Cornwall has a fascination for artists, and it is said that Newlyn and
St. Ives have many more reputations to make. On the south coast, where
studios are few, we often saw artists of the unflinching, realistic
school painting directly from Nature, their models standing patiently
enough in exposed places. And such models! There are grand heads and
faces among these fisher-folk, and one can get models for saints or
Vikings. A collection of sketches made between Polperro and the
Dodman was shown us, which would do splendidly for every character
in a Passion-play. Judas was there, who would, and did, receive his
pieces of silver before sitting for his "effigy" to be drawn. He looked
the part to perfection. And the sketches of women were splendid also,
which is not remarkable, as they possess, in these parts, much of the
languorous grace of their Southern sisters, the eyes being incomparably
beautiful.
The sea is the mother of life and beauty, and that is why Venus rose
from the waves. The birthplace of the goddess might have been here,
long ago, when the short, stiff galleys of Greek and Phoenician
rowed along the coast, marvelling at its beauty, after the pulseless
shores of the tideless Mediterranean. Here were the dark cliffs and the
sapphire waters falling on the golden sands. And in the early morn a
soft, diaphanous mist was borne onwards by the breakers, so those who
saw said, loveliness rose from the foam, and they called the vision
Aphrodite--the awakening of Nature into beauty. The mariners took the
vision home, and Aphrodite, the life and movement of the sea, became
the guardian of mariners--the morning and the evening star.
The Beach is the shy maiden, seeking always the shadow of rocks and
cliffs, and running into caves to hide from the light of day, when
adorning herself with sea-shells, and rainbow medusæ, and deep-tinted
anemones, and all the treasures which the ardent sea casts into her
lap. And the Sea is the wooer, restless and masterful, wooing ever and
in every mood, and making his lovesong in sweet lullaby, and plaintive
moan, and martial beat as of ten thousand drums heralding the march of
grand battalions.
When you see a girl in a boat you may write her down "stranger," and
if you see her handling a pair of sculls, you may be sure of it.[K]
The mothers of the blue-water men have as little as possible to do
with the sea, and are content to admire its greens and blues shot with
flaming sky tints, and dream of "heavenly costumes" in like shades, at
so much halfpenny per yard. Strong prejudices exist in places against
women having anything to do with boats; but custom differs greatly on
the north and south coasts as to what a woman may or may not do, when
the men come ashore. That women and cats, hares and rabbits, bring "bad
luck" is a very general superstition; so a woman never goes out with
her husband fishing, and seldom steps into a rowboat. Where public
sentiment is weak, and they can if they like, they don't like; and,
in places, the art of making and mending nets is entirely lost to the
women, though formerly, to make and mend nets, of all sizes, was a part
of every girl's technical education; and in a fisher's family her
fingers were never idle in making good the rents made by rocks and the
sharp teeth of the voracious dogfish.
[K] Fowey is an exception.
Guy said it was probably the fault of the men that the women left their
boats and gear alone. On rivers and lakes, where girls were encouraged,
they took to boating like anything, and if there was a prettier picture
than a girl sculling, or a girl eight, he'd like to see it. The men had
no doubt frightened the women in the course of centuries with stories
of sea-monsters and fairies, and no wonder they threw over net making
and mending at the earliest moment.
The sea has its "bucca," just as the land has its piskie, and there is
the same uncertainty as to the origin of the one as of the other. We
picked up a story, and the Bookworm called it
THE ROMANCE OF A BUCCA.
It is known to all fishermen living at the Cove, and fishing with
crab-pots, long lines, spilters, and drag-nets, that Bucca could
bring good luck or bad luck just as he was minded, but that he never
interfered with any man who owned a big boat, or went far away to sea
with drift-nets for the capture of pilchard, herrings, and mackerel, in
their season. Bucca did not move with the times, and got out of the way
of great trawlers, and craft worked by steam and motors, churning up
the sea when it was restful, and defying wind and tide; but was content
to lord it over those who went in and out in little boats, and left him
his share of "luck" upon the beach, when they landed. The fisherman
often saw him, when the water was clear, working in and out amongst
the crabs and lobsters, half-hidden with sea-weeds; and it was always
counted as good luck to see Bucca at work, because he who saw was sure
to have a fine catch. Sometimes he was seen, when the mists rolled up,
sitting amongst the shags upon the rocks, holding court amongst them,
and the noise which the birds made was taken for song, so the fishermen
of the Cove called the mist "music," and they say to one another that
the "music" is coming off the land, when the mist is rising and rolling
away in clouds.
Bucca was not always Bucca, but a young prince who loved a maid, "tall
as a lyllye refreshed by a showere," but, alas! shut up in a convent
to be out of his reach. Then he grew desperate, and bribed a "wise
woman" to change him into a pigeon, so that he could come and go, and
the maiden took the pigeon into her cell, and hid it in her bosom. The
prince won the maiden's heart, and she grew more lovely and contented,
which was her undoing, for the Lady Superior thought something must be
wrong when a maiden under her charge was happy; so she sent secretly
to the holy monk living near by, who caught the pigeon in the cell, and
loosened the spell of the "wise woman," when the prince stood confessed
the maiden's lover in his human shape. The maiden clung to him, and he
was bold and used bold threats, so the doors flew wide open, and they
would have fled, but the holy monk cursed him with a curse, and turned
him into a Bucca for a thousand years, or until such time as he should
win woman's love.
[Illustration: FIGURE-HEAD OF THE "CALEDONIA," MORWENSTOW.]
A Bucca is not fair to see, being human but in form, with a dark face,
like weather-beaten rock, and big head with tangled masses of fine
seaweed for hair; but he has power to change at will into fish or bird,
though not into anything with a human soul. So when the maiden looked
upon the prince, she shrank from a thing so loathsome, and he rushed
down the nearest cliff and into the sea, and sought companionship
with fishes, until he learnt the ways of a Bucca, and could exercise
dominion in his new element. He could neither drown in the sea, nor die
upon land, for a thousand years, or until such time as he might win
woman's love.
The prince became Bucca of a cove wherein there were but few dwellers,
and the fishermen became accustomed to see him sitting amongst the
seaweed, and on the rocks amongst the sea-birds, and noticed that he
was always sad and lonely, so they had compassion in their hearts, and
spoke him fair. Bucca rewarded them by filling their crab and lobster
pots, in season, and driving the fish into their nets; and when a storm
arose he'd lift their little craft over the waves, and guide them home
in safety in the thickest fog. Generation after generation came and
went; and the little children heard of Bucca, and what he could do for
those who spoke him fair, and of the terrible things which happened
to those who mocked him because of his dark skin, and big head, and
seaweed curls. People who treated him badly he punished by driving the
crabs and lobsters from their pots, and the fishes from their nets, and
would let them drown in storms.
One of the Cove fishers was Uncle Malachi, who, when he was old, was
left with a little maid, a grandchild, to bring up; and he took her in
his boat with him, teaching her all he knew. People laughed, and said
it was unlucky to have a maid on board a boat; and it seemed so, for
Uncle Malachi went out and returned with empty pots and nets. One day
the little maid fell into the sea, but Bucca held her up until Uncle
Malachi reached his gaff, and gaffed her in. From that day he never
wanted luck when he took his little maid with him; and "Malachi's luck"
became a saying in the Cove for a good catch.
For centuries the Bucca lived at the Cove, lording it over fishes and
fishermen, and never thought to cut short the term of his punishment
by winning woman's love; but when he held up the little maid in the sea
until Uncle Malachi gaffed her, an idea came into his head, and his
heart throbbed.
The little maid grew beautiful and her lovers were many, but she
gave her love to Seth Barton, who was as dark as she was fair, and
passionate as he was dark, and none of the fisher-lads dared so much as
lift their eyes to Uncle Malachi's little maid when he was near. Seth
was a crabber, and took over all the old man's pots and gear and boat
when he was laid to rest, and he was married to the little maid, and
they lived in the old house with the windows looking on the beach. In
the linhay at the back Seth placed all his gear wanting mending, and
Grace was deft with the "needle," having been taught by Malachi to make
nets and mend them, to bait the long lines, and do all that a boy might
do on the boat or on shore. Only Seth would not take Grace out with
him, for there was a saying, "A woman in a boat is a devil afloat," and
he was a fisher, and feared bad luck if a married woman put foot over
the gunwale.
Now, when Seth Barton was at sea, Bucca would come into the linhay
and make and mend the nets and gear, so that Grace had little to
do. By-and-by she grew accustomed to Bucca, who came and went as he
pleased; and when he pleased no one could see him, so it was no good
for Grace to shut the door and say he should not come. Bucca, in fact,
was often with her when she did not know it, and in her dreams she was
wooed by a handsome young prince, who took her thoughts from Seth,
and filled her with passionate longings, so she was never so happy as
when asleep and dreaming dreams. When she awoke there was only Bucca
with his seaweed hair and ugliness, so she had no idea that the lover
of her dreams was Bucca, the prince of olden days, when the soul of
a man beamed in his eyes. In time, the sight of the ugly Bucca grew
distasteful, and she would rather mend the nets and bait the hooks
than have him about with his flat fishy eyes, in which no human light
beamed. And Seth, when he heard of the visions, grew jealous; and Grace
held her peace, but was rude to Bucca, telling him, in scorn, that if
he were but as her dream-lover, she'd follow him over sea and land.
Then Bucca knew he'd never win woman's love, and he must abide his
thousand years.
One night, however, Grace dreamt a dream, in which her prince-lover
pressed her lips and eyes, and whispered softly, so that she rose in
sleep and followed the vision, which passed over the sea. She unmoored
Seth's boat and took the oars, but Bucca was there, and lifted their
weight, and drew back the waves that scarcely touched, so that the
boat travelled fast, and Grace still slept. When the boat was far from
land the vision changed, and the prince became a Bucca, who knelt
before her, his sea-locks dripping, imploring for a woman's love to
restore him to his lost estate. There was pity in her soul, and the
fishes swam round and round the boat to witness the strange wooing, and
wonder what would happen if their Bucca won a woman's love. The night
was dark, and the stars shone, so that the sea was jewelled. Grace,
under the enchantment of a spell, lifted Bucca's head and looked into
his eyes, but they were poor and flat, with no light in them like the
light in the eyes of men.
Then she took fear and awoke, and the spell was broken.
The men of the Cove heard a woman's scream, and rushed down to the
beach, where Seth was looking for his boat. Afar off, a mere speck,
they saw a woman rowing, but the boat glided over the sea impelled by
invisible power, and when its keel grated on the sand, the men saw
Bucca leave the stern, and disappear.
The fishers praised Bucca for bringing the boat to shore in safety;
only Grace knew, and kept her secret, as a Cornish woman can, until she
grew old, and then she told it to her children.
Those who have the right sort of eyes may see the Bucca, whose thousand
years of doom are running out, and no woman's love has come to shorten
it. But the little boats are disappearing from the Cove, and big boats
go to and fro, churning up the blue water, and sounding steam whistles,
and Bucca has told the sea-birds and all the fishes, the crabs and the
lobsters, that when he disappears there will be none to rule over them.
The Cove maidens are not taught to row and handle boats, and you may go
there and never see a woman touch a boat or mend a net, for fear that
Bucca may take a fancy to them, and "slock" them out to sea. And they
don't need the warning twice.
[Illustration: TINTAGEL.]