We are long lingering amongst those old folks whom we are much inclined
to regard as rude and uncouth. Yet our vaunted refinement has not
discovered anything much better to supply the loss of the honest
simplicity and the all-above board character of people of the last
century.
We may observe that the foregoing remarks, with respect to the
restricted education of the generality of people of the west, do not
apply to many who were regarded as the bettermost class of farmers, or
rather gentlemen-farmers, as they all resided on, and farmed their own
estates. Many of this class were kept long enough at a grammar-school,
in Penzance, or elsewhere, to learn a little Latin and mathematics; at
least they acquired a sufficient knowledge of mensuration to enable
them to measure their own fields. Many of those gentlemen were so much
given to the study of astrology that they were regarded as conjurors by
their domestics and more ignorant neighbours, who, seeing the
horoscopes and schemes in the gentlemen’s old books, believed these
strange-looking figures to be the secret signs of the means used for
dealing with the invisible world, or for commanding the spirits of
light and darkness, over whom it was devoutly believed that many
skilful astrologers of the west had (by means of their books) perfect
control. Among the most noted adepts in this science, the best known
were Parson Corker, of Buryan; Mr. Jenkyn, of Trezidder, or Alverton;
Dr. Maddron, of St. Just; Mr. Ustick, of Morvah; and Mr. Matthew
Williams, of Mayon.
Some of the stories still related of this gentleman will serve as
examples of the light in which he, and others of his class, were
regarded by the more ignorant:—
One Sunday morning, whilst this gentleman was in Sennen church (which
is only a few minutes’ walk from his house) he felt very uncomfortable.
Something told him that all was not right at home. He left the church
in the midst of the service, and ran home just in time to find that his
over-curious old housekeeper had taken one of the conjuring-books out
of the chest, the key of which he had missed and which she had stolen
that morning for the sake of satisfying her itching curiosity. When he
entered the room, he found her transfixed in her master’s arm-chair
looking like death in a fright, the book open before her in the place
of some of the most powerful spells for calling up the worst of evil
spirits. The woman appeared like one in a fit, without the power to
speak or move, until her master came in the very nick of time to
prevent the spirits (that she had unwittingly summoned by reading the
words, and tracing over the signs in the book with her finger) from
carrying her off bodily. Some of the spirits became visible; others
lifted her, chair and all, off the floor when she stopped reading; and
her fright made her fall into a fit. Mr. Williams read and read till
the sweat boiled from his body, before he had the power to drive the
evil spirits from the room, and the old housekeeper had to undergo a
severe penance before she could be free of all danger from them.
Another time it was found that the gentleman’s furze rick was
diminishing much faster than could be accounted for, for the
consumption of fuel in his own house. He consulted his books, and
discovered by his art that some women from the Cove made a practice of
carrying away the furze every night. The very next night, after all
honest folks should be in their beds, an old woman of the Cove came as
usual to the rick for a burn of furze. She made one of no more than the
usual size, which she tried to lift on to her back, but found that she
could not move it. Then she took out half the furze, but was still
unable to lift the faggot or so left in the rope. Becoming frightened,
she tried to get out the rope and run, but found that she had neither
the power to draw out the rope, nor move from the spot herself. Of
course, the conjuror had put a spell on her, and there she had to
remain throughout the cold winter’s night, until Mr. Williams came out
and released her in the morning from the spell, and as she was a very
poor old soul let her have a burn of furze, but she took good care
never to come any more, nor any of the rest of the women, who soon
found out how she had been served.
These puerile stories, and many more of the same class, often recounted
about Mr. Williams, and many other gentlemen comparatively well
educated for those times, are not without some significance, as they
denote the power that in all times and places may be acquired by the
learned over the minds of the ignorant, through their fears of the
mystical and unknown.
It has been said that Miss Dennis (the learned lady before spoken of)
caught the disorder, which was the cause of her slow but premature
decease, by watching the courses of the stars during cold winter’s
nights, for the sake of making calculations. This lady corresponded
with many of the learned of her time. As these old astrologers had
perfect faith in the principles of their ancient science, Astrology
with them was not such mere imposition as it is generally supposed to
have been.