“And each, in turn, would some fond theme relate;
Not of perplexing plans to mend the State,
But seriously renew some oft-told tale,
Or ancient legend of some spectre pale,
Or wondrous deeds by their good fathers done,
And stories strange, long passed, denied by none.”
John Williams.
Being on the road to Zennor with a stranger to Cornwall, who wished to
see all he could of the place and people, we had the good luck to fall
in with a very intelligent old miner, returning to his home from Ding
Dong. He at once entered into conversation with that ease and candour
for which the true Cornish have ever been remarkable.
Our destination for the night being Zennor churchtown, and his cottage
not being far out of our road, we gladly accepted his invitation to
accompany him home and rest awhile; the more so as we were soon
sensible that our companionship was mutually agreeable.
Our comrades’ constant flow of joke and story, told in the quaint way
so peculiar to Droll-tellers of the West, made the time pass
unobserved, until we found that night was closing around us as we sat
by his fireside, when (wishing to retain some of the tinner’s peculiar
words, old proverbs, and the novel points of some rare drolls) the
stranger produced pencil and paper. The writing materials seemed to
suggest
‘A chield’s amang ye, taking notes,
And faith he’ll prent it,’
as our very communicative friend ‘fought shy’ all at once. After we had
assured him that nothing of what he told us should be published without
his consent, he gave the reason for his sudden reticence; which, as he
no longer objected to taking notes, I will give in his own language.
My old friend began by saying, “The reason I felt a dislike to your
writing down any of the foolish drolls I have been telling is because
many have lately published stories pretended to be Cornish which would
make strangers think us void of common sense, and that our lingo is
such a gibberish as was never jabbered in this world nor any other.
They should remember the old saying about foul birds dirting their own
nests. True, I remember the time when many used more old Cornish words,
and spoke broader than we do now; as, for example, in St. Just, where I
was born and bred. In the ‘daddy,’ ‘mammy,’ and ‘porridge’ days we
called the cape the caape; and the hall we called the hale. Then, over
a while we got a good schoolmaster among us, and came to ‘father,’
‘mother,’ and ‘broth.’ We learned to say the ‘cape’ and ‘hall,’ just
like other folks. At last, what they called good times came, and, would
ye believe it? many of the St. Tusters,—the ‘red-tailed droans,’—got so
rich and proud that nothing would do but they must send their boys and
girls away to boarding school. When they came back it was nothing but
‘pa,’ ‘ma,’ and ‘soup,’ and ‘will you take a walk down to the keep?’
The poor old ‘hale’ was then refined into ‘hele,’ with their confounded
mincing, unless they called it a ‘parlour.’ A ‘parlour,’ forsooth. It
was but the old hale, make the most of it. Besides, I was rather shy
when the paper came in sight, because we have many manners and customs
which appear singular to strangers, when they first come among us,
although we, who are raised in the midst of them, think all our ways
quite natural, and that it must be the same everywhere else. Faith,
before a spell of bad times came, and sent me and a good many other
Cousin Johneys off to the Lakes and Mineral Point for a time, where I
believe many of us would have stopped and sent home for our families if
it were not for the cursed kick-up the Yankies made about their
darkies, and old Virginia’s shore. Well, before we crossed the
herring-pool I was as bad as the old woman down in St. Ives, who was
four score and had never been over the hill farther than the top of the
Stennack, before Whitfield came one Sunday to preach on Trecroben, when
all the town went to hear him. The old dame, among the rest, reached
the top of the hill, and looking round, declared she never thought the
world was half so large before, and supposed the hills she could see
far away must be in France, or Spain, or perhaps some of the foreign
countries she had read of in the Bible.
“I found when I came back from Yankee-land that a lot of our Cousin
Johneys who had learned to read and write a little had been telling
what they called Cornish stories to enlighten strangers; but, the
traitors, they have been telling such a lot of stuff as is only likely
to turn their own country and comrades into ridicule. Those who try to
make fun of their mates for the amusement of strangers, or for the sake
of showing off their own fancied superiority, should have their
windpipes slit, or their bread-bags ripped up, the dastardly crew.”
When we were about to leave, our old friend said “My dears, if you must
go to Zennor churchtown for the night, let me beg of ye don’t take the
people you may meet with there for a fair sample of Cornish folks;
that’s the only place in the County where the cow ate the bell-rope and
no wonder the poor half-starved thing should have gone into the belfry
and eaten the straw rope that’s fixed to their old crazy kettle, for
their cattle are half-starved in winter and when they die off in spring
they are sure to think they were bewitched, and off they go to the
pellar to know who the old crone is that owes them a grudge? The church
is well worth seeing, if they have not destroyed the curious old
carved-work that used to be there. You need not be surprised if they
have, as they but lately allowed one of their largest quoits
(cromlechs) to be broken up and carried off.
“In the next parish, where they live on fish and potatoes every day,
with conger-pie for a change on a Sunday they arn’t much better.
“Towednack people say that the devil would never let them raise their
tower any higher—a good thing to have some one to put the fault on, if
it’s only Old Nick; but, whatever he should get up a storm and blow the
stones down for, if they only attempt to place pinnacles on their
stumpy tower, it’s hard to say; yet such is the story Towednack folks
will tell ye.
“About St. Ives, too, the less said the better. I wouldn’t advise you
to go there, unless you can bear the sight and smell of all that’s
filthy, without having your stomach turned.
“But, Lord, what can one expect of the people who whipped the hake
round the market? When you come round to Lelant you will get among
civilized people again, and it’s well worth going farther to see
Trecroben hill and its giant’s castle, with the giant’s chair on Trink
hill, and many other places, which you have no doubt heard of.” We
passed a few days, however, very pleasantly amongst Zennor folk; and
gleaned the following stories, &c., of this section from them.
We reached Zennor churchtown about eight o’clock, and found very fair
accommodation at the public-house; as good, indeed, as one might expect
in such a retired district.
By the kitchen fire, were seated four elderly men, who appeared to be
well pleased with their ale and each others company. The chief talker
of these four old cronies was the captain or manager of Zennor
tin-stamps.
He said much about the witches and tin-streamers who lived in Trewey or
Trewey-bottom, long ago; and of Kerrow and other ancient hamlets, with
the people who dwelt there in days of yore.
During the evening, Cap’n Henny, as they called him, spoke of a retired
seaman who had been much troubled by a shipmate’s ghost, until he
plucked up courage and spoke to his old comrade’s spirit. One story
brought up another, till it was near midnight, when the company left
for their homes.
The hostess said, that Jackey (her husband) was gone over to Trevidja
to gulthise [8], if he should be home to-morrow, he would tell us some
stories she believed to be true, because her husband knew the people
the stories were told of; “but as for Uncle Henny’s,” said she, “they
are all, or nearly all, about people who lived so long ago that one
don’t know whether they’re true or no.”
The schoolmaster referred to, Mr. John Davey, was well versed in
various branches of mathematics, and took good care that his pupils
should be thoroughly grounded in the most practically useful problems.
Many young miners of St. Just acquired such a taste for geometry about
this time that the boards, &c., near mine-workings were often found
covered with diagrams from Euclid. They hit on the Chinese method of
demonstrating the famous 47th problem, 1st book, by drawing the diagram
to a scale, producing the squares of the three sides, dividing them
into small squares by scale, thus proving that the sum of the squares
of the two lesser sides was equal to the square of the larger. With
many other problems of the same class, they took similar practical
means of demonstration and were not slow to see their application. Mr.
Davey and his pupils also took great pride in answering mathematical
queries proposed in the ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’s Diary,’ and other
magazines of this period. Nor did he neglect general literature for the
more practical subjects, as an anecdote, which was told me by a pupil
of Mr. Davey, will prove:—This young man was much addicted to spending
his evenings in public-houses for the sake of having company and
excitement more than from any love of drink.
Being in Penzance Market, and seeing some curious old books,
illustrated with rare engravings, and knowing that Mr. Davey was fond
of such works, he bought two or three volumes for the sake of
gratifying the old gentleman, not attempting to understand them
himself. One was an odd volume of Shakespeare, containing some of the
historical plays; another Spenser’s Faerie Queene; the other
Goldsmith’s poems and plays. Mr. Davey pointed out the most beautiful
passages in the plays of the royal Henrys, and explained the history of
the time of these dramas, helping him at the same time to enjoy the
beauties of Fairy-land and all its revelries. The young miner no longer
wanted public-house amusements. Before the winter was over, with a
small portion of the money he would have wasted, but for the delight he
had in reading the old volumes over and over again, he bought complete
editions of Shakespeare, Spenser, &c., and soon acquired a good
acquaintance with many of the best English authors.
A few years afterwards he received a hurt at the mine, which disabled
him for hard work, when he opened a school in Buryan Churchtown, which
procured him a comfortable maintenance, and his greatest pleasure
seemed to be to speak of his old master with love and gratitude.
No doubt much of the superior intelligence of St. Just men of the
present time is owing to the training of the excellent old
schoolmaster, who was altogether a remarkable man for the time and
place. We want more such schoolmasters and fewer preachers in the West.