There was a famous wrestler of Ladock, called John Trevail, though more
generally known among his comrades as “Cousin Jackey,” from the common
practice of thus styling favourites who may be no relation. One
Midsummer’s day Jackey went into a neighbouring parish and threw their
champion wrestler. In his pride, he said, as he swaggered round the
ring, “I am open to a challenge from any man, and wouldn’t mind having
a hitch with the Devil himself, ef he’d venture!”
After the wrestling he passed a few hours with his comrades in the
public house. On his way home, alone, about the “turn of night,” he
came to a common called Le Pens Plat, which is two miles or more from
Ladock Churchtown. As he was going on slowly, from being somewhat
tired, and not very steady in the head, he was overtaken by a gentleman
dressed like a clergyman, who accosted him in gentle tones, saying,
“I was at the wrestling to-day, and I think you are the prize wrestler.
Am I right?”
“Yes, sir, I won the prize that I now carry,” replied Trevail, who felt
very uneasy at meeting there such a strange, black-coated gentleman at
that time of night, though a full moon and clear sky made it almost as
light as day.
“I am very fond of wrestling myself,” resumed the stranger; “it’s an
ancient, manlike exercise, for which we Cornishmen have always been
renowned; and, as I want to learn more science in my play, I should
much like to try a bout with you; say for your gold lace hat and five
guineas, which I will stake.”
“Not now, sir, for I’m tired,” Jackey replied, “but I’ll play you after
dinner-time if you please, when I’ve had a few hours rest—say two or
three o’clock, if it will please you.”
“Oh no; it must be at midnight, or soon after, now the nights are
short,” said the stranger; “it would never do for one in my position to
be seen here wrestling with you, high by day; it would scandalize my
cloth in these particular and gossip-loving times.”
Trevail hesitated, and thought of the wild words he had uttered in the
ring. He had then challenged the Devil, and he felt persuaded that he
was now face to face with his enemy, in this lonely spot. Thinking it
best, however, to be as civil as possible, he agreed to the stranger’s
proposal to meet him there at midnight, or soon after; they shook hands
to the bargain, and the gentleman gave him a purse with five guineas in
it for his stake, saying at the same time—
“You are well known to be an honest fellow, I’ve no fear of your not
bringing the money and your prize won to-day; and if, by any mischance,
I shouldn’t come, the money is yours; but there’s little doubt of my
being here sharp upon midnight.”
He then wished Jackey good morrow, and went away over the common by
another path leading northward. The poor fellow felt, as he trudged
along homeward, that he had sold himself to the Old One. In looking
down, when he said good morrow (he couldn’t bear the stranger’s eye) he
saw what he believed to be a cloven foot peeping from beneath his long
black skirts. Poor fellow! he felt as bad as gone, unless he could be
rescued some way. But he could devise no plan by which to avoid his
fate.
Dragging himself along, as best he could, afraid to look behind him, he
got to his dwelling about three o’clock in the morning. His wife, on
hearing the door opened, came downstairs. Seeing Jackey’s haggard looks
she refrained from “jawing” him as usual, when he came home late, and
the want of her rough talk made him feel worse than ever. Jackey took
from his pocket the bag of guineas, and threw it into the tool-chest,
among a lot of lumber, saying, “Molly, my dear, doesn’t thee touch that
shammy leather bag for the world! ’Tes the Devil’s money that’s in am!”
Little by little he told her what had happened on the common, and
concluded by moaning out,
“Oh Molly, my dear, thee hast often wished that Old Neck would come and
take me away bodily, and now et do seem es ef thy prayers are to be
answered.”
“No, no, Jackey my son, never think of et,” sobbed she; “whatever I
said was only from the lips outwards, and that’s of no effect, my
darlin. I can’t afford to lose thee yet for awhile. As the sayan es,
‘Bad as thee art it might be wes (worse) without thee.’ Go the wayst up
to bed, my son, et mayn’t come to that for awhile: I’ll this minute put
on my cloak and hat, and away to the passen. No good for thee, nor all
the world, to say no, for he only can save thee.”
On her way to beg Mr. Wood’s assistance she called up a croney with
whom she was on pretty fair terms just then.
“Arrea! soas; what’s the matter?” exclaimed the gossip, looking from
her chamber-window. “Have anybody cried out that you’re in such
‘stroath’ (hurry) at this untimely hour.”
“Come along to the passen’s,” replied Molly. “I’m so ‘flambustered’
(worried) I can hardly speak. Somethan dreadful have happened to our
Jackey; and you mustn’t drop a word to anybody, for your life, of what
I’ll tell ’e on the road.”
The reverend gentleman, being an early riser, was standing at his door,
looking out in the grey of the morning, when he saw the two women, in
much agitation, coming towards him. Ere he had time to speak, Jackey’s
wife, with her apron to her eyes, sobbed out, “Oh, your reverence, I be
a poor woman ruined and undone, that I be; for our dear Jackey have ben
and sold hisself to the Old One, and will be carried away bodily the
very next night ef you don’t save am! That a will.”
After some questions Mr. Wood got an inkling of the case, and said to
Molly,
“Make haste home, my good woman, and tell Jackey, from me, to cheer up;
I’ll see him presently and tell him how to act, and I’m pretty sure the
Devil will meet his match, with my assistance.”
Shortly after sunrise Mr. Wood entered the wrestler’s dwelling, and
found him stretched on the chimney-stool, sound asleep. When Jackey
knew the wise step his wife had taken—the only one indeed of any use
under the circumstances—he became tranquil, and, worn out as he was
with great exertion of body and mind, he soon forgot his troubles. Mr.
Wood roused him and said,
“Why, Jackey, is there any truth in what your wife has just told me, or
did you fall asleep on the common and have an ugly dream? The
chamois-bag that Molly spoke of may contain nothing more than
wart-stones that bad luck cast in your way; but tell me what happened
from first to last, and let’s see the bag.”
Trevail related his adventures, and concluded by saying,
“’Tes all like an ugly dream, sure enow, your reverence, and I wish it
were nothing else, but the Old One’s money es there in my tool-chest,
and I remember every word that passed; besides I should know him again
among ten thousand,—such fiery eyes I never beheld in any other head,
to say nothan of the glimpse I had of his cloven foot.”
Then Jackey brought the bag, holding it at arm’s length with a pincers,
as he might a toad. Urged on, he opened it and turned out five pieces
of glittering gold.
The parson, having examined them, said,
“The sight of these spade guineas, with what you have told me, leave no
doubt that you bargained to wrestle with the Devil; for he it is; you
could get this gold no other way; I’m certain you wouldn’t use unfair
means to obtain it. The money seems good enough, whatever mint it might
have been coined in. Yet take courage, you must be as good as your
word, and to-night meet the Old One, as you call him. Don’t fail to be
at the appointed place by midnight, and take with you the stakes, as
agreed on.”
Jackey looked very dejected on hearing this; intimated that he didn’t
like to go alone, and that he had trusted to have Mr. Wood’s company.
“You must keep your word with the Devil,” continued the parson, “or he
may come and fetch you when least expected. I shall not go with you,
yet depend on it I’ll be near at hand to protect you against unfair
play.”
Whilst saying this Mr. Wood took from his pocket-book a slip of
parchment, on which certain mystic signs and words were traced or
written.
“Secure this in the left-hand side of your waistcoat,” said he, in
giving it to Jackey; “don’t change your waistcoat, and be sure to wear
it in the encounter; above all, mind ye—show no fear, but behave with
him precisely as you would with any ordinary wrestler, and don’t spare
him, or be fooled by his devices.”
Jackey’s wife now came in. She had been “courseying” (gossiping) on the
road, to ease her mind. Mr. Wood left the dwelling; and Trevail, now in
pretty good heart, went with him some distance.
On parting the parson cautioned him to keep the matter private.
“That I will be sure to do,” replied Jackey; “I havn’t told a living
soul but my wife, and she can keep a secret first-rate—for a woman.
There’s no fear now of my showing a white feather, thanks to your
reverence.”
At the appointed time our prize-wrestler went boldly to Le Pens Plat
Common and waited near the spot agreed on. At midnight the gentleman in
black arrived by the same path he took in the morning. They looked hard
at each other for some minutes without speaking, till Trevail said,
“I’m come in good time you see, and there are the prizes on that rock.
You know the rules of the game, I suppose, that one must lay hold above
the waist; whichever makes three falls in five bouts wins the prize; it
belongs to you, as the challenger, to take the first hitch.”
Still the stranger made no reply, and kept his gleaming eyes on the
wrestler, who, feeling uncomfortable under his persistent stare, looked
towards the rock, where the prizes lay, and said, “Then, if you won’t
wrestle, take your money, and no harm done.”
That instant Trevail felt himself seized, all unawares, by his
waistband and lifted clear off the ground. It seemed to the man as if
the Old One rose with him many yards above the earth; and its
“far-re-well to all the world with me now,” thought Cousin Jackey to
himself.
During a desperate struggle in the air, however, the man got his right
arm over his opponent’s shoulder, and grabbing him on the back with a
good holdfast, took a crook with his legs. In the encounter the
wrestler’s breast, or rather his waistcoat, touched the Evil One, who
on the instant lost his hold, fell flat on his back, as if knocked
down, and writhed on the ground like a wounded snake. The wrestler
pitched to his feet as he came down, never the worse, but his temper
was now raised to such a point that he was ready to fight or wrestle
with any man or devil.
The other rose up with fury in his countenance, and exclaimed, “You
have some concealed weapon about ye that has wounded me; cast off that
waistcoat.”
“No, by golls,” replied Jackey, “that I wont, to please ye; feel my
jacket if you like; there’s no blade in am, not even a pin’s point, but
’tes you that show the queer tricks; catch me off my guard again ef you
can.”
Saying this he clenched the Old One like a vice; but they had a hard
struggle for more than five minutes, pushing and dragging each other to
and fro at arm’s length. The Old One seemed afraid to close in. Jackey
felt all out of sorts with the blasting gleams of the other’s evil
eyes, and couldn’t get a crook with his legs. At last, making a
desperate plunge, he freed himself from the Devil’s grasp; took him
with the “flying-mare,” and threw him on his back with such a “qualk”
as made him belch brimstone fumes.
The devil quickly sprung up, looking very furious, and said, “I’m
deceived in you, for your play is very rough, and I desire you to
request Parson Wood to go home. I am confused and powerless whilst he
is looking on.”
“I don’t see Mr. Wood, nor anybody else but you,” returned Jackey.
“Your sight mayn’t be so good as mine,” replied the other. “I can only
just see his eyes glaring on me from between the bushes on yonder
hedge, and I hear him mumbling something too. If I’m foiled again it
will be all owing to your confounding parson. I hope to serve him out
for this some day.”
“Never mind our passon, he can wrestle very well himself,” said Jackey
in a cheerful tone, “and do like to see good play; so come on, at it
agen.” Saying this he grasped his opponent in a “Cornish hug,” with
more vigour than ever, laid him on his back as flat as a flounder, and
said, “There, you have had three fair falls; but if they don’t satisfy
’e, I’ve more science to teach ’e yet.” The wrestler kept a sharp eye
on the prostrate one, intending to give him another thumping qualk the
instant he rose, unless he asked for quarter. During the half minute or
so that he watched the demon crameing on the ground like a serpent, the
sky became overcast, and the moon obscured with gathering clouds, which
seemed bursting with thunder. Looking closely, in the dim light, at the
gentleman in black, Jackey was frightened to see that, in a twinkling,
his feet and legs had become like those of a huge bird; his skirts
changed to a pair of wings; and his form was still changing to that of
a dragon, when he flew away, just skimming the ground at first, and
leaving in his wake a train of lurid flame; then soared aloft and
entered the pitch black clouds, which, on the instant, became all
ablaze with lightning, and thunders roared, echoing all around from
hill to hill. As the black cloud ascended, with a whirling motion, it
appeared like an immense wheel revolving in the air, flashing lightning
and shooting thunder-bolts from all around its border.
The demon’s sudden change and flight, with the noxious vapours spread
around, so confused and stupefied Jackey, that for a minute or so he
lost sight of all above and below. Whilst still like one in a trance,
gazing on the sky, now clear overhead, he felt a hand on his shoulder,
and heard Parson Wood say, in cheery tones, “Well done, my boy; I was
proud to see thy courage and good play. See, there’s the devil’s
battery,” continued he, pointing to a small black cloud so far away as
to be almost lost to view; and casting a glance round he noticed, on a
rock, Jackey’s gold-lace hat and the bag of money.
“Come, my son, rouse thee,” said he, “take up thy prizes and let’s be
off homeward.”
The wrestler took up his hat, but looked askaunt on the bag of guineas,
as if unwilling to touch it.
“Take the money,” urged Mr. Wood. “It’s fairly won; but some old
sayings are passing in thy mind such as ‘A guinea of the devil’s money
is sure to go, and take ten more with it.’ ‘What’s gained over the
fiend’s back will slip away under his belly;’ and other old saws of the
like meaning, which don’t refer to such money as that; but to unfair
gains gotten by those thieves in heart who are too greedy to be honest.
Yet even such often hold fast the cash for themselves and theirs, when
the devil cries quits by taking them all at last.”
Trevail took up the bag, and, as he pocketed it, a flash of light drew
their attention to the fiend’s retreat, now so high that it appeared a
mere dot in the clear sky. They saw a streak of fire leave it, and,
descending like a shooting star, fall in a neighbouring parish.
“Mark that, Jackey!” exclaimed Mr. Wood, “for it’s no other than your
wrestling devil, or one of his company, who has come down amongst St.
Endor witches; and it strikes me that we havn’t seen the last of him
yet.”
“There’s a hut on a moor just where he dropped,” said Jackey, “in which
a number of hags meet every now and then; and when they have agreed on
the mischief they are to work, about midnight they fly away on their
brooms or ragwort stalks. In the small hours of morning they are often
seen beating homewards in the shape of hares. Many old hags over that
way get what they like for the asking. If any one of them hap to be
refused she’ll shake her bony finger at the one who denies her, and
say, ‘You will wish you had,’ and sure enow, from the fear of some ill
wish falling on them or theirs, the old witch is pretty sure to get all
she looked for.”
On their way home Jackey thanked the parson most heartily for his
protection, and told him that in the first bout he thought all was over
for him in this world, when the Old One rose with him off the earth
“ever so high.”
“You are mistaken in that, my son,” replied Mr. Wood, “it was only your
fright on being seized unawares and suddenly lifted off the ground that
made ye think so; for, to give the devil his due, he never tried to fly
away with you. I saw it all, and precautions had been taken to guard
against foul play on his part, if any tricks were attempted, as you
will understand by-and-bye, when I tell you of my night’s work.”
Jackey didn’t contradict the reverend gentleman, but he was of the same
opinion still; and whenever he told the story in after years, always
asserted that on his first hitch he was taken up “towers high,” and
still getting higher, until he came to close quarters with the Old One.
“I have had a busy time of it,” continued Mr. Wood. “Long before
midnight I was on the ground—which I knew from your description to be
the place of your encounter,—and summoned thither many powerful
spirits, who attended with pleasure to see such a wrestling. They
hadn’t, of late, beheld the like, though, in days of yore, contests
between men and demons were not unfrequent. The one you have conquered
is a devil of high rank. He came attended by a great number of lower
degree; and precautions were taken to place around ye a ring of my true
and valiant spirits, who made your opponent’s attendant fiends remain
in an outer circle.
“Besides, there were crowds of vagrant spirits wandering to and fro, on
the earth and in the air, as is their custom from midnight to
cock-crowing; all of them stopped to witness your contest. They were
all visible to me, though by you unseen; and well for ye it was so,
because a sight of such beings would be sure to shock ye or any other
unprepared mortal. Many in the crowd were very ghastly in appearance.
Your demon’s retainers were in their usual form, which suits them for
air or earth.
“Many bets were made between the spectators in both circles and
overhead; and a great many of the demon’s backers are bound to serve
the winners for ages. They don’t much mind that, however. Time hangs
heavy on their hands; and of all spirits, fallen ones are the most
restless, as it goes against their grain to do mortals a good turn. For
the sake of some change in their wearisome existence they rise
tempests, serve the evil behests of witches, and perform other acts of
deviltry, such as we often hear of; yet they are a melancholy set that
one might pity.”
The wrestler expressed his wonder at what the parson related; yet, from
what he had heard of devils’ doings, wasn’t much surprised.
Over a while Mr. Wood resumed, “I am somewhat chagrined though all has
gone well on the whole; for I was watching to see thee give three fair
falls, intending then to rush on the devil and shame him, if possible,
with a lusty thrashing with my hunting-whip, it’s fastened round my
waist; but, as bad luck would have it, in getting hastily over the
hedge my skirts caught in brambles, and I dropped my ebony staff. That
instant, whilst it lay on the earth, the demon took a form which used
to be common amongst the infernal brood. At his signal the attendant
fiends formed a thunder-cloud to receive their chief. The guardian
spirits, well pleased, only quitted their charge when my hand was laid
on your shoulder; all the rest you saw.”
“I have often heard,” said Jackey, “of a dragon that burned Helston,
was that a devil too?”
“Very likely, or something as bad,” replied Mr. Wood. “The tradition
handed down simply says that, in old times, before there was a bar
formed at the Loe, and when the tide flowed past the site of St. John’s
Mill, a dragon often came from over sea and burnt the ancient town. Yet
the dragon which visited Helston might only have been a northern
pirate’s ship known by that name.
“I was going to tell you that I owe this wrestling devil a grudge. Who,
indeed, in my place wouldn’t be vexed with the beast for taking the
disguise he so impudently assumed? Decked as he was in a three cocked
beaver and black garments, he might easily pass himself off for a
clergyman, without a close scrutiny.”
“I thought sure he was,” said Jackey, “he wore a white neck-cloth too;
and one could hardly make out if he had a cloven foot or no.”
From walking slowly home it was broad day when they arrived at the
parsonage. Mr. Wood gave the wrestler a substantial breakfast of cold
beef, bread, and ale. After a hearty meal, Jackey said, “I should be
glad to serve your reverence at any hour by day or by night, for I owe
you more than life.”
“Not so, my son,” the parson replied, “for I have only done my duty in
guarding from the wolf a wild and thoughtless one of my flock.”
The money, however, did the wrestler but little if any good, and it was
the cause of quarrels between him and his wife, and of both with their
neighbours. Jackey soon learnt how it was rumoured all around that he
had sold himself to the Old One to have his wishes gratified for a few
years, with the usual consequences to follow. Now he had told nobody
but his wife—of course, Mr. Wood’s prudence was not to be
suspected,—and she had only spoken of her trouble to her crony, who
went with her to the parson. Accordingly, dame Trevail accused her
gossip of having spread many falsehoods round the parish, and abused
her for the breach of confidence.
The crony retorted by saying, “Fool that thee art, however cust (canst)
thee expect me, or anybody else, to keep thy secrets, when thee cusn’t
keep them thyself? And what do I care; I han’t had any share of thy
dirty money; by golls! I wedn’t touchen weth a peer of tongs; I han’t
got a spoon long enow to sup weth thy old gentleman. All the neighbours
do say that of late, since thee hast had thy new rig out, from top to
toe, thee art become so huffish and toit (uncivil in reply) that they
can’t venture to say ‘What cheer,’ or give thee the ‘time o’ day’; and
that poor Cousin Jackey han’t got a minute’s peace in his own house
with thy constant ballarggan (abuse) and naggan that will fret am to
death before long. Then thee mayst wring thy hands and cry ‘bad as
Jackey was, a es wes (worse) to live without am.’ Well, soase! my
bedgownd and towser (large coarse apron to come all round and tie
behind) es good enow for me or any other honest workan woman. They say
that thee wert decked out like a lady in church a Sunday, with thy new
covertail (kirtle) gownd, who but thee forsooth! A clean bedgownd,
check-apron, and quilted-petticoat do more become thee. ’Tes no wender
people do gibe thee for thy pride; and ’tes as good as an old ‘merable’
play to hear what they do say about thee. Now, go thee wast along home,
and think over what I’ve told thee.”
For many years after this Jackey continued to be the champion wrestler
of his neighbourhood; and the story of his midnight adventure took the
form of a droll just like the above.
Shortly after Mr. Wood gave the wrestler his ghostly aid, the reverend
gentleman had much fiendish annoyance on that account, as will be seen
in the sequel to this story.
One may remark that many old folks often compare a droll subject to an
old miracle play, though they have but a misty idea of what it was. The
other day an elderly man of Newlyn, in speaking of old droll-tellers
meeting together and spinning their yarns, said, “It is as good as an
old miracle-play to hear them.” On my asking what an old miracle play
was, he replied that he couldn’t say exactly, but from what he had
heard, he thought it was much the same as an old guise-dance. He wasn’t
much out, as “St. George and the Dragon” was the guise-dance he had in
view.