recent period, may be inferred from the fact that, on one occasion when
the visitors were assembled at the county asylum, a man residing at
Callington came with the mother of a poor imbecile patient, and sent his
card to the boardroom. This was inscribed with his name and M.A. Upon
being asked how he became a Master of Arts, he replied that he was a
“Master of Black Arts.” The object of this fellow’s visit was, having
persuaded the mother of his power, to propose to the visitors that
they should place the imbecile girl in his care, upon his undertaking,
on their paying him five pounds, to cure her. Of course this was not
listened to. This fellow imposed upon people to such an extent, that he
was eventually tried at the sessions, under an almost forgotten Act of
Parliament, for witchcraft. The impression on the mind of my informant is
that the case broke down.
NOTES ON WITCHCRAFT.
In confirmation of the melancholy facts related of the continuance of the
belief in witchcraft, I would give the accompanying cuttings from the
_West Briton_ newspaper of a very recent date:—
GROSS SUPERSTITION.
“During the week ending Sunday last, a ‘wise man’ from Illogan
has been engaged with about half-a-dozen witchcraft cases, one
a young tradesman, and another a sea-captain. It appears that
the ‘wise man’ was in the first place visited at his home by
these deluded people at different times, and he declared the
whole of them to be spell-bound. In one case he said that if
the person had not come so soon, in about a fortnight he would
have been in the asylum; another would have had his leg broken;
and in every case something very direful would have happened.
Numerous incantations have been performed. In the case of a
captain of a vessel, a visit was paid to the sea-side, and
while the ‘wise man’ uttered some unintelligible gibberish,
the captain had to throw a stone into the sea. So heavy was
the spell under which he laboured, and which immediately fell
upon the ‘wise man,’ that the latter pretended that he could
scarcely walk back to Hayle. The most abominable part of the
incantations is performed during the hours of midnight, and
for that purpose the wretch sleeps with his victims, and for
five nights following he had five different bed-fellows.
Having no doubt reaped a pretty good harvest during the week,
he returned to his home on Monday; but such was the pretended
effect produced by the different spells and witchcraft that
fell upon him from his many dupes, that two of the young men
who had been under his charge were obliged to obtain a horse
and cart and carry him to the Hayle station. One of the men,
having had ‘two spells’ resting on him, the ‘wise man’ was
obliged to sleep with him on Saturday and Sunday nights, having
spent the whole of the Sunday in his diabolical work. It is
time that the police, or some other higher authorities, should
take the matter up, as the person alluded to is well known, and
frequently visited by the ignorant and superstitious.”
THE CASE OF GROSS SUPERSTITION AT HAYLE.
“In the _West Briton_ of the 27th ult. we gave some particulars
of several cases of disgraceful fraud and delusion which had
been practised by a pretended ‘wise man’ from Illogan, and
of gross superstition and gullibility on the part of his
dupes. A correspondent has furnished us with the following
particulars relative to the antecedents of the pretended
conjurer. He states that James Thomas, the conjurer from the
parish of Illogan, married some time since the late celebrated
Tammy Blee, of Redruth, who afterwards removed to Helston and
carried on as a fortune-teller, but parted from her husband,
James Thomas, on account of a warrant for his apprehension
having been issued against him by the magistrates of St Ives,
for attempting to take a spell from Mrs Paynter, through her
husband, William Paynter, who stated before the magistrates
that he wanted to commit a disgraceful offence. Thomas then
absconded, and was absent from the west of Cornwall for upwards
of two years. His wife then stated that the virtue was in
her and not in him; that she was of the real ‘Pellar’ blood;
and that he could tell nothing but through her. His greatest
dupes have been at St Just and Hayle, and other parts of the
west of Cornwall. He has been in the habit of receiving money
annually for keeping witchcraft from vessels sailing out of
Hayle. He slept with several of his dupes recently; and about
a fortnight since he stated that he must sleep with certain
young men at Copperhouse, Hayle, in order to protect them
from something that was hanging over them, one of them being
a mason and another a miner, the two latter lately from St
Just. He said himself this week at Truro that he had cured a
young man of St Erth, and was going on Saturday again to take
a spell from the father, a tin smelter. He has caused a great
disturbance amongst the neighbours, by charging some with
having bewitched others. He is a drunken, disgraceful, beastly
fellow, and ought to be sent to the treadmill. One of the young
men is now thoroughly ashamed of himself to think he has been
duped so by this scoundrel. We have purposely withheld the
names of a number of Thomas’s egregious dupes, with which our
correspondent has furnished us, believing that the badgering
which they have doubtless received from their friends has
proved a sufficient punishment to them, and that their eyes are
now thoroughly opened to the gross and disgraceful imposture
that has been practised upon them.”
The following is from the _Western Morning News_:—
CALLING A WOMAN A WITCH.
“At the Liskeard police court, on Monday, Harriet King appeared
before the sitting magistrates charged with an assault on
Elizabeth Wellington. The complainant had called the mother of
defendant a witch, and said she had ill-wished a person, and
the ill wish fell on the cat, and the cat died. This annoyed
the daughter, who retaliated by bad words and blows. The
magistrates expressed surprise at the cause of the assault,
but as that had been proved, they fined defendant 1s. and the
costs, £1 in all.”
ILL-WISHING.
I give the following notices as I receive them:—“I caant altogether
exackly bleve in wiches at al,” said a good dame to us; “but this I can
tell ee, our John’s wife quarrelled once with her next door neighbor’s
wife, and when John come home, like a husband always should, he took up
for his wife, ‘northin but nat’r’l chiel was a.’ Well, the woman took a
nif, and for a long time never spoke to our John; at laast, after a bit,
she used to speak to un, and like as if a was all over, and she used to
speak quite sochebl’ like. Well, John alleas was very well when he used
to meet her, but as soon as ever he got underground, he was tooken ill to
wonce; when a dedn’t meet her, a was well enuf. Well, John was advised to
go to the ‘Peller,’ and off he went to Helstun sure nuf, and the ‘Peller’
towld un to come so many times in three months, and do something
anorther, and towld un who a was that hoverlooked un, and a was that vere
woman. Well, the ‘Peller’ towld John that if a dedn’t do it, a would very
likely die sudden. Our John, dear fellow, came home, and got unbelieving,
and dedn’t do as a was towld. Wat was the konsikense? Why, in less than
three months a was a dead man. Not as I believe the woman’s a witch—no,
not I; but she had a evil mind, and what’s so bad as a evil mind?”
“I used to have a woman meeting me,” said a fisherman, “when I went
a-fishing; and she used to wish me ‘a good catch’ every time she seed me,
and I was always sure to have no luck whenever I met her; luck used to be
good enough other times. Well, I went to the ‘Peller,’ and done what he
told me I done, and the woman came and begged my pardon, and my luck was
good enough after that.” To what purpose he had been lucky I could not
divine, for he was miserably clad, and I learned that his family were,
like himself, miserable and degraded.
In a certain cordwainer’s workshop, which we could name, the following
important information was afforded by a lady customer. The worthy
tradesman was bewailing the loss of a good-sized pig that had sickened,
and being afraid it would die, he had drowned it, to make its death
easier:—“If thee’st only towld me afore, tha peg wud a bean wel enuf in
a week, I knaw. That peg wus begruged thee, thas the way a wudn’ thrive.
I’ll tel ee wat mi faathur dun wonse. He wont hof to pausans[41] an’
bot a bra purty letle peg, an’ as a wus cumin home wed’en, a womun seed
un, an’ axed faathur to sell un to hur fur five shelins fur his bargin.
Shaan’t sell un, saze faathur. Mite sa wel, saze she, an’ off she went.
Faathur tendud un an’ tended un, an’ a wudn’ grough a mossel. Wy? A was
begruged, thas wot a was. Wel, faathur wen’ off, an’ he wos towld to go
hom an fill a botel with waater, an’ bere un in the cawl. Faathur dun so,
an’ a wuden long afore the wumun caame to faathur an’ axed un wat had a
dun by hur, for she suffered agonies; an’ if heed only _forgive_ hur,
she’d nevur do so nevur no mure. So faathur went to the cawl hus, an’
brok the botel. She was at once relieved, an’ the peg got wel enuf aftur.
I can tel ee, ef thee’s honle dun that, a wud ben wel enuf, if a wusn’d
pisind.”
“Well,” said one of the company, “I believe I was ill-wished once. I had
a great beautiful cage, full of pretty canaries. I hung them out one
Sunday morning, and a woman came along and asked me to let her have one
of my birds. ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘for half-a-crown.’ She said she shouldn’t
buy none. I told her I would not give her one, and off she went. That day
week I had not a bird left; everybody said they was bethought me, and I
suppose they were; but this I do know, I lost all my canaries.”
Carne, in his “Legend of Pacorra,” well expresses the belief in the power
of ill wishes:—“Thriven!” said the woman, with a bitter laugh; “not
if my curse could avail, should they thrive! and it has availed,” she
continued, in a lower tone. “You know the wasting illness that’s fallen
on all that cruel faggot, Dame Tredray’s children, that said they ought
to thraw me from the head of Tol-y-pedden, and that I should neither be
broken nor drowned; and the hard squire of Pendine, that would ha’ had me
burned in the great bonfire upon the bicking,[42] because King Harry had
a son born,—has he ever left his bed since, or will he ever again, ken
ye?”
THE “PELLER.”
A man who has resided at several places on the south coast was known by
this name. He is said to be in possession of no end of charms, and to
possess powers, of no common order, over this and the other world. “He is
able,” writes a friend, “to put ghosts, hobgoblins, and, I believe, even
Satan himself, to rest. I have known farmers, well informed in many other
matters, and members of religious bodies, go to the ‘Peller’ to have the
‘spirits that possessed the calves’ driven out; for they, the calves,
‘were so wild, they tore down all the wooden fences and gates, and must
be possessed with the devil.’
“The ‘Peller’ always performs a cure; but as the evil spirits must go
somewhere, and as it is always to be feared that they may enter into
other calves or pigs, or, it may be, even possess the bodies of their
owners themselves, the ‘Peller’ makes it imperative that a stone wall
shall be built around the calves, to confine them for three times
seven days, or until the next moon is as old as the present one. This
precaution always results in taming the devils and the calves, and
consequently in curing them—the ‘Peller’ usually sending the spirits to
some very remote region, and chaining them down under granite rocks.”
An old woman had long suffered from debility; but she and her friends
were satisfied that she had been ill-wished. So she went to the “Peller.”
He told her to buy a bullock’s heart, and get a packet of pound pins. She
was to stick the heart as full of pins as she could, and “the body that
ill-wished her felt every pin run into the bullock’s heart same as if
they had been run into her.” The spell was taken off, and the old woman
grew strong.
An old man living on Lady Downs had a lot of money stolen from his house.
He, too, went to the “Peller.” In this case the magician performed the
spells, and the man was told the money would be returned. After a few
days, it was so; the money, during the night, was tied to the handle of
the door, and found there by the owner in the morning.
BEWITCHED CATTLE.
A farmer, who possessed broad acres, and who was in many respects a
sensible man, was greatly annoyed to find that his cattle became diseased
in the spring. Nothing could satisfy him but that they were bewitched,
and he was resolved to find out the person who had cast the evil eye on
his oxen. According to an anciently-prescribed rule, the farmer took one
of his bullocks and bled it to death, catching all the blood on bundles
of straw. The bloody straw was then piled into a heap, and set on fire.
Burning with a vast quantity of smoke, the farmer expected to see the
witch, either in reality or in shadow, amidst the smoke.
In this particular case he was to some extent gratified. An old woman who
lived in the adjoining village noticing the fire and smoke,—with all a
woman’s curiosity,—went to Farmer ——’s field to see what was going on.
She was instantly pounced on by this superstitious man, and he would
no doubt have seriously ill-treated her, had not the poor, and now
terrified, old soul, who roused her neighbours by her cries, been rescued
by them. Every person knew this poor woman to be a most inoffensive
and good creature, and consequently the farmer was only laughed at for
sacrificing thus foolishly one of his oxen.
Another farmer living in one of the western parishes was constantly
losing his cattle in the spring. Many persons said this was because they
were nearly starved during the winter, but he insisted upon it that he
was ill-wished, and that a blight was upon him.
At length, to break the spell, and discover the witch, he betook himself
to a conjuror (white witch) who lived near the Lizard Point. This learned
person, of whom several other facts are told in these pages, told the
farmer to bleed the next animal when taken ill, and to receive the blood
upon straw, being careful not to lose any of it. Then the straw and blood
were to be burnt, and whilst the blood was burning he would be certain of
seeing the witch pass through the smoke.
A young steer fell ill first; it was bled as ordered, the blood caught
upon the straw, and both carefully burnt. While this was going on, female
curiosity induced a poor weak old woman to go into the field and see what
was going on. She was well known to all, and as guiltless as a child of
ill-wishing any body, but she was seen through the smoke darted upon by
the farmer, and cruelly ill-treated.
HOW TO BECOME A WITCH.
Touch a Logan stone nine times at midnight, and any woman will become
a witch. A more certain plan is said to be—To get on the Giant’s Rock
at Zennor Church-Town nine times without shaking it. Seeing that this
rock was at one time a very sensitive Logan stone, the task was somewhat
difficult.
CORNISH SORCERERS.
The powers of the sorcerer appear to have been passed on from father to
son through a long succession of generations. There are many families—the
descendants from the ancient Cornish people—who are even yet supposed
to possess remarkable powers of one kind or another. Several families,
which have become extinct, are more especially reputed by tradition to
have had dealings with the bad spirits, and many of them to have made
compacts with the Evil One himself. Amongst the most curious of the
stories once told,—I believe they are nearly all forgotten,—are those
connected with Pengerswick Castle. A small tower alone remains to note
the site of a once famous fortified place. This castle was said to have
been occupied, in the time of Henry VIII., by a man who had committed
some great crime; but long previous to that period the place was famous
for its wickedness.[43]
HOW PENGERSWICK BECAME A SORCERER.
The first Pengerswick, by whom the castle, which still bears his name,
was built, was a proud man, and desired to ally himself with some of the
best families of Cornwall. He wished his son to wed a lady who was very
much older than himself, who is said to have been connected with the
Godolphin family. This elderly maiden had a violent desire either for the
young man or the castle—it is not very clear which. The young Pengerswick
gave her no return for the manifestations of love which she lavished upon
him. Eventually, finding all her attempts to win the young man’s love
were abortive, and that all the love potions brewed for her by the Witch
of Fraddam were of no avail, she married the old lord—mainly, it is said,
to be revenged on the son.
The witch had a niece who, though poor, possessed considerable beauty;
she was called Bitha. This young girl was frequently employed by her
aunt and the lady of Godolphin to aid them in their spells on the young
Pengerswick, and, as a natural consequence, she fell desperately in love
with him herself. Bitha ingratiated herself with the lady of Pengerswick,
now the stepmother of the young man, and was selected as her maid. This
gave her many opportunities of seeing and speaking to young Pengerswick,
and her passion increased. The old stepdame was still passionately fond
of the young man, and never let a chance escape her which she thought
likely to lead to the excitement of passion in his heart towards her. In
all her attempts she failed. Her love was turned to hate; and having seen
her stepson in company with Bitha, this hate was quickened by the more
violent jealousy. Every means which her wicked mind could devise were
employed to destroy the young man. Bitha had learned from her aunt, the
Witch of Fraddam, much of her art, and she devoted herself to counteract
the spells of her mistress.
The stepmother, failing to accomplish her ends, resolved to ruin young
Pengerswick with his father. She persuaded the old man that his son
really entertained a violent passion for her, and that she was compelled
to confine herself to her tower in fear. The aged woman prevailed on Lord
Pengerswick to hire a gang of outlandish sailors to carry his son away
and sell him for a slave, giving him to believe that she should herself
in a short time present him with an heir.
The young Pengerswick escaped all their plots, and at his own good time
he disappeared from the castle, and for a long period was never heard of.
The mistress and maid plotted and counter-plotted to secure the old
Pengerswick’s wealth; and when he was on his deathbed, Bitha informed him
of the vile practices of his wife, and consoled him with the information
that he was dying from the effects of poison given him by her.
The young lord, after long years, returned from some Eastern lands with
a princess for his wife, learned in all the magic sciences of those
enchanted lands. He found his stepmother shut up in her chamber, with her
skin covered with scales like a serpent, from the effects of the poisons
which she had so often been distilling for the old lord and his son. She
refused to be seen, and eventually cast herself into the sea, to the
relief of all parties.
Bitha fared not much better. She lived on the Downs in St Hilary; and
from the poisonous fumes she had inhaled, and from her dealings with the
devil, her skin became of the colour of that of _a toad_.
THE LORD OF PENGERSWICK AN ENCHANTER.
The Lord of Pengerswick came from some Eastern clime, bringing with him a
foreign lady of great beauty. She was considered by all an “outlandish”
woman; and by many declared to be a “Saracen.”[44] No one, beyond the
selected servants, was ever allowed within the walls of Pengerswick
Castle; and they, it was said, were bound by magic spells. No one dared
tell of anything transacted within the walls; consequently all was
conjecture amongst the neighbouring peasantry, miners, and fishermen.
Certain it was, they said, that Pengerswick would shut himself up for
days together in his chamber, burning strange things, which sent their
strong odours,—not only to every part of the castle,—but for miles
around the country. Often at night, and especially in stormy weather,
Pengerswick was heard for hours together calling up the spirits, by
reading from his books in some unknown tongue. On those occasions his
voice would roll through the halls louder than the surging waves which
beat against the neighbouring rocks, the spirits replying like the roar
of thunder. Then would all the servants rush in fright from the building,
and remain crowded together, even in the most tempestuous night, in one
of the open courts. Fearful, indeed, would be the strife between the
man and the demons; and it sometimes happened that the spirits were too
powerful for the enchanter. He was, however, constantly and carefully
watched by his wife; and whenever the strife became too serious, her harp
was heard making the softest, the sweetest music. At this the spirits
fled; and they were heard passing through the air towards the Land’s-End,
moaning like the soughing of a departing storm. The lights would then
be extinguished in the enchanter’s tower, and all would be peace. The
servants would return to their apartments with a feeling of perfect
confidence. They feared their master, but their mistress inspired them
with love. Lady Pengerswick was never seen beyond the grounds surrounding
the castle. She sat all day in lonely state and pride in her tower, the
lattice-window of her apartment being high on the seaward side. Her voice
accompanying the music of her harp was rarely heard, but when she warbled
the soft love strains of her Eastern land. Often at early dawn the very
fishes of the neighbouring bay would raise their heads above the surface
of the waters, enchanted by the music and the voice; and it is said that
the mermaids from the Lizard, and many of the strange spirits of the
waters, would come near to Pengerswick cove, drawn by the same influence.
On moonlight nights the air has often seemed to be full of sound, and
yet the lady’s voice was seldom louder than that of a warbling bird. On
these occasions, men have seen thousands of spirits gliding up and down
the moonbeams, and floating idly on the silvered waves, listening to, and
sometimes softly echoing, the words which Lady Pengerswick sang. Long did
this strange pair inhabit this lonely castle; and although the Lord of
Pengerswick frequently rode abroad on a most magnificent horse—which had
the reputation of being of Satanic origin, it was at once so docile to
its master and so wild to any other person,—yet he made no acquaintance
with any of the neighbouring gentry. He was feared by all, and yet they
respected him for many of the good deeds performed by him. He completely
enthralled the Giants of the Mount; and before he disappeared from
Cornwall, they died, owing, it was said, to grief and want of food.
Where the Lord of Pengerswick came from, no one knew; he, with his lady,
with two attendants, who never spoke in any but an Eastern tongue, which
was understood by none around them, made their appearance one winter’s
day, mounted on beautiful horses, evidently from Arabia or some distant
land.
They soon—having gold in abundance—got possession of a cottage; and in a
marvellously short time the castle, which yet bears his name, was rebuilt
by this lord. Many affirm that the lord by the force of his enchantments,
and the lady by the spell of her voice, compelled the spirits of the
earth and air to work for them; and that three nights were sufficient to
rear an enormous pile, of which but one tower now remains.