Ladock men were famous ringers of old; but from a few weeks before
their champion’s victory over the demon-wrestler, the fine old bells of
their church had been silent because their ropes were quite worn out,
and other gearing connected with them required repairs to be used with
safety. Shortly after Trevail’s victory, an evil spirit, in the form of
a very large bird, with coal-black plumage, and fiery eyes, but of a
kind unknown to Ladock folks, was seen perched on the tower for several
nights in succession, where it remained for hours jumping from one
pinnacle to another, and making an unnatural clamour, which was heard
far away. Shortly after it came by day, and even during Divine Service.
The pastor and his flock were distracted by its croaking and cawing, as
if in derision.
When the clerk, with five or six other elderly men and two women, who
formed the choir, quavered through the psalms—which they sung in parts,
much in the mode of old “three-man-songs,”—this feathered fiend, just
over their heads, on the tower, would utter such infernal noises as to
make sad discord of the old men’s music. The clerk seldom used a book,
as he knew pretty well, by heart, the three or four psalms they usually
sung; but sometimes he would commence with a verse from one, and then
give out portions of others; and now his memory was so confused by
irritation that one Sunday he concluded by giving,—
“And now may Heaven amend us all,
And into bliss us bring!”
Happily the two female singers discovered his mistake as he was going
to finish the verse with—
“This was the hunting of the Cheviot:
God send us all good ending!”
Every now and then the accursed thing would mimic all sorts of familiar
but jarring sounds; sometimes it screeched “like a pig caught in a
gate;” then quickly changed its note to imitate the cry of hounds in
full chase; or the cackling and scolding of old women. By such noises
coming down from the elevated site, many of the congregation were
constrained to burst out in roars of laughter, which, like yawning, is
very catching. Prim folks, who put great restraint on themselves in
order to retain a solemn demeanour, suffered such pains that they had
to leave Church and give vent to their pent up feeling.
Mr. Wood was nonplussed; the Evil One was too high up to be reached
with his hunting-whip, and the methods by which he had formerly
exorcised demons now failed. From this one’s position, he could not
comply with all the prescribed formulas, such as enclosing him in a
magic circle, &c. The reverend gentleman felt his fame as an exorcist
was at stake. He told his people that the accursed thing was no other
than a mean mocking devil sent thither by the demon-wrestler to torment
him, out of revenge for his aid to their champion, whereby Jackey’s
victory and the Evil One’s discomfiture were assured.
The increasing vexation continued for many weeks, until Mr. Wood was
struck with an idea which he turned to good account; and which should
be recorded for the benefit of others who may ever have to encounter
the like difficulties.
One Sunday, after evening service, when the congregation had
dispersed—the clerk and sexton waiting in the porch,—the parson came
out of the Church sighing, “Oh! for how long is this grevious trial to
endure;” and, turning to his clerk, said, “We and the people might as
well have stayed at home for all the benefit derived by them from
either the service or the sermon this afternoon. I could not help
observing that their attention was more given to the horrid noises
which reached them from the tower than to my instructions from the
pulpit.”
“It’s a very hard tryal for you, to be sure,” replied the clerk, “but,
as for me, I’ve more than once had a great mind to smash my bass-viol
and rush out of Church; ’tes always hard work for me to keep our
singers in time and tune; and now, with this screechan devil on the
tower, we are always in confusion, and might as well sing ‘Chevy Chace’
for all the words anybody can hear; et wed try the patience of Job ef
he, like me, had a ‘pare’ of singers to lead, and the devel makan such
a ‘drilzey’ (irritating noise) over hes head; it wed be wes for am than
havan to listen to hes conceited com——”
“Pray thee leave Job and his comforters for the time,” exclaimed Mr.
Wood. “The good man, like many another, might well say, ‘Save me from
my friends.’ I noticed, too, that many strangers come from a great
distance, more and more every Sunday, drawn hither by curiosity. I have
tried all authorised means for expelling demons that the position taken
by this one admits of; but I find the truth of what has long been said,
that, of all devils, those of the mocking kind are the most difficult
to subdue; they may be likened unto hairbrained, self-conceited fools
amongst mortals, who can only be ruled by the rod, and this fiend keeps
too high up to be reached by my whip. Yet sometimes, indeed, when I
read to the fiend at the utmost pitch of my voice, he remained so still
that I hoped he was being subjected to my will; but the conjuration or
incantation ended, he always hopped upon a pinnacle, cocked his tail,
danced round, and cried caw, caw, as much as to say it’s all a farce,
and I like to hear your voice.”
“Now only to think of es emperance,” murmured the clerk.
“I have heard, too,” continued Mr. Wood, “that some thoughtless
youngsters have proposed to try on him the virtues of powder and lead.
I am glad to learn, however, that they have been better advised; the
result of such temerity would, probably, be something awful for them. I
now come to the particular matter I wish to speak with you about.
“During a long pause I had to make in my sermon this afternoon, whilst
the plumed devil took his turn, a thought occurred to me which I hoped
might be a happy inspiration.”
“Goodness grant et,” cried the impatient clerk; “do ’e tell me what et
es, and hear the devil screaman now.”
“You know what is said in Holy Writ respecting little children,”
resumed Mr. Wood. “You likewise know that sage old folks have a saying,
‘the Evil One can’t endure the sight of an innocent child,’ and——”
“Aye, verily,” interrupted the clerk; “bless me, sure ’tes a wender I
dedn’t think of that before, why old people—who are the only ones that
know anything—say a babe in a house es more use to keep evil sperats
out of en than a five-pointed star (pentagram) cut on the drussell
(door-sill), and any number of hos shoes nailed to the lentran
(lintel). Besides, we all know the rash lawyer who summoned the sperat
of that unjust stewart, Jan Tregagle, into Court, by sayan, ‘ef
Tregagle seed the money paid, may Tregagle appear and declare et.’ By
the time the words were well out of hes mouth, the enraged sperat stood
before am, sayan,—‘Thee hast found et easy to bring me here, but thee
west find et harder to put me away agen;’ and the enraged Tregagle wed
ha torn the lawyer lem from lem, ef he hadn’t snatched a little child
from a woman’s arms and held et in hes own. Weth that protection he
defied the wild sperat—who was jest the same as a devil, from beean
weth them so long,—drove am into a corner and pinned am there, while
all the other people tore out of Court, for their lives, except the
cheeld’s mother and the judge. As a was ’sizes there happened to be
many passens in town (Bodmin), and they, on hearan of et, went all
together to lay Tregagle. You know what trouble they had nearly all
night, and couldn’t quell the sperat till the Rector of Roach came
among them and——”
“Ho!” exclaimed the parson, “west thee keep me here all night with thy
endless fables about Tregagle, that we have all heard from our
childhood. Listen to what I was about to say regarding the means
whereby I hope to expel this fiend from Ladock.
“I suppose there are several unbaptised children in the parish, as many
women have been in childbed, I know, since last Ladock-tide (the parish
feast), but none of their children have been christened.”
“Haif a dozzen, or more, have ben in the straw,” replied the old man,
“and all their children are kept tel next feasten-tide, to be
christened then, accordan to custom, that the same treat may serve for
witnesses (sponsors) and feasters; that et may be ‘the more the
merrier,’ for feasten-time; and some of them are nearly ready to tumble
in agen before they’ve returned thanks for their last deliverance. I
was gwean to say just now,” continued the clerk, as Mr. Wood was about
to speak, “that ef you had only been in the world in Tregagle’s time,
and qualified for a sperat-queller and devel-driver as you are now,
that Evil One, who es more like a devel than a mortal’s sperat, wedn’t
ha been left to carry on, in the way he ded, for many years; after
sweepan the sand from one West country cove to another, in a crack,
when they were miles asunder; stoppan up the Loo, and so changan
Helston from a seaport to an inland town; then back again for another
job, and frightnan people out of their lives almost, with the devel and
hes hounds chasan am round and round Gosmoor and about, tryan to keep
am from the Chapel on the rock, where Tregagle always took refuge.
Happely passons fixed am, at last, to team out Dosmery. There he’ll
have to stay, for ever and ever and aye. He mait as well try to dip the
ocean dry weth hes leaky croggan (limpet shell) as that bottomless
pool, which as a part of the sea, they say, as et do fall and rise with
the ebb and flow of the tide; and for a few minutes after the tide’s
turn to ebb, there’s a whirlpool in the meddle of en, when bushes and
other light things floatan near are sucked down, and sometime
afterwards they rise agen in Falmouth Harbour or St. Austell Bay, I
forget which,—some say the one and some ’tother. I wanted to ax ’e
somethan about ’n, fearan I shud forget, but——”
“Stop, for goodness sake,” cried the parson, “leave Dosmery and
Tregagle to the charge of Old Nick and be—be attentive to what I have
farther to say regarding our own devil, and the means to be essayed for
driving him; and when we have happily concluded, we will—on some
winter’s night—overhaul these old stories, to see if there be a few
grains of truth underlaying the mass of fables.
“Now, as I take it that recently baptised children have the greatest
power to drive away evil spirits, I wish you to go round the parish
to-morrow, and request all prudent women who have lately undergone the
pains and perils of childbirth, to come and be churched next Sunday
afternoon, if they are able, and to bring their babes to be christened
at the same time. If a goodly number can’t be got to come next Sunday,
let it be on the following week, but arrange with the mothers that they
all come at the same time.”
“I’ll do the best I can, accordan to your wishes,” replied the clerk,
“but they won’t be willan to come before the feast, because poor people
don’t care to make two treats when one would do.”
“Tell them to give the sponsors cake and ale, for the time,” replied
Mr. Wood, “and put off their chief entertainment till the tide, when
we’ll have a merry time of it. The feasten week I’ll go round and visit
them all; and you, being fiddler-in-chief, shall have enough to do.
Call at my house when you come back to tell me how you have got on, and
that we settle on the number, and other matters to be observed.”
Whilst talking they had walked slowly towards the parsonage. The clerk
having agreed to Mr. Wood’s proposals, they wished each other good
night and separated.
Early on the following morning Clerk Courtney, as he was called, began
his journey round the parish to ask the mothers of all unbaptized
children to bring them to be christened the next Sunday afternoon.
After stating the urgent reason for his request, the women replied to
the effect that they would have preferred leaving their christenings
till the feast, for the sake of economy; yet being desirous, above all
things, to please their good parson, they promised to attend, as
required, and thought it nothing strange that they should be wanted for
such an occasion, as they knew the trouble the devil had given, and the
prevalent belief in the power of young children to rout evil spirits.
Few of the good dames were provided with wheaten flour, as barley-bread
was the “staff of life” then in all labourers’ and most small farmers’
households. They told the clerk, however, that if they couldn’t get
wheat to take to mill, in time for making a christening cake, they
would buy a few penny worth of biscuit, so as to have white-bread for
offerings on their way to be “uprose.” They would on no account neglect
this old custom of giving to the first person met on the way to be
churched a good slice of cake or wheaten bread of some sort; it was
believed to bring good luck to the giver, receiver, and child.
The mother also drew a presage, from the first person by whom met or
overtaken on leaving her threshold. She regarded encountering boy or
man as a good omen that her next born would be a boy. Such was the
dislike of many mothers to meeting another woman that they often left
the path, or, if they saw no way for avoiding a meeting, the poor woman
passed the omen of ill-luck on the right hand, as she would a witch,
and appear not to see her. Yet their most general plan was to turn back
home, if not far from it, and touch the “cravel” (mantle-stone across
the head of an open chimney) with her forehead, and cast into the fire
a handful of dry grass, or anything picked up, on the way back, that
would burn; then start again, hoping for better luck.
The practice of resorting to the hearth and touching the “cravel” [1]
with the head, is regarded as the most effectual means of averting any
impending evils of a mysterious nature.
The reasons for their preference of boys to girls may be found in the
old sayings:—“While the boy is away his bread winning, the maid is home
doing nothing but spinning.” “Boys can take care of themselves, but
maidens can’t.”
The dames would all get a “half-a-strike” of wheat each and take it to
mill if they could. They liked going thither to “serge” (sift) their
flour to their liking, and hear the latest gossip from the miller’s
wife, or other women who brought their grist. Mills were so noted as
places for scandal, that any slanderous tale used to be called a “mill
story.” The mill, too, was the usual place of rendezvous for young
folks of summers’ evenings, when they generally had a dance, to music
from the miller’s fiddle,—all the old millers could play dance tunes.
If the miller hadn’t leisure, some of the merry company either beat up
the time on a “crowd” (sieve-rind with a sheepskin bottom, used for
taking up corn, flour, &c.), or they sung verses of old ballads which
suited the measure. We will no longer linger over our pleasing old
customs.
As most of the sponsors were courting couples, living in the parish,
the clerk gave them timely notice, too, that the young women might get
up their best rig-out, as he called it, against the grand occasion.
Some of the mothers, poor dears, who were so earnest that there should
be no “hitch” in the matter, accompanied the clerk to houses where they
apprehended finding any difficulty, to help him over it. They had no
occasion, however, for the women, without exception, agreed they could
go through “fire and water” to please their good parson. “Bless hes
heart,” said they, “hes door es always open to a poor body in want;
he’d give the shirt from hes back to any one in much distress; and he
esn’t a bit sticked up, though wise man as he es, he might well be
proud of his learnan.”
“’Tes never his way,” said another, “to be like the old priest of the
fable, who was ever ready weth hes blessan, but wed never bestow a
farthan; as for our passon, he wed have us all be merry and glad tell
the end.”
“Aye, we all know there esn’t his equal round about,” said the clerk.
“Moreover, et will be something for ’e all to remember weth pride; and
your cheldren’s cheldren may well feel exalted to hear how their
‘grammars’ help’t to rout the devil from Ladock.”
Before night the old man was assured by as many mothers as he thought
sufficient that they would bring their babes to be christened the next
Sunday. On his way home he called in at several farm-houses, in all of
which he was made welcome with something substantial to eat, and good
strong ale to help him on. The folks were always glad to have him and
his violin at their merry-making times, such as “gulthise”
(harvest-feast) weddings, christenings, feasten tides, &c., although he
had no great variety of dance tunes.
Soon after day-down he arrived back to the parsonage, not a bit the
worse for liquor, because he had taken little else than good wholesome
home-brewed. Having told Mr. Wood how he had succeeded, the reverend
gentleman, after a pause, said, “You have done well, better in fact
than I expected; the number of women to be depended on amounts to
eight, though you thought them more. Now everything is significant. It
was held by wise men of yore, and is by many of the present day, that
peculiar virtues belong to particular numbers, representing the signs
of planetary and other powers; indeed, a magic square is as powerful
for controlling demons as the impress of Solomon’s seal, which you call
the five-pointed star. So to neglect nothing which might tend to our
success, we will have a fortunate, or what you would call a lucky
number of children. You know everybody hereabouts use nine in all their
charms and many other matters. They also call old stone circles
‘nine-maidens,’ though they are, for the most part, formed of many more
than nine stones. The latter part of this name, however, is a double
corruption, first from the old Cornish men (stone) into medn (just as
pen is changed to pedn); thence it became Saxonised to maiden, which,
in turn, suggested foolish legends about dancing-maidens turned to
stones to account for this unmeaning name. The general use of nine
seems to indicate that the ancient inhabitants regarded it as a sacred
number. According to eastern sages, twelve is the best of all, because
it contains the number of signs on the sun’s yearly circuit, and for
various other reasons.
“So we will make up a round dozen with four of the youngest christened
last year. You can go and select them to-morrow; the mothers will make
no difficulty, as they have nothing to provide; and here, take this,”
said Mr. Wood, placing in the other’s hand a good sum in silver, “and
give it amongst the poor women, that they may buy biscuit for their
offerings, and not want to ask for trust.”
The clerk, having supped heartily, promised to find the additional
number on the morrow, and went home well content, particularly so
because “the master,” as he called the parson, had given him money for
the poor mothers.
Next Sunday afternoon a dozen matrons came with their infants and the
sponsors. There were many strangers as well as the regular
congregation, and the devil on the tower, making his usual disturbance.
There were nine women churched; and as many children christened, after
service; when the parson walked out of Church, followed by twelve
mothers, with their babes in their arms, and the godfathers and
godmothers, in a procession, marshalled by the clerk. They were all
arranged in lines, five deep, the mothers in front, opposite the belfry
door. Mr. Wood directed each mother to pass her child from one of its
sponsors to the other, the last handing it to him.
He then held it up awhile, that the devil might behold it, and returned
it to its mother.
All the babes having been thus passed from hand to hand, their mothers
held them aloft, whilst the parson walked to and fro, before them,
reading and cutting the air, in various figures, with his ebony staff.
He read and read for a long spell, in loud tones, yet the infernal
being still remained,—pretty silent, however,—“clutted in” close by a
pinnacle, on the tower’s eastern edge, where he seemed quite heedless
of the important proceedings below.
At last some of the children, becoming tired, perhaps, began to cry,
the others followed suit, and the twelve blessed babes, each one and
altogether, seemed trying their utmost to scream the loudest; whilst
the parson read or recited with increased vehemence. Then it was that
the fiend hopped over on to the western parapet, and stretching his
neck glanced down on the good folks.
The effect of what he heard and saw was magical; at least it seemed so
to the spectators.
Giving a prolonged scream, which was heard for miles around, he darted
straight up, to the height of a bow-shot, or more; then, shaping his
course towards St. Ender, he quickly disappeared.
Many of the spectators said they saw sparks and blue flames thrown off
with every flap of his huge wings; but all of them agreed that his
display of fire was nothing like what they had expected to behold when
a devil takes his departure. Over a while, when it was found that he
didn’t return, there was great rejoicing in Ladock; and he has
nevermore been seen there from that time to this. The bells were put in
order without delay, and their frequent joyous peals kept all such
fiends at a distance.
Note.—The clerk spoken of in the foregoing story was much respected by
his neighbours on account of his ancient lineage; he was a descendant
of the Courtneys who long owned Tretnurf, in Ladock, and lived there
for many generations.