fish
have been removed.
The fish that have been caught and brought on
shore are taken to the cellars. Fish cellars are
usually dug out of the rock, and in them the
pilchards are deposited in heaps, to be cured by the
women, who work at this night and day. The cellar
floor is covered with a layer of salt for the distance
of five or six feet from the walls, and on this is laid
a row of fish with their tails touching the wall; then
next to these is laid another row, and so on in
concentric rings, till a sufficient space is paved with
fish. On this foundation is laid more salt, and then
more fish, and this process is continued till the pile
is complete and the cellar is stacked with fish. They
are now said to be "in bulk," and so are suffered
to remain for some weeks, during which time boards
are placed on them with stones, so as to squeeze out
of them all superfluous water and oil. The process
of salting completed, the fish are packed in barrels,
and are sent away to market.
After July or August the pilchards leave the coast,
and do not reappear until the end of October or the
beginning of November. They now appear in the
Bristol Channel, and come down towards Land's
End, which they turn and follow the south coast
of Cornwall, and then disappear.
Formerly pilchards were smoked, and went by the
name of fumadoes. The name clung to them after
// 385.png
.pn +1
the smoking was abandoned, and fumadoes is now
corrupted into "fair maids."
There is a song of the pilchard fishery which is
sung by the boatmen. I know of it but three verses,
and I doubt if there be more.
.pm onpoem
"The cry is, 'All up! Let us all haste away!
And like hearty good fellows we'll row through the bay.
Haul away, my young men!
Pull away, my old blades!
For the county gives bounty
For the pilchard trades.'
"'Tis the silver 'fair maids' that cause such a strife
'Twixt the master-seiner and his drunken wife.
Haul away, etc.
"She throwed away her fiddles (?) and burnt all her thread,
And she turn'd him out o' doors for the good of the trade.
Haul away," etc.
.pm offpoem
The churches of the Land's End district are not
remarkably fine. They are not, however, without
interest.
The finest is that of S. Burian, about whom first
of all a word or two.
Buriena was an Irish damsel, noted for being both
slender and beautiful. In fact, her willowy form
obtained for her the nickname of Caol, or "the
Slim." She was a daughter of one Crimthan, "the
Fox," a Munster chieftain, a granddaughter of
Aengus, King of Munster, who was baptised by
S. Patrick, on which occasion the apostle ran the
spike at the end of the pastoral staff into the foot of
// 386.png
.pn +1
the king. Afterwards, when S. Patrick saw the
wound and the blood, he was shocked, and said,
"Why the dickens did you not tell me of it?" "I
thought it was part of the ceremony," replied
Aengus.
However, to return to Buriena, his granddaughter.
She was so pretty and so graceful, that although she
was at school with Liadhain, the mother of S. Piran, as
her spiritual child, a chieftain named Dimma carried
her off to his own castle. Liadhain came in a fume
to S. Piran and told him of the outrage. At once
the old man seized his staff and went after Dimma,
who was head of the clan Hy Fiachta. It was
midwinter, and the snow was on the ground. When
Piran arrived at the gates of the cashel he was
refused admittance. He would not return, but
maintained his place, and next morning there he
was still. He had stood there all night in the snow,
waiting to insist on the restoration of the girl.
Dimma now was alarmed. He saw that the saint
was determined to "fast against him," a legal process,
as has been described already, and he returned the
damsel.
However, some days afterwards, feeling his passion
still strong, he went at the head of a body of men
to reclaim her. Buriena fainted when she saw his
approach; but Piran had time to call out all his
ecclesiastical tribe, and they surrounded the place
where Liadhain and Buriena were, and he had sent
a detachment to make a circuit and set fire to
Dimma's cashel, so that the chief was compelled to
beat a precipitate retreat. It was probably in consequence
// 387.png
.pn +1
of this that Piran left Ireland and came to
Cornwall.
S. Burian Church does not stand on the site of the
old settlement of Buriena; that is about a mile
south-east, at Bosliven, where the "sanctuary"
remains about some mounds and ruins. It was destroyed
by Shrubsall, one of Cromwell's miserable
instruments of sacrilege. When Athelstan traversed
Cornwall from east to west he made a vow that if
he reached the Scilly Isles and returned in safety he
would endow a collegiate church where was the
oratory in which he made the vow. This he did,
and the date of the foundation is supposed to have
been 936.
The church had a superb screen, probably the
finest in Cornwall, but it was taken down and
destroyed in 1814. Some fragments have been
preserved sufficient to admit of its complete reconstruction
at some future day. Many of the bench-ends
remain, and are fine. The church has been
illtreated in that fashion which is in bitter mockery
called "restoration." The new woodwork is a fair
example of what woodwork never should be. It is
treated like cheese.
S. Levan has fine old bench-ends and exquisitely
bad modern woodwork, and in the neighbourhood
is the Logan Rock and some of the finest coast
scenery of the Land's End. S. Levan was priest
and metal-worker in S. Patrick's company, and some
of his bells and book-covers remained long preserved
as treasures in Ireland.
S. Senan has been gutted by the restorer, and has
// 388.png
.pn +1
in it no longer anything of interest except a mutilated
statue of the Virgin and Child.
Madron has not much of interest, except the oft-quoted
epitaph on George Daniel:--
.pm onpoem
"Belgia me Birth, Britain me Breeding gave,
Cornwall a Wife, ten children and a grave."
.pm offpoem
Paul's, dedicated to S. Paul of Leon, brother of S.
Wulvella of Gulval, has a good tower, and several
points of interest. Here was buried, 1778, Dolly
Pentreath, the last person able to converse in the
old Cornish language. Pentreath was her maiden
name. She was married to a man of the name of
Jeffery. It is still the custom in the villages of
Mousehole and Newlyn for women to be called by
their maiden names after marriage; indeed, there
are some instances in which the husband goes by
the maiden name of his wife, when his individuality
disappears under her more pronounced personality.
Such would doubtless be the case in the following
instance I quote from the Cornish Magazine:--
Girl (selling papers): "If you please, sir, do you
want a 'Ome Companion?"
Householder (at door): "No, thank'ee, my dear.
I got wan."
Girl: "'Ome Chat, sir?"
Householder: "'Ome Chat!" (throws open the
door). "Here, just come fore and listen for yourself.
Hark to her a bellerin' in the back kitchen."
Or in such a case as this.
Pasco Polglaze was henpecked. He opened his
heart to Uncle Zackie at the "Dog and Pheasant."
// 389.png
.pn +1
"Now, look here," said Uncle Zackie, "you be
a man and show yourself maister in your own 'ouse.
You go 'ome and snap your vingers in the missus'
vaice, and sit down on the table. I'll come in two
minutes after and see your triumph--you maister
and all."
"Right," said Pasco, and went home.
But when he had snapped his fingers under the
nose of his wife she took the poker at him, and he
took refuge under the table.
Tap! tap! at the door.
"Come out from under there," said Susan, his
wife.
Then Pasco lifted up his voice and sang out as
loud as thunder, "No, Sue! no, I want come out
from under the table. I'll stick where I be; for
all you say, I'll show Uncle Zackie as I'll be maister
in my own house."
In 1768 the Hon. Daines Barrington visited
Cornwall to ascertain whether the Cornish language
had entirely died out or not, and in a letter
written to John Lloyd a few years after he gives
the result of his journey, and in it refers to Dolly
Pentreath:--
.pm onblock
"I set out from Penzance with the landlord of the
principal inn for my guide towards Sennen, and when I
approached the village I said there must probably be some
remains of the language in those parts, if anywhere. My
guide, however, told me that I should be disappointed;
but that if I would ride about ten miles about in my return
to Penzance, he would conduct me to a village called
Mousehole, where was an old woman who could speak
// 390.png
.pn +1
Cornish fluently. While we were travelling together I
enquired how he knew that this woman spoke Cornish,
when he informed me that he frequently went to Mousehole
to buy fish which were sold by her, and that when
he did not offer her a price that was satisfactory she
grumbled to some other old woman in an unknown tongue,
which he concluded to be Cornish.
"When we reached Mousehole I desired to be introduced
as a person who had laid a wager that there was not one
who could converse in Cornish, upon which Dolly
Pentreath spoke in an angry tone for two or three minutes
in a language which sounded very much like Welsh. The
hut in which she lived was in a very narrow lane, opposite
to two rather better houses, at the doors of which two
other women stood, who were advanced in years, and
who, I observed, were laughing at what Dolly said to
me.
"Upon this I asked them whether she had not been
abusing me, to which they answered, 'Very heartily,' and
because I had supposed she could not speak Cornish.
"I then said that they must be able to talk the language,
to which they answered that they could not speak it readily,
but that they understood it, being only ten or twelve years
younger than Dolly Pentreath.
"I had scarcely said or thought anything more about
this matter till last summer (1772), having mentioned it
to some Cornish people, I found that they could not credit
that any person had existed within these few years who
could speak their native language; and therefore, though
I imagined there was but a small chance of Dolly
Pentreath continuing to live, yet I wrote to the President
(of the Society of Antiquaries), then in Devonshire, to
desire that he would make some inquiry with regard to
her, and he was so obliging as to procure me information
from a gentleman whose house was within three miles of
// 391.png
.pn +1
Mousehole, a considerable part of whose letter I shall
subjoin:--
"'Dolly Pentreath is short of figure and bends very
much with old age, being in her eighty-seventh year; so
lusty, however, as to walk hither to Castle Horneck, about
three miles, in bad weather in the morning and back again.
She is somewhat deaf, but her intellect seemingly not
impaired.... She does indeed talk Cornish as readily
as others do English, being bred up from a child to know
no other language, nor could she talk a word of English
before she was past twenty years of age, as, her father
being a fisherman, she was sent with fish to Penzance at
twelve years old, and sold them in the Cornish language,
which the inhabitants in general, even the gentry, did then
well understand. She is positive, however, that there is
neither in Mousehole, nor in any other part of the county,
any other person who knows anything of it, or at least can
converse in it. She is poor, and maintained partly by
the parish, and partly by fortune-telling and gabbling
Cornish.'"
.pm offblock
A monument has been erected to her memory by
Prince Lucien Bonaparte. She died on December
26th, 1777, and was buried in January, 1778. The
following epitaph was written for her:--
.fs 90%
.nf c
Cornish.
.nf-
.fs 100%
.pm onpoem
"Coth Doll Pentreath caus ha deau;
Marow ha kledyz ed Paul plêa:--
Na ed an egloz, gan pobel brâs,
Bes ed egloz-hay coth Dolly es."
.pm offpoem
.fs 90%
.nf c
English.
.nf-
.fs 100%
.pm onpoem
"Old Doll Pentreath, one hundred aged and two,
Deceased, and buried in Paul parish too:--
Not in the church, with people great and high,
But in the church-yard doth old Dolly lie."
.pm offpoem
// 392.png
.pn +1
A word may here be added relative to the Cornish
tongue. The Celtic language is divided into two
branches, one represented by the Irish and Gaelic
of North Scotland, and this is called the Goidhelic,
or Gaelic; the other by the Welsh, old Cornish, and
Breton, and this is called the Brythonic.
The main distinction between them consists in the
Gaelic employing k or the hard c where the Welsh
and Cornish would use p. Thus pen is used in the
latter, and ken in the former. When the Irish
adopted the word purpur, purple, they changed it
into corcair; and when they took the low Latin
premter for presbyter into their language they
twisted it into crumthir. The Cornish was identical
with old Welsh, and the Breton was originally
identical with the Cornish; but in course of time
some changes grew up differentiating the tongues,
and forming dialects derived from the same mother
tongue, that is all.
In or about 1540 Dr. Moreman, vicar of Menheniot,
in the east of the county, was the first to
teach the people the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and
the Commandments in English.
Carew, however, in his Survey of Cornwall in
1602 says, "Most of the inhabitants can speak no
word of Cornish, but few are ignorant of English,
and yet some so affect their own as to a stranger
they will not speak it, for if meeting them by chance
you inquire the way, your answer will be, 'Meeg
nauidna cowzasawzneck'--I can speak no Saxonage."
Carew's Survey was soon followed by that of
// 393.png
.pn +1
Norden, who says that the tongue was chiefly confined
to Penwith and Kirrier, and yet "though the
husband and wife, parents and children, master and
servants, do naturally communicate in their native
language, yet there is none of them in a manner
but is able to converse with a stranger in the English
tongue, unless it be some obscure people who seldom
confer with the better sort."
The Cornish was so well spoken in the parish of
Feock till about the year 1640 "that Mr. William
Jackman, the then vicar, ... was forced for divers
years to administer the Sacrament to the communicants
in the Cornish tongue, because the aged people
did not well understand the English, as he himself
often told me" (Hals).
So late as 1650 the Cornish language was currently
spoken in the parishes of Paul and S. Just;
and in 1678 the rector of Landewednack "preached
a sermon to his parishioners in the Cornish language
only."
It may seem paradoxical, but I contend that for
intellectual culture it is a great loss to the Cornish
to have abandoned their native tongue. To be
bi-lingual is educative to the intellect in a very
marked degree. In their determination not to
abandon their tongue, the Welsh show great
prudence. I have no hesitation in saying that a
Welsh peasant is much ahead, intellectually, of the
English peasant of the same social position, and I
attribute this mainly to the fact of the greater agility
given to his brain in having to think and speak
in two languages. When he gives up one of these
// 394.png
.pn +1
tongues he abandons mental gymnastics as well as
the exercise of the vocal organs in two different
modes of speech.
What we do with infinite labour in the upper and
middle classes is to teach our children to acquire
French and German as well as English, and this is
not only because these tongues open to them literary
treasures, but for educative purpose to the mind,
teaching to acquire other words, forms of grammar,
and modulation of sounds than those the children
have at home.
By God's mercy the Welsh child is so situated
that from infancy it has to acquire simultaneously
two tongues, and that in the lowest class of life;
and this I contend is an advantage of a very high
order, which is not enjoyed by children of even a
class above it in England.
The West Cornish dialect is a growth of comparatively
recent times. It is on the outside not more
than four hundred years old. Whence was it derived?
That is a problem that has yet to be studied.
Mr. Jago says:--
.pm onblock
"We have in the provincial dialect a singular mixture of
old Cornish and old English words, which gives so strong
an individuality to the Cornish speech. As, in speaking
English, a Frenchman or a German uses more or less
of the accent peculiar to each, so it is very probable that
the accent with which the Cornish speak is one transferred
from their ancient Cornish language. The sing-song, as
strangers call it, in the Cornish speech is not so evident to
Cornishmen when they listen to their own dialect."[28]
.pm offblock
// 395.png
// 396.png
// 397.png
.pn +1
Sancreed screen, which must have been almost as
fine as that of Burian, has disappeared all but a
magnificent fragment. The church is dedicated to
S. Credan, disciple of S. Petrock, an Irishman, who
returned to the Emerald Isle. He was the son of
S. Illogan, and he had two aunts in Cornwall--one
at Camborne and the other at Stythians.
.pm illo i_395 i_395.jpg 700px "CHUN QUOIT"
S. Just Church is late; it has rather handsomely
carved capitals of the piers, with angels bearing shields,
on which are figured the arms of the principal families
connected with the parish. S. Just, as I have said, was
deacon to S. Patrick, and was the tutor to S. Piran.
In Gwythian parish may be seen the early eighth-century
chapel of the saint, which was for long
buried under the sands, but was revealed by a drift
in 1808.
At Porth Curnew, near S. Levan's, are the ruins of
another of these early oratories.
Madron was founded by S. Medran, brother of
Odran; they went as boys under fourteen to S. Piran,
to consult him about making a pilgrimage. But
Medran wished to stay with the old abbot, whereas
Odran was for travelling. Odran said to S. Piran,
"Do not part my brother from me. We agreed to
stick together." "The Lord judge between you both,"
said the abbot. "Let Medran hold this lantern and
blow on the smouldering wick. If it flames, then he
stays. If not, he goes." Medran succeeded in producing
a flame, and thenceforth he became an attached
follower of S. Piran. Odran went his way.
It is chiefly for prehistoric antiquities that the
Land's End district is remarkable. It possesses cliff-castles,
// 398.png
.pn +1
and also some fine examples of the stone
cashel. Such is Chûn; also beehive huts, as at
Bosprennis, and a curious cluster of habitations at
Chysauster already referred to.
There are cromlechs, sacred circles, and menhîrs.
These are so numerous and so interesting, that a
visitor should take Mr. Lach-Szyrma's guide and
examine them in detail.
.pm onblock
Note.--Books to be consulted:--
Blight (J. T.), A Week at the Land's End. 1861. List of
Antiquities in Kirrier and Penwith. Truro, 1862. Churches of
West Cornwall. Oxford: Parker, 1885 (second edition).
Lach-Szyrma (W. S.), Two Hundred and Twenty-two Antiquities
in and about Penzance. Plymouth: Luke. n.d.
Matthews (J. H.), A History of the Parishes of St. Ives, Lelant,
etc. London: Stock, 1892.
.pm offblock
// 399.png
// 400.png
// 401.png
.pn +1
.pm heading2 scillyisles "CHAPTER XX." "THE SCILLY ISLES"
.pm onhanghead
Armorel of Lyoness--A refuge for the Celtic saints--Lighthouses--The
name of Scilly--Olaf Trygvason at Scilly--Mr. Augustus
Smith--The flower trade--Flowers not allowed to blossom in the
fields--Traces of tin-streaming--Contrast between the east coast
and the west of England--Variety in Scilly--Sir Cloudesley
Shovel.
.pm offhanghead
.pm dropcap "For"
a guide to what is to be seen in this cluster
there is no better book than Sir W. Besant's
Armorel of Lyoness, to my mind one of the most
delightful works of fiction I have ever read; I refer,
of course, to the first part, that concerns Scilly.
Let a visitor take that book, and go over the ground
and be happy. Nothing can be added, but one word
in caution. The whole is a little over-coloured.
Scilly presents scenes of great interest, but the cliffs
are by no means so fine as those of Land's End, and
far inferior to those of the Lizard. Nevertheless,
island clusters have a charm of their own distinct
from the scenery of the fringe of the mainland, and
a cluster Scilly is, intricate, and presenting great
variety. There are one hundred and forty-five islets,
large and small, forty miles due west from Lizard
Point, and twenty-eight west-by-south from Land's
End.
.pm illo i_400 i_400.jpg 700px "THE PULPIT ROCK, SCILLY"
// 402.png
.pn +1
The views of the islands change remarkably,
according to the state of the tide. At high-water
the islands are separated by wide stretches of sea,
while at the ebb extensive flats are uncovered, and
some of the islands are apparently joined. The
Crow Channel between S. Mary's and S. Martin's
Isles has been forded on horseback, and a man is
reported to have ridden from S. Mary's to Tresco,
fording the arms of the sea at low spring-tide.
S. Martin's Island is difficult of approach at low
tide from S. Mary's by boat on account of the
distance to which the sands run out.
Such an archipelago was exactly suited to the
requirements of the Celtic saints, who, if they spent
most of their time in superintendence of their
monasteries, retired for Lent to solitary places,
and as they grew old resigned their pastoral staves
to their coarbs (successors), and retreated to islets,
there to prepare for the great change. The west
coast of Ireland is studded with islets that still
retain the cells of these solitaries. Wales had its
Bardsey and Anglesea, and Caldey and Ramsey.
And what these were to Irish and Welsh the Scilly
group was to the saints of Cornwall. Thus we
find there S. Elid, the Welsh S. Illog, S. Teon, who
is the Euny of Lelant, S. Samson, and S. Warna.
I do not know that any of the remains of their
venerable oratories have been found, but then they
have not been looked for.
There are now churches on four of the isles.
There are three lighthouses--that of S. Agnes,
a revolving light; that on an outlying rock, the
// 403.png
.pn +1
Bishop, fixed; and that on Round Island, with a red
light.
The heights in Scilly are not great; the highest
point attained is one hundred and twenty-eight feet.
There are some small fresh-water tarns.
The islands take their name from the old Silurian
inhabitants, to whom they served as a last refuge
where they could maintain their independence,
just as the Arran Isles answered the same purpose
to their kindred, the Firbolgs, in Ireland. But the
general notion is that they take their designation
from the conger eels, locally called selli. It is remarkable
that they must at one time have contained
a much larger population than at present, as the
remains of hedges and houses in ruins indicate.
In 993 Olaf Trygvason, of Norway, with Sweyn
Forkbeard, of Denmark, together with a fleet of
ninety-three ships, came a-harrying the coasts of
England. They sailed up the Thames and attacked
London, but the citizens behaved with great valour,
and beat them off. Then they ravaged the east
coast of England, took and burnt Sandwich and
Ipswich; next they entered the Blackwater and
attacked Maldon. There a great fight ensued. The
Saxons were under the command of the eorlderman
Britnoth. The Norsemen gained the day, and
Britnoth was slain. It is with this battle that one
of the earliest remains of Anglo-Saxon poetry deals.
It is, unhappily, but a fragment. After recording
the fall of the eorlderman, the poet concludes:--
.pm onpoem
"I am old of age, hence will I not stir;
I will sit by the side of my dead master;
I think to lay me down and die by him I loved."
.pm offpoem
// 404.png
.pn +1
On the doors of some of the churches in the East
of England were formerly "Danes' skins" and the
remains of these still exist. When the Anglo-Saxons
did succeed in killing a Norseman they
flayed him, and nailed his tanned skin against the
church door.
Olaf stormed the Castle of Bamborough, then
harried the Scottish coast, the Western Isles and
the Isle of Man, then Ireland, where "he burned far
and wide, wherever inhabited."
Not yet content with blood and flame, he crossed
to Wales and ravaged there, then sailed to France
to do there what mischief he could. After a while
he turned back, and sighted the Scilly Isles, and
then ran his fleet into the harbour of S. Mary's,
the largest of the isles. Here Olaf heard tell of
a hermit who lived in a cell among the granite
crags, and who was believed to have the gift of
prophecy.
"I will test his powers," said Olaf.
Then he dressed up one of his men in his armour,
gave him his spear and red-cross shield, and sent
him to consult the old man.
But no sooner did the hermit see the fellow than
he said, "Thou art not King Olaf, thou art a servant.
Beware that thou be not false to him, that is my rede
to thee." No more would he say.
Then the party returned to the ship and told Olaf.
He was highly pleased, and went ashore in a boat
with a small following, that he might consult the
anchorite as to the prospect of his being able to
recover the kingdom of his ancestors.
// 405.png
.pn +1
The hermit was undoubtedly a Cornish Briton,
and Olaf was obliged to hold communication with
him through an interpreter from Ireland or Wales.
The old man said to him, "There is a great future
in store for thee, Olaf. Thou wilt have to pass
through much conflict, but in the end wilt reign
in thine own land; and when that comes to pass
remember to advance the faith, and to use every
opportunity to turn men from their idols."
Now the interpreter knew that there was discontent
simmering among the followers of the
prince. They wanted to return to their homes with
the plunder they had acquired, but Olaf set his face
against this.
The interpreter, knowing that the men were
mutinous, said a few words in Welsh or Irish to the
hermit. He was afraid of himself giving warning
to Olaf, lest the mutineers should wreak their
resentment on him. So the anchorite told the king
that there were those amongst his followers who
plotted, and purposed seizing the opportunity of his
being on land to execute their design of revolt.
Olaf precipitately returned to his ships, and found
that the mutineers were making off with some of the
ships. He hurried on board, gave chase, and a fight
ensued. Finally the mutiny was quelled, but not
without Olaf being wounded. His vessel then put
into Tresco harbour, where were monks to whom
Athelstan had granted land in 936. He was carried
into the monastery, carefully tended, and was
induced to receive baptism. Hitherto, though convinced
that Christianity was the true religion, Olaf
// 406.png
.pn +1
had never formally been enrolled in the Church.
Unhappily, Olaf could not speak Cornish, and the
abbot was ignorant of the Norse tongue, so that
all communication had to go on through the interpreter,
and Olaf did not receive much religious instruction.
Nevertheless, as far as his lights went,
he was sincere.
Then he returned to Norway to proclaim his right
to the throne.
.pm onpoem
"To avenge his fathers slain,
And reconquer realm and reign,
Came the youthful Olaf home,
Through the midnight sailing, sailing,
Listening to the wild wind's wailing,
And the dashing of the foam.
"To his thoughts the sacred name
Of his mother, Astrid, came;
And the tale she oft had told
Of her flight by secret passes,
Through the mountains and morasses,
To the home of Hakon old.
"Then his cruisings o'er the seas,
Westward to the Hebrides,
And to Scilly's rocky shore,
And the hermit's cavern dismal,
Christ's great name and rites baptismal,
In the ocean's rush and roar."
.pm offpoem
S. Mary's is the largest of the islands, and it has
a population of over 1600 people; Tresco is the
second; then S. Agnes, pronounced S. Anne's;
then S. Martin's; next Bryher; after this comes
S. Sampson, no longer inhabited; and the remainder
are very small. The original population was doubtless
// 407.png
.pn +1
Silurian or Ivernian; the traces, however, of this
early race are few. The population now is less pure
than on the mainland. Not only were there Irish
colonists, but it is said that in the Civil Wars a Bedfordshire
regiment was sent there--and forgotten; so
the soldiers looked about for comely Scilly maids,
married, and were content to be no more remembered
in the adjacent island of Great Britain. In 1649 Sir
John Grenville employed Scilly as a great nursery for
privateers, and so swept the seas that the Channel
trade was seriously injured. Parliament at length
fitted out and despatched an expedition under Blake,
and in June, 1651, compelled Sir John Grenville to
surrender.
The islands belong to the Duchy of Cornwall, and
thereby leased to the late Mr. Augustus Smith, who,
firmly imbued with the notion that men must be
manufactured by education rather than allowed to
bring themselves up in independence, transported
the population from the smaller islands and planted
them about the schools. No doubt that the native
originality, freshness, and force will be drilled out
of the new generation, and they will all spell and
think, and write and act alike. It is, however, sad
to notice on islands now deserted the ruins of ancient
farms.
The Scilly Isles are a great seat of the flower
trade; previously early potatoes were grown there,
but now these are imported.
Of flowers, narcissi and anemones are chiefly
grown, and in the open, though large numbers of
flowers are now under glass. As soon as the blooms
// 408.png
.pn +1
show colour they are picked, and placed in water
under cover. One may see in the interior of a
cottage all the furniture stacked in a corner of the
room, and the entire floor covered with pots and
jars of water full of flower buds. If the blossoms
need forcing to make them expand, they are put
in warm water.
It is rare to see a field of flowers in full bloom.
The damage caused by rain and wind is so great,
that rather than run the risk they are picked when
in bud.
One feature of the flower fields is that they are
hedged about with escalonia, with its pretty shining
leaves and pink flower. This shrub delights in wind,
and it also serves to shelter the crop from the gales,
as it stands clipping and grows vigorously.
Fishing is not much carried on, but anyone with
a steam launch will be able to find good shelter in
case of rough weather, and he can manage to catch
as many fish as he desires. One prolific ground
is round the Seven Stones Lightship, north-east of
the isles.
It is a curious fact that little flotsam and jetsam
comes up on the isles. The Atlantic tides divide
and run up on each side of the tides that course
along the shores of the islands.
Formerly Scilly was a favourite breeding-place
for birds, but now they no longer employ it for
this purpose, or do so to a very minor degree.
There are traces of streaming for tin in some of
the isles, but no mineral veins are now known to
run through the Scilly granite. Ferns abound, but
// 409.png
.pn +1
the islands are a little disappointing to the botanist,
though to a florist they are a paradise.
To give a true idea of Scilly I must quote from
Armorel, for such as have not the book:--
.pm onblock
"The visitor who comes by one boat and goes away by
the next thinks he has seen this archipelago. As well
stand inside a cathedral for half an hour and then go away
thinking you have seen all. It takes many days to see
these fragments of Lyonesse and to get a true sense of the
place."
.pm offblock
By the way, the idea that Scilly represents the
peaks of a submerged realm of Lyonesse is altogether
baseless. Lyonesse is the realm of Leon in
Brittany, so-called because founded by colonists from
Caerleon, who fled from the swords of the Saxons.
It remained a little independent principality till at
the close of the sixth century it became incorporated
with the principality of Domnonia, in Brittany.
.pm onblock
"Everywhere in Scilly there are the same features: here
a hill strewn with boulders; there a little down with fern
and gorse and heath; here a bay in which the water, on
such days as it can be approached, peacefully laps a smooth
white beach; here dark caves and holes in which the water
always, even in the calmest days of summer, grumbles and
groans, and, when the least sea rises, begins to roar and
bellow--in time of storm it shrieks and howls.... All
round the rocks at low tide hangs the long seaweed,
undisturbed since the days when they manufactured kelp,
like the rank growth of a tropical creeper: at high tide it
stands up erect, rocking to and fro in the wash and sway
of the water like the tree-tops of the forest in the breeze.
Everywhere, except in the rare places where men come and
// 410.png
.pn +1
go, the wild sea-birds make their nests; the shags stand on
the ledges of the highest rocks in silent rows gazing upon
the water below; the sea-gulls fly, shrieking in sea-gullic
rapture--there is surely no life quite so joyous as the seagull's;
the curlews call; the herons sail across the sky;
and in spring millions of puffins swim and dive and fly
about the rocks and lay their eggs in the hollow places of
these wild and lonely islands."
.pm offblock
Is not that beautiful writing? But it is not
fanciful; it is beautiful because true, absolutely true.
Go and see if it be not so.
Have you ever made acquaintance with the horrors
of Lowestoft, a flat insipid shore, where the sea is
always charged with mud and no breakers thunder,
where the land scene is as dull and insipid as is the
sea-scape? I was there last summer. It was a
dismal place, made the more dismal by being invaded
and pervaded, spread out, exposed, devoted to
the "tripper." And I fled to the west coast to see
the Atlantic, with the water crystal clear, through
which you look down into infinity, and to the
glorious cliffs about which that transparent water
tosses, shakes its silver mane, curls its waves blue
and iridescent as a peacock's neck, and I wondered
that any should ever visit the east coast of England.
.pm onblock
"All the islands, except the bare rocks, are covered with
down and moorland, bounded in every direction by rocky
headlands and slopes covered with granite boulders. And
always, day after day, they came continually upon unexpected
places: strange places, beautiful places: beaches
of dazzling white; wildly-heaped carns; here a cromlech,
a logan stone, a barrow; a new view of sea and sky and
// 411.png
.pn +1
white-footed rock. I believe that there does not live any
single man who has actually explored all the isles of Scilly,
stood upon every rock, climbed every hill, and searched on
every island for its treasures of ancient barrows, plants,
birds, carns, and headlands. Once there was a worthy
person who came here as chaplain to S. Martin's. He
started with the excellent intention of seeing everything.
Alas! he never saw a single island properly: he never
walked round one exhaustively. He wrote a book about
them, to be sure; but he saw only half."
.pm offblock
There are numerous cairns, barrows, kistvaens, and
circles of stones in the islands, and Giant's Castle, in
S. Mary's, is a good example of a cliff-camp of the
Irish Firbolg type. A local guide attributes it to the
Danes, but that is nonsense.
In Porth Hellick Bay Sir Cloudesley Shovel was
washed ashore and buried.
In 1707 Sir Cloudesley in the Association, Captain
Hancock in the Eagle, Sir George Byng in the Royal
Anne, Captain Coney in the Romney, Lord Dudley
in the St. George, Captain Piercy in the Firebrand,
and a captured fireship, the Phœnix, were returning
from Toulon after the capture of Gibraltar. On the
morning of the 22nd October, the weather being
thick and dirty, they came into soundings of nineteen
fathoms. There is a tradition that a seaman on the
admiral's ship warned the officer of the watch that
unless the ship's course were altered they would
soon be on the rocks of Scilly. This was reported
to Sir Cloudesley, who was very angry. He had the
man brought before him, and attempted to browbeat
him, but the man stuck to his opinion. The
// 412.png
.pn +1
admiral lost his temper, as he considered it a breach
of decorum for a common mariner to dictate the
course of the vessel to a superior officer, and he
ordered the man to be hanged at the yard-arm. One
request was granted to the sailor--that he should be
allowed to read aloud a psalm to the assembled crew.
This was permitted, and he read out Psalm cix.:--
.pm onblock
"Hold not Thy tongue, O God of my praise: for the
mouth of the ungodly, yea, the mouth of the deceitful, is
opened upon us."
.pm offblock
That night the ship was lost. At six in the evening
the admiral, who had brought the fleet to during
the afternoon, made sail again, and stood away under
canvas. Directly after he made signals of distress,
which were returned by several of the fleet. Sir
George Byng in the Royal Anne, who was a mile to
windward of him, saw the breakers, and saved his
vessel with difficulty.
The Association, Sir Cloudesley's vessel, had struck
at eight o'clock upon the Gilstones, a cluster of rocks
of what are called the Western Isles, and in about
two minutes went down with all on board save one.
He clung to a piece of the wreck, and was swept
on to the Hellweathers, where he remained for some
time till rescued. The Eagle and the Romney were
also lost with all hands. The Firebrand was lost as
well, but the captain and some of the crew were
rescued. The Phœnix ran ashore, but was got off
again. The Royal Anne was saved. So was the
S. George by the merest accident. She struck the
same rock as the Association and about the same
// 413.png
.pn +1
time, but the wave which sank the admiral's ship
floated the S. George from the rocks.
The body of Sir Cloudesley Shovel was picked
up at Porth Hellick by a soldier and his wife, who
gave it decent burial in the sand. It was afterwards
conveyed at Lady Shovel's desire to Westminster
Abbey and laid there. She rewarded the soldier
with a pension for life. The diamond ring stolen
from the body was sent to Lady Shovel by the thief,
when he was dying.
Finally, with its amount of sunshine, with its
equable temperature, and its air charged with ozone,
I believe Scilly will be the sanatorium of the future.
.pm onblock
Note.--Book to be consulted:--
Tonkin (J. C. and R. W.), Guide to the Isles of Scilly. Penzance,
n.d. A capital little book.
.pm offblock
// 414.png
// 415.png
.pm pagebreak
.nf c
PLYMOUTH
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON
PRINTERS
.nf-
.pm heading2a footnotes "FOOTNOTES:"
.sp 2
.fn 1
Irish Nennius, ed. Todd and Herbert (Dublin, 1848), p. 237.
.fn-
.fn 2
Misses Couch were misled when they visited S. Mawes, and they
give a photograph of a well which is not the holy well. The latter
is among the houses opposite the post office, and had an arched
entrance, now walled up.
.fn-
.fn 3
Matthews, History of the Parishes of S. Ives, Lelant, Towednack,
and Zennor (London, 1892), p. 40.
.fn-
.fn 4
Archæologia Cambrensis, January, 1899. See also A. J. Langdon,
"The Ornament of the Early Crosses of Cornwall," Journal of the
Royal Institution of Cornwall, vol. x. (1890-1).
.fn-
.fn 5
Not to be confounded with S. Clether of Clodock, in Herefordshire,
son of Gwynnar, and from whom the poet Taliesin was descended.
The invasion of Carmarthen by Dyfnwal from the north had much to
do with Clether's departure.
.fn-
.fn 6
Tremendous confusion has been made of his life, as he has been
confounded with a S. Paternus, who was Bishop of Vannes in 462
or 465; and the Cornish Venedotia has been construed as Venettia,
Vannes. Nearly a century intervened between the two saints.
.fn-
.fn 7
The Cornish Magazine, 1899.
.fn-
.fn 8
Guest, Mabinogion, p. 227.
.fn-
.fn 9
Celtic Scotland. Edinburgh, 1876-80.
.fn-
.fn 10
"Cornish Choughs," in the Journals of the Roy. Inst. of Cornwall,
x. (1890-1).
.fn-
.fn 11
New Edition, 1893, vol. i. p. 136.
.fn-
.fn 12
"The earthwork, of which a great part is still in existence, does
not command the steep part of the slope on the other three sides,
though the guns would be available against an enemy after he had once
established himself on the plateau."
.fn-
.fn 13
Lord Tenterden in the summing up of Rowe v. Brenton, 1830.
.fn-
.fn 14
After the Armada the Corporation of Saltash raised the harbour
due to seven shillings for a Spanish ship. This sum is still paid by
Trinity House, which, however, exacts two shillings only from the
Spaniards, the same as from a French or German vessel.
.fn-
.fn 15
I have given them in my Garland of Country Song. Methuen,
1895.
.fn-
.fn 16
There are two rivers Lew in West Devon and two in Wales.
There is a Loue that flows into the Vézère. There is also Loe Pool
by Helston; the root enters into lough or loch.
.fn-
.fn 17
A new edition was published by Longmans in 1845.
.fn-
.fn 18
Madoc and Madan are the same name; oc and an are diminutives.
The real name was Aed. It became Mo-aedoc. Mo is a term of
endearment--"my"--given to many Irish and Welsh saints.
.fn-
.fn 19
I must caution the visitor against the blunders that crowd the
pages of a little local guide to Golant. Amongst other misstatements
is this, that the capitals are Norman and the arches of Moorish
design. The four-centred arch is quite common in all third-pointed
work.
.fn-
.fn 20
Reprinted in Preb. Hingeston-Randolph's Registers of Bishop
Grandisson. Exeter, 1897, p. 608.
.fn-
.fn 21
The arch over door and window is decisive against sixth-century
work. All the earliest Irish churches have a stone slab thrown across
from the jambs, and no arch with key.
.fn-
.fn 22
The church without, as outside of the camp.
.fn-
.fn 23
Not Witherne in Galway, nor Ty Gwyn âr Daf. See Mrs.
Dawson's article in Archæol. Cambr., 1898.
.fn-
.fn 24
Sullivan, Introduction to O'Curry's Lectures on the Manners
and Customs of the Ancient Irish, 1873, i. p. cliv.
.fn-
.fn 25
Quite the best monograph on the colonisation of Brittany is by
Dom Plaine, La Colonisation de l'Armorique par les Bretons
insulaires. Paris: Picard, 1899. See also Loth (M. J.), Emigration
Bretonne en Armorique. Rennes, 1883.
.fn-
.fn 26
Figured in Wood-Martin, The Rude Stone Monuments of Ireland,
1888, p. 154.
.fn-
.fn 27
Matthews, A History of St. Ives. London, 1892.
.fn-
.fn 28
Jago (F. W. P.), Glossary of the Cornish Dialect. Truro, 1882.
.fn-
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