BODMIN
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.
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.
[Illustration: 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 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.
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 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.
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 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 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 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."
_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."
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, 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 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.
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