CALLINGTON
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.
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 great 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.
[Illustration: 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
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?
“‘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.”
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.
“Sir Cradock call’d his lady,
And bade her to come neare:
‘Come win this mantle, lady,
And do me credit here.’
“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.”
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 there. I
suspect this is a mistake for Berwin Bishop, who was commemorated in
Cornwall on the 4th September. 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:--
“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.”
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.
Two 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.
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,
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. What
was done with the man we are not informed. 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” 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.
[Illustration: 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 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 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 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.
[Illustration: THE CHEESEWRING]
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.
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 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 coppice and jutting crags, the most beautiful
portion being at Morwell.
[Illustration: 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 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.
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 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.
[Illustration: ARSENIC WORKS]
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
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 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.