We leave it for those, better qualified for the Task, to describe how
the Arduous Labour of Years, in endeavouring to obtain Public Buildings
worthy of the town has progressed until, crowned with the Success WHICH
WE UNITE IN CELEBRATING to-day with Joy and Gratitude; only hoping that
the Sun may be as bright and cheering as the open countenance of our
Indefatigable Chief Magistrate, that THE GLADSOME SOUNDS OF TRUMPET,
BUGLE, FIFE, AND DRUM MAY PENETRATE THE GLOOMY HAUNTS OF ALL THE SOUR
AND SULLEN, MAKING THEM LEAVE THEIR MOPING MELANCHOLY, AND HEARTILY
UNITE, “ONE AND ALL,” LIKE TRUE CORNISH PEOPLE, IN SHOWING THAT THEY
PARTICIPATE IN THE GENERAL SATISFACTION NOW FELT, AND SOUGHT TO BE
EXPRESSED IN THE MOST PLEASING MODE THAT AT LAST THE NOBLE BUILDING HAS
BEEN RAISED. LONG MAY IT GATHER WITHIN ITS WALLS A HEALTHY, UNITED, AND
PROSPEROUS PEOPLE.
THE GHOSTS OF CHAPEL-STREET AND St. MARY’S CHAPEL-YARD.
Little more than fifty years ago, the building in Chapel street, which
now (1867) serves as a dispensary, with the adjoining house at the
entrance to Vounderveor-lane, formed a mansion which belonged to, and
was occupied by an elderly lady, Mrs. Baines. At that time there was,
in the rear of this mansion, a large garden, or rather orchard and
garden, extending westward nearly to New-road, and bounded on the south
by Vounderveor. The south side of the lane was an open field, and at
its west end there were no dwellings.
Where the School of Art, the Methodist vestries, and other houses
stand, was all known as Mrs. Baines’s orchard. This pleasant spot, in
which the lady took great delight, was stocked with the choicest apple,
pear, plum, and other fruit trees then known. The town boys soon found
out the fine flavour of Mrs. Baines’s fruit, which was to them all the
sweeter for being stolen. When the apples were ripe and most tempting,
the mistress and her serving-man watched the garden by turns—the man
during the first part of the night, and madam would descend in her
night-dress, every now and then, to see that all was right, in the
small hours of morning.
One night Mrs. Baines, suspecting that man John was rather careless in
keeping guard, sallied forth to see if he was attending to his duty;
and, not finding him anywhere about the garden, she went to a tree of
highly-prized apples and shook down a good quantity, intending to take
them away, and thus prove to John that, through his remissness, the
fruit was stolen. But her man Jan, armed with an old blunderbus,
charged with peas and small shot, was at no great distance dozing under
a hedge. The rustling of shaken branches, and noise of falling apples,
awoke him, and, seeing somebody, as he thought, stealing apples from
their favourite tree, he up with his gun and let fly at his mistress,
exclaiming, at the same time, “Now you thief, I’ve paid ’e off for
keeping me out of bed to watch ’e! I know ’e, I do, and will bring ’e
before his worship the mayor to-morrow!” “Lord help me, I’m killed!”
cried the lady, as she fell on the ground. Jan stayed to see no more,
but, frightened out of his wits, ran away and couldn’t be found for
several days. At last he was discovered up in Castle-an-dinas, half
starved. By good luck the old lady’s back was towards her man when he
fired, and the greatest portion of the charge took effect below her
waist. Doctor Giddy was fetched, and, after some delicate surgical
operations, which the lady bore with exemplary patience, pronounced her
fright to be more than the hurt.
However, a short time after the old lady got shot, she died; and then
she kept such ward and watch over her orchard that few were so bold as
to enter, after day-down, into the haunted ground, where the ghost of
Mrs. Baines was often seen under the tree where she was shot, or
walking the grounds of her garden. Everybody knew the old lady by her
upturned and powdered grey hair under a lace cap of antique pattern; by
the long lace ruffles hanging from her elbows; her short silk mantle,
gold-headed cane, and other trappings of old-fashioned pomp.
There are many still living in Penzance who remember the time when they
wouldn’t venture on any account to pass through Vounderveor-lane after
night-fall, for fear of Mrs. Baines’ ghost. Sometimes she would flutter
up from the garden or yard (just like an old hen flying before the
wind), and perch herself on the wall: then, for an instant, one might
get a glance of her spindle legs and high-heeled shoes before she
vanished.
Her walking in the garden might have been put up with, but she soon
haunted all parts of the premises, and was often seen where least
expected both by night and at noon. The ghost became so troublesome, at
last, that no person could be found to occupy the house, where she was
all night long tramping about from room to room, slamming the doors,
rattling the furniture, and often making a fearful crash amongst glass
and crockery. Even when there was no living occupant in the house,
persons, standing in Chapel street, often saw through the windows a
shadowy form and lights glimmering in the parlours and bed-rooms.
The proprietors, driven to their wits’ end, unwilling that such
valuable property should become worse than useless, all through the
freaks of this vexatious ghost, at last sent for a parson, who was much
famed in this neighbourhood as an exorcist (we think the name of this
reverend ghost-layer was Singleton), that he might remove and lay the
unresting spirit; and he succeeded (by what means our informant knoweth
not) in getting her away down to the sand-banks on the Western Green,
which were then spread over many acres of land where the waves now
roll. Here, this powerful parson, single-handed, bound her to spin from
the banks ropes of sand for the term of a thousand years, unless she,
before that time, spun a sufficiently long and strong one to reach from
St. Michael’s Mount to St. Clement’s Isle. The encroaching sea having
swept away the sandbanks, Mrs. Baines’ ghost is probably gone with
them, as she hasn’t been heard of for some years, and, if she returns,
the present occupiers of the old abode wouldn’t mind her.
About the time that Mrs. Baines’s ghost carried on its freaks in the
mansion, an open pathway passed through St. Mary’s chapel-yard, which
was then often crossed, as it shortened the distance to the Quay; but,
for a long time, few persons liked to pass through the burial-ground by
night, because a ghostly apparition, arrayed in white, was often seen
wandering amongst the tombs, from which doleful sounds were frequently
heard. Sometimes the fearful figure was also met on the path or seen in
the chapel porch. One dark and rainy night, however, a sailor, who
neither knew nor cared anything about the ghost of St. Mary’s, in
taking the short cut through the chapel-yard, came as far as the
chapel-porch, when the ghost issued forth on the path and there stood,
bobbing its head and waving its shroudings before him.
“Halloa! Who or what are you?” said the sailor.
“I am one of the dead!” the ghost answered.
“If you are one of the dead, what the deuce do you do here above
ground? go along down below!” said the sailor, as he lifted his fist
and dealt the ghost a stunning blow over its head, which laid it
sprawling on the stones, where it remained some time, unable to rise or
descend, until a person passing by assisted it to get on its legs, and
discovered that a frolicksome gentleman, called Captain Carthew, who
then lived in the house which is now Mrs. Davy’s property, had long
been diverting himself and frightening the towns’-folk out of their
wits by personating the ghost, which was most effectually laid by Jack
Tar, and served out for its tricks on the timid and credulous.