outlived all modern innovations. On some particular day in September or
October, (I forget the exact date,) about when the hazel-nuts are ripe,
the festival of nutting-day is kept. The rabble of the town go into the
country to gather nuts, returning in the evening with boughs of hazel
in their hands, shouting and making a great noise. In the meantime the
journeymen tailors of the town have proceeded to the adjoining village
of Mylor, and elected one of their number “Mayor of Mylor,” taking care
the selection falls on the wittiest. Seated in a chair shaded with green
boughs, and borne on the shoulders of four stalwart men, the worthy
mayor proceeds from his “good town of Mylor” to his “ancient borough
of Penryn,” the van being led by the “body-guard” of stout fellows
well armed with cudgels,—which they do not fail to use should their
path be obstructed,—torch-bearers, and two “town serjeants,” clad in
official gowns and cocked hats, and carrying each a monstrous cabbage
on his shoulder in lieu of a mace. The rear is brought up by the rabble
of the “nutters.” About mid-day a band of music meets them, and plays
them to Penryn, where they are received by the entire population. The
procession proceeds to the town-hall, in front of which the mayor
delivers a speech, declaratory of his intended improvements, &c., for
the coming year, being generally an excellent sarcastic burlesque on
the speeches of parliamentary candidates. The procession then moves on
to each public-house door, where the mayor, his council, and officers
are liberally supplied with liquor, and the speech is repeated with
variations. They then adjourn to the “council-chamber,” in some
public-house, and devote the night to drinking. At night the streets are
filled with people bearing torches, throwing fireballs, and discharging
rockets; and huge bonfires are kindled on the “Green,” and “Old Wall.”
The legal mayor once made an effort to put a stop to this Saturnalia, but
his new-made brother issued prompt orders to his body-guards, and the
_posse comitatus_ had to fly.
The popular opinion is, that there is a clause in the borough charter
compelling the legitimate mayor to surrender his power to the “Mayor
of Mylor” on the night in question, and to lend the town sergeants’
paraphernalia to the gentlemen of the shears.
II.—THE MAYOR OF ST GERMANS.
One of the first objects that attracts attention on entering the village
of St Germans is the large walnut-tree, at the foot of what is called
Nut-Tree Hill. In the early part of the present century there was a very
ancient dwelling a few yards south-east of this tree, which was supposed
to have been the residence of some ecclesiastic of former times. Many
a gay May fair has been witnessed by the old tree; in the morning of
the 28th of the month splendid fat cattle, from some of the largest and
best farms in the county, quietly chewed the cud around its trunk; in
the afternoon the basket-swing dangled from its branches, filled with
merry laughing boys and girls from every part of the parish. On the
following day, the mock mayor, who had been chosen with many formalities,
remarkable only for their rude and rough nature, starting from some
“bush-house,” where he had been supping too freely of the fair ale, was
mounted on wain or cart, and drawn around it, to claim his pretended
jurisdiction over the ancient borough, until his successor was chosen at
the following fair. Leaving the old nut-tree, which is a real ornament
to the town, we pass by a stream of water running into a large trough, in
which many a country lad has been drenched for daring to enter the town
on the 29th of May without the leaf or branch of oak in his hat.
III.—THE MAYOR OF HALGAVER MOOR.
The people of Bodmin had an old custom of assembling in large numbers on
Halgaver Moor in the month of July, and electing a “Mayor of Misrule,”
for the punishment of petty offenders. Our old historian gives a quaint
description. “The youthlyer sort of Bodmin townsmen use sometimes to
sport themselves by playing the box with strangers, whom they summon to
Halgaver; the name signifieth the Goats’ Moore, and such a place it is,
lying a little without the town, and very full of quagmires. When these
mates meet with any raw serving-man or other young master, who may serve
and deserve to make pastime, they cause him to be solemnly arrested for
his appearance before the Mayor of Halgaver, where he is charged with
wearing one spur, or wanting a girdle, or some such like felony, and
after he hath been arraigned and tried with all requisite circumstances,
judgment is given in formal terms, and executed in some one ungracious
prank or other, more to the scorn than hurt of the party condemned. Hence
is sprung the proverb, when we see one slovenly apparelled, to say, ‘He
shall be presented in Halgaver Court.’”
THE FACTION FIGHT AT CURY GREAT TREE.
On a green knoll in the centre of the intersection of the roads from
Helston to the Lizard, and Mawgan to Cury, flourished an ash-tree of
magnificent dimensions. The peculiarity of its position, together with
its unusual size, in the midst of a district singularly destitute of
trees, rendered it famous throughout the surrounding neighbourhood; and
in designating a special locality, reference was, and still continues
to be, made to “Cury Great Tree,” as a position generally known. During
the last fifty years the tree has been gradually decaying, and at
present only a portion of the hollow trunk remains, which is rapidly
disappearing. It stands about half way up a gentle rise facing the north;
and in passing over the road, the country people speak of a dim tradition
of a time when the “road ran with blood.” The occasion of this, which is
almost forgotten, was a faction fight, on a large scale, between the men
of the parishes of Wendron and Breage, happening about a hundred years
since. A wreck took place near the Lizard, and the Wendron-men being
nearest, were soon upon the spot to appropriate whatever flotsam and
jetsam might come in their way. Returning laden with their spoils, they
were encountered at the Great Tree by the Wendron-men bound on a similar
errand, and a fight, as a matter of course, ensued, which was prolonged
till the following day. The contest is said to have been a most terrible
one, each party being armed with staves. The savage nature of the fight
may be inferred from the following fact:—A Wendron-man named Gluyas,
having been disabled, was put upon the top of the roadside hedge, out of
the _mêlée_, when he was seen by a Breage termagant known as “Prudy the
Wicked,” and by her quickly dragged into the road, “Prudy” exclaiming,
“Ef thee artn’t ded, I make thee,” suiting the action to the word by
striking Gluyas with her patten iron until he was dead. There is some
account of Prudy’s having been taken before the “Justice,” but she does
not appear to have been punished. These fights between parishes were so
common in those days that any death occurring in the fray was quietly
passed over as a thing of course, and soon forgotten. “So late as thirty
years since it was unsafe to venture alone through the streets of the
lower part of this town (Helston) after nightfall on a market-day, owing
to the frays of the Breage, Wendron, and Sithney men.” So writes a friend
residing in Helston.
TOWEDNACK CUCKOO FEAST.
The parish feast takes place on the nearest Sunday to the 28th of April.
It happened in very early times, when winters extended further into the
spring than they now do, that one of the old inhabitants resolved to be
jovial notwithstanding the inclemency of the season; so he invited all
his neighbours, and to warm his house he placed on the burning faggots
the stump of a tree. It began to blaze, and, inspired by the warmth and
light, they began to sing and drink; when, lo, with a whiz and a whir,
out flew a bird from a hollow in the stump, crying, Cuckoo! cuckoo! The
bird was caught and kept by the farmer, and he and his friends resolved
to renew the festal meeting every year at this date, and to call it their
“cuckoo feast.” Previous to this event Towednack had no “feasten Sunday,”
which made this parish a singular exception to the rule in Cornwall.
This feast is sometimes called “crowder” feast, because the fiddler
formed a procession at the church door, and led the people through the
village to some tune on his “crowd.”
THE DUKE OF RESTORMEL.
A very singular custom formerly prevailed at Lostwithiel, in Cornwall,
on Easter Sunday. The freeholders of the town and manor having assembled
together, either in person or by their deputies, one among them, each
in his turn, gaily attired and gallantly mounted, with a sceptre in his
hand, a crown on his head, and a sword borne before him, and respectfully
attended by all the rest on horseback, rode through the principal street
in solemn state to the church. At the churchyard stile, the curate, or
other minister, approached to meet him in reverential pomp, and then
conducted him to church to hear divine service. On leaving the church, he
repaired, with the same pomp and retinue, to a house previously prepared
for his reception. Here a feast, suited to the dignity he had assumed,
awaited him and his suite; and, being placed at the head of the table,
he was served, kneeling, with all the rites and ceremonies that a real
prince might expect. This ceremony ended with the dinner; the prince
being voluntarily disrobed, and descending from his momentary exaltation,
to mix with common mortals. On the origin of this custom but one opinion
can be reasonably entertained, though it may be difficult to trace the
precise period of its commencement. It seems to have originated in the
actual appearance of the prince, who resided at Restormel Castle in
former ages; but, on the removal of royalty, this mimic grandeur stepped
forth as its shadowy representative, and continued for many generations
as a memorial to posterity of the princely magnificence with which
Lostwithiel had formerly been honoured.[56]
This custom is now almost forgotten, and Lostwithiel has little to
disturb its quiet.
POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS.
“The carrion crow, that loathsome beast,
Which cries against the rain,
Both for her hue, and for the rest,
The devil resembleth plain.
And as with guns we kill the crow
For spoiling our relief,
The devil so must we o’erthrow
With gunshot of belief.”
GEORGE GASCOIGNE.
CHARMING, PROPHETIC POWER, ETC.
CHARMING, AND PROPHETIC POWER.
“Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone
Wi’ the auld moone in her arme;
And I feir, I feir, my dear master,
That we will com to harme.”
SIR PATRICK SPENCE.
I cannot more appropriately preface this section, than by quoting the
remarks of a medical gentleman in large practice, on the subject of
charms:—“In common with most of the lower classes of the West of England,
the miner is not free from many absurd superstitions, (though I am glad
to observe, even in the last few years, a great change has taken place,
and such follies are gradually declining.) Some think themselves endowed
with a species of supernatural agency, and, like the Egyptian alluded to
by Othello, call themselves charmers, and profess to stop the flowing
of blood, (no matter from what cause—a divided artery even,) to remove
specks from the cornea, (which, in the dialect of the country, are
called canons!) and cure erysipelas, by charming. But I have never been
able to ascertain by what means the charm is supposed to work. I only
know that it is an everyday occurrence for mothers to bring children
to the surgery, afflicted with either of the diseases mentioned, and
say that they have had them charmed; but they were no better, such
want of improvement having obviously excited the greatest feelings of
astonishment. I knew a person connected with the mines, who felt himself
endowed with prophetic powers; and in his case the divination was not
confined to events momentous and terrible, but extended to the most
trifling minutiæ of life.
“He with grave simplicity told me one day, by way of exemplifying the
proper estimation in which his prophetic powers were held by his wife,
that on one occasion, his pig having wandered from his sty, she came to
him to ascertain in what direction it was to be sought for; and on his
professing utter ignorance of the animal’s peregrinations, she exclaimed,
in reproachful tones, ‘_Ah, you are not so pious as you used to be. I
remember the time when you could have told me in an instant the exact
spot to have found it_.’”[57]
FORTUNE-TELLING, CHARMS, ETC.
In relation to this subject, and confirming an opinion already expressed
in the existence still of a belief in magic and charms, I print the
following communication from a lady of considerable literary ability:—
“Every country, it may be safely inferred, has its own individual,
perhaps characteristic, Charm-record; and inquiry into it would more
than probably recompense the labour, by the light it would let in on
the still but little investigated philosophy of the human mind, and the
growth of popular superstitions. The portion of our country best known to
the writer of these remarks is Cornwall, remarkable for the picturesque
wildness of its scenery, and not less so for its numerous superstitions.
The Rev. Charles Kingsley, in his ‘Yeast,’ has availed himself, with
his usual tact and power, of one of the most striking of these, having
reference to the cruel treatment of the Jews, who were sold as slaves
to work in the mines; the evil treatment they experienced being avenged
on modern miners, by the terrors the souls of the departed Hebrews
inflicted, in returning to the scene of their former compulsory toil,
and echoing the sounds of the workmen now labouring in flesh and blood.
But this is a digression from the main object of this article—viz.,
the belief in charms. Several years ago, while residing at Falmouth, I
remember to have heard of a man in humble life, named Thomas Martin,
whose abode was said to be at a village in the neighbourhood of Redruth,
and who accomplished wonderful cures of children subject to fits, or
personally injured by any deformity, by his power of charming. This
man also practised soothsaying to a considerable extent, and revealed,
with unquestionable accuracy, where articles mysteriously abstracted
were concealed. If a cow suddenly lost her milk, whether witchcraft
had exerted its malignant influence on the non-producing animal or no,
such a personage could not but exercise an important power over the
rustic population of the neighbourhood. But belief in the mysterious
intelligence of Martin was by no means confined to the peasant class.
A highly-respected and even ladylike person told the writer, with all
the gravity becoming such a communication, that she had once made an
appointment with Thomas Martin to meet him at a certain stile, for the
purpose of receiving from him the prediction of her future lot,—in
other words, having her fortune told; and hastening thither at the time
appointed, was horrified to find the stile occupied by a large black
snake. As Martin did not make his appearance, she inferred that he had
assumed the serpent form, and not being disposed to hold any intercourse
with a being of such questionable exterior, she hastened away,
determined never more to risk the attainment of the knowledge she coveted
through a probably diabolic channel.
“This anecdote is given as veritable experience of the belief which
may prevail in a mind fairly intelligent, and generally rational in
conducting the ordinary business of life.
“Martin’s reputation was disputed by no one, and that it continued
unimpaired to the close of his life reflects no inconsiderable credit on
the shrewdness and sagacity of his mind and his power of guessing.
“In the town where the writer has been residing for the last four
months, there is a female, advanced in years and of good character, who,
according to the report of many persons,—one a relative of her own,—is
peculiarly endowed with the power of charming away the disease called the
“kennel,” an affection of the eye, which causes extreme pain. A young
lady’s father was one evening suffering severe pain in the right eye, and
after trying various remedies without effect, (the agony having greatly
increased,) in her despair she sought an occasion to leave the house, and
hastened at once to the abode of the charmer. She told her errand to the
woman, who said that many had come to her for the purpose of ridiculing
her, and she did not like to say anything about charming—she did not wish
to be laughed at. On this the young lady assured her that her object
in true faith was to obtain relief for her suffering father, and by no
means to indulge the spirit of ridicule. On this representation she was
satisfied, and desired to know the _kind_ of kennel which affected the
gentleman’s eye. This information the daughter was unable to give her,
being unacquainted with their peculiarities; ‘because,’ said the charmer,
‘there are nine kinds of kennels,’ intimating at the same time that a
different charm might be said or applied to each,—so that, to avoid
omitting any, she must say the charms for all, in order that the one
especially affecting the diseased eye should be certainly included in the
charm. She went up-stairs, and remained about half an hour. On her return
she addressed the young lady, and told her she might go home, where she
would learn whether the eye had been relieved. She took no money for
her incantation. Any little present might be offered at a subsequent
visit, but no direct payment was ever requested, and indeed would have
been declined. The amazement and pleasure of the anxious daughter, on
her arrival at home, will be imagined, on learning from her father that
the intense pain in the eye had ceased during her absence, though he had
not been made acquainted with her errand. The influence of the faith
of another, in this case, on the relief of the afflicted person, has
no verisimilitude save with that of the father of the demoniac in the
gospel, or the removal of the son’s fever in consequence of the faith
of the father. I have no reason whatever to question the truth of this
story, which was confirmed by the wife of the gentleman thus relieved.
“A still more curious instance of the effect of charm, though quite of
another character, was related to me by the same party. The gentleman
referred to being much afflicted with cramp, his wife was earnestly
advised, by a country woman to whom she mentioned the circumstance, to
request her husband to place his slippers, with the toes turned upward,
at the foot of the bed. Half smiling at the wise counsel, yet perhaps not
altogether incredulous, he followed the good woman’s advice, and to his
great comfort found himself unaffected by his dreaded enemy throughout
the night. His faith being thus established in the _anti-cramp_ influence
of upturned slippers, he took care to place them, or to have them
placed, in the prescribed attitude on several successive nights. One
night, however, he was again seized with some appalling twinges, and
bethinking himself of the cause, suddenly recollected that in hastening
into bed he had not observed the important rule; instantly he had the
slippers restored to their proper position, and, to his astonishment and
delight, the pain ceased, and visited him no more. After this experience
of the wonderful effects that followed so simple a specific, it may be
easily imagined that he did not again risk the return of the cramp from
neglecting it. Such phenomena seem beyond the power of explanation on
any known medical principles. If any one more than usually versed in
the subtle power exercised on the body by the mind, can throw light on
the _slipper_ cure of the cramp, he will deserve much at the hands of
physiological and mental science.”
S. E. M.
THE ZENNOR CHARMERS.
Both men and women in this parish possessed this power to a remarkable
degree. They could stop blood, however freely it might be flowing. “Even
should a pig be sticked in the very place, if a charmer was present,
and _thought_ of his charm at the time, the pig would not bleed.” This
statement, made by a Zennor-man, shews a tolerably large amount of faith
in their power. The charmers are very cautious about communicating
their charms. A man would not on any account tell his charm to a
woman, or a woman communicate hers to a man. People will travel many
miles to have themselves or their children charmed for “wildfires,”
(erysipelas,) ringworms, pains in the limbs or teeth, “kennels” on the
eyes, (ulcerations.) A correspondent writes me:—“Near this lives a lady
charmer, on whom I called. I found her to be a really clever, sensible
woman. She was reading a learned treatise on ancient history. She told
me there were but three charmers left in the west,—one at New Mill, one
in Morva, and herself.” Their charm for stopping blood is but another
version of one given on another page.
“Christ was born in Bethlehem;
Baptized in the river Jordan.
The river stood,—
So shall thy blood,
_Mary Jane Polgrain_, [_or whatever the person may be called_,]
In the name of the Father,” &c.
J—— H——, The Conjurer of St Colomb.
This old man was successful in persuading his dupes that he owed his
powers over evil spirits to his superior learning and his unblemished
life. This assumption of piety was well preserved, and to the outside
world his sanctity was undoubted. The only practice which can be named as
peculiar to H—— was that of lighting scores of candles and placing them
around the meadow near his house. Of course such a display would attract
much attention; and J—— succeeded in conveying an impression to the minds
of the country people that this process was required to counteract the
spells of the witches. When this old fellow has been summoned, as he
often was, to the houses supposed to be under the influence of evil, or
to be bewitched, his practice was not a little original, though wanting
in all that dignifies the office of an exorcist. When he arrived at
the house, before speaking to any one, he would commence operations by
beating with a heavy stick on the wooden partitions, screens, or pieces
of furniture, so as to make the greatest possible noise, shouting loudly
all the time, “Out! out! out!—Away! away! away!—to the Red Sea—to the Red
Sea—to the Red Sea.” Frequently he would add, with violent enunciation
and much action, a torrent of incoherent and often incomprehensible
words, (locally, “_gibberish_.”) The proceeding being brought to a
close, and the spirits of evil flown, every part of the house was
ordered to be well cleansed, and the walls and ceilings to be thoroughly
lime-washed,—certainly the only sensible part of the whole operation.
When J—— H—— was applied to respecting stolen property, his usual
practice was to shew the face of the thief in a tub of water. J—— drove a
considerable trade in selling powders to throw over bewitched cattle.[58]
CURES FOR WARTS.
I.
The vicar of Bodmin found, not long since, a bottle full of pins laid
in a newly-made grave. I have heard of this as an unfailing remedy;
each wart was touched with a new pin, and the pin then dropped into the
bottle. I am not quite certain that it was necessary that the bottle
should be placed in a newly-made grave; in many cases burying it in the
earth, and especially at a “four cross-roads,” was quite sufficient. As
the pins rust, the warts decay.
II.
A piece of string should be taken, and as many knots tied on it as there
are warts on the body; each wart being carefully touched with the knot
dedicated to it. The string is then to be buried, and the warts fade
away as it decays. A few years since a shipwright in Devonport dockyard
professed to cure warts by merely receiving from an indifferent person a
knotted string,—the knots of which had been tied by the afflicted. What
he did with the string I know not.
III.
To touch each wart with a pebble, place the pebbles in a bag, and to lose
the bag on the way to church, was for many years a very favourite remedy;
but the unfortunate person who found the bag received the warts. A lady
once told me that she picked up such a bag, when a child, and out of
curiosity, and in ignorance, examined the contents. The result was that
she had, in a short time, as many warts as there were stones in the bag.
IV.
Another remedy was to _steal_ a piece of meat from a butcher’s stall in
the public market, and with this to touch the warts, and bury it. As the
meat putrefied the warts decayed.
V.
I remember, when quite a child, having a very large “seedy wart” on
one of my fingers. I was taken by a distant relation, an elderly lady,
residing in Gwinear, to some old woman, for the purpose of having this
wart charmed. I well remember that two charred sticks were taken from the
fire on the hearth, and carefully crossed over the fleshy excrescence,
while some words were muttered by the charmer. I know not how long it was
before the wart disappeared, but certainly, at some time, it did so.
A CURE FOR PARALYSIS.
Margery Penwarne, a paralysed woman, about fifty years of age, though
from her affliction looking some ten years older, sat in the church porch
of St ——, and presented her outstretched withered arm and open palm to
the congregation as they left the house of God after the morning service.
Penny after penny fell into her hand, though Margery never opened her
lips. All appeared to know the purpose, and thirty pennies were speedily
collected. Presently the parson came with his family, and then she spoke
for the first time, soliciting the priest to change the copper coins into
one silver one. This wish was readily acceded to, and the paralytic woman
hobbled into the church, and up the aisle to the altar rails. A few words
passed between her and the clerk; she was admitted within the rails, and
the clerk moved the communion-table from against the wall, that she might
walk round it, which she did three times.