{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_73614/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_73614","id":"gutenberg_73614","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/73614","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - British","Category: History - Religious","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Cornwall (England : County)"],"text":"A BOOK OF THE WEST\n\n VOL. II.\n\n CORNWALL\n\n\n\n\n BY THE SAME AUTHOR\n\n LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE\n THE TRAGEDY OF THE C\u00c6SARS THE\n DESERT OF SOUTHERN FRANCE\n STRANGE SURVIVALS SONGS\n OF THE WEST A GARLAND OF\n COUNTRY SONG OLD COUNTRY LIFE\n YORKSHIRE ODDITIES FREAKS OF\n FANATICISM A BOOK OF FAIRY\n TALES OLD ENGLISH FAIRY TALES\n A BOOK OF NURSERY SONGS AN\n OLD ENGLISH HOME THE VICAR OF\n MORWENSTOW THE CROCK OF GOLD\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: CORNISH FISHERMEN]\n\n\n\n\n A\n\n BOOK OF THE WEST\n\n BEING AN INTRODUCTION\n TO DEVON AND CORNWALL\n\n BY S. BARING-GOULD\n\n VOL. II.\n\n CORNWALL\n\n\n WITH THIRTY-THREE ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n NEW YORK: NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK CO.\n\n LONDON: METHUEN & CO.\n\n 1900\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n\n CHAPTER PAGE\n\n I. THE CORNISH SAINTS 1\n\n II. THE HOLY WELLS 28\n\n III. CORNISH CROSSES 38\n\n IV. CORNISH CASTLES 44\n\n V. TIN MINING 52\n\n VI. LAUNCESTON 67\n\n VII. CALLINGTON 96\n\n VIII. CAMELFORD 114\n\n IX. BUDE 134\n\n X. SALTASH 151\n\n XI. BODMIN 163\n\n XII. THE TWO LOOES 173\n\n XIII. FOWEY 188\n\n XIV. THE FAL 200\n\n XV. NEWQUAY 214\n\n XVI. THE LIZARD 242\n\n XVII. SMUGGLING 263\n\n XVIII. PENZANCE 282\n\n XIX. THE LAND\u2019S END 305\n\n XX. THE SCILLY ISLES 329\n\n\n\n\n ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n CORNISH FISHERMEN _Frontispiece_\n From a photograph by the Rev. F. Partridge.\n\n S. MELOR\u2019S WELL, LINKINHORNE _To face page_ 28\n From a photograph by the Rev. A. H. Malan.\n\n WELL CHAPEL OF S. CLETHER \u201d 33\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n CROSS, S. LEVAN \u201d 38\n\n LAUNCESTON \u201d 44\n From an old print.\n\n A TIN MOULD \u201d 62\n\n LAUNCESTON, CHURCH PORCH \u201d 67\n From a photograph by the Rev. F. Partridge.\n\n TREWORTHA MARSH \u201d 83\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n PLAN OF HABITATION ON TREWORTHA MARSH \u201d 84\n By permission of the _Daily Graphic_.\n\n THE COUNCIL HALL, TREWORTHA MARSH \u201d 85\n By permission of the _Daily Graphic_.\n\n CALLINGTON \u201d 96\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n CALLINGTON CROSS \u201d 103\n Drawn by F. B. Bond, Esq.\n\n THE CHEESEWRING \u201d 106\n From an old engraving.\n\n ARSENIC MANUFACTURE \u201d 109\n From a photograph by F. B. Bond, Esq.\n\n ARSENIC WORKS \u201d 110\n From a photograph by F. B. Bond, Esq.\n\n KING ARTHUR \u201d 118\n From the tomb of Maximilian I. at Innsbruck.\n\n TINTAGEL \u201d 122\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n BEEHIVE HUT \u201d 127\n By permission of the _Daily Graphic_.\n\n BUDE \u201d 134\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n MACES AND SEAL OF SALTASH \u201d 151\n Drawn by F. D. Bedford, Esq.\n\n IN SALTASH \u201d 152\n Drawn by F. D. Bedford, Esq.\n\n ANNE GLANVILLE \u201d 158\n\n CHALICE, SALTASH \u201d 161\n\n PADSTOW HARBOUR \u201d 163\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n FOWEY HARBOUR \u201d 188\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n LOSTWITHIEL BRIDGE \u201d 188\n Drawn by F. B. Bond, Esq.\n\n S. MAWE\u2019S CASTLE \u201d 210\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n THE LIZARD \u201d 242\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n GUNWALLOE CHURCH \u201d 254\n From a sketch by F. B. Bond, Esq.\n\n MOUNT\u2019S BAY \u201d 262\n From a photograph by Messrs. Gibson, Penzance.\n\n LAND\u2019S END \u201d 305\n From a painting by A. B. Collier, Esq.\n\n CH\u00dbN QUOIT \u201d 326\n From an old engraving.\n\n THE PULPIT ROCK, SCILLY \u201d 329\n From a photograph.\n\n\n\n\n CORNWALL\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n\n THE CORNISH SAINTS\n\n A saint or squab pie--The saints belong to five classes--I.\n The members of the royal Dumnonian family--II. Irish-Welsh\n colonists--The invasion of Brecknock--Brychan--The\n invasion of Cornwall and Devon--Murtogh Mac Earca--III.\n Irish in West Cornwall--IV. Welsh-Breton saints--V. Pure\n Breton importations--Ecclesiastical colonies--Llans and\n cells--Tribal organisation--Ecclesiastical also tribal--The\n sanctuary--How a tribe was recruited--Jurisdiction--What a\n Celtic monastery was--Rights exercised by the saints--That\n of ill-wishing--Missionary methods of the Celtic\n saints--Illand and S. Bridget--The power of the keys as the\n saints understood it--Reciprocal rights--The saint expected\n to curse the enemies of the secular tribe--Asceticism--A\n legal process carried into religion--Story of the three\n clerks--A higher idea of asceticism gained ground--S.\n Columba and the nettles--The saints and animals--And\n children--How they used their powers--What they did for\n womankind--The biographies, how far trustworthy--The\n interest in knowing something of the founders of the\n Churches.\n\n\nThe story goes that the devil one day came to the Tamar from the Devon\nside and stood rubbing his chin and considering.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said he, \u201cI won\u2019t risk it. Yonder every person is made into a\nsaint, and everything into squab pie. I do not feel qualified for\neither position.\u201d\n\nAnd it is a fact that nowhere else in England are there so many\nvillages bearing the names of saints, and these names strange, and\nsuch as may be sought out in vain in the calendars that are easily\naccessible. One is impressed with the idea that the vast majority of\nthese saints are unknown and negligible quantities.\n\nThis, however, is an entirely false assumption, and it is based on the\nfact that their history has not been studied.\n\nOn close examination it will be found that the saintly names in\nCornwall belong to certain well-defined groups, and when we have\ndetermined the localities occupied by these groups we have taken the\nfirst step towards the elucidation of some important problems in the\nearly history of Cornwall.\n\nNow let us look at these groups.\n\nI. The first belongs to members of the royal Dumnonian family that\nruled Devon and Cornwall.\n\nThe first-known prince was Constantine the Blessed (about 460), whose\nbrother Aldor migrated to Brittany, and married the sister of Germanus\nof Auxerre, who came to Britain in 429 and 447 to oppose the spread of\nthe Pelagian heresy.\n\nConstantine\u2019s son Erbin, prince of the Dumnonii, died about 480. We\nknow nothing of him save that he was the father of Geraint, the heroic\nking who fell at Langport, in Somersetshire, in 522, fighting against\nthe Saxons.\n\nHis name is familiar to us as the husband of Enid, daughter of the\nlord of Caerleon, whose virtues and pathetic story have been revived\nwith fresh interest in Tennyson\u2019s idyl. Geraint has left his name\nat Dingerrein, where was his palace, near the church he founded--S.\nGerrans, in Roseland--and a tomb, supposed to be his, is still pointed\nout. Although his story is preserved in the Mabinogion, this story has\nno pretence to be regarded as history.\n\nHis first cousin was Gwen of the Three Breasts, married to Fragan, also\na cousin, who migrated to Brittany. There is a curious monument of\nGwen in Brittany, on which she is actually represented as having three\nbreasts. But the expression three- or four-breasted was used of a woman\nwho was married thrice or four times, and had a family by each husband.\nThe mother of S. Domangard was called the four-breasted for no other\nreason than this.\n\nFragan and Gwen had three sons--Winwaloe, Wethenoc or Winock, and\nJames--and although the great field of their labours was in Brittany,\nyet they certainly visited their cousins in Cornwall and obtained\ngrants of land there, for they founded churches in two districts,\nwhere their names remain to this day somewhat disguised in Gunwalloe,\nLewanick, and Jacobstow. Geraint and Enid had several children; the\neldest was Solomon or Selyf, who died about 550.\n\nHe married Gwen, sister of Non, the mother of S. David, and it was due\nto this connection that Non and her son came to Cornwall and founded\nAltarnon, Pelynt, and Davidstowe.\n\nGwen herself we recognise as S. Wenn; she was the mother of S. Cuby,\nfounder of Duloe and Tregony. Docwin or Cyngar, brother of Solomon,\nwas an abbot in Somersetshire. In his old age his nephew Cuby took his\nuncle with him to Ireland, where he kept a cow for providing the old\nman with her milk. A chief carried off the cow, and Cuby left Ireland\nand brought the aged uncle back with him. Docwin or Cyngar was the\nfounder of S. Kew.\n\nAgain, another uncle of S. Cuby was Cado, Duke of Cornwall, who makes\na great figure in Geoffrey of Monmouth\u2019s fabulous history, and in\nthe Arthurian romances. He was father of Constantine, whom Gildas\nattacked so venomously in his spiteful letter about 547, and who was\nconverted by S. Petrock in his old age. We have in Cornwall two of his\nfoundations and one in Devon.\n\nAfter his conversion Constantine went to Ireland and entered a\nmonastery without disclosing who he was. He was discovered by accident;\nfor, having been set to grind corn with a hand-quern, he was overheard\nlaughing and saying, \u201cWhat would my Cornish subjects think were they to\nsee me thus engaged?\u201d\n\nII. The second group of saints is of Irish-Welsh origin. The Welsh have\na droll legend to account for the Irish conquest of Brecknock.\n\nMeurig, king of Garth-Madrin (a part of Brecknockshire), had a\ndaughter, Marchell, who said to her father in coaxing terms, \u201cI _do_\nwant a fur cloak; the winters here are abominably cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have one,\u201d answered the father.\n\nOn cool reflection Meurig considered that fur cloaks were expensive\nluxuries, far beyond the means of a petty Welsh prince.\n\nSo he said to Marchell, \u201cMy dear, I am going to marry you to a very\nagreeable young man, Aulac\u201d (Amalgaidh), \u201can Irish prince, and he has\nample means at his disposal to provide you with the desired fur cloak.\u201d\n\nSo Aulac was invited over, found Marchell charming, and carried her\nback with him to Ireland.\n\nNow whilst he was in Wales he had allowed his eyes to wander, and\nhe had seen that there was a good deal of rich and covetable land\nthere. So he speedily returned at the head of a host of Irish kernes,\nand overran, not Brecknock alone, but all Cardigan, Carmarthen, and\nPembroke, and established himself as prince there.\n\nWhether Marchell ever got her fur cloak history does not say.\n\nAulac and Marchell had a son, Brychan (the Speckled or Tartan-clad),\nwho has given his name to the county of Brecknockshire.\n\nBrychan was a much-wived man, unless he be greatly misrepresented, and\nhad a numerous family.\n\nNot only do the Welsh genealogists give him forty-nine children, but\nthe Irish, the Cornish, and the Bretons attribute to him several more.\n\nThe fact is that all Brychan\u2019s family, grandchildren as well as\nchildren, have been run together, for all such as exercised tribal\nrights formed the family clan.\n\nIn one of the S. Neot\u2019s windows may be seen good old Brychan seated\non a throne, holding a lapful of progeny before him, dense as young\nrabbits.\n\nIn Ireland the tribes are called after the founder, as the Hy Conaill,\nHy Fiachra, or sons of Conal, sons of Fiech, though grand, great-grand,\nand great-great-grandchildren.\n\nNow the Irish who had invaded South Wales were not allowed a peaceful\ntime in which to consolidate their power, for in the time of the\ngrandchildren of Brychan, if not in that of his son Cledwyn, king of\nCarmarthen, there came down a Northern Briton, named Dyfnwal, into\nSouth Wales and drove them out, and pretty well exterminated the\nfamily of Cledwyn. This must have been about the year 500, and it was\nprobably due to this that so many of Brychan\u2019s sons and daughters and\ngrandchildren took to their heels and crossed the Severn Sea, and\nestablished themselves in North Devon and Cornwall.\n\nIt was not till about fifty years later that Caradoc Strong-i\u2019-th\u2019-Arm,\nthe son of a granddaughter of Brychan and prince of Gallewig, the\nregion about Callington, marched westward from the Severn, and expelled\nthe invaders, and recovered Brecknockshire.\n\nWhen the great migration took place it comprised not only the family of\nKing Brychan, but also the Gwentian royal family, that was allied to it\nby blood.\n\nOf course there has accumulated a certain amount of legend about\nBrychan, and we cannot really be sure that such a person ever existed;\nthat, in fact, the name is not really that of a clan, for Breogan,\nwhich is the same as the Welsh Brychan, was the reputed ancestor of\none of the branches of the Scots or Irish who migrated, according to\nlegend, from Spain to the Emerald Isle.[1]\n\nWhat is true is that a certain Irish clan did invade and occupy\nBrecknock and Carmarthen, as well as Pembrokeshire, and that about 530\nthey were driven out of the two first counties, and that they thereupon\ninvaded and occupied North-East Cornwall from Padstow harbour, and the\nnorth of Devon as far as Exmoor. This was not by any means a first\ndescent. The whole coast had been a prey to invasions from Ireland for\ntwo centuries. On this occasion among the Irish-Welsh from Gwent and\nBrecknock came a great number of saints, that is to say, princes and\nprincesses devoted to the ecclesiastical profession. The significance\nof this I shall explain presently.\n\nI will here only point out that almost all the foundations of churches\nin North-east Cornwall were made by members of the same Gwent-Brecknock\nfamily. Is there, it may be asked, any Irish record of this invasion?\nWe have a good many records of earlier forays and occupations of\nBritain by the Irish, but of this particular one only a somewhat\nconfused legend. There was a certain Princess Earca, married to a king\nnamed Saran, in Ireland, who was much engaged in raids in Britain. She\nwas the daughter of Loarn, king of Alba or Scotland, from whom Lorn\ntakes its name, the date of whose birth is given by the Irish annalists\nas taking place in 434. He was, in fact, one of the Irish Ulster\nadventurers who invaded Scotland.\n\nEarca ran away from her husband to be with Murtogh, a distant cousin of\nSaran, and she bore him four sons. The most noted of all was Murtogh\nMacEarca, who in time became king of Ireland. Saran then married\nEarca\u2019s sister, and by her became the father of S. Cairnech and Lurig,\nking of the Scots (Irish) in Britain. Murtogh having committed several\nmurders in Ireland, fled for protection to his grandfather, Loarn, in\nAlba, and murdered him. Thereupon he was banished from what we now call\nScotland. He went to his cousin S. Cairnech to bless his arms, as it\nwas his intention to offer his services to one of the kings of Britain,\nand do as much fighting as came in his way. Before leaving Cairnech he\nmurdered in cold blood his cousin Luirig, and carried off his wife.\n\nIn Britain this ruffian, we are told, became the father of Constantine\nand Goidel Ficht, who became the reigning princes in Cornwall.\n\nMurtogh was back in Ireland in 488, for we find him there fighting; and\nhe remained there stirring up strife, and a cause of bloodshed till he\nwas elected king of Ireland in 508.\n\nNow, Murtogh most certainly when he went to Britain led a body of\nadventurers like himself. He is said to have been the father of\nGoidel Ficht, who remained there as sovereign. Now, Goidel Fichti\nsignifies the Irish Picts, neither more nor less, a generic name, and\nhis fatherhood of the Irish Picts means no more than that his clan or\nhorde, which swooped down on Cornwall and Wales, regarded themselves as\nHy Murtogh.\n\nIt is rather remarkable that his cousin, the whole brother of S.\nCairnech, was named Broechan or Brychan.\n\nNow, in this story, attached to a perfectly historical character, I\ncannot but suspect that we have a reference to a descent on Wales and\nCornwall in or about 470-480.\n\nPerhaps it may interest the reader to hear what was the end of this\nruffian.\n\nOn his return to Ireland he brawled and fought till he became king in\n508.\n\nHe was married to a good wife named Duiseach, and had by her a family,\nbut he fell under the fascinations of a beautiful woman called Shin,\nwhereupon he turned away his wife; and--by the witchcraft, so it was\nsupposed, of the witch--one after another of his children was carried\noff by disease, possibly by poison. Duiseach fled for refuge to S.\nCairnech, who blessed her and all who would take up her cause, and\ngathered together a body of men resolved on fighting to replace her.\nCairnech gave a book and his staff to be carried to battle before the\nhost.\n\nNow it happened that in a battle fought in 524 Murtogh had killed\nShin\u2019s father and brother, and though the beautiful woman continued to\nexercise her blandishments on the king, she had vowed revenge in her\nheart against him. She awaited her opportunity. It came on the eve of\nSamhain, All Hallows, when high revelry was kept in the hall at Cletty,\nwhere Murtogh was residing. She had the hall secretly surrounded by\nher men, and herself set fire to it. Murtogh was very drunk, the fire\ncaught his clothes, and, unable to escape by the doors, which were\nguarded, he threw himself into a vat of wine to quench the flames, and\nso perished, partly by fire, partly by wine, in 527.\n\nIt is possible--I cannot say more--that as this incursion, mentioned by\nthe Irish writers, took place precisely at the period of the Brychan\ndescent, it may refer to it, and that Brychan may actually have been\nMurtogh\u2019s half-brother, who accompanied him to Britain to carve out for\nhimself a kingdom.\n\nIII. The third group is likewise Irish, but unmixed with Welsh\nelements. This consists of a swarm, or succession of swarms, that\ndescended about the year 500 upon the Land\u2019s End and Lizard district.\n\nConcerning them we know something more than we do about the second\ngroup.\n\nHappily Leland, who visited Cornwall in the reign of Henry VIII., made\nextracts from their legends then in existence, very scanty extracts,\nbut nevertheless precious. Moreover, we have one complete legend, that\nof S. Fingar or Gwinear, written by a Saxon monk of the name of Anselm.\nAnd we have the lives of many of those who made a temporary stay in the\nLand\u2019s End and Lizard districts, preserved in Irish MSS.\n\nIV. A fourth group is that of saints, half Welsh and half Breton, who\nmade a short stay in Cornwall on their way to and fro.\n\nAccording to Celtic law, all sons equally divided the inheritance and\nprincipalities of their father. The consequence was that on the death\nof a king the most masterful of his sons cut the throats of such of\nhis brothers as he could lay hold of. And as these little games were\nenacted periodically in Brittany, the breath was no sooner out of the\nbody of a prince than such sons as felt that they had no chance of\nmaintaining their rights made a bolt of it, crossed into Cornwall, and\neither halted there or passed through it on their way to Wales, where\nthey very generally got married.\n\nThen either they or their sons returned to Cornwall and lingered there,\nwatching events in Brittany for the safe moment to go back and reassert\ntheir rights, and as they rarely could recover princely rights, they\nbecame ecclesiastics; a compromise was effected, and they were allowed\nto return and set up as founders of saintly tribes.\n\nWhilst they tarried in Cornwall they occupied their leisure in founding\nchurches.\n\nSuch was S. Samson, with his disciples S. Mewan, S. Austell, and S.\nErme.\n\nSuch again was S. Padarn, who established a large settlement where are\nthe Petherwins.\n\nWhen Samson crossed from Wales to Cornwall on his way to Brittany, he\nsent word to Padarn that he was going to visit him. They were first\ncousins. Padarn heard the news just as he had left his bed, and had\npulled on one shoe and stocking. So delighted was he to hear that\nSamson was approaching that he ran to meet him with one leg and foot\nshod and the other bare.\n\nSamson founded churches at Southill and Golant.\n\nV. A fifth group consists of importations. In the year 919 or 920,\non account of the devastations of the Normans, Brittany was almost\ndepopulated. The Count of Poher fled with a number of his Bretons\nto Athelstan, and he took with him Alan his son, afterwards called\nBarbe-torte, who was Athelstan\u2019s godson. At this date Athelstan could\ndo little for them; he did not ascend the throne till 924, and it was\nnot till 926 that he defeated Howel, king of the West Welsh, as the\nCornish and Devon Britons were called, and forced him to submission.\nIn 935 Athelstan passed through Cornwall to Land\u2019s End and Scilly,\nand possibly enough he may have then allowed some of these fugitive\nBretons to settle in Cornwall; and this explains the existence there of\nchurches bearing the names of merely local and uninteresting saints,\nas S. Meriadoc at Camborne, S. Moran, and S. Corentin of Cury. These\nfoundations mean no more than that some of the Breton settlers had\nbrought with them the relics of their patrons in Rennes, Nantes, and\nQuimper. But an early Celtic foundation had quite another meaning.\nAmong the Celts churches were not generally called after _dead_ saints,\nbut after their founders. The process of consecration was this:--\n\nA saint went to a spot where a bit of territory had been granted him,\nand fasted there for forty days and nights, and continued instant\nin prayer, partaking of a single meal in the day, that plain, and\nindulging in an egg only on Sundays. At the conclusion of this period\nthe _llan_ or _cell_ was his for ever inalienably, and ever after it\nbore his name. Moreover, among Celtic saints there existed quite\na rage after multiplication of foundations, _daltha_ churches, as\nthey were called. Unless a saint could point to his baker\u2019s dozen\nof churches founded by himself, he was nought. But not all churches\nbearing a saint\u2019s name, say that of Petrock, were founded by him in\nperson. A saint was supposed never to die, never to let go his hold\nover his territory. And when in after-years a chief surrendered land to\na monastery, he gave it, not to the community, but to the saint; and\nthe church built on that land would bear the name of the saint whose\nproperty it was.\n\nThe reader may like to hear something about the organisation of the\nChurch in Celtic lands. But to understand this I must first very\nshortly explain the political organisation.\n\nThis among all Celtic people was tribal. The tribe, cinnel, clan, was\nunder a chief, who had his _dun_ or fort. Every subdivision of the\ntribe had also its camp of refuge and its headman.\n\nWhen the British became Christian, Christianity in no way altered\ntheir political organisation. This we may see from the conduct of S.\nPatrick, who converted the Irish. He left their organisation untouched,\nand accommodated his arrangements for the religious supervision of\nthe people to that, as almost certainly it existed in Britain, except\nperhaps in the Roman colonial cities.\n\nNow this was very peculiar, quite unlike anything that existed in the\ncivilised Roman world.\n\nThis organisation consisted in the creation of an ecclesiastical tribe\nside by side with the tribe of the land. The saint was given by the\nking or chief a certain territory, and at once he set to work thereon\nto constitute an ecclesiastical tribe subject to his rule, precisely\nsimilar to the secular tribe subject to the rule of the chieftain. A\nrill of water usually divided the two settlements. The idea of the\nchurch and the priest in the midst of the tribe of the land, acting as\nchapel and chaplain did to the Saxon thane or the Norman baron, did not\noccur to the Celt. The two tribes coexisted as separate units, but tied\ntogether by reciprocal rights.\n\nThe saint having been given a bit of land, at once constituted his\nsanctuary. He put up stones or crosses marking his bounds, a thousand\npaces from his cell, in a circle.\n\nEvery noble, _arglwyd_, or _flath_ exercised rights of sanctuary, and\nthe extent of his sanctuary constituted his _llan_, or lawn. The lowest\ngrade of noble had the limits of his lawn marked at the distance of\nthree throws of a spear or a ploughshare from his door; the _rig_ or\nking had his as far as sixty-four pitches.\n\nNow all those who took refuge within the lawn had sanctuary for a\nlimited period, and the noble or the saint employed this time of\nrespite to come to terms with the prosecutor, and furnish the fine\n(_eric_) appointed by law for the offence committed by the refugee.\nIf he could not pay the fine he surrendered the man who had come for\nsanctuary, but if he paid it, thenceforth that man became his client,\nand he provided him with a _bod_ or _both_, a habitation, and land\nto cultivate; he became one of his men. This was an important means\nwhereby the saint recruited his tribe.\n\nThroughout Cornwall a number of sanctuaries remain, under the name of\n\u201csentry fields.\u201d If we could find out how many and where they are, we\nshould know what were the mother _llans_ of the early saints.\n\nBut a saintly tribe was recruited in another way. Every firstling\nof the secular tribe was made over to the saint: the first son of a\nfamily, the first lamb and calf. The son did not necessarily become an\necclesiastic, but he passed into the ecclesiastical tribe, and became\nsubject to the jurisdiction of the saint.\n\nBut it may be asked, What happened when the saint died?\n\nEvery chief had his _taanist_, or successor, appointed during his\nlife, and enjoying certain privileges. So every saint had his _coarb_\nchosen to rule in his name, his steward, his representative on earth.\nHere came in an usage very strange to Latin minds. The _coarb_\nmust be of the royal or chieftain\u2019s race, and the right to rule in\nthe ecclesiastical tribe belonged to the founder\u2019s family, and was\nhereditary, whether he were in ecclesiastical orders or not, to a\nfemale as well as to a male. Thus, although in an ecclesiastical\nestablishment there was always a bishop to confer orders, he did not\nexercise jurisdiction. The rule was in the hands of the head of the\nsacred tribe. Thus S. Bridget kept her tame bishop, Conlaeth, who was\nwholly under petticoat government. He did kick once, and was devoured\nof wolves as a judgment, having strayed, against Bridget\u2019s orders,\namong the mountains. S. Ninnocha had as many as four bishops under her\ncommand. Bishop Etchen was subject to the jurisdiction of S. Columba,\nwho was in priest\u2019s orders.\n\nThe Celtic Church as we know it, till gradually brought under Roman\ndiscipline, was purely monastic. The monasteries were the centres\nwhence the ministry of souls was exercised. Within the sanctuary a\nrampart was thrown up, generally of earth, and within this was the\nchurch, and about it the separate circular cells occupied by the monks.\nOutside the sanctuary and throughout the lands belonging to the saint\nlived those subject to the rule of the saint or his coarb.\n\nThere was a right exercised by the saint which had previously been\naccorded to the bard. It was that of _ill-wishing_. The right was a\nlegal one, but hedged about with restrictions. A bard, and after him a\nsaint, might not ill-wish unless he had been refused a just request. If\nhe ill-wished unjustly, then it was held that the ill-wish returned on\nthe head of him who had launched it.\n\nAnd there can be no doubt that this legal power conferred on the saints\ninspired terror. If a chief\u2019s horse fell under him, or his cows refused\ntheir milk, if he got a bad cold or rheumatic pains, he immediately\nsupposed that he had been ill-wished, and sent for the saint, and\nendeavoured to satisfy him.\n\nThat this supposed power may have been employed occasionally for\nambitious purposes is likely enough, but in general it was exercised\nonly for good, to release captives, to mitigate barbarities, to stay\nbloodshed, to protect the weak against the strong.\n\nA cheap and easy way of explaining the exercise of this power by the\nsaints is that of saying that they traded on the credulity of the\npeople. But it is, I am sure, a false appreciation. They were of the\npeople, steeped in their ideas, and did not rise above them. To trade\non credulity implies a superiority they did not possess. Besides, it\nwas the exercise of a formal legal right.\n\nThere is one rather significant feature in all the missionary work\nof the Celtic saints which contrasts sharply with that of our modern\nemissaries into \u201cforeign parts.\u201d\n\nWhat we do is to collect moneys and start a missioner, who, wherever he\ngoes, draws for his supplies on the mother-country, and depends, and\nhis entire mission depends, on the charity of those at home. The Celtic\nmethod was absolutely the reverse. The missioner went among strange\npeople, and threw himself on their hospitality. That is just one of the\ngreat virtues of a savage race, and these Celtic saints caught at the\none noble trait in the characters of the half-barbarians among whom\nthey went, and worked upon that and from that point.\n\nThe chiefs and kings felt themselves bound in hospitality to maintain\nthem, to protect them, and to give them settlements. How strongly\nthis feeling operated may be judged by an instance in the life of S.\nPatrick, who went to Laogaire, the Irish king, without any backing\nup from behind and without presents. When Laogaire refused Patrick\nsomething he wanted, the apostle and his little band refused to eat.\nThe king was so alarmed lest they should be starved to death, and it be\nimputed to him as due to his niggardliness, that he gave way, and let\nPatrick have what he desired.\n\nBut this system worked on the material interests of the chiefs. They\nargued in their calculating way, \u201cHere are all these missionaries. We\nhave been feeding them, giving them land and cattle; it is a drain on\nour resources. We must really get something out of them in return.\u201d\n\nAnd so, out of that frugal mind which was not the exclusive prerogative\nof Mrs. Gilpin, they accepted the gospel--at least, the ministrations\nof the saints--as a return for what they had themselves granted them:\nacres and cows.\n\nThere is a story in the life of S. Bridget that illustrates this\nsomewhat sordid view taken of their dealings with the saints.\n\nBridget\u2019s father had been lent a sword by King Illand, son of Dunlaing\nof Leinster. He asked his daughter to negotiate with the king that this\nsword should become his personal property. She agreed. At the same time\none of Illand\u2019s men threw himself upon her, and begged her to put him\ninto her tribe. So she asked the king for two things: the man and the\nsword.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d said he. \u201cWhat am I to have in return?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will obtain for you eternal life, for one thing, and for the other\nthe assurance that the crown shall remain to your sons.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs to eternal life,\u201d replied the practical and sceptical king, \u201cI have\nnever seen it, and so do not know what it is worth; as to the boys, if\nthey are worth their salt, they will maintain their own rights. Give me\nvictory over those Ulster rascals, and you shall have my man and the\nsword.\u201d\n\nSo Bridget agreed to this.\n\nThese Celtic saints certainly appropriated to themselves the right of\nthe keys, to give heaven to whom they would, and to exclude from it\nwhoever offended them. Of course they could appeal to the Bible for\ntheir authority, and who were these half-wild men to dispute it with\nthem and quibble the text away? That they were sincere in their belief\nthat the power of the keys was given to them is certain.\n\nI have mentioned reciprocal rights.\n\nNow one of those demanded of the saint by the chief of the land was to\nmarch with him to battle and to curse his enemies.\n\nThis had been what was expected and exacted of the chief Druid; and in\nthis, as in many another particular, the saint stepped into the shoes\nof the Druid. This is frankly enough admitted in one life, in which\nwe are told that the king sent for S. Finnchu to curse his enemies,\nbecause the Druid was too old and feeble to do the job effectively.\n\nWhen a saint passed out of this world he left a bell, a book, or a\ncrosier, to be the _cathair_ of the tribe, and his coarb marched with\nit in his name before the tribesmen.\n\nWhen the tribe was successful in battle, then certain dues were paid to\nthe saint for his assistance.\n\nIn the lives of some of the early Celtic saints we are told strange\nstories of their self-mortification, their rigorous fasts. This was due\nto a very curious cause.\n\nAccording to the Celtic law of distress, the appellant took the matter\ninto his own hands. There was no executive administration of law.\nEveryone who was aggrieved had to exact the penalty as best he might.\nIf he were too weak to recover the penalty by force, then the legal\nproceeding for him was to fast against the debtor or aggressor. He sat\ndown at his door and starved himself. The person fasted against almost\nalways gave way, as the fact of the institution of the fast doubled the\nfine, and as he did not venture to allow the creditor to proceed to the\nlast extremities lest he should entail on himself a blood feud.\n\nWhen S. Patrick wanted to carry a point with King Lear (Laogaire) he\nadopted this method and succeeded, and the king gave way.\n\nThere is a very odd story--of course mere legend--of S. Germanus\nwhen he came to Britain to oppose the Pelagian heresy. He found one\nparticular city mightily opposed to the orthodox doctrine, and as he\ncould not convince the citizens by reasoning with them, he and his\nattendant clerks sat down at the gates and starved themselves to force\nthe citizens into adopting the true faith.\n\nThe same law of distress is found in the code of Menu, and the British\nGovernment has had to forbid the _dharma_--_i.e._ the legal fasting\nagainst a creditor--from being put in practice in India.\n\nNow, very naturally, and by an easy transition, the early Celtic\nsaints carried their legal ideas into their religion, and just as when\nS. Patrick, wanting something from King Lear, fasted against him till\nhe obtained it, so did the followers of Patrick, when they desired\nsomething of God for themselves or for others, proceed against Him by\nthe legal method of levying a distress.\n\nThis is frankly admitted in an odd story in the _Book of Lismore_.\nThree clerks agreed together that they would each recite a certain\nnumber of psalms daily, and that should one die the other two would\nshare his psalms between them. All went smoothly enough for a while.\nThen one died, whereupon the survivors divided his portion of the\nPsalter between them. But soon after a second died, whereat the\nthird found himself saddled with the sets of psalms that appertained\nto both the others. He was very angry. He thought the Almighty had\ndealt unfairly by him in letting the other two off so lightly and\noverburdening him, and in a fit of spleen and resentment _he fasted\nagainst Him_.\n\nBut this view of asceticism was held only at the outset, and rapidly\nsounder ideas gained the mastery, and we find self-denial in the saints\nassume quite another complexion.\n\nAn instance in point is in the life of S. Columba. One day he saw a\npoor widow gathering stinging-nettles, and he asked her why she did it.\n\u201cFor the pot,\u201d said she; \u201cI have no other food.\u201d\n\nThe good old man was troubled. He went back to the monastery and said\nto the cook, \u201cI will eat nettles only now.\u201d\n\nWhen this had gone on for some time, his disciple who cooked the\nnettles for him saw that he was falling away in flesh, so he took\na hollow elder-stick, put butter into the tube, and by this means\nenriched the dish.\n\nS. Columba said, \u201cThe nettles do not taste as before. They have a\nricher flavour. What have you done to them?\u201d\n\n\u201cMaster dear,\u201d answered his disciple, \u201cI have put nothing into the pot\nbut this stick, wherewith I stirred its contents.\u201d\n\nNor were they pedantic in observance of rule.\n\nTravellers came to S. Cronan, and he had meat and ale set on the board,\nand he himself and his monks sat down to make merry with them.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d said a formalist among them, \u201cat this rate I do not see much\nprospect of matins being said.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy friend,\u201d answered Cronan, \u201cin receiving strangers we receive\nChrist; as to the matins, the angels will sing them in our room.\u201d\n\nFinding that some travellers had wandered all night unable to find\nshelter, \u201cThis will never do,\u201d said he; \u201cI shall move my quarters to\nthe roadside.\u201d\n\nThough rough in their treatment of themselves, they were tender-hearted\nand kind to bird and beast and man. It was through a frightened fawn\nflying for refuge to S. Petrock that Constantine was brought to\nrepentance. S. Columba prayed with his arms extended till the birds\nperched on his hands. Another Columba, the founder, as I suspect, of\nColumb Major and Minor, was almost incommoded with their affection,\nfluttering about his face.\n\n\u201cHow is it,\u201d asked one of his disciples, \u201cthat the birds avoid us and\ngather round you?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it not natural,\u201d answered the saint, \u201cthat birds should come to a\nbird?\u201d\n\nA play on his name, for Columba signifies a dove.\n\nS. Cainnech saw a rich lady with a starved dog.\n\n\u201cWho feeds that poor brute?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d answered the lady.\n\n\u201cFeed it? Maltreat it. Go and eat what you cast to the poor hound, and\nin a week return and tell me how you relish such treatment.\u201d\n\nOne day an abbot saw a little bird with drooping wings.\n\n\u201cWhy is the poor thing so wretched?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cDo you not know,\u201d said a bystander, \u201cthat Molua is dead? He was full\nof pity to all animals. Never did he injure one. Do you marvel then\nthat the little birds lament his decease?\u201d\n\nIt was the same with regard to children.\n\nOne day King Eochaid sent his little son with a message to S.\nMaccarthen. The child\u2019s mother gave him an apple to eat on the way.\nThe boy played with it, and it rolled from him and was lost. He hunted\nfor his apple till the sun set, and then, tired, laid himself down in\nthe middle of the road and fell asleep. Maccarthen was going along the\nroad and found the sleeping child there. He at once wrapped his mantle\nround him, and sat by him all night. Many horsemen and cars passed\nbefore the child woke, but the old man made them get by as best they\nmight, and he would neither suffer the child to be disturbed, nor let\nan accident befall him in the dark.\n\nGreat as were the powers conferred on the Celtic saints or arrogated to\nthemselves, there can be no doubt but that they employed them mainly\nas a means of delivering the innocent, and in putting down barbarous\ncustoms.\n\nS. Erc--in Cornwall Erth--made use of his influence to prevent the king\nof Connaught from baptising his new lance, after pagan custom, in the\nblood of an infant; S. Euny his in rescuing a boy from being tossed\non the spears of some soldiers. Again, finding after a battle that it\nwas the custom to cut off the heads of all who had fallen, and stack\nthem at the king\u2019s door to be counted, he with difficulty induced the\nvictors to take turves instead of the heads.\n\nI do not think we at all adequately appreciate the service the saints\nrendered to the Celtic nations in raising the tone of appreciation of\nwoman.\n\nNext to founding their own monastic establishments, they were careful\nto induce their mothers or sisters to establish communities for the\neducation of the daughters of the chiefs and of all such maidens as\nwould be entrusted to them.\n\nThe estimation in which woman had been held was very low. In the gloss\nto the law of Adamn\u00e1n is a description of her position in the house. A\ntrench three feet deep was dug between the door and the hearth, and in\nthis, in a condition almost of nudity, the women spent the day cooking,\nand making candles out of mutton suet. In the evening they were\nrequired to hold these candles whilst the men caroused and feasted, and\nthen were sent to sleep in kennels, like dogs, outside the house as\nguardians, lest a hostile attack should be made during the darkness.\n\nThe current coin seems to have been, in Ireland, a serving-maid, for\nall fines were calculated by _cumals_--that is, maidservants--and the\nvalue of one woman was the same as that of three cows.\n\nA brother of one of the saints came to him to say that he was bankrupt;\nhe owed a debt of seven maidservants to his creditor, and could not\nrake so many together. The saint paid the fine in cows.\n\nBridget\u2019s mother was sold as a slave by the father of Bridget to a\nDruid, and the father afterwards tried to sell his daughter; but as the\nidea had got about that she was wasteful in the kitchen, he could not\nfind a purchaser.\n\nBut this condition of affairs was rapidly altered, and it was so\nthrough the influence of the saints and the foundation of the great\nschools for girls by Bridget, Itha, Brig, and Buriana.\n\nTill the times of Adamn\u00e1n women were called out to fight as well as the\nmen, and dared not refuse the summons. Their exemption was due to this\nabbot. He came on a field of battle and saw one woman who had driven\na reaping-hook into the bosom of another, and was dragging her away\nthereby. Horror-struck, he went about among the kings of Ireland and\ninsisted on the convocation of an assembly in which he carried a law\nthat women were thenceforth exempted from this odious obligation.\n\nI have but touched the fringe of a great subject, which is one that has\nbeen unduly neglected. The early history of Cornwall is inextricably\nmixed up with that of the saints who settled there, or who sprang from\nthe native royal family. We have unhappily no annals, hardly a Cornish\nrecord, of those early times. Irish, Welsh, Bretons, have been wiser,\nand have preserved theirs; and it is to them we are forced to appeal to\nknow anything of the early history of our peninsula. As to the saintly\nlives, it is true that they contain much fable; but we know that they\nwere originally written by contemporaries, or by writers very near the\ntime. S. Columba of Tir-da-Glas, whom I take to have been the founder\nof the two Columbs in Cornwall and Culbone in Somersetshire, caught one\nof his disciples acting as his Boswell, noting down what he said and\ndid, and he was so angry that he took the MS. and threw it in the fire,\nand insisted on none of his pupils attempting to write his life.\n\nS. Erc was wont to retire in Lent to jot down his reminiscences of\nS. Patrick. The writer of the _Life of S. Abban_ says, \u201cI who have\ncomposed this am the grandson of him whom S. Abban baptised.\u201d But about\nthe eleventh century a fashion set in for rewriting these histories and\nelaborating the simple narratives into marvellous tales of miracle,\njust as in James I.\u2019s reign the grand simple old ballads of the English\nnation were recomposed in stilted style that robbed them of all their\npoetry and most of their value.\n\nNow it is almost always possible to disengage the plain threads of\nhistory from the flourish and frippery that was woven in at this late\nperiod. The eye of the superficial reader is at once caught by all the\nfoolery of grotesque miracle, and turns in disgust from the narrative;\nbut if these histories be critically examined, it will almost always be\nfound that the substratum is historical.\n\nSurely it affords an interest, and gives a zest to an excursion into\nCornwall, when we know something of the founders of the churches, and\nthey stand out before us as living, energetic characters, with some\nfaults, but many virtues, and are to us no longer _nuda nomina_.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER II.\n\n THE HOLY WELLS\n\n S. Patrick in Ireland--A pagan holy well--S. Samson--Celtic\n saints very particular about the water they drank--S. Piran\n and S. Germoe--S. Erth and the goose-eggs--S. Sithney and\n the polluted well--Dropping of pins into wells--Hanging\n rags about--Well-chapel of S. Clether--Venton Ia--Jordan\n wells--Gwennap ceremony--Fice\u2019s well--Modern stupidity\n about contaminated water.\n\n\nThe system adopted by S. Patrick in Ireland was that of making as\nlittle alteration as he could in the customs of the people, except only\nwhen such customs were flatly opposed to the precepts of the gospel. He\ndid not overthrow their lechs or pillar-stones; he simply cut crosses\non them. When he found that the pagans had a holy well, he contented\nhimself with converting the well into a baptistery. It is a question\nof judgment whether to wean people gently and by slow degrees from\ntheir old customs, or whether wholly to forbid these usages. S. Patrick\nmust have known perfectly what the episcopal system was in Gaul, yet\nwhen he came into a land where the Roman territorial organisation had\nnever prevailed, he accommodated Christian Church government to the\nconditions of Celtic tribal organisation.\n\n[Illustration: S. MELOR\u2019S WELL, LINKINHORNE]\n\nHe found that the Irish, like all other Celtic peoples, held wells\nin great veneration. He did not preach against this, denounce it as\nidolatrous, or pass canons condemning it. He quietly appropriated these\nwells to the service of the Church, and made of them baptisteries.\n\nWhat Patrick did in Ireland was what had been done elsewhere.\n\nWhen S. Samson was travelling in Cornwall between Padstow and Southill,\nand visited his cousin Padarn on the way; at a place called Tregear\nhe found the people dancing round an upright stone, and offering it\nidolatrous worship. He did not smash it in pieces. He contented himself\nwith cutting a cross on it.\n\nNow the Celtic saints were mighty choice in their tipple. They insisted\non having the purest of water for their drink; and not only did they\nrequire it for imbibing, but they did a great deal of tubbing.\n\nOne day S. Germoe paid S. Piran a visit; after they had prayed\ntogether, \u201cIt is my tubbing time,\u201d said Piran. \u201cWill you have a bath\ntoo?\u201d \u201cWith the greatest of pleasure,\u201d responded Germoe. So the two\nsaints got into the tub together. But the water was so cold that\nGermoe\u2019s teeth began to chatter, and he put one leg over the edge,\nintending to scramble out. \u201cNonsense!\u201d said Piran; \u201cbide in a bit, and\nyou will feel the cold less sharply.\u201d\n\nGermoe did this. Presently Piran yelled out, \u201cHeigh! a fish! a fish!\u201d\nand, between them, the two nude saints succeeded in capturing a trout\nthat was in the vat.\n\n\u201cI rejoice that we have the trout,\u201d said Piran, \u201cfor I am expecting\nhome my old pupil Carthagh, and I was short of victuals. We will cook\nit for his supper.\u201d\n\nSome of the saints had the fancy for saying their prayers standing up\nto their necks in water.\n\nThere is a story of S. Erc, the S. Erth of Land\u2019s End district, to the\npurpose, but I admit it is on late authority.\n\nDomnhal, king of Ireland, sent his servants to collect goose-eggs.\nThey found a woman carrying a black basket on her head piled up with\nthe eggs of geese. The king\u2019s servants demanded them, but she answered\nthat they were intended as a present to Erc, who spent the day immersed\nto the armpits in running water, with his Psalter on the bank, from\nwhich he recited the psalms. In the evening he emerged from his bath,\nshook himself, and ate an egg and a half together with three bunches of\nwatercress.\n\nHowever, regardless of the saint\u2019s necessities, the servants carried\nthe eggs away.\n\nWhen S. Erc came out of the river, dripping from every limb, and found\nthere were no eggs for his supper, he waxed warm, and roundly cursed\nthe rascals who had despoiled him, and those who had set them on, and\nall such as should eat them.\n\nThe story goes on to tell how these eggs became veritable apples of\ndiscord, breeding internecine strife.\n\nBut to return to the wells.\n\nWhether taught by experience, or illumined by the light of nature,\nI cannot say, but most assuredly the saints of Ireland, Wales, and\nCornwall were vastly particular as to their wells being of the purest\nand coldest water obtainable.\n\nS. Senan had settled for a while by a well in Inis Caorach, and one\nday his disciple Setna--our Cornish Sithney--found a woman washing\nher child\u2019s dirty clothes in the fountain. He flew into a fury, and\nhis companion Liberius was equally abusive in the language employed.\nShortly after the boy tumbled over the rocks into the sea. The\ndistracted mother ran to S. Senan, and when he heard the circumstances,\nassuming that this was due to the imprecations called down on the woman\nand her child by his two pupils, he bade both of them depart and not\nsee his face again, unless the child should be produced uninjured.\nSetna and Liberius sneaked away very disconsolate, but as they happily\nfound the lad on the beach uninjured, they were once more received into\nfavour.\n\nIt is unnecessary here to repeat all the hackneyed references to the\ncult of fountains among the Celts; they may be taken for granted. We\nknow that such was the case, and that the same cult continues very\nlittle altered among the Irish and Breton peasantry to the present day.\nIn Cornwall there is now little or none of it. \u201cWhen I was a man I put\naway childish things,\u201d says S. Paul, and the same applies to peoples.\nWhen they are in their cultural childhood they have their superstitious\nbeliefs and practices; but they grow out of them, and we pity those who\nstick in the observance of usages that are unreasonable.\n\nIn pagan times money was dropped into wells and springs, and\ndivination was taken from the rising of bubbles. Now the only relic of\nsuch a proceeding is the dropping in of pins or rush crosses.\n\nWells were also sought for curative purposes, and unquestionably some\nsprings have medicinal qualities, but these are entirely unconnected\nwith the saints, and depend altogether on their chemical constituents.\n\nIt is said that rags may still be seen on the bushes about Madron well\nas they are about holy wells in Ireland and about the tombs of fakirs\nand Mussulman saints. I doubt if any Cornish people are so foolish as\nto do such a thing as suspend rags about a well with the idea of these\nrags serving as an oblation to the patron of the spring for the sake of\nobtaining benefits from him.\n\nIn Pembrokeshire till quite recently persons, even Dissenters, were\nwont to drink water from S. Teilo\u2019s well out of a portion of the\nreputed skull of S. Teilo, of which the Melchior family are the\nhereditary custodians.\n\nThe immersing of the bone of a saint in water, and the drinking of the\nwater thus rendered salutary, is still practised in Brittany. This was\ndone when Ireland was pagan; but the bones soaked were those of Druids.\n\nThere is a curious illustration, as I take it, of this practice in S.\nClether\u2019s well chapel, recently restored. Here the stone altar remains\n_in situ_; it has never been disturbed.\n\n[Illustration: WELL-CHAPEL OF S. CLETHER]\n\nS. Clether was the son of Clydwyn, prince of Carmarthen and grandson\nof Brychan. He came to Cornwall in consequence of the invasion of his\nterritories by Dyfnwal, and here he spent a great part of his life,\nand died at an advanced age. He settled in the Inney valley in a most\npicturesque spot between great ruins of rock, where a perennial spring\nof the coolest, clearest water gushes forth. There can be very little\ndoubt that S. Clether employed this spring as his baptistery, for the\ntraditional usage of fetching water from it for baptisms in the parish\nchurch has lingered on there.\n\nThe holy well lies north-east of the chapel or oratory. When the chapel\nwas reconstructed in the fifteenth century the water from the holy\nwell was conveyed in a cut granite channel under the wall, and came\nsparkling forth in a sort of locker on the right side of the altar in\nthe thickness of the wall.\n\nTo reach this there was a descent of a step in the floor. Thence the\nwater flowed away underground, and gushed forth in a second holy well,\nconstructed in the depth of the chapel wall outside on the south near\nthe east end. Consequently there are two holy wells. The first, I take\nit, was the baptismal well; the second was used to drink from. A relic\nof the saint was placed in the channel where exposed; the water flowed\nover it, acquired miraculous virtues, and was drunk at the second well\noutside the chapel by those who desired healing.\n\nThat there was a further significance in the management of the course\nof the water I do not doubt.\n\nAn attempt was made to carry out the imagery of the vision of the holy\nwaters in Ezekiel:--\n\n \u201cAfterward he brought me again unto the door of the house; and,\n behold, waters issued out from under the threshold of the house\n eastward: for the forefront of the house stood toward the east,\n and the waters came down from under from the right side of the\n house, at the south side of the altar.\u201d (xlvii. 1.)\n\nCornwall possesses a vast number of holy wells, many of them in very\nbad repair. That at S. Cleer has been restored admirably; Dupath is in\nperfect condition; that of S. Guron at Bodmin has been restored; S.\nMelor\u2019s well at Linkinhorn is very beautiful and in perfect condition;\nS. John\u2019s well, Morwenstow, S. Julian\u2019s, Mount Edgcumbe, S. Indract\u2019s\nin the parish of S. Dominic, the well of S. Sidwell and S. Wulvella\nat Laneast, S. Samson\u2019s, Southill, Menacuddle, S. Anne\u2019s, Whitstone,\nS. Neot\u2019s, S. Nin\u2019s, Pelynt, Roche, S. Ruan\u2019s, are in good condition,\nbut many are ruinous, or have been so altered as to have lost their\ninterest. That of S. Mawes has been built up, and two great cast-iron\npipes carried up from it for the circulation of air over the water,\nwhich is drawn away to a tap which supplies the town or village.[2]\n\nHere is a melancholy account of the condition to which a holy well has\nsunk:--\n\n \u201cVenton Eia (S. Ia\u2019s well), on the cliff overlooking\n Porthmeor.--This ancient well, associated with the memory of\n the patron saint of the town (S. Ives), was formerly held in\n the highest reverence. Entries occur in the borough records\n of sums paid for cleansing and repairing it, under 1668-9\n and 1692-3. On the last of these occasions the well was\n covered, faced, and floored with hewn granite blocks in two\n compartments. It is still known as \u2018the Wishing Well,\u2019 from\n the old custom of divination by crooked pins dropped into\n the water. For some years past, however, this ancient source\n of purity has been shamefully outraged by contact with all\n that is foul. Close to it is a cluster of sties, known as\n \u2018Pig\u2019s Town,\u2019 and the well has become the receptacle for\n stinking fish and all kinds of offal. Just above it are the\n walls of the new cemetery. All veneration for this spot, so\n dear to countless generations of our forefathers, seems to\n have departed.\u201d[3]\n\nThe well of S. Bridget at Landue remains, but the saint\u2019s chapel is\ngone. Stables near the well are thought to have polluted the water, and\nthe well is closed lest the incautious should drink of the reputedly\ncontaminated waters.\n\nThere are a good many holy wells in Devon also, but none of mark. At\nSticklepath above the well rises a very early inscribed stone. There is\na holy well, ruinous, at Halwell, one, probably of S. Lo, at Broadwood,\none at Ermington, from which water is still drawn for baptisms, one at\nLifton, one at Ashburton, probably dedicated to S. Wulvela. S. Sidwell\nand S. Anne each has her well at Exeter, and the water of the latter\nhas of late become of repute, and is in request under the form of beer.\nIt supplies a brewery.\n\nWhen S. Cadoc returned from the Holy Land he brought with him a bottle\nof water from the Jordan, and poured it into a well in Cornwall. None\nthat I know of bears his name, but that at Laneast is called Jordan\nwell.\n\nThere is a very singular custom still observed in connection with a\nstream in place of a holy well at Gwennap. There, on Good Friday,\nchildren seek two spots by a stream to baptise their _dolls_. This can\nbe due only to a dim reminiscence of baptising in the open.\n\nIn addition to the holy wells, there are the pixy wells, where the\nancient spirits have not been dispossessed by the saints.\n\nPoughill parish takes its name from a puck or pisgie well.\n\nFice\u2019s well, near Prince Town, has on it \u201cJ. F. 1568.\u201d John Fitz, the\nastrologer, and his lady were once pixy-led whilst riding on Dartmoor.\nAfter long wanderings in the vain effort to find their way, they\nlighted on a pure spring, drank of it; and their eyes were opened to\nknow where they were and which was their right direction. In gratitude\nfor this deliverance, old John Fitz caused the stone memorial to be\nset over the spring for the advantage of all pixy-led wanderers. Alas!\nthe convict establishment has enclosed the moor all round, and now\nthis well, though intact, no longer stands, as I remember it, in wild\nmoorland, but enclosed by a protecting wall in a field.\n\nIn a certain large village of which I know something water was\nintroduced by means of earthenware pipes for a considerable distance,\nand then conveyed to taps at convenient spots by iron and lead.\n\nNow there was one of these taps placed outside the Board school. The\nmaster said within himself, \u201cIf I go to the tap, I shall have to pay\nthe water rate, which will be very heavy; if I never turn the tap, I\nsurely cannot be required to pay. So I know what I will do. Go to! I\nwill draw all my water from the well in the yard of the farm at the\nback of my premises.\u201d\n\nHe did so, and lost his wife and child by diphtheria. Verily even\nmodern Board school masters might learn something from these wild old\npure water-loving Celtic saints.\n\n\nNOTE.--Book on Cornish Holy Wells:--\n\nQUILLER-COUCH (M. and L.), _Ancient and Holy Wells of Cornwall_.\nLondon: Clark, 1894.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER III.\n\n CORNISH CROSSES\n\n Abundance of crosses--The menh\u00eer--Crosses marked the limits of\n a Llan--Crosses marked places for public prayer--Instance\n of a Cornish Dissenter--Churches anciently few and far\n between--The cross erected where was no church--Which\n therefore precedes the village church--Crosses as\n waymarks--The Abbot\u2019s Way--Interlaced work--The plat a\n subject for study.\n\n\nThere is no county in England where crosses abound as they do in\nCornwall. Second to it comes Devonshire. Indeed, on Dartmoor and in the\nwest of the latter county they are as numerous as in Cornwall.\n\nTheir origin is various.\n\nIn the first place, where the pagans worshipped a menh\u00eer or standing\nstone, there it was Christianised by being turned into a cross. In the\nsecond place, crosses marked the bounds of a _minihi_ or _llan_, the\nsanctuary of the saint.\n\n[Illustration: CROSS, S. LEVAN]\n\nThen, again, the Celtic churches were very small, mere oratories,\nthat could not possibly contain a moderate congregation. The saints\ntook their station at a cross, and preached thence. With the Saxons\nthere was a rooted dread of entering an enclosed place for anything\nlike worship, fearing, as they did, the exercise of magical rites; and\nthey were accustomed to hold all their meetings in the open air.\nS. Walpurga, the sister of S. Willibald, who wrote in 750, and was a\nWessex woman, says:--\n\n \u201cIt is the custom of the Saxon race that on many estates of\n nobles and of good men they are wont to have not a church,\n but the standard of the holy cross dedicated to our Lord\n and reverenced with great honour, lifted up on high so as\n to be convenient for the frequency of daily prayer.\u201d\n\nIn connection with this, I may mention a fact. In the parish of\nAltarnon was an old pious Wesleyan, and when the weather was too bad\nfor him to go to chapel he was wont to go to one of the crosses of\ngranite that stood near his cottage, kneel there, and say his prayers.\nHe died not long ago.\n\nBede, some twenty years before Walpurga, says that--\n\n \u201cThe religious habit was then held in great veneration,\n so that wheresoever a clerk or a monk happened to come he\n was joyfully received, ... and if they chanced to meet him\n upon the way, they ran to him, and bowing, were glad to be\n signed with his hand and blessed with his mouth. On Sundays\n they flocked largely to the\u201d (bishop\u2019s) \u201cchurch or the\n monasteries to hear the word of God. And if any presbyter\n chanced to come into a village, the inhabitants flocked\n together to hear the word of life; for the presbyters and\n clerks went into the villages on no other account than to\n preach, baptise, visit the sick, and in short to take care\n of souls\u201d (_H.E._, iii. 16).\n\nThis shows that, in the first place, among the Anglo-Saxons there\nwere no churches except the cathedral and the monastic church, and no\nparochial clergy. Bede does not actually say that there was a cross\nset up from which the itinerant clergy preached, and to which the\nfaithful resorted for prayer, but this additional fact we have learned\nfrom Walpurga.\n\nSo we come to this very interesting conclusion, that the _village\ncross preceded the parish church_. The crosses were, in fact, the\nreligious centres of church life, and we ought accordingly to value\nand preserve them with the tenderest care. A great many of those that\nwe have now on our village greens are comparatively modern, and date\nfrom the fourteenth or fifteenth century, but there still remain a vast\nnumber, not in the midst of a village, but on moors and by highways\nof an extremely early description, and which most assuredly have been\nthe scene of many a primitive \u201ccamp meeting\u201d in the fifth and sixth\ncenturies.\n\nOn Sourton Down beside the road stands a cross of very coarse granite.\nOn it is inscribed PRINCIPI FIL AVDEI, and above it an early and rude\ncross of Constantine. Some time in the Middle Ages the rudeness of the\nstone gave dissatisfaction, and its head was trimmed into a cross.\n\nA third occasion for the erection of crosses was as waymarks. Across\nDartmoor such a succession of rude crosses exists where was what is\ncalled the Abbot\u2019s Way from Buckfast to Tavistock and to Plympton. But\nthere are others not on these lines, and such may have served both\nas guiding marks and also as stations for prayer. That the monks of\nBuckland--and Buckland goes back to pre-Saxon times--did go out to\nthe moor and there minister to the tin-streamers or squatters and\nshepherds, I cannot doubt, and accordingly look with much emotion at\nthese grey monuments of early Christianity.\n\nThe interlaced work which is found on some of the crosses is of the\nsame character as the ornamentation in the early Irish MSS., and it was\nadopted from the Celtic clergy by their Anglian and Saxon converts.\n\nBut whence came it?\n\nWe know that the Britons delighted in plaited work with osiers, and it\nwas with wattle that they built their houses, their kings\u2019 palaces, and\ndefended their camps. By constant use of wattle through long ages they\nbecame extraordinarily skilful in devising plaits; and when they began\nto work on stone they copied thereon the delicate interlaced work they\nloved to exhibit in their domestic buildings.\n\nThe various plaits have been worked out by Mr. A. G. Langdon in his\nadmirable study of the Cornish crosses. At a meeting of the British\nAssociation he exhibited a hundred drawings of different crosses,\netc., illustrative of a paper read by Mr. J. Romilly Allen on \u201cThe\nEarly Christian Monuments of Cornwall.\u201d When some incredulity was\nexpressed as to there being so many examples in that county, Mr.\nLangdon explained that not only did all these come from Cornwall, but\nthat the examples brought before the Association represented only about\none-third of the whole number known to exist. And since that date a\ngood many more have been noticed. The variety in design of the crosses\nis very great indeed. Some affect the Greek cross, some the Latin;\nsome are with a figure on them, some plain, others richly ornamented.\nBut what is remarkable about them is, in the first place, they are\nnearly all in granite, a material in which nothing was done from the\nseventh century down to the fifteenth, as though the capability of\nworking such a hard intractable stone had been lost. And, in the second\nplace, the ornamentation is in the lost art of plaiting, of the beauty\nand difficulty of which we can hardly conceive till we attempt it.\nThere is first the four-string plait, then that with six, and lastly\nthat with eight. Then three strings are combined together in each\nplait, then split, forming the so-called Stafford knot; the knot and\nthe plait are worked together; now a loop is dropped, forming a bold\nand pleasing interruption in the pattern. Then a ring is introduced and\nplaited into the pattern; then chain-work is introduced; in fact, an\nendless variety is formed, exercising the ingenuity of the artist to\nthe uttermost. It would be an excellent amusement and occupation for a\nrainy day in an hotel for the tourist to set to work upon and unravel\nthe mysteries of these Celtic knots.\n\nThe old interlaced work, or the tradition of it, seems to have lingered\non in the glazing of windows, and some very beautiful examples remain\nin England and in France. Mr. Romilly Allen points out:--\n\n \u201cIn Egyptian, Greek, and Roman decorative art the only kind\n of interlaced work is the plait, without any modification\n whatever; and the man who discovered how to devise new\n patterns from a simple plait, by making what I term\n _breaks_, laid the foundation of all the wonderfully\n complicated and truly bewildering forms of interlaced\n ornament found on such a masterpiece of the art of\n illumination as the _Book of Kells_. Although we do not\n know _who_ made the discovery of how to make breaks in a\n plait, we know pretty nearly _when_ it was made.\u201d[4]\n\nHe goes on to show that the transition from plaitwork to knotwork\ntook place _in Italy_ between 563 and 774. But is that not a proof of\nintroduction into Italy, and not of its discovery there? I am rather\ndisposed to think that partly through the adoption of the osier wattle\nin domestic architecture, partly through the employment of the tartan,\nthe plait in all its intricacy was a much earlier product of the genius\nof the Celtic race.\n\nThere is a pretty story in the life of an early Irish saint. He had\nbeen put at school, but could not learn. At last, sick of books, he ran\naway. He found a man at work with willow rods, weaving them to form the\nwalls of a house he was building. He dipped them in water, and laced\nthem in and out with wonderful neatness, patience, and dexterity. And\nthe boy, looking on, marvelled at it all, took it to heart, and said\nto himself, \u201cThese osiers flip out; but when there are patience and\nskill combined, they can be made into the most exquisite patterns,\nand plaited together into a most solid screen. Why may not I be thus\nshaped, if I allow myself to be bent, and am docile in my master\u2019s\nhands?\u201d So he went back to school.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n\n CORNISH CASTLES\n\n The ancient camps--Their kinds--1. Rectangular, Roman--2.\n The Saxon burh--3. The Celtic circular or oval camp--The\n _lis_ and the _dun_--4. Stone fortresses--Heroic legends\n in Ireland--The Firbolgs--5. The stone castle with mortar,\n Norman--No good examples.\n\n\nAnyone with a very little experience can at once \u201cspot\u201d a camp or\ncastle by the appearance from a distance of a hill or headland; and\nthe traveller in Devon and Cornwall will pass scores of them, as he\nwill see by his Ordnance Survey Map, without giving much attention to\nthem, without supposing that they can be of great interest, unless his\nattention has been previously directed to the subject. It is a pity\nthat anyone should go through a country which may really be said to\nmake ancient camps and castles its speciality and not know something\nabout them.\n\n[Illustration: LAUNCESTON]\n\nOf hill castles or camps there are several kinds:--\n\n1. Those that are rectangular or approximately so, and which have been\nattributed to the Romans. Of these in Cornwall there are but few.\nTregear, near Bodmin, and Bossens, in S. Erth, have yielded Roman coins\nand relics of pottery; but whether actually Roman or Romano-British\nremains undecided.\n\n2. There are those which consist of a tump or mound, sometimes wholly\nartificial, usually natural, and adapted by art, and in connection with\nthis is a bass-court, usually, but not universally, quadrilateral. This\nwas the Saxon type of _burh_; it was also that of the Merovingian. The\nclassic passage descriptive of these is in the _Life of S. John of\nTerouanne_, written in the eleventh century:--\n\n \u201cIt was customary for the rich men and nobles of these\n parts, because their main occupation is the carrying on of\n feuds, to heap up a mound of earth as high as they are able\n to raise it, and to dig round it a broad, open, and deep\n ditch, and to girdle the whole upper edge of the bank with\n a barrier of wooden planks, stoutly fastened together, and\n set round with numerous turrets, and this in place of a\n wall.\n\n \u201cWithin was constructed a house, or rather a citadel,\n commanding the whole area, so that the gate of it could\n alone be reached by means of a bridge that sprang from the\n counterside of the ditch, and was gradually raised as it\n advanced, supported by sets of piers, two, or even three,\n trussed on each side, over convenient spans, crossing the\n moat with a managed ascent, so as to attain the upper level\n of the mound, landing on its edge level with the threshold\n of the door.\u201d\n\nA very good idea of such a camp may be derived from the representation\nof the fortifications of Dinan on the Bayeux tapestry.\n\nIn France the _mottes_ on which the wooden dongeons of the Merovingian\nchiefs were planted certainly abound; but in many cases the bank\nenclosing the bass-court has disappeared. Good examples may be seen\nat Plympton, at Lydford, and at Launceston. At the former and latter\nNorman walls took the place of the palisading; but at Lydford a keep\nwas erected on the tump, but the line of earthworks was never walled.\n\nIn Ireland and in Scotland such camps abound; they are there due\nto Saxon and Danish invaders. In Ireland they are called _motes_,\nin England _burhs_. They afforded the type on which the Normans\nconstructed their castles.\n\n3. A much more common form of camp in Devon and Cornwall is one that is\ncircular or oval, and consists of concentric rings of earth, or earth\nand stone mixed, with ditches between.\n\nThere is, however, a variant where a headland is fortified, either one\nstanding above the sea into which it juts, or at the junction of two\nstreams. There it sufficed to run defensive banks and ditches across\nthe neck of the promontory.\n\nThis description of camp or castle is usually supposed to be Celtic.\n\nIn Ireland such a camp is a _rath_. The same word is employed for\nsimilar camps in a portion of Pembrokeshire.\n\nEvery noble had a right to have a _rath_, and every chief had his _lis_\nor _dun_.\n\nA lis was an enclosed space, with an earth-mound surrounding it, and\nwas the place in which justice was administered. _Lis_ enters into many\nplace-names in Cornwall, as Liskeard, Lesnewth, Listewdrig, the court\nof that king who killed S. Gwynear and bullied S. Ewny and the other\nIrish settlers; Lescaddock, Lescawn, Lestormel, now corrupted into\nRestormel.\n\nIn Ireland _les_ had a wider meaning. S. Carthagh was throwing up a\nmound around a plot of land where he was going to plant a monastery.\n\n\u201cWhat are you about there?\u201d asked an inquisitive woman.\n\n\u201cOnly engaged in the construction of a little _lis_,\u201d was the reply.\n\n\u201cLis beg!\u201d (small lis), exclaimed the woman. \u201cI call it a lis mor\u201d (a\nbig lis). And Lismore is its name to this day.\n\nIn Ireland every king had his _dun_. This was an enlarged rath with an\nouter court in which he held his hostages, for the law required this:\n\u201cHe is no king who has not hostages in lock-up.\u201d\n\nDun in Welsh is _din_, and _dinas_ is but another form of the same\nword, and signifies a royal residence.\n\nA gloss to an old Irish law tract says that a royal dun must have two\nwalls and a moat for water.\n\nDun in Scotland is applied to any fort. According to the Gaelic\ndictionaries, it is \u201ca heap or mound,\u201d and even a dung-hill is a dun.\n\nIn fact, the French _dune_ and the Cornish _towan_ derive from the same\nroot. Dun so much resembles the Anglo-Saxon _tun_ that we cannot always\nbe sure of the derivation of a place-name that ends in tun.\n\nEvery tribe had its dun, to which the cattle were driven, and where the\nwomen and children were placed in security in times of danger. This\nwould be in addition to the royal residence, that is the dun of the\n_rig_.\n\nWithin the dun were numerous structures of timber, roofed with oak\nshingles, some of a large description, such as a banqueting hall; but\nthe habitations of the garrison were circular, of wickerwork, and\nthatched with rushes.\n\nIn Cornwall there is Dingerrein, the dinas of S. Geraint;\nCastel-an-Dinas; Damelioc (Din-Maeloc); Dunheved, the old name for\nLaunceston; Dundagel.\n\n4. I come now to the stone fortresses that are found in parts of\nCornwall and Wales. They are also to be seen in Scotland and Ireland.\nThese are called caerau in Wales. A cathair is the term applied to them\nin Ireland, and cathair signifies as well a city.\n\nThey are found in England only in Somersetshire, Devon, and Cornwall;\nand in Wales only in such parts as were invaded and occupied from\nIreland.\n\nIn Kerry and the isles of Arran are those in best preservation, and\nfrom these we can see that the walls were regularly built up with\ndouble faces, rubble being between them. Very usually in Arran stones\nare placed with the end outwards, so that they serve as ties to hold\nthe walls together.\n\nThe Welsh examples are very perfect, and precisely similar to those in\nIreland.\n\nWe know that the Gauls built stone camps--C\u00e6sar calls them their\n_oppida_--but they employed beams of timber along with the stone to\ntie the walls together. The wood has everywhere rotted away, and the\nenclosing walls of the Gaulish camps now present the same appearance\nprecisely as do the similar stone camps in Devon, Somerset, and\nCornwall. When the timber decayed the stones fell into heaps. In Arran\nand Anglesey there was no timber; consequently stones were employed as\nties, and there the walls remain comparatively intact.\n\nWithin the _caer_ were circular stone beehive huts; also chambers that\nwere circular were contrived in the thickness of the walls. These\n\u201csentry boxes\u201d have been noticed in Wales, and also in Cornwall and\nDevon.\n\nThe account of Castel-an-Dinas, before it was robbed for the erection\nof a tower, is precisely such as might be given of one of those in\nIreland or Wales:--\n\n \u201cIt consisted of two stone walls, one within the other,\n in a circular form, surrounding the area of the hill. The\n ruins are now fallen on each side of the walls, and show\n the work to have been of great height and thickness. There\n was also a third or outer wall built more than half-way\n round. Within these walls are many little enclosures of a\n circular form, about seven yards in diameter, with little\n walls round them of two or three feet high; they appear to\n have been so many huts for the shelter of the garrison.\u201d\n\nIn fact, this was a royal dinas. Not only had it the requisite double\nwall, but also the _drecht gialnai_, or dyke of the hostages. Every\nking retained about him pledges from the under-chiefs that they would\nbe faithful.\n\nThere are several of these stone camps in Devon and Cornwall. In\nSomersetshire Whorlebury is very interesting; in Devon are Whit Tor\nand Cranbrook; in Cornwall the Cheesewring camp, Carn Brea, Chun\nCastle, the camp of Caer Conan on Tregenning Hill, Helborough, beside\nCastel-an-Dinas in Ludgvan.\n\nThe heroic legends of Ireland attribute these stone camps to the\nFirbolgs, the non-Aryan dusky race that was in possession previous to\nthe arrival of the Celts. But that the Milesians learned from them the\nart of constructing such castles is very certain, for in Christian\ntimes the monks imitated them in some of their settlements.\n\nLord Dunraven, who has photographed these stone duns, says:--\n\n \u201cThe legends of the early builders are preserved in the\n compilations of Irish scribes and bardic writers dating\n from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries. The story,\n which is said by these writers to have been handed down\n orally during the earliest centuries of the Christian\n era, and committed to writing when that art first became\n known in Ireland, is the history of the wanderings and\n final destruction of a hunted and persecuted race, whose\n fate would seem to have been mournful and strange as the\n ruined fortresses of the lost tribe which now stand before\n us. Coming to Ireland through Britain, they seem to have\n been long beaten hither and thither, till, flying still\n westward, they were protected by Ailill and Maeve, who are\n said to have reigned in Connaught about the first century\n of the Christian era. From these monarchs they obtained a\n grant of lands along the western coast of Galway, as well\n as the islands of Arran, where they remained till their\n final expulsion. Thus their forms seem to pass across the\n deep abyss of time, like the white flakes of foam that are\n seen drifted by the hurrying wind over the wild and wasted\n ruins of their fortresses.\u201d\n\nExcavations show that these stone caers are more ancient than the\nChristian era; they belong to the period of flint weapons and the\nintroduction of bronze. But, as already stated, the conquerors of the\nrude stone monument builders adopted some of their arts, and some of\ntheir camps are much later.\n\n5. The stone castle, the walls set in mortar, is not earlier in Devon\nand Cornwall than the Norman Conquest. There are no really stately\ncastles in either county, with the exception of Launceston. Rougemont,\nExeter, is eminently unpicturesque; Tiverton, Totnes, Plympton, are\nalmost complete ruins; Lydford--well, as Browne the poet wrote of it in\nthe reign of James I.:--\n\n \u201cThey have a castle on a hill;\n I took it for an old windmill,\n The vanes blown off by weather;\n To lie therein one night, \u2019tis guessed\n \u2019T were better to be stoned or pressed\n Or hanged ere you come hither.\u201d\n\nAnd ruin that has fallen on it has not improved its appearance.\n\nOkehampton is but a mean relic; Restormel is circular; Trematon is\nlike a pork-pie; Pendennis, S. Mawes, late and insignificant. Tintagel\nowes everything to its superb situation and to the legend that it was\nthe place where King Arthur was born. The most picturesque of all is\nPregersick, near Breage, but that is late. Its story shall be told in\nthe chapter on Penzance.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER V.\n\n TIN MINING\n\n The granite eruptions in Devon and Cornwall--_Elvans_--\n _Lodes_--Tin passing into copper--Stream-tin--Story of S.\n Piran and S. Chigwidden--Dartmoor stream-tin--Joseph of\n Arimathea--The Cassiterides--Jutes--Danish incursions--Tin\n in King John\u2019s time--Richard, Earl of Cornwall--Elizabeth\n introduces German engineers--Stannary towns--Carew on\n mining--Blowing-houses--Miners\u2019 terms--Stannary Courts--Dr.\n Borlase on tin mining--Present state.\n\n\nI remember being at a ball many years ago at that epoch in the\ndevelopment of woman when her \u201cbody\u201d was hooked along her dorsal ridge.\nNow I learn from competent authorities that it is held together in\nother fashion.\n\nThere was at the ball a very lusty stout lady in slate-grey satin.\n\nBy nature and age, assisted by victuals, she was unadapted to take\nviolent exercise. Nevertheless dance she would. Dance she did, till\nthere ensued an explosion. Hooks, eyes, buttons, yielded, and there\nensued an eruption of subjacent material. In places the fastenings held\nso that the tumescent under-garments foamed out at intervals in large\nbulging masses.\n\nThis is precisely what took place with Mother Earth in one of her\ngambols. Her slate panoply gave way, parted from N.E. to S.W., and out\nburst the granite, which had been kept under and was not intended for\nshow.\n\nHer hooks and eyes gave way first of all in South Devon, and out\nswelled the great mass of Dartmoor. They held for a little space, and\nthen out broke another mass that constitutes the Bodmin moors. It\nheaved to the surface again north of S. Austell, then was held back as\nfar as Redruth and Camborne. A few more hooks remained firm, and then\nthe garment gave way for the Land\u2019s End district, and, finally, out of\nthe sea it shows again in Scilly.\n\nOr take it in another way. Cornwall is something like a leg. Let it be\na leg vested in a grey stocking. That stocking has so many \u201cpotatoes\u201d\nin it, and each \u201cpotato\u201d is eruptive granite.\n\nGranite, however, likewise cracked, formed \u201cfaults,\u201d as they are\ncalled, in parallel lines with the great parent crack to which it owed\nits appearance, and cracks also formed across these; and through the\nearlier cracks up gushed later granite in a molten condition, and these\nare dykes.\n\nMoreover, the satin body not only gave way down its great line of\ncleavage, but the satin itself in places yielded, revealing, not now\nthe under-linen which boiled out at the great faults, but some material\nwhich, I believe, was the lining. So when the granite broke forth there\nwere subsidiary rifts in the slate, and through these rifts a material\nwas extruded, not exactly granite, but like it, called _elvan_. These\nelvan dykes vary from a few feet to as many as four hundred in\nbreadth, and many can be traced for several miles. The younger granite\nintruded into the older granite is also called elvan.\n\nBut when the secondary fissures occurred, the intrusive matter was not\nonly a bastard granite, but with it came also tin and copper. And these\nmetallic lines, which run on Dartmoor from E. to W., and in Cornwall\nfrom E.N.E. to W.S.W., are called _lodes_.\n\nThe cross-cracks do not contain metal. They are called _cross-courses_.\n\nIn addition there are some capricious veins that do not run in the\nnormal direction, and these are called _counter-lodes_. Their usual\ndirection is N.E.\n\nThe cross-courses, although without metal, are of considerable value to\nthe miner, because, as he knows well, the best lodes are those which\nare thus traversed.\n\nThere is, however, one description of cross-course that is called\n_floocan_, and which is packed with clay, and holds back water. These\nare accordingly not cut through if it can possibly be avoided.\n\nA very curious feature in the lodes is, that after going down to a\nvariable depth the tin is replaced by copper.\n\nPercy was the first to establish this, towards the close of last\ncentury. He pointed out that many an old tin mine was in his time\nworked for copper. And it came to be supposed that this would be found\nto be an unchanging law: Go deep enough after tin, and you come to\ncopper. But this opinion was shaken when it was found that Dolcoath,\nthe profoundest mine in Cornwall, which had for some time been worked\nfor copper, became next rich in tin. What seems to have been the case\nwas this: when a vent offered, there was a scramble between the two\nminerals which should get through first and out of the confinement\nunder earth\u2019s crust, and now a little tin got ahead; then came copper\ntrampling on its heels, but was itself tripped up by more tin.\n\nNow, when the granite came to the surface, it did not have everything\nits own way, and hold its nose on high, and lord it over every other\nrock as being the most ancient of all, though not the earliest to put\nin an appearance. There was a considerable amount of water about. There\nis plenty and to spare in the west of England now, but we may feel\ngrateful that we do not exist in such detestable weather, nor exposed\nto such sousing rains, nor have to stand against such deluges, as those\nwhich granite had to encounter. Hot, over-hot, it may have been below,\nbut it was cold and horribly wet above.\n\nThe rains descended; the floods came, and beat on the granite, which,\nbeing perhaps at the time warm and soft, and being always very\nabsorbent, began to dissolve.\n\nAs it dissolved, the water swept away all its component parts, and\ndeposited the heaviest near at hand, and took the lightest far away.\nNow the heaviest of all were the ore from the veins or lodes, and\nthe water swept this down into the valleys and left it there, but\nit carried off the dissolved feldspar and deposited it where it\nconveniently could and when it was tired of carrying it. The former is\nstream-tin; the latter is china clay.\n\nNow to get at stream-tin very little trouble is needed. The rubble\nbrought down and lodged in the valleys has to be turned over; and the\nore is distinguishable by its weight and by a pink tinge, like the\nrouge ladies were wont (a hundred years ago) to put on their cheeks and\nlips. There is no tunnelling, no nasty shafts and adits to be made; and\nshafts and adits were beyond the capacity of primitive man, furnished\nwith bone and oak picks only. Besides, why take the trouble to mine\nwhen the tin lay ready to be picked up?\n\nThe story told in Cornwall of the discovery of tin is this:--\n\nS. Piran came over from Ireland in a coracle, and, like a prudent man,\nbrought with him a bottle of whisky. On landing on the north coast he\nfound that there was a hermit there named Chigwidden. The latter was\nquite agreeable to be friends with the new-comer, who was full of Irish\ntales, Irish blarney, and had, to boot, a bottle of Irish whisky. Who\nwould not love a stranger under the circumstances? Brothers Chigwidden\nand Piran drank up the bottle.\n\n\u201cBy dad,\u201d said Piran, \u201cbothered if there be another dhrop to be\nsqueezed out! Never mind, my spiritual brother; I\u2019ll show you how to\ndistil the crayture. Pile me up some stones, and we\u2019ll get up the divil\nof a fire, and we shall manage to make enough to expel the deuce out of\nould Cornwall.\u201d\n\nSo Chigwidden collected a number of black stones, and the two saints\nmade a fine fire--when, lo! out of the black stones thus exposed to the\nheat ran a stream like liquid silver. Thus was tin discovered.\n\nThe story won\u2019t wash.\n\nTin was invented a thousand years at least before either Piran or\nChigwidden were thought of. But that was most certainly the way in\nwhich it was revealed.\n\nOn Dartmoor the stream tin can thus be run out of the ore with a peat\nfire. And the Dartmoor stream tin has this merit: it is absolutely\npure, whereas tin elsewhere is mingled with wolfram, that makes it\nbrittle as glass; and to separate wolfram from tin requires a second\nroasting and is a delicate process.\n\nAnother Cornish story is to the effect that Joseph of Arimathea came\nin a boat to Cornwall, and brought the Child Jesus with him, and the\nlatter taught him how to extract the tin and purge it of its wolfram.\nThis story possibly grew out of the fact that the Jews under the\nAngevin kings farmed the tin of Cornwall. When tin is flashed, then\nthe tinner shouts, \u201cJoseph was in the tin trade,\u201d which is probably a\ncorruption of \u201cS. Joseph to the tinner\u2019s aid!\u201d\n\nWe will now shortly take the history of tin mining in Devon and\nCornwall.\n\nWhether the west of Cornwall and Scilly were the Cassiterides of the\nancients is doubtful. But one thing is sure: that they had their tin,\nor some of it, from Britain.\n\nDiodorus Siculus, who flourished in the time of Augustus, says so:--\n\n \u201cThe inhabitants of that extremity of Britain which is\n called Belerion both excel in hospitality\u201d--they do\n so still--\u201cand also, by reason of their intercourse\n with foreign merchants, are civilised in their mode of\n life\u201d--very much so. \u201cThese prepare the tin, working very\n skilfully the earth which produces it. The ground is rocky,\n but it has in it earthy veins, the produce of which is\n brought down and melted and purified. Then, when they have\n cast it into the form of cubes, they carry it to a certain\n island adjoining Britain, called Ictis. During the recess\n of the tide the intervening space is left dry, and they\n carry over abundance of tin in carts.... From thence the\n traders who purchase the tin of the natives transport it\n to Gaul, and finally, travelling through Gaul on foot, in\n about thirty days bring their burdens on horses to the\n mouth of the Rhine.\u201d\n\nIctis has been variously supposed to be S. Michael\u2019s Mount, the Isle of\nWight, and Romney in Kent.\n\nWhether the Romans worked the tin in Devon and Cornwall is very\nquestionable. No evidence has been produced that they did so. The Saxon\ninvasion must have destroyed what little mining activity existed in\nthe two counties, at least in Devon. It is noticeable that, although\nAthelstan penetrated to Land\u2019s End and crossed to Scilly, he is not\nsaid to have paid any attention to the tin workings, which he assuredly\nwould have done had they then been valuable. To the incursions of the\nSaxons succeeded those of the Danish freebooters, who ran up the rivers\nand burnt Tavistock and Lydford in 997, and carried fire and sword\nthrough the stannary districts of Devon.\n\nUnder the Norman rule mining revived. The general use of bells in\nchurches caused a considerable demand for tin, more particularly as\nthose for cathedrals were of large calibre. The chief emporium of the\ntin trade was Bruges, whence the merchants of Italy obtained the west\nof England tin and distributed it through the Levant. There exists an\ninteresting record of Florentine commercial industry by one Balducci,\ncomposed between 1332 and 1345, in which is described the trade in\nCornish tin, and how it was remelted into bars at Venice and stamped\nwith the lion of S. Mark.\n\nIn King John\u2019s time the tin mines were farmed by the Jews. The right to\nit was claimed by the king as Earl of Cornwall.\n\nOld smelting-houses in the peninsula are still called \u201cJews\u2019 houses,\u201d\nand, judging by certain noses and lips that one comes across\noccasionally in the Duchy, they left their half-breeds behind them.\n\nDuring the time of Richard, Earl of Cornwall and King of the Romans,\nthe produce of the tin mines was considerable, and it was in fact\nlargely due to his reputed wealth from this source that he was elected\n(1257).\n\nThe tin workings went on with varying prosperity till the reign of\nElizabeth, when she introduced German engineers and workmen, with\nimproved appliances. In her time the tinners of Cornwall were divided\ninto four portions, named from the principal works of that period. Each\nof these divisions had its steward under the Lord Warden, who kept his\ncourt once in every three weeks. The four stannary towns of Cornwall\nwere Helston, Truro, Lostwithiel, and Liskeard; and at Lostwithiel may\nbe seen the remains of the ducal palace; and at Luxulyan the church,\nin the tower of which the stannary records and charters were formerly\npreserved.\n\nIn Devon the stannary towns were Tavistock, Ashburton, and Chagford, to\nwhich Plympton was added in the reign of Edward III., and Lydford was\nappointed as the stannary prison.\n\nOrdinary justices of the peace had no jurisdiction over the miners in\ntheir disputes.\n\nCarew, who was about the court of Queen Elizabeth, has furnished\nus with a valuable record of the state of the mines before the\nintroduction of new German machinery and methods.\n\nHe notices both the stream-works and the lodes, and his opinion was\nthat the deposits in the former were the result of the Deluge.\n\nHe then describes the process of _shoding_, that is of tracing the\ndirection of a vein by fragments found near the surface. The shode\npits, which are also called costeening pits, were holes sunk into the\nground to no great depth till indications of the lode were reached. The\nminers next sank pits seven or eight feet deep till they reached the\nlode itself.\n\n \u201cIf they misse the load in one place, they sincke a like\n shaft\u201d (pit) \u201cin another beyond that, commonly further up\n the hill, and so a third and a fourth, until they light at\n last upon it.\u201d\n\nOver Dartmoor and the Bodmin moors \u201cthe old men\u2019s workings\u201d may be\nseen; hardly a gully has not been streamed, every river-bed has been\nturned over. The face of the moor is in places welted to such an extent\nthat it alters the character of the scene. These workings are now\ngrass-grown; they are very ancient, and clearly were conducted open\nto the sky. As the miners worked up a river-bed they built a colander\nbehind them of rude blocks of granite, through which the stream might\nflow away, and many a rivulet now runs underground through these\nartificial passages.\n\nIn dressing the ore the miners broke it with hammers, and then \u201cvanned\u201d\nit on their broad oak shovels. The wind bore away the valueless\ndust, leaving the metal behind. By the side of the \u201cgoyles,\u201d or\ndeep workings, may be found \u201cvanning-steads\u201d where this process was\nconducted. But with the introduction of machinery the _crazing-mill_\nwas employed, worked by a waterwheel, in which the ore was passed\nbetween two grinding-stones. The washing of the dust which took the\nplace of the dry process was this:--\n\n \u201cThe streame, after it hath forsaken the mill, is made to\n fall by certayne degrees\u201d (steps) \u201cone somewhat distant\n from another, upon each of which at every descent lyeth\n a green turfe, three or four foote square and one foote\n thick. On this the tinner layeth a certayne portion of the\n sandie tinne, and with his shovell softly tosseth the same\n to and fro, that through this stirring the water, which\n runneth over it, may wash away the light earth from the\n tinne, which, of a heavier substance, lyeth fast to the\n turfe.\u201d\n\nAfter the black tin, or ore, had been thus treated it was conveyed to\nthe blowing-house. The usage on Dartmoor was, when a miner was far from\none of these, to tie the ore in a bag marked with his name or sign, and\nhang it about a dog\u2019s neck; the beast then conveyed it to the mill.\n\nOf the \u201cblowing-houses\u201d a great many remain on Dartmoor. There are two\non the Yealm, one, very perfect, on the Erme, one very early, before\nthe introduction of the waterwheel, at Deep Swincombe, several on the\nDart.\n\nThe blowing-house was a small structure of one chamber and a _cache_,\nor storeplace, underground. The doorway was rarely high enough to\nadmit a man without stooping double. The walls were of stone without\nmortar, and, as far as can be judged from their remains, had no window.\nThe furnace was heated with charcoal, and the fire blown by means of\na great pair of bellows worked by a tiny waterwheel. The process was\nso roughly conducted that \u201cdivers light sparkles\u201d of tin are said to\nhave lodged in the thatched roof in sufficient quantities to render\nthe burning of the roof once in seven years worth the undertaking. The\nmelted metal ran out into a spoon-shaped hollow in a block of granite,\nor elvan, and was run into moulds also cut in slabs, many of which\nremain near the old blowing-houses.\n\nThe white tin was then conveyed to a royal smelting-house, where it\nreceived a stamp; and no miner was suffered to dispose of his metal\ntill it had thus been marked, and he had paid his due to the Crown for\nit.\n\n[Illustration: A TIN MOULD]\n\nSome of the terms used by tin miners may not prove uninteresting.\n\nStream-tin when found scattered beneath the surface on a small\ndeclivity is called _shode_, and runs to a depth that varies from one\nto ten feet. A right to work a certain portion is called a _sett_.\nThe rubbish thrown out of a mine is called _stent_; sand or gravel,\nincluding tin, is termed _gard_; the walling on each side of a _tye_\nor adit is called _stilling_; the channels by which superfluous water\nis let run off are _cundards_, a corruption of \u201cconduits.\u201d Oblong pits\nfor a washing-floor are _gounces_; the frame of iron bars above is a\n_ruddle_.\n\nBuckets are _kibbals_; breaking up ore is _bucking_.\n\nA _whim_ is said to have derived its name from this: A man named\nCoster, observing the labour that was expended on bringing up the\nrefuse from the mines in buckets, fell a-thinking.\n\n\u201cWell, old man,\u201d said a mate, \u201cwhat be up wi\u2019 you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a whim in my head,\u201d he answered, \u201cand I\u2019m tryin\u2019 to reduce he\nto practice.\u201d\n\nCoster\u2019s whim was much joked about, but when set up outside his head at\nthe pit mouth, it proved to be no joke at all, but a real boon.\n\nSuperincumbent earth is _burden_.\n\nA miner worked at Headland Warren mines, on the Webburn, and lived at\nChallacombe. Every day when leaving work he brought away with him a\nlump of ore in his pocket, and on reaching his lodging threw it away\namong the furze bushes. Years after the farmer at Challacombe removed\nthree cartloads of these lumps; that was when tin was at \u00a360 a ton.\n\nFrom a speech of Sir Walter Raleigh in Parliament in 1601, when Lord\nWarden of the Stannaries, it would appear that the pay of a working\ntinner was then four shillings per week, finding himself. Of this he\nboasts as a great change for the better, inasmuch as previously the\ntinner had received but half that amount. By all accounts the tinners\nwere in a worse condition than the agricultural labourers.\n\nThe Stannary Parliament for the tinners on Dartmoor sat on Crockern Tor\ntill the court was removed to Truro.\n\nThe first Parliament held there of which records remain was on\nSeptember 11th, 1494; the last I have heard of was held at the close of\nlast century.\n\nThe Cornish tinners had their Stannary Court on Caradon.\n\nAlready in Carew\u2019s time mines had been driven into the bowels of the\nearth. It would appear that levels were at about five fathoms under\neach other, and the water was raised to the surface by means of \u201ca\nwinder and keeble, or leathern bags, pumps, or buckets.\u201d\n\nDr. Borlase describes the engines that were employed just after the\nmiddle of last century. He took a mine in Illogan as typical.\n\nThere were seven shafts upon the lode, upon one of which there was a\nfire-engine working the pumps, and raising the water of the mine to the\nadit level, twenty fathoms from the surface. Another shaft had a whim\nupon it, and the remaining six had common winzes at their heads. The\nwalls of the lode were supported by timber, and planks were laid on\nthem for the _deads_, or unprofitable rock. Captains superintended the\nwork. The machines employed were the _water-whim_, the _rag and chain\npump_, the _bobs_, and the _fire-engine_. The whim was much the same\nas the common horse-whim of the present day, employed to draw up the\nwater in kibbles or buckets. The rag and chain pump consisted of an\niron chain, furnished at intervals with knobs of cloth, stiffened with\nleather, which on being turned round a wheel was made to pass through a\nwooden pump cylinder, twelve or fifteen feet long, and to heave up the\nwater that rose in this cylinder between the knobs of rag. These pumps\nwere worked by hand. The waterwheels with bobs worked other pumps.\n\nThe machinery seems to us clumsy and imperfect in the extreme.\n\nThe atmospheric or steam-engine of Newcomen was costly, as it consumed\nan enormous amount of coal; but in 1778 it began to give place to\nWatt\u2019s engine.\n\nSince then the machinery employed advanced with strides till reaching\nperfection, when the need for any ceased in Cornwall and Devon, where\nnearly all mines have been abandoned. Barca tin can be raised so much\nmore cheaply, being surface tin, that lode tin cannot compete with it\nin the market.\n\nNow the mining districts of Cornwall are desolate. Heaps of refuse,\ngaunt engine-houses, with their chimneys, stand against the sky,\nhideous objects, and as useless as they are ugly. The Cornish miner\nhas gone abroad. There he remains till he has made his little pile,\nwhen he returns home, builds a house for his wife and children, remains\nidle till money gets low, when away he goes again.\n\nA good deal of discussion has taken place relative to the causes of\nthe decline and extinction of the mining industry in Cornwall. The\nprimary cause is that already referred to, but there is another. Into\nthat industry too much dishonesty was allowed to intrude. Speculators\nbecame shy of embarking capital in companies to work bogus mines. The\npromotion of such schemes was too frequent not in the end to discredit\nCornish mining altogether.\n\nThe surface tin in the \u201cStraits\u201d mines must come to an end shortly, and\nthen let us trust captains in Cornwall will have learned by experience\nthat in the end honesty is the best policy.\n\nFormerly the metals were taken out of Cornwall for distribution\nover Europe. Now the coined metal is being brought into Cornwall\nby trainloads of tourists, by coveys of bicyclists, come to visit\none of the most interesting of English counties and inhale the most\ninvigorating air, and everywhere they drop their coin. So life is full\nof compensations.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: LAUNCESTON CHURCH PORCH]\n\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n\n LAUNCESTON\n\n Launceston a borrowed name--Celtic system of separation\n between town of the castle and town of the church--A\n saint\u2019s curse--Old name Dunheved--Castle--Church--Sir\n Henry Trecarrel--The river Tamar--Old houses--S.\n Clether\u2019s Chapel--Altarnon--The corn man--Cutting a\n neck--The Petherwins--Story of S. Padarn--Is visited\n by his cousin, Samson--Trewortha Marsh--Kilmar--An\n ancient village--Redmire--Cornish bogs--Dozmare\n Pool--Lewanick--Cresset-stone--Trecarrel--Old mansions--The\n Botathen ghost.\n\n\nThe most singular thing about the former capital of Cornwall is that\nit does not bear its true name. Launceston is Llan Stephan, the church\nof S. Stephen. Now the church of S. Stephen is on the summit of a hill\non the further side of the river, divided from the town by the ancient\nborough of Newport.\n\nThe true name of the town is Dunheved. It grew up about the Norman\ncastle, instead of about the church, and as it grew, and the colony at\nS. Stephen\u2019s dwindled, it drew to itself the name of the church town.\n\nLaunceston is, in fact, one of those very interesting instances of the\n_caer_ and the _llan_, separated the one from the other by a stream.\nAccording to the Celtic system, a church must stand in its own lawn,\nsurrounded by its own tribesmen, and the chief in his _caer_ or\n_dun_ must also be without competing authority surrounded by his own\nvassals. Consequently, in Cornwall, churches are, as a rule, away from\nthe towns, which latter have grown up about the chieftain\u2019s residence,\nexcept in such instances as Padstow and Bodmin, where a religious,\nmonastic settlement formed the nucleus. Camelford, an old borough\ntown, is over two miles from its parish church, Lanteglos, without\neven a chapel-of-ease in it, an ecclesiastical scandal in the diocese.\nCallington, the old capital of the municipality of Galewig, is three\nmiles from its church of Southill.\n\nThe church of Launceston has grown up out of a small chapel erected for\nthe convenience of those who lived about the castle walls, hangers-on\nupon the garrison.\n\nThe Norman baron, and perhaps the Saxon eorlderman, liked to have\nhis chaplain forming part of his household, and much at his disposal\nto say mass and sing matins in a chapel to which he could go without\ninconvenience, forming part of his residence. But such an arrangement\nwas alien to Celtic ideas. Among the Celts the saint stood on an\nentirely independent footing over against the secular chief, and was in\nno way subordinate to him. The chaplain of the Norman might hesitate\nabout reprimanding too sharply the noble who supplied him with his\nbread-and-butter. But the Celtic saint had no scruples of that sort. If\na chief had carried off a widow\u2019s cow, or had snatched a pretty wench\nfrom her parents, the saint seized his staff and went to the _dun_ and\ndemanded admittance. A saint\u2019s curse was esteemed a most formidable\nthing. If unjustly pronounced, it recoiled like a boomerang against him\nwho had hurled it. Once pronounced, it must produce its effect, and the\nonly means of averting its fall was to turn it aside against a tree or\na rock, which it shivered to atoms. In this the Celtic saint merely\nstepped into the prerogatives of the Druid.\n\nIn Cormac\u2019s _Glossary of Old Irishisms_--and Cormac, king-bishop of\nCashel, died in 903--is a curious instance of the force of a curse in\npagan times.\n\nThe wife of Caier fell in love with Neidhe the bard, her husband\u2019s\nnephew. Now a bard had the privilege of hurling a curse if a request\nmade by him should be refused, but not else. So the woman, desiring to\nbe rid of her husband, bade the bard ask of the king a knife which had\nbeen given to him in Alba, on condition that he never parted with it.\nNeidhe demanded the knife.\n\n\u201cWoe and alas!\u201d said Caier, \u201cit is prohibited to me to give it away.\u201d\n\nNeidhe was now able to pronounce a _glam dichinn_, or curse. Here it\nis:--\n\n \u201cEvil, death, and short life to Caier!\n May spears of battle slay Caier;\n The rejected of the land be Caier;\n Buried under mounds and stones be Caier!\u201d\n\nCaier went out next morning to wash at the well, when he found that\nboils and blains had broken out over his face, disqualifying him for\nreigning, as a king must be unblemished. He accordingly fled the\ncountry, and concealed his disgrace in the _dun_ on the Old Head of\nKinsale, and Neidhe took to him the wife and throne of his uncle. Caier\nremained at Kinsale till he died, blasted by the curse pronounced by\nthe bard.\n\nThe saints did just the same, only not for such scandalous reasons;\nthey did it in the cause of humanity, and for the protection of the\nweak against the strong.\n\nBut it will be seen, from what has been said, that the Celtic saint\nwas a very independent personage, and that he and the chief had their\nseparate residences. It will be found that usually a stream divided the\nterritory of the saint from that of the chieftain.\n\nAll this in illustration of Llan Stephan and Dunheved, the castle and\nthe church facing and glowering at each other from opposite heights.\n\nLaunceston Castle is Norman. That there stood here a castle in Celtic\ntimes is certain; the name Dunheved indicates as much. The _heved_\nin composition is a difficulty. Some suppose it a Saxon addition:\n_haefod_, a head; but it is more probable that the whole name is\nCeltic, and signifies the summer _dun_. _Hafod_ is a summer residence\nin contradistinction to a _hendre_, which is that for the winter--the\nold house, in principal use. The keep consists of concentric rings on a\nmound natural originally, but much adapted by art. That the castle was\nemployed to dominate the West Welsh, first by the Saxons and then by\nthe Normans, is indisputable. It formed one in a chain of fortresses\nemployed by the Saxon kings, of which Warbstow and Helborough and\nKillibury were others. That the garrison of Warbstow was composed of\nMercians is probable, as they dedicated their chapel to S. Werburga,\na Mercian princess-saint. Another contingent was planted at Wembury,\ncommanding Plymouth harbour, where also they introduced the same saint,\nwho really had no \u201ccall\u201d to come into these parts.\n\nThe parish church of Launceston, dedicated to S. Mary Magdalen,\nis a very interesting structure externally, of carved granite of\nextraordinary but somewhat barbaric richness.\n\nThe church was begun in 1511. Henry Trecarell, of Trecarell, in Lezant,\nwas rebuilding his mansion there in great splendour. He had already\nconstructed a chapel and a noble banqueting hall, and had got masses\nof carved granite ready for a gateway, when his only son, a child,\nwas drowned in a basin of water whilst the nurse was bathing him, she\nhaving left him for a few moments. The mother survived the shock only a\nfew hours. Henry Trecarell, the father, dropped for ever the intended\nmansion for himself, and devoted his wealth to a higher ambition--the\nglory of God. He rebuilt not only the church of Linkinhorne, but also\nthat of Launceston. On the south porch of the latter on a shield appear\nthe Trecarell arms, arg. two chevrons _sable_, which are those of Ashe\nof Devon, Trecarell being really an Ashe, but he bore the name of his\nCornish residence. On a scroll is the date 1511. The niche over the\ndoor has lost its image, but on the left are S. George and the dragon,\nand on the right S. Martin dividing his cloak with a beggar. Above S.\nGeorge is the Good Samaritan, and above S. Martin is Balaam striking\nhis ass.\n\nAt the east end of the chancel, externally in the central gable, are\nthe royal arms, the supporters of which are the lion and red dragon\n(the unicorn was substituted for the dragon by James I. in 1603). Under\nthe sill of this window, in an arched recess, is a recumbent figure of\nthe Magdalen. Four surpliced minstrels are on each side of the niche,\nand above the line of the niche similar figures ascend in pairs, but\nthose in the two topmost storeys seem never to have been completed. The\ninstruments which these musicians hold are the rebec, the lute, the\nbagpipe, shawm, and harps, and one plays the viol, turning a handle\nlike a hurdy-gurdy. The leader of each set of minstrels carries a\n_b\u00e2ton_, and wears a chain about his neck.\n\nThe devices carved round the church are repetitions of the plumes of\nthe Prince of Wales, pomegranates, balm-plants dropping precious gums,\nthe Tudor rose, and the arms of Trecarell, Kellaway (three pears), and\nthe castle of Dunheved. Above the plinth encircling the building is a\nline of panelled tracery. In every alternate panel is a shield, bearing\na letter, that make up the words: \u201cAve Maria, gracia plena! Dominus\ntecum! Sponsus amat sponsum. Maria optimam partem elegit. O quam\nterribilis ac metuendus est locus iste! Vere aliud non est hic nisi\ndomus Dei et porta celi\u201d (\u201cHail, Mary, full of grace! The Lord be with\nthee! The bridegroom loves the bride. Mary hath chosen the best part.\nOh, how terrible and fearful is this place! Truly this is no other than\nthe house of God and the gate of heaven\u201d).\n\nThe church was consecrated on June 18th, 1524. It was never completed,\nas may be seen by the condition of the west end. The tower belongs\nto the earlier church, and is twenty-six feet west of the church.\nTrecarell doubtless intended to rebuild that in a stately style\naccording with the church, but the religious disturbances of the\nReformation took all heart out of him, and he abandoned his task.\nThe interior is very disappointing, but it must be remembered it was\nintended to have a screen of surpassing richness, which would have\nbrought the whole into proportion. The pulpit alone was completed, and\nthat is of singular richness. The modern carving in the church is thin\nand fanciful.\n\nThe neighbourhood of Launceston is rich in objects of interest and\nscenes of great beauty. The Inney valley will well repay a visit.\nThere is an Inney also in South Wales. It is an excellent stream for\nfishing, and flows into the Tamar at Cartamartha (_Caer Tamar_), in a\nglen of wooded loveliness. The unfinished mansion of Trecarell deserves\na visit. There are also old houses at Treguddic and Basil, both much\nspoiled by bad \u201crestoration.\u201d On the heights commanding the river\nare Laneast, with old bench-ends, old glass, and a holy well, and S.\nClether, with its well chapel, recently reconstructed. It was in a\ncondition of complete ruin; almost every stone was prostrate, and the\nrebuilding was like the putting together of a child\u2019s puzzle. At the\nnorth-east of the chapel is a rather fine holy well, about three feet\nsix inches from the north wall. A description has already been given\nin the chapter on holy wells, and the explanation of some very curious\nfeatures in it.\n\nBut there is one further feature of interest in this structure that\ndeserves to be noted. The old granite altar, rude, like a cromlech, had\nnever been cast down. It remained intact, and has been left intact in\nthe reconstructed chapel.\n\nS. Clether was the son of Clydwyn, king of Carmarthen. Clydwyn\u2019s\nsister was married to an Irish priest, Brynach, who, on account of\nthe ill-favour in which the Irish were regarded in South Wales, moved\ninto Cornwall and Devon. After a long while he returned, but was again\nbadly received. However, Clether welcomed him, and Brynach spoke to\nhis nephew of the God-forsaken condition of North Cornwall, and an\noverpowering impulse came over the king to surrender his principality\nto his sons, and to depart for Cornwall, there to labour for the\nevangelisation of his Welsh brethren in the peninsula. He had relatives\nthere. His uncle Gwynys was at S. Genes, on the coast, and his aunt\nMorwenna at Morwenstow. How long he remained at S. Clether we do not\nknow, but he probably moved on to S. Cleer, near Liskeard, where also\nhe has a fine holy well, and there died. We do not know the precise\ndate, but it was about A.D. 550.[5]\n\nA very fine and interesting church, deserving a visit, is that of\nAltarnon (_Alt-ar-N\u00f4n_, the cliff of S. Non). The village is called\nPenpont (the head of the bridge). The church is rich in carved oak,\nbenches, and screen. On several of the benches may be seen carved the\ncorn man, that is to say the little figure that was plaited out of the\nheads of wheat in the last sheaf at a harvest.\n\nAbout this and the custom of \u201ccrying, \u2018A neck!\u2019\u201d at harvest I will say\na few words.\n\nTowards the end of last century the member for North Devon was\nextremely unpopular, especially with the lower classes, and there had\nbeen a disturbance on the occasion of his election, in which he had run\nsome personal risk. The time was when Lord North was Prime Minister.\n\nNot long after the election he went to Dunsland, the seat of George\nBickford.\n\nWhilst strolling near the house he came near a harvest field, whereon\nhe saw a rush of men, and he heard a cry of \u201cUs have\u2019n! us have\u2019n! A\nneck! a neck!\u201d\n\nPanic-stricken, he ran, nimble as a hare, to the house, and shouted to\nMr. Bickford, \u201cFor God\u2019s sake, hide me, anywhere, in the cellar or the\nattics! There is a mob after me who want to string me up!\u201d\n\nWhat the M.P. for North Devon saw and heard was the \u201ccrying, \u2018A neck!\u2019\u201d\na custom universal in Devon and Cornwall till reaping machines came in\nand abolished it. It is now most rarely practised, but I can remember\nit in full swing some forty or fifty years ago.\n\nMrs. Bray, in her _Borders of the Tamar and Tavy_, thus describes it in\n1832:--\n\n \u201cOne evening, about the end of harvest, I was riding out\n on my pony, attended by a servant who was born and bred a\n Devonian. We were passing near a field on the borders of\n Dartmoor, where the reapers were assembled. In a moment\n the pony started nearly from one side of the way to the\n other, so sudden came a shout from the field which gave him\n this alarm. On my stopping to ask my servant what all that\n noise was about, he seemed surprised by the question, and\n said, \u2018it was only the people making their games, as they\n always did, to the _spirit of the harvest_.\u2019 Such a reply\n was quite sufficient to induce me to stop immediately, as I\n felt certain here was to be observed some curious vestige\n of a most ancient superstition; and I soon gained all the\n information I could wish to obtain upon the subject. The\n offering to the \u2018spirit of the harvest\u2019 is thus made:--\n\n \u201cWhen the reaping is finished, towards evening the\n labourers select some of the best ears of corn from the\n sheaves; these they tie together, and it is called the\n _nack_. Sometimes, as it was when I witnessed the custom,\n the nack is decorated with flowers, twisted in with the\n seed, which gives it a gay and fantastic appearance. The\n reapers then proceed to a _high place_ (such, in fact,\n was the field, on the side of a steep hill, where I saw\n them), and there they go, to use their own words, to \u2018holla\n the nack.\u2019 The man who bears the offering stands in the\n midst and elevates it, whilst all the other labourers form\n themselves into a circle about him; each holds aloft his\n hook, and in a moment they all shout as loud as they can\n these words, which I spell as I heard them pronounced, and\n I presume they are not to be found in any written record:\n \u2018Arnack, arnack, arnack, wehaven, wehaven, wehaven.\u2019 This\n is repeated several times; and the firkin is handed round\n between each shout, by way, I conclude, of libation. When\n the weather is fine, different parties of reapers, each\n stationed on some height, may be heard for miles round,\n shouting, as it were, in answer to each other.\n\n \u201cThe evening I witnessed this ceremony many women and\n children, some carrying boughs, and others having flowers\n in their caps, or in their hands, or in their bonnets, were\n seen, some dancing, others singing, whilst the men (whose\n exclamations so startled my pony) practised the above rites\n in a ring.\u201d\n\nMrs. Bray goes on to add a good deal of antiquated arch\u00e6ological\nnonsense about Druids, Ph\u0153nicians, and fantastic derivations. She\nmakes \u201cwehaven\u201d to be \u201ca corruption of _wee ane_,\u201d \u201ca little one,\u201d\nwhich is rubbish. \u201cWehaven\u201d is \u201cwe have\u2019n,\u201d or \u201cus have\u2019n,\u201d \u201cwe have\ngot him.\u201d As I remember the crying of the neck at Lew Trenchard, there\nwas a slight difference in the procedure from that described by Mrs.\nBray. The field was reaped till a portion was left where was the best\nwheat, and then the circle was formed, the men shouted, \u201cA neck! A\nneck! We have\u2019n!\u201d and proceeded to reap it. Then it was hastily bound\nin a bundle, the ears were plaited together with flowers at the top of\nthe sheaf, and this was heaved up, with the sickles raised, and a great\nshout of \u201cA neck! A neck!\u201d etc., again, and the drink, of course.\n\nThe wheat of the last sheaf was preserved apart through the winter,\nand was either mixed with the seed-corn next year or given to the best\nbullock.\n\nMy old coachman, William Pengelly, who had been with my grandfather,\nfather, and then with myself, and who died at an advanced age in 1894,\nwas wont annually, till he became childish with age, to make the little\ncorn man or neck, and bring it to be set up in the church for the\nharvest decorations. I kept a couple of these for some years, till the\nmice got at them and destroyed them.\n\nIn Essex a stranger passing a harvest field stands the chance of\nbeing run up to by the harvesters, caught in a loop of straw twisted,\nand held till he has paid a forfeit. To the present day in Devon, at\nhaysel, the haymakers will make a twist of dry grass, and with this\nband catch a girl--or a girl will catch a boy--and hold her or him till\nthe forfeit of a kiss has been paid, and this is called \u201cmaking sweet\nhay.\u201d\n\nHereby hangs a tale.\n\nThe Quakers in Cornwall have, as elsewhere, their Monthly Advices read\nto them in the meeting-house, wherein are admonitions against various\nsorts of evil. Among these is one against \u201cvain sports.\u201d Now, just\nabout haymaking-time a newly-joined member heard this injunction, and\nhe timidly inquired whether \u201cmaking sweet hay with the m\u012bdens\u201d came\nunder the category. \u201cNaw, sure!\u201d was the answer; \u201cthat\u2019s a\u2019 i\u2019 the way\no\u2019 Natur\u2019.\u201d\n\nOur Guy Fawkes is actually the straw man transferred from harvest to\nNovember.\n\nThese straw men take the place of human victims, and the redemption\nwith silver or a kiss is also a last reminiscence of the capture of a\nvictim to be sacrificed for the sake of a future harvest to the Earth\nSpirit. In Poland the man who gives the last stroke at thrashing is\nwrapped in corn and wheeled through the village. In Bavaria he is tied\nup in straw and cast on a dunghill.\n\nAmong the Pawnees, as late as 1838, the sacrifice was carried out in\ngrim reality. A girl was burnt over a slow fire, and whilst her flesh\nwas still warm it was cut to pieces, and bits were carried away to\nbe buried in the cornfields. At Lagos, in Guinea, it was till quite\nrecently the custom to impale a young girl alive to ensure good crops.\nA similar sacrifice was offered at Benin. The Marimos, a Bechuana\ntribe, sacrifice a human being for the crops. He is captured, then\nintoxicated, carried into the fields, and there slaughtered. His blood\nand ashes, after the body has been burned, are distributed over the\ntilled land to ensure a good harvest next year. The Gonds of India\nkidnapped Brahman boys for the same purpose. The British Government had\nto act with great resolution in putting down the similar sacrifices of\nthe Khonds some half-century ago.\n\nThe mode of performing these sacrifices was as follows. Ten or twelve\ndays before the sacrifice the victim\u2019s hair was cut. Crowds assembled\nto witness the sacrifice. On the day before, the victim was tied to\na post and anointed with oil. Great struggles ensued to scrape off\nsome of this oil or to obtain a drop of spittle from the victim. The\ncrowd danced round the post, saying, \u201cO god, we offer this sacrifice\nfor good crops, seasons, and health.\u201d On the day of the sacrifice the\nlegs and arms were first broken, and he was either squeezed to death\nor strangled. Then the crowd rushed on him with knives and hacked\nthe flesh from the bones. Sometimes he was cut up alive. Another very\ncommon mode was to fasten the victim to the proboscis of a wooden\nelephant, which revolved on a stout post, and as it whirled round the\ncrowd cut the flesh off while life remained. In some villages as many\nas fourteen of these wooden elephants were found, all of which had been\nused for this purpose. In one district the victim was put to death\nslowly by fire. A low stage was erected, sloping on each side like\na roof; upon this the victim was placed, his limbs wound about with\ncords to prevent his escape. Fires were then lighted and hot brands\napplied to make him roll up and down the slopes of the stage as much\nas possible, for the more tears he shed the more abundant would be the\nsupply of rain. The next day the body was cut to pieces. The flesh was\nat once taken home by delegates of the villages. To secure its rapid\narrival it was sometimes forwarded by relays of men, and conveyed\nwith postal fleetness fifty or sixty miles. In each village all who\nhad remained at home fasted until the flesh arrived. When it came it\nwas divided into two portions, one of which was offered to the Earth\nGoddess by burying it in a hole in the ground. The other portion was\ndivided into as many shares as there were heads of houses present.\nEach head of a house rolled his share in leaves and buried it in his\nfavourite field. In some places each man carried his portion of flesh\nto the stream that watered his fields.\n\nSince the British Government has suppressed the human sacrifices\ninferior victims have been substituted, such as goats.\n\nHere, then, we have almost before our eyes a change of the victim. A\nstill further change takes place when an image is used as a substitute;\nand there is again modification when the person captured and destined\nfor sacrifice is allowed to redeem himself with a handsel or a kiss.\nBut the fact that in Europe, aye, and in England, we have these\nmodified customs only now dying out, is an almost sure proof that at a\nremote period our ancestors practised the awful rites at harvest and\nin spring, of which a description has been given as still in use in\nAfrica, and as only just put an end to in America and in India.\n\nNorth and west of Launceston is the Petherwin district; the former\nof these is in Devon, although lying west of the Tamar, as is also\nWerrington.\n\nThese three churches, all dedicated to S. Padarn, form a large\nterritory once under his government. It was his Gwynedd, but whether so\ncalled from its being open moorland or from its being exposed to the\nwinds--windblown (_Gwynt_)--I cannot say. Padarn was son of Pedredin\nand Gwen Julitta, and was first cousin of S. Samson. He was born in\nBrittany, but owing to a family revolution his father and uncles fled\nto Wales, but Padarn remained as a babe with his mother. Finding her\noften in tears, he asked her the reason, and she told him that she\nmourned the loss of his father. So when Padarn had come to man\u2019s estate\nhe went in quest of him, and finally found him in Ireland, where, old\nrascal, he had embraced the monastic life, entirely regardless of\nwhat was due to the wife of his bosom. As Pedredin absolutely refused\nto leave his newly-chosen mode of life, Padarn returned to his mother,\nand they went together to Wales, passing through Cornwall. In Wales he\nfounded Llanbadarn Fawr in Cardiganshire, which became an episcopal\nsee; but he got across with Maelgwn, king of North Wales, as also with\nKing Arthur, who in the lives of the Welsh saints is always represented\nas a bully, showing that they were written before that king had been\nelevated into the position of a hero of romance by Geoffrey of Monmouth\nin the twelfth century. His position now became untenable, and he left\nWales. It was then, I presume, that he made his great settlement in\nEast Cornwall.\n\nAccording to one account he crossed into Brittany with Caradoc\nStrong-i\u2019-th\u2019-Arm, but the expedition ended in no results, and he\nreturned. Now after a while Cousin Samson arrived in Padstow harbour,\nand resolved on making a Cornish tour before he crossed into Brittany,\nwhither he much desired to go and see what could be done towards the\nrecovery of his paternal acres. At Padstow he visited S. Petrock. Then\nhe went along the north-east, and as he approached Gwynedd, or Padarn\u2019s\nVenedotia, he sent word that he was coming. Now Padarn was getting out\nof bed when the tidings reached him, and he had pulled on one stocking\nand shoe; but so delighted was he to hear that his cousin was at hand,\nthat he ran to meet him with one leg shod and the other bare.\n\n[Illustration: TREWORTHA MARSH]\n\nThe dates of his life are approximately these. He came to Wales in\n525, remained there till 547, when he migrated to Devon and Cornwall,\nwhere he remained to his death in 560.[6] When the Saxons obtained the\nmastery, North Petherwin and Werrington were given to the abbey of\nTavistock, and the old Celtic foundation of Padarn ceased--monastically.\n\nA pleasant excursion may be made from Launceston to Trewartha Marsh.\nThis occupies the site of a lake, but it has been filled by detritus\nfrom the granite tors around, and this rubble has been turned over and\nover by tin-streamers, who not only extracted the baser metal, but also\ngold.\n\nOn the way Trebartha is passed, one of the loveliest sites in England,\nsecond in my mind only to Bolton Abbey. It is the seat of F. R. Rodd,\nEsq. The parish church of Northill is a foundation of S. Tighernach or\nTorney, godchild of S. Bridget. There are two ways up to Trewortha: one\nis by Higher and Lower Castick, where a picturesque old farm is passed,\nby Trewartha Tor, on which is shown King Arthur\u2019s bed; the other is by\nthe bridge at the back of Trebartha. The stream flowing from the marsh\nforms a really beautiful fall in the grounds.\n\nThe marsh itself and its surroundings are desolate, but Killmar\n(_C\u00eal-mawr_, the great place of shelter) rising above it is a noble\ntor, and the view from the north-west, by Grey Mare Rock looking over\nthe flat marsh to Killmar, is as fine as anything on the Bodmin\nmoors. On the west side of the marsh is an ancient British settlement,\napparently unconnected with the stream-works for tin. The houses\nwere long and quadrangular; one was apparently a council chamber,\nhaving a judge\u2019s seat in granite and benches of granite down the\nsides. Unfortunately these have been wantonly destroyed recently by\na man who was building pigsties. The houses had separate bakeries,\nand two or three of these with their ovens remain in a tolerably\nperfect condition. The same long building was occupied by two or three\nfamilies, divided off from each other by an upright slab of granite,\nmaking so many horseboxes, but each family had its own hearth. The\npottery found there was all wheel-turned; and as many hones were found,\nno doubt could exist that the occupants belonged to the iron age. No\nother village of the kind has as yet been noticed on the moors except\nanother somewhat higher up the stream that feeds Trewartha Marsh,\nand this has been much mutilated of late years. Independent of these\nsingular quadrangular buildings are hut circles belonging to a far\nearlier age, before steel and iron were known.\n\n[Illustration: PLAN OF HABITATION ON TREWORTHA MARSH\n\n(_By kind permission of \u201cThe Daily Graphic\u201d_)]\n\n[Illustration: THE \u201cCOUNCIL HALL,\u201d TREWORTHA MARSH\n\n(_By kind permission of \u201cThe Daily Graphic\u201d_)]\n\nThe whole of the hillside is cut up into paddocks, and a conduit of\nwater was brought from the little stream at Rushleford Gate to supply\nthe settlers with pure drinking water. No traces of burnt slag were\nfound, and consequently the ovens cannot be pronounced to have been\nmade to smelt the ore, but it is strange that there should be several\nof these ovens. The whole settlement is so curious that I subjoin a\ngeneral plan, as well as plans of the hovels. The doorways are in\nseveral instances perfect. Against the wind and rain the hovels were\nprotected by a high bank to the west. From the Cheesewring, about two\nand a half miles distant, a line of rails was carried to just above\nthis singular village, and there abandoned. The visitor may well wonder\n_why_ a railway was carried into the heart of this desolate region; it\nwas apparently an excuse for wasting the money of investors. The bulk\nof their deposits have disappeared, and no profits have been realised.\nTrewartha Marsh occupies the bed of a lake that decants over a granite\nlip into the valley of the Lynher. At some remote period the miners\ncut down the lip and let off the water, and then turned over the lake\nbed. A former owner of Trebartha Hall gave to his daughters on their\nmarriage heavy gold rings from the precious ore washed out of the\ngravel of Trewartha. A stroll among the refuse-heaps that occupy the\nlake-bed among lanes of water and stretches of morass will show the\nvisitor how great was the industry of the ancient streamers. There are\nseveral cairns and barrows on the heights, but none that have been\nexplored have given other results than small stone cists containing\nbone and wood ash.\n\nOn the north side of the marsh were some old cottages, that have been\ndestroyed, and their materials employed for building purposes, in which\ncoins of Elizabeth and Queen Mary were found. A vague tradition exists\nthat a town existed at Tresillern, one of the reaches of the lake,\nwhich was submerged for the iniquity of the inhabitants.\n\nA basin of bog--also once a lake--exists at Redmire, and near it is a\nsmall circle of upright stones. I was as near lost as might be in this\nbog in 1891. The Ordnance Survey Office had sent down an official to\ngo over and correct the map of this district, and I was with him. When\ndusk set in we started for Five Lanes, and lost our way. We both got\ninto Redmire, and had to trip along warily from one apparently firm\nspot to another. The winter and summer had been unusually wet, and the\nmarsh was brimming with water. Six bullocks had already been lost in it\nthat year.\n\nAll at once I sank above my waist, and was being sucked further down.\nI cried to my companion, but in the darkness he could not see me, and\nhad he seen me he could have done nothing for me. The water finally\nreached my armpits. Happily I had a stout bamboo, some six feet long,\nand I placed this athwart the surface and held it with my arms as far\nexpanded as possible. By jerks I gradually succeeded in lifting myself\nand throwing my body forward, till finally I was able to cast myself\nfull length on the surface. The suction had been so great as to tear\nthe leather gaiters I wore off my legs. I lay full length gasping\nfor nearly a quarter of an hour before I had breath and strength to\nadvance, and then wormed myself along on my breast till I reached dry\nland.\n\nSome of the Cornish bogs are far worse than those on Dartmoor. Crowdy\nis particularly ugly and dangerous. In a dry summer they may, however,\nbe traversed, as the surface becomes caked.\n\nDozmare Pool is, next to Loe Pool, the largest sheet of sweet water in\nCornwall. It abounds in fish, and was formerly a great resort of the\nworker in flint, as innumerable traces of the industry testify. Arrow-\nand spear-heads, scrapers, and an almost unlimited amount of chips and\nflakes may be found near it. In the lake is a cranogue, or subaqueous\ncairn, on which was formerly a palafite dwelling. The bottom of the\npool is certain to richly repay exploration.\n\nFor those who desire to enjoy moor air at a high elevation, there\nis a pleasant little inn at Bolventor, called the \u201cJamaca Inn\u201d; but\nthe visitor must take with him his own supply of liquor, as it is a\n\u201ctemperance house.\u201d\n\nThe moors about well reward exploration; they abound in prehistoric\nantiquities, and in scenes of great but desolate beauty.\n\nLewanick (Llan-Winoc) was an interesting church with good bench-ends,\nbut an unfortunate fire destroyed the interior, and almost everything\nof interest has disappeared. There is, however, in the church a\ncresset-stone. This is a structure like a font, but with the surface\nscooped out into five little bowls for containing oil and floating\nwicks. Formerly, in the days when there existed a difficulty in\nkindling a fire, it was important that a light should be kept\nperpetually burning in the church, to which the parishioners might have\nresort in the event of their fires going out. But such cresset-stones\nare now extremely rare. There is one at Calder Abbey with sixteen\nbowls, one at Furness with five. At Ballagawne, in the Isle of Man,\nis one with one large bowl and nine small ones. A cresset-stone exists\nin the court before San Ambrogio, Milan, and I saw one set up before\na very early church at Civeaux, in Vienne, upon which the schoolboys\namused themselves with jumping and dancing.\n\nThere are inscribed stones and oghams in the churchyard. The village\ncarpenter, an unusually intelligent man, has been zealous in search\nafter, and the discovery of, these stones. In the porch, under the\nstone bench, a hare-hunt is carved on polyphant stone. The quarry of\nthis beautiful stone is near by. There are several crosses and holy\nwells in the parish, one of S. Blaunder, which is a corruption of\nBranwalader, who is identical with S. Brendan, the great navigator and\nexplorer in the sixth century. He is even supposed to have reached\nAmerica, but actually, it may be suspected, visited only the Canary\nIsles and Madeira.\n\nIn Northill Church is a curious monument to a chrisom child.\n\nTrecarrel is the old house of Sir Henry, who erected Launceston Church.\nThe hall is specially fine. He never completed the mansion. The chapel\nremains, and when I saw it a goose was sitting on her eggs on the site\nof the altar. But it was never consecrated. About the yard lie the\nrichly-carved stones intended for the gateway to the court, but the\ngatehouse was not set up. There are several old houses which may be\nvisited from Launceston. Bradstone, on the Devon side of the Tamar, has\na most picturesque gatehouse. The venerable mansion formerly belonged\nto the Cloberry family, whose cognisance was bats; it is quite intact.\nBradstone takes its name from a broad stone, in fact, a cromlech that\nhas been thrown down, but the cap remains, and is used as a stile.\n\nKelly Church has some fine old glass. Sydenham is an untouched\nseventeenth-century mansion; so is Wortham, in Lifton parish. A\nmagnificent relic is Penheale, with its granite entrance and panelled\nrooms. It is in Egloskerry parish, and formerly belonged to the Earl of\nHuntingdon. It passed by sale from one hand to another, and is now the\nproperty of Mr. Simcoe.\n\nIn Egloskerry Church is a remarkably good helmet. The church contains\nan alabaster figure of an Italian flower-girl. Treguddick, once a seat\nof a family of that name, has been so mutilated in alteration that it\npresents little of interest. The same may be said of Basil.\n\nBotathen, once the seat of the Bligh family, has not in it anything\nof interest, but is associated with one of the best ghost stories on\nrecord, written by the Rev. John Ruddle, vicar of Launceston, who laid\na ghost in a field that appeared to and tormented a boy of the name of\nBligh.\n\nRuddle was parson of Launceston between 1663 and 1698. Defoe got hold\nof Ruddle\u2019s MS. account of the transaction, and published it in 1720.\nIt has been often surmised that Defoe had touched up the original, or\nhad invented the whole story; but Mr. A. Robins has carefully entered\ninto an examination of the circumstances, and has proved that the\naccount was by Ruddle, and all those persons mentioned in it actually\nlived at the period.\n\nIn 1665 John Ruddle was schoolmaster in Launceston as well as vicar,\nand one of his pupils died. He preached a sermon at the funeral on June\n20th, and after leaving church he was addressed by an old gentleman,\nwho informed him that his own son was sadly troubled by having several\ntimes met a ghost, or, at all events, the boy pretended that he had.\nThe gentleman, Mr. Bligh, of Botathen, invited Ruddle to his house to\nsee the lad.\n\nAfter conferences with the boy Ruddle gained his confidence, and, says\nhe, \u201che told me with all naked freedom and a flood of tears that his\nfriends were unjust and unkind to him, neither to believe nor pity\nhim, and that if any man would go with him to the place he might be\nconvinced that the thing was real.\u201d The rest of the story shall be told\nfrom a MS. now in the possession of a lady in Launceston, copied by\nWilliam Ruddle, the son, from his father\u2019s original MS.:--\n\n \u201cBy ys time he found me able to comisrate his condition and\n to be attentive to his relation of it, therefore he went on\n in ys manner. This woman wch appears to me (saith he) Lived\n a nighbour here to my father, and dyed about 8 years since.\n Her name Dorothy Dingle, of such a stature, such an age and\n complexion. She never speaks to me, but passeth by hastyly\n and always Leaves ye footpath to me, and she comonly meets\n me twice or thrice in ye breadth of ye field. It was abt 2\n months before I took any notice of it, and tho\u2019 ye shape of\n ye face was in my memory yet I could not recal ye name of\n ye person, but wthout more thoughtfullnes I did suppose\n it was some woman who Lived thereabout and had frequent\n occasion that way, nor did I imagine anything to ye\n contrary before she began to meet me constantly morning and\n evening, and always in ye same field, and sometimes twice\n or thrice in ye breadth of it. The first time I took notice\n of her was abt a year since and when I first began to\n suspect and beleive it to be a Ghost I had courage enough\n not to be affraid, but kept it to myself a good while and\n only pondered very much at it. I did often speak to it,\n but never had a word in answer. Then I changed my way and\n went to school ye Under Horse Road, and then she always\n met me in ye narrow Lane between ye Quarry Park and ye\n Nursery, which was worse. At Length I began to be terrifyd\n at it, and prayed continually that God would either free me\n from it, or Let me know ye meaning of it. Night and day,\n sleeping and wakeing ye shape was ever runing in my mind.\n\n \u201cThus (said he) by degrees I grew very pensive, in so much\n that it was taken notice of by all our family, whereupon,\n being urg\u2019d to it, I told my brother William of it, and\n he privately acquainted my father and mother wth it, and\n they kept it to themselves for sometime. Ye successe of\n this discovery was only that they sometimes Laugh at me,\n sometimes elude me, but still comanded me to keep my school\n and put such fageries out of my head. I did accordingly go\n often to school, but always met ye woman in ye way.\n\n \u201cThis and much more to ye same purpose (yea as much as\n held a Dialogue of near 2 hours) was our conference in ye\n orchard, which ended wth my profer to him that (without\n makeing any privy to our intent) I would next day walk wth\n him to ye place abt 6 o\u2019clock. He was even transported\n wth joy at ye mention of it, and replyed, \u2018but will ye\n sure Sr, will ye sure Sr? Thank God! now I hope I shall\n be believed!\u2019 Upon this conclusion we retired to ye hous.\n The gent, his wife, and Mr. S. were impatient to know ye\n event, insomuch that they came out of ye parlour into ye\n hall to meet us, and seeing ye Lad Look chearfully ye\n first complement from ye old man was \u2018Come, Mr. Ruddle! ye\n have talked with S. I hope now he will have more wit, an\n idle boy, an idle boy.\u2019 At these words ye Lad ran up ye\n stairs to his chamber without replying, and I soon stopt\n ye curiosity of ye 3 expectants by telling them that I\n had promised silence, and was resolved to be as good as\n my word; but when things were riper they might know all,\n at prsent I desired them to rest in my faithfull pmise\n that I would do my utmost in their service and for ye good\n of their son. With this they were silenced, I cannot say\n satisfyed.\n\n \u201cThe next morning before 5 o\u2019clock ye Lad was in my chamber\n and very brisk. I arose and went with him. Ye field he\n Led me to I guested to be abt 20 acres in an open country\n and abt 3 furlongs from any hous. We went into ye field,\n and had not gone above a third parte before the Spectrum\n in ye shape of a woman wth all ye circumstances he had\n described her to me in ye orchard ye day before (as much\n as ye suddennesse of itts appearance and evanition would\n prmit me to discover) met us and passed by. I was a Little\n surprised at it, yet I had not ye power, nor indeed durst\n I Look back, yet took care not to show any fear to my\n pupil and guide, and therefore, only telling him that I\n was satysfyed in ye truth of his complaint we walked to ye\n end of ye field and returned, nor did ye Ghost meet us at\n yt time above once. I perceved in ye young man a kind of\n boldnes mixt wth astonismt, ye first caused by my prsence,\n and ye proof he had given of his own relation, ye other by\n ye sight of his prsecutor.\n\n \u201cIn short he went home; I somewhat puzled, he much\n animated. At our return ye gentlewoman (whose\n inquisitiveness had mist us) watched to speak with me, I\n gave her a convenience, and told her that my opinion was\n her son\u2019s complaint was not to be slighted, nor altogether\n discredited, yet that my judgment in his case was not\n setled. I gave her caution moreover that ye thing might\n not take wind Lest ye whole country should ring wth what\n we yet had no assurance of. In this juncture of time I had\n busines wch would admit no delay, wherefore I went for\n Launceston that evening, but prmised to see him again next\n week,--yet I was prevented by an occasion which pleaded a\n sufficient excuse, for my wife was that week brought home\n from a nighbours house very ill. However my mind was upon\n ye adventure. I studyed ye case, and abt 3 weeks after went\n again resolving by ye help of God to see ye utmost.\n\n \u201cThe next Monday, being ye 27th day of July 1665, I went\n to ye haunted field by myself and walked ye bredth of it\n without any encounter. I returned and took ye other walk,\n and then ye Spectrum appeared to me, much about ye same\n place I saw it before when ye young gent was wth me. In my\n thoughts it moved swifter than ye time before, and abt 30\n feet distant from me on my right hand in so much that I had\n not time to speak, as I determined with myself beforehand.\n\n \u201cThe evening of that day ye parents, ye son, and myself\n being in ye chamber where I Lay, I propounded to them\n our going altogether to ye place next morning, and after\n some asseverration that there was no danger in it we all\n resolved upon it.\n\n \u201cThe morning being come Lest we shd alarm ye family of\n servts, they went under pretence of seeing a field of\n wheat, and I took my horse and fetched a compas another\n way, and so met at ye stile we had appointed; thence we al\n four walked Leisurely into ye Quartils, and had not passed\n above half ye field before ye Ghost made appearance. It\n then came over ye stile just before us, and moved with\n such swiftness that by ye time we had gone 6 or 7 steps it\n passed by; I \u2019mediately turned head and ran after it wth\n ye young man by my side. We saw it passe over ye stile at\n wch we entred, but no further. I stept upon ye hedg at one\n place, he at another, but could discern nothing, whereas I\n dare averr that ye swiftest horse in England could not have\n conveyed himself out of sight in yt short space of time.\n\n \u201cTwo things I observed in this day\u2019s appearance, viz.: 1.\n that a spaniel dog which followed ye company unregarded,\n did bark and run away as ye Spectrum passed by, whence \u2019tis\n easy to conclude yt it was not our fear or fancy wch made\n ye apparition. 2. that ye motion of ye Spectrum was not\n gradatim, or by steps and moveing ye feet, but a kind of\n glideing as children upon ye ice, or a boat down a swift\n river, which punctually answers ye descriptions ye antients\n gave of ye motion of their Lemures.\n\n \u201cBut to prceed: this ocular evidence clearly convinced, but\n withall sharply affrighted ye old gent and his wife who\n knew ys D. D. in her Lifetime,--were at her buryal, and\n now plainly saw her features in this prsent apparition.\n I encouraged them as wel as I could, but after this they\n went no more. However I was resolved to prceed and use such\n Lawfull means as God hath discovered and Learned men have\n successfully practiced in these unvulgar cases.\n\n \u201cThe next morning being Thursday I went out very early by\n myself and walked for abt an hour\u2019s space in meditation\n and prayer in ye field next adjoyning to ye Quartils. Soon\n after five I stept over ye stile into ye disturbed field,\n and had not gone above 30 or 40 paces before ye Ghost\n appeared at ye further stile. I spake to it with a Loud\n voice in some such sentences as ye way of these dealings\n directed me, whereupon it approached, but slowly. When I\n came near it, it mov\u2019d not. I spake again and it answered\n in a voice neither very audible nor intelligable. I was not\n in ye Least terrifyed, and therefore persisted untill it\n spake again, and gave me satisfaction.\n\n \u201cBut ye work could not be finished at this time; wherefore\n ye same evening, an hour after sun-set, it met me again\n near ye same place, and after a few words of each side it\n quietly vanished, and neither doth appear since, nor ever\n will more to any man\u2019s disturbance.\n\n \u201cN.B. The discourse in ye morning Lasted abt a quarter of\n an hour.\n\n \u201cThese things are true. I know them to be so with as much\n certainty as eyes and ears can give me; and until I can\n be perswaded that my senses do deceve me abt their proper\n objects (and by that perswasion deprive myself of ye\n strongest inducement to beleive ye Christian Religion) I\n must and will assert that these things in this paper are\n true.\u201d\n\nI omit the reflections made on this by the writer, who signs:\n\u201cSeptember 4th, 1665, John Ruddle.\u201d\n\nEvery person and every place can be and has been identified by Mr.\nRobins, to whose article I refer the reader, should he care to go over\nthe ground.[7]\n\n\nNOTE.--Books on Launceston:--\n\nROBINS (A. F.), _Launceston, Past and Present_. Launceston, 1884.\n\nPETER (R.), _The Histories of Launceston and Dunheved_. Plymouth, 1885.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n\n CALLINGTON\n\n A town with a past--The principality of Gallewick--A\n royal residence--The Boy and the Mantle--Caradock\n and Tegau--Arthur and Guenever--Southill--S.\n Samson--Callington Church--The Borough--Dupath\n Well--Hingesdon Hill--S. Ive--Linkinhorne--Story\n of S. Melor--The Cheesewring--Camp--The\n Hurlers--Trethevy stone--S. Cleer--The Tamar--Arsenic\n manufacture--Poisoning--Production--Pentillie.\n\n\nCallington is a town with a past; whether it has a future is\nproblematical. Its past is remote; and if it has a future, that will\nbe equally distant. Issachar was a strong ass couching between two\nburdens; and Callington lies low between the great bunches of Caradon\nand Hingesdon, two great masses of moor said to be rich in minerals.\nIn the times of Callington\u2019s prosperity it throve on these lodes of\ntin and copper. But now the mines are abandoned and the population\nhas leaked away. Should the two mountains be again worked, then the\nprofits will go to Liskeard, seated on a railway, on one side, and to\nGunnislake, planted on the Tamar, on the other.\n\n[Illustration: CALLINGTON]\n\nCallington occupies the site of the royal residence of the kings of\nCornwall as princes of Gallewick. Here Selyf and his wife S. Wenn\nhad their residence, and here S. Cuby was born. Here it is asserted\nthat Arthur once had his court. And here also at one time was Caradoc\nFreichfras with his wife Tegau, the most honest woman in Arthur\u2019s court.\n\nWho can say that it was not here that the boy appeared with the mantle,\nthe ballad concerning which is in _Percy\u2019s Reliques_, though indeed in\nthat it is said to have occurred in Carlisle?\n\n \u201c\u2018Now have thou here, King Arthur,\n Have this here of mee,\n And give unto thy comely queen\n All-shapen as you see.\n\n \u201c\u2018No wife it shall become\n That once hath been to blame.\u2019\n Then every knight in Arthur\u2019s court\n Slye glaunced at his dame.\n\n \u201cAnd first came Lady Guenever,\n The mantle she must trye.\n This dame, she was new-fangled,\n And of a roving eye.\n\n \u201cWhen she had tane the mantle,\n And all was with it cladde,\n From top to toe it shiver\u2019d down,\n As tho\u2019 with sheers beshradde.\n\n \u201cDown she threw the mantle,\n She longer would not stay;\n But, storming like a fury,\n To her chamber flung away.\u201d\n\nSo one lady after another attempted to wear the mantle, and it curled\nand became contracted on each, and all were shamed in the sight of\nArthur and the whole court.\n\n \u201cSir Cradock call\u2019d his lady,\n And bade her to come neare:\n \u2018Come win this mantle, lady,\n And do me credit here.\u2019\n\n \u201cThe lady gently blushing\n With modest grace came on,\n And now to trye the wondrous charm\n Courageously is gone.\n\n \u201cWhen she had tane the mantle,\n And put it on her backe,\n About the hem it seemed\n To wrinkle and to cracke.\n\n \u201c\u2018Lye still,\u2019 she cryed, \u2018O mantle!\n And shame me not for naught,\n I\u2019ll freely own whate\u2019er amiss\n Or blameful I have wrought.\n\n \u201c\u2018Once I kist Sir Cradocke\n Beneathe the greenwood tree:\n Once I kist Sir Cradocke\u2019s mouth\n Before he married me.\u2019\n\n \u201cWhen thus she had her shriven,\n And her worst fault had told,\n The mantle soon became her\n Right comely as it shold.\n\n \u201cMost rich and fair of colour\n Like gold it glittering shone;\n And much the knights in Arthur\u2019s court\n Admir\u2019d her every one.\u201d\n\nI do not hold that this story belongs to Carlisle, but to Caerleon or\nto Callington.\n\nThis last place was one of the three royal cities of Britain, of which\nCaerleon was the second, says a Welsh triad, and the third I cannot\nidentify. At one of these three Arthur was wont to celebrate the high\nfestivals of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide. Caradoc Freichfras,\nthe Sir Cradock of the ballad, was chieftain in Gelliwig, or the region\nof which Callington was capital, and Bedwin was the bishop there. I\nsuspect this is a mistake for Berwin Bishop, who was commemorated in\nCornwall on the 4th September. It was here that Gwenever held court\nwhen insulted by Modred, Arthur\u2019s nephew, during the king\u2019s absence\nin Brittany, when he dragged her with contumely from her throne and\ndrove her from the palace. The fatal battle of Camalon was fought to\navenge this insult. The region of Gelli, which gives its name to or\nderives its name from Brown Willy and Brown Gelli, two tors in the\nupland metalliferous district, was valuable because of the abundance of\nstream-tin and of gold that was found there. Callington is a corruption\nof Gellewick-ton.\n\nCaradoc Freichfras, that is to say Strong-i\u2019-th\u2019-Arm was son of Llyr\nMerini, a Cornish prince, and his wife Gwen, who was a granddaughter\nof Brychan of Brecknock. According to a saying attributed to Arthur\nhimself, he was styled \u201cthe pillar of the Cymry.\u201d\n\nHis prowess in the great battle of Cattraeth against the Saxons is\ncommemorated by the contemporary poet Aneurin, who is the same as the\nsour Gildas, historian of the Britons:--\n\n \u201cWhen Caradoc rushed into the battle\n It was like the tearing onset of the woodland boar,\n The bull of combat in the field of slaughter,\n He attracted the wild dogs by the motion of his hand.\n My witnesses are Owen ap Eulat\n And Gwrien, and Gwynn and Gwriat.\n From Cattraeth and its carnage,\n From the battle encounter,\n After the clear bright mead was served,\n He saw no more the dwelling of his father.\u201d\n\nAneurin represents Caradoc as having fallen in this battle.\n\nIt is possible that Caradon may take its name from him, and that it may\nhave been Dun Caradock.\n\nCaradoc and his true wife Tegau were laid hold of by the Anglo-Norman\nromancers. They could not understand his nickname, and rendered it\n\u201cBrise-Bras,\u201d and supposed that his arm was wasted away, whereas the\nCeltic title implies that it was brawny. To explain the wasted arm they\ninvented a story. They told of an enchanter who made a serpent attach\nitself to the arm of Caradoc, from whose wasting tooth he could never\nbe relieved until she whom he loved best should consent to undergo the\ntorture in his stead. The faithful Tegau, on hearing this, was not to\nbe deterred from giving him this proof of her devotion. As, however,\nthe serpent was in the act of springing from the wasted arm of the\nknight to the lily-white neck of the lady, her brother Cado, Earl of\nCornwall, struck off its head with his sword, and thus dispelled the\nenchantment.[8]\n\nIf Tegau was actually the sister of Cado, then we may flatter ourselves\nthat Cornwall presented the two noblest and purest types of womanhood\nat the Arthurian period--Tegau and Enid, the wife of Geraint.\n\nTwo miles out of Callington is the parish church--Southill--one of\nthe many instances of an ecclesiastical settlement at a respectable\ndistance from the secular _caer_ or tribal centre, that each might live\nits own life and have its own independent organisation.\n\nSouthill was founded by S. Samson. As we have already seen, he had\nlanded on the north Cornish coast and made his way to Petherwin, where\nhe had visited his first cousin Padarn. On his way, he passed through\nthe district of Trecor, now Trigg, deriving its name from three notable\ncaers or camps,--Helborough, Warbstow, and Launceston. As Samson was in\nthis district, he found the people performing idolatrous rites about a\ntall upright stone, and this with the sanction of their chief, who was\ncalled Gwythian. Samson did not throw down the menh\u00eer; he contented\nhimself with cutting a cross upon it.\n\nI wonder whether this is the stone that still stands at Southill, on\nwhich is cut the cross of Constantine. It is an inscribed stone to one\nConnetoc, and is of the period of S. Samson.\n\nWhilst tarrying in Cornwall, Samson heard that his old master,\nDubricius, was very infirm and failing, and he hastened to South Wales\nto revisit him. The old man, who was dying, committed to his charge a\nfavourite disciple named Morinus. Samson did not particularly relish\nthe charge, for he did not believe the young man was sincere. However,\nhe took Morinus back with him, but soon after, the disciple became\ninsane and died. The monks, regarding this as possession, removed\nhis body and buried it outside their cemetery. Samson was, however,\nvery uneasy, because the deacon had been entrusted to him with such\nsolemnity by Dubricius, whom he loved and reverenced with all his\nheart, and he prayed incessantly for the poor fellow who had died mad,\ntill one night he dreamed that Dubricius appeared to him and assured\nhim that Morinus was admitted to the company of the blessed. With a\nglad heart Samson ordered the body to be at once exhumed and laid in\nconsecrated ground.\n\nOne night in midwinter a thief got into the church, and stole thence\na cross adorned with gems and gold and all the money he could lay\nhis hands on, and ran away with the spoil wrapped in a bundle. He\nmade for the moors and ventured over a bog, trusting that the frozen\nsurface would bear him. But his weight broke through the thin ice,\nand he sank to his waist. Afraid of going under altogether, he threw\naway his burden, and did that which everyone who has wits will do in a\nbog--spread out his arms on the crust.\n\nThere the man remained till morning, when a hue and cry was set up\nafter the stolen goods. He was found and the plunder recovered. What\nwas done with the man we are not informed. At Southill is S. Samson\u2019s\nWell, and it was in clearing it out, having become choked, that the\nstone with the inscription on it was found.\n\nThe old tribeland or principality of Gallewick was reduced in the\nMiddle Ages to a manor of Kelliland, which, however, remained of\nconsiderable importance, and is now held by Countess Compton. The\nchurch is Perpendicular, of no particular interest, but it possesses\nan Easter sepulchre, and an early font on which are carved grotesque\nanimals and a representation of the Tree of Life. Callington has\nin it a fine church that is chapel-of-ease to Southill. It is good\nPerpendicular, and suffered a \u201crestoration\u201d under the hands of an\nincompetent architect. Happily, since then, genius has been invoked\nto supplement the defects of mediocrity, and the north aisle that was\nadded by Mr. Edmund Sedding is one of the ablest works of that clever\narchitect. Viewed internally or externally it is delightful.\n\n[Illustration: CALLINGTON CROSS]\n\nThere are a few quaint old cottages in Callington, and there is a late\nmedi\u00e6val cross that is picturesque. In the church, moreover, is a very\nfine monument to Sir Robert Willoughby de Broke, who died in 1503; he\nwas steward of the Duchy of Cornwall, and took part in the battle of\nBosworth.\n\nCallington was made a borough in 1584, and its earliest patrons were\nthe Pauletts. From them the patronage passed to the Rolles, who divided\nit with the Corytons. Then it went to the Walpoles, next to Lord\nClinton, and finally to the first Lord Ashburton. It never bore arms,\nnor had a corporation, but there is an early and interesting silver\nmace, now in the custody of the portreeve, who is elected with other\nofficers annually at the manor court of Kelliland.\n\nPerhaps the most quaint and beautiful of the chapel wells in Cornwall\nis Dupath, near Callington, though not in the parish, but in that of S.\nDominick. Unhappily dirty farmyard surroundings disfigure the scene,\nand make one fear pollution of the sparkling water.\n\nHingesdon, on the N.E., rises to the height of 1091 feet, its highest\npoint being called Kit Hill, where are remains of a camp; the moor,\nmoreover, is strewn with barrows. It was on Hingesdon that the\nBritons, uniting their forces with some Danes who had come up the\nTamar, met and fought Egbert in 833, and were defeated. The surface of\nHingesdon and Kit Hill has been much interfered with by mines, and the\nsummit is crowned with a ruined windmill erected to work the machinery\nin a mine hard by. The road to Tavistock passes over Hingesdon at\na height of 900 feet, and thence after nightfall can be seen the\nEddystone light.\n\nOn the Liskeard road, beside the Lynher, is a well-preserved oval camp\ncalled Cadsonbury. Other camps are at Tokenbury and Roundbury.\n\nS. Ive (pronounced Eve) is probably a foundation of one of the Brychan\nfamily, and certainly not dedicated to S. Ive of Huntingdonshire, who\nis an impostor, nor to S. Ive of the Land\u2019s End district. The church is\ninteresting, but has been unfeelingly \u201crestored.\u201d The east window, with\nits niches, deserves special notice.\n\nBy far the finest church in the neighbourhood is Linkinhorne (Llan\nTighern), the church of the king, that is, of S. Melor. It was erected\nby Sir Henry Trecarrel, who built Launceston Church, but Linkinhorne is\nin far superior style. The story of S. Melor is this. He was the son of\nMelyan, prince of Devon and Cornwall and of Brittany. Melyan\u2019s brother\nwas Riwhal, or Hoel the Great, cousin of King Arthur. Hoel, being an\nambitious man, murdered his brother Melyan, and cut off the hand and\nfoot of his nephew Melor, so as to incapacitate him from reigning; as\na cripple, according to Celtic law, might not succeed to the headship\nof a clan or of a principality. In the place of the hand and foot of\nflesh and blood the boy was supplied with metal substitutes, and the\nhand was formed of silver.\n\nFor precaution the child was sent to Quimper, and placed there in a\nmonastery.\n\nNow it fell out that Melor and other boys were nutting in a wood, and\nhis comrades made their little pile of hazel nuts and brought them to\nMelor. To their great surprise they found that, notwithstanding that\nhis hand was of metal, he was able therewith to twitch off the nuts\nfrom the trees.\n\nAs the misfortunes of the unhappy prince attracted much sympathy, Howel\nsent for a man named Cerialtan, Melor\u2019s foster-father, and promised\nhim an extensive grant of lands if he would make away quietly with the\nyoung prince. Cerialtan consented, and confided his purpose to his\nwife. She was horrified, and resolved on saving the boy. During her\nhusband\u2019s temporary absence, she fled with her nephew to the wife of\nCount Conmor at Carhaix in Brittany, who was Melor\u2019s aunt. When Howel\nheard of this he was incensed, and urged Cerialtan to get the boy back\ninto his power. Accordingly this worthless fellow took his son Justan\nwith him, a lad who had been Melor\u2019s playmate, and to whom the young\nprince was much attached. The treacherous foster-father persuaded Melor\nthat no harm was intended, and he and Justan were given the same bed as\nMelor in which to sleep.\n\nDuring the night Cerialtan rose and cut the young prince\u2019s throat, then\nroused his son, and they escaped together over the walls of Carhaix.\nBut in so doing Justan missed his hold and fell, and was killed.\n\nOn reaching the residence of Howel, Cerialtan produced the head of\nMelor, which he had cut off, in token that he had accomplished his\nundertaking. Howel grimly promised to show the man the lands he had\npromised him, but first put out his eyes.\n\nIn Brittany it is held that Melor was buried at Lan Meur, near Morlaix,\nbut no tomb exists there, nor does there seem to have ever been one.\n\nThe whole story is legendary, yet certainly is framed about some\nthreads of historic truth. But whether the murder was committed\nin Brittany or in Cornwall is uncertain. That Melor\u2019s father was\nassassinated in Cornwall I shall show later on to be probable. Mylor\nChurch as well as Linkinhorne are dedicated to this boy martyr;\nThornecombe Church in Dorset is also named after him, and it was held\nthat his body had been transferred to Amesbury, where, during the\nMiddle Ages, his relics attracted pilgrims.\n\nFrom Callington a pleasing excursion may be made to the Cheesewring;\nand there is a very comfortable little inn there, where one can tarry\nand be well fed and cared for.\n\nThe height is a thousand feet, and the view thence over the fertile\nrolling land of Devon and East Cornwall is magnificent, contrasting\nstrikingly with the desolation of the moors to the north. Here is\nCraddock Moor, taking its name in all probability from that Caradoc who\nruled for Arthur in Gallewick, or Gelliwig.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHEESEWRING]\n\nThe whole of the neighbourhood has been searched for metal, and the\nPh\u0153nix Mines employed many hundreds of hands till the blight fell on\nCornish tin mining, and they were shut down.\n\nThe head of the Cheesewring hill has been enclosed in a stone _caer_.\nThe common opinion is that every stone composing it was brought up from\nthe bed of the Lynher, but this is almost certainly a fiction. The\ncircles of the Hurlers are near, with a couple of outstanding stones.\nThe legend is that some men were hurling the ball on Sunday, whilst a\ncouple of pipers played to them. As a judgment for desecration of the\nLord\u2019s-day they were all turned into stone. There are three circles,\neleven stones in one, of which all but three have fallen; fourteen\nin the second, of which nine are standing; twelve in the third, but\nonly five have not fallen. A curious instance of the persistency of\ntradition may be mentioned in connection with the cairn near the\nHurlers and the Cheesewring, in which a gold cup was found a few years\nago.\n\nThe story long told is that a party were hunting the wild boar in\nTrewartha Marsh. Whenever a hunter came near the Cheesewring a\nprophet--by whom an Archdruid is meant--who lived there received him,\nseated in the stone chair, and offered him to drink out of his golden\ngoblet, and if there were as many as fifty hunters approach, each\ndrank, and the goblet was not emptied. Now on this day of the boar hunt\none of those hunting vowed that he would drink the cup dry. So he rode\nup to the rocks, and there saw the grey Druid holding out his cup. The\nhunter took the goblet and drank till he could drink no more, and he\nwas so incensed at his failure that he dashed what remained of the wine\nin the Druid\u2019s face, and spurred his horse to ride away with the cup.\nBut the steed plunged over the rocks and fell with his rider, who broke\nhis neck, and as he still clutched the cup he was buried with it.\n\nImmediately outside the rampart of the stone fort above the Cheesewring\nis a large natural block of granite, hollowed out by the weather into a\nseat called the Druid\u2019s Chair.\n\nJust below the Cheesewring is a rude hut cell or cromlech, formed of\nlarge slabs of granite, which is called \u201cDaniel Gumb\u2019s House.\u201d It was\ninhabited in the last century by an eccentric individual, who lived\nthere, and brought up a family in a state of prim\u00e6val savagery. On\none of the jambs is inscribed, \u201cD. Gumb, 1735,\u201d and on the top of the\nroofing slab is an incised figure of the diagram of Euclid\u2019s 47th\nproposition in the First Book.\n\nAt some little distance is the very fine cromlech called the Trethevy\nStone. It is well worth a digression to see, as being, if not the\nfinest, at least the most picturesque in Cornwall.\n\nS. Cleer has a holy well in very good condition, carefully restored.\nNear it is a cross.\n\nIn the parish is the inscribed stone of Doniert, the British king, who\nwas drowned in 872.\n\nFrom Callington, Calstock--the stock or stockade in the Gelli district\non the Tamar--may be visited. The river scenery is of the finest\ndescription, rolling coppice and jutting crags, the most beautiful\nportion being at Morwell.\n\n[Illustration: ARSENIC MANUFACTURE]\n\nThere are several arsenic works in this district. The mundic\n(mispickel-arsenic), which was formerly cast aside from the copper\nmines as worthless, is calcined.\n\nThe works consist in the crushing of the rock, it being chewed up by\nmachinery; then the broken stone is gone over by girls, who in an\ninclined position select that which is profitable, and cast aside the\nstone without mundic in it. This is then ground and washed, and finally\nthe ground mundic is burnt in large revolving cylinders.\n\nThe fumes given off in calcining are condensed in chambers for the\npurpose, and deposited in a snow-white powder. The arsenic is a heavy\nsubstance with a sweetish taste, and is soluble in water. In the\nprocess of calcining a large amount of sulphurous acid is given off--a\npungent, suffocating gas--and this, escaping through the stack, is so\ndestructive to trees and grass, that it blights the region immediately\nsurrounding. When, however, a stack is of sufficient height the amount\nof damage done to herbage is greatly reduced, as at Greenhill, where\nthere is a healthy plantation within two hundred yards of the stack.\n\nWhen the workmen have to scrape out the receivers or condensers, the\nutmost precaution has to be taken against inhaling the dust of arsenic.\nThe men engaged wear a protection over the mouth and nostrils, which\nconsists in first covering the nostrils with lint, and then tying a\nfolded handkerchief outside this with a corner hanging over the chin.\nWhen the arsenic soot has been scraped out of the flues and chambers in\nwhich it has condensed, it is packed in barrels.\n\nEvery precaution possible is adopted to reduce danger, but with certain\nwinds gases escape in puffs from the furnace doors, which the men\ndesignate \u201csmeeches,\u201d and these contain arsenic in a vaporised form,\nwhich has an extremely irritating effect on the bronchial tubes.\n\nOne great protection against arsenical sores is soap and water. Arsenic\ndust has a tendency to produce sore places about the mouth, the ankles,\nand the wrists. Moreover, if it be allowed to settle in any of the\nfolds of the flesh it produces a nasty raw. On leaving their work the\nmen are required to bathe and completely cleanse themselves from every\nparticle of the poison that may adhere to them.\n\nAs touching inadvertent arsenical poisoning, I will mention a\ncircumstance that may be of use to some of my readers.\n\nWhen living in the East of England I found my children troubled with\nobstinate sores, chiefly about the joints. They would not heal. I\nsent for the local doctor, and he tinkered at them, but instead of\nmending, the wounds got worse. This went on for many weeks. Suddenly\nan idea struck me. I had papered some of my rooms with highly \u00e6sthetic\nwall coverings by a certain well-known artist-poet who had a business\nin wall-papers. I passed my hand over the wall, and found that the\ncolouring matter came off on my hand. At once I drove into the nearest\ntown and submitted the paper to an analyst. He told me that it was\ncharged with sulphuret of arsenic, common orpiment, and that as the\nglue employed for holding the paint had lost all power, this arsenical\ndust floated freely in the air. I at once sent my children away, and\nthey had not been from home a week before they began to recover. Of\ncourse, all the wall-papers were removed.\n\n[Illustration: ARSENIC WORKS]\n\nAbout a month later I was in Freiburg, in Baden, and immediately on my\narrival called on an old friend, and asked how he and all his were.\n\n\u201cOnly fairly well,\u201d he replied. \u201cWe are all--the young people\nespecially--suffering from sores. Whether it is the food----\u201d\n\n\u201cOr,\u201d said I, interrupting him, \u201cthe paper.\u201d\n\nThen I told him my experience.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said he, \u201ca neighbour, a German baron, has his children ill in\nthe same way.\u201d\n\nAt once he ran into the baron\u2019s house and told him what I had said.\nBoth proceeded immediately to the public analyst with specimens of the\npapers from the rooms in which the children slept. The papers were\nfound to be heavily laden with arsenic.\n\nUnhappily, in spite of all precautions, the work at the arsenic mine\nand manufactory is prejudicial to health. The workers are disabled\npermanently at an average age of forty. Of deaths in the district,\neighty-three per cent. are due to respiratory diseases, while sixty-six\nper cent. are due to bronchitis alone. For the last three years, out\nof every hundred deaths among persons of all ages in the parish of\nCalstock twenty-six have been due to diseases of the respiratory\norgans, but out of every hundred employ\u00e9s at the arsenic works who\nhave died or become disabled eighty-three deaths have been due\nto respiratory diseases. It is evident that with such an unusual\nproportion of one particular disease in the most able-bodied portion of\nthe community there must be a definite existing cause.\n\nNo doubt that a very minute amount of arsenic may pass through the\nnostrils and down the throat, but what is far more prejudicial\nthan that is the sulphurous acid which cannot be excluded by the\nhandkerchief and lint, but passes freely through both. This is\nextremely irritating to the mucous membrane. But the fact of working\nfor hours with the breathing impeded by the wraps about mouth and nose\nis probably the leading cause of the mischief.\n\nSuggestions of remedies have been made, but none practical. A mask has\nbeen proposed, but this does not answer, as it causes sores, and is\ndifficult to keep clean.\n\nDevon Consols produces about 150 tons of arsenic per month; Gawlor, 100\ntons; Greenhill, 50; Coombe, 25; and Devon Friendship about the same.\nIn all about 350 tons per month. This to the workers is worth \u00a310 per\nton, or a revenue to the neighbourhood of \u00a342,000 per annum.\n\nIn S. Mellion parish, on the Tamar, finely situated, is Pentillie\nCastle.\n\nThe original name of the place was Pillaton, but it was bought by a man\nof the name of Tillie in the reign of James II., who called it after\nhis own name. He was a self-made man, who was knighted, and not having\nany right to arms of his own, assumed those of Count Tilly, of the Holy\nRoman empire. But this came to the ears of the Herald\u2019s College, and an\ninquisition into the matter was made, and Sir James was fined, and his\nassumed arms were defaced and torn down.\n\nHe died in 1712, and by will required his adopted heir, one Woolley,\nhis sister\u2019s son, not only to assume his name, but also not to inter\nhis body in the earth, but to set it up in the chair in which he died,\nin hat, wig, rings, gloves, and his best apparel, shoes and stockings,\nand surround him with his books and papers, with pen and ink ready; and\nfor the reception of his body to erect a walled chamber on a height,\nwith a room above it in which his portrait was to be hung; and the\nwhole was to be surmounted by a tower and spire.\n\nAbout two hours before he died Sir James said, \u201cIn a couple of years I\nshall be back again, and unless Woolley has done what I have required,\nI will resume all again.\u201d\n\nMr. Woolley accordingly erected the tower that still stands above Sir\nJames\u2019 vault. But the knight did not return. He crumbled away; moth and\nworm attacked his feathers and velvets; and after some years nothing\nwas left of him but a mass of bone and dust that had fallen out of the\nchair.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n\n CAMELFORD\n\n A rotten borough--Without a church or chapel-of-ease--History\n of the borough--Contest between the Earl of Darlington and\n Lord Yarmouth--Brown Willy and Rough Tor--Helborough--S.\n Itha--Slaughter Bridge--King Arthur--The reason for the\n creation of the Arthur myth--Geoffrey of Monmouth--The\n truth about King Arthur--The story of his birth--Damelioc\n and Tintagel--How it is that he appears in so many\n places--King Arthur\u2019s Hall--The remains of Tintagel--The\n Cornish chough--Crowdy Marsh--Brown Willy and the\n beehive cottages on it--Fernworthy--Lord Camelford--His\n story--Penvose--S. Tudy--Slate monuments--Basil--S.\n Kew--The Carminows--Helland--A telegram.\n\n\nThat this little town of a single street should have been a borough and\nhave returned two members to Parliament is a surprise. It is a further\nsurprise to find that it is a town without a church, and that no rector\nof Lanteglos, two miles distant, should have deemed it a scandal to\nleave it without even a chapel-of-ease is the greatest surprise of all.\n\nCamelford was invested with the dignity of a borough in 1547, when it\nwas under the control of the Roscarrock family. From them it passed to\nthe Manatons living at Kilworthy, near Tavistock. Then it fell into\nthe hands of an attorney named Phillipps. He parted with his interest\nto the Duke of Bedford, and he in turn to the Earl of Darlington,\nafterwards Duke of Cleveland.\n\nThe electors were the free burgesses paying scot and lot. \u201cScot\u201d\nsignifies taxes or rates. But the mayor was the returning officer, and\nhe controlled the election.\n\nIn George IV.\u2019s reign there was a warm contest between the Earl of\nDarlington and Lord Yarmouth. The latter ran up a great building, into\nwhich he crowded a number of faggot voters. But the Earl of Darlington\npossessed rights of search for minerals; so he drove a mine under this\nstructure, and blew it up with gunpowder. The voters hearing what was\npurposed, ran away in time, and consequently Lord Yarmouth lost the\nelection.\n\nIn the election of 1812 each voter received a hundred pounds for his\nvote. In the election of 1818 the mayor, Matthew Pope, announced his\nintention of giving the majority to Lord Darlington\u2019s nominee, and of\nturning out of their freeholds all who opposed. The other party had a\nclub called \u201cThe Bundle of Sticks,\u201d and engaged a chemist named William\nHallett, of S. Mary Axe, to manage the election for them, and put \u00a36000\ninto his hand to distribute among the electors, \u00a3400 apiece.\n\nHanmer and Stewart got ten votes apiece, Milbrook and Maitland\nthirteen. But there was an appeal, and a new election; but this again\nled to a petition, and a scandalous story was told of bribery and\ncorruption of the most barefaced description. The election was declared\nvoid, and many persons, including Hallett, the chemist, were reported.\nIt was proposed to disfranchise the borough, but George III. died in\n1820, and new writs had to be at once issued.\n\nCamelford has no public buildings of interest. It is situate on very\nhigh ground, on a wind-blown waste 700 feet above the sea, exposed to\nfurious gales from the Atlantic; but it has this advantage, that it\nforms headquarters for an excursion to the Bodmin moors, to Brown Willy\n(1375 feet), and Rough Tor (1250 feet). These tors, though by no means\nso high as those on Dartmoor, are yet deserving of a visit, on account\nof their bold outlines, the desolation of the wilderness out of which\nthey rise, and the numerous relics of antiquity strewn over the moors\nabout them.\n\nOf these presently.\n\nThe parish church of Camelford, two miles off, is Lanteglos. The\ndedication is to S. Julitta, but this would seem to have been a\nrededication, and the true patroness to have been either Jutwara or\nJutwell, sister of St. Sidwell, or of Ilut, one of King Brythan\u2019s\ndaughters.\n\nThere was a royal deer-park there, as the old castle of Helborough,\nthough not occupied, was in the possession of the Duke of Cornwall.\n\nThis is really a prehistoric camp of Irish construction, and in the\nmidst of it are the ruins of a chapel to S. Sith or Itha, the Bridget\nof Munster. Itha had a number of churches ranging from the Padstow\nestuary to Exeter, showing that this portion of Dumnonia received\ncolonists from the south-west of Ireland. Her name is disguised as\nIssey and as Teath. She was a remarkable person, as it was she who sent\nher foster-son Brendan with three ships, manned by thirty in each,\non an exploring excursion across the Atlantic to the west, which,\npossibly, led to the discovery of Madeira in the sixth century. But the\ntruth is so disguised by fable that little certainty can be obtained as\nto the results of the voyage. Brendan made, in fact, two expeditions;\nin the first his ships were of wicker, with three coats of leather over\nthe basket frame; the second time, by Itha\u2019s advice, he made his boats\nof timber.\n\nItha never was herself in Cornwall, her great foundation was Kill-eedy\nin Limerick, and she was taken as the tutelary saint or patroness of\nHy-Conaill, but there were establishments, daughters of the parent\nhouse, what the Irish called daltha (_i.e._ pupil) churches, enjoying\nmuch the same rights as the mother house.\n\nCamelford has by some been supposed to be the Gavulford where the last\nbattle was fought between the West Welsh and Athelstan; but there was\nno reason for his advancing into Cornwall this way, where all was\nbleak, and by no old road.\n\nThere is, however, a Slaughter Bridge on the Camel, but this is taken\nto have acquired its name from having been the scene of the fight\nbetween King Arthur and his rebellious nephew Mordred, _circ._ 537.\n\nKing Arthur is a personage who has had hard measure dealt out to him.\nThat there was such an individual one can hardly doubt. There is a\ngood deal of evidence towards establishing his existence. He was\nchief king over all the Britons from Cornwall to Strathclyde (_i.e._\nthe region from the Firth of Clyde to Cumberland). He was constantly\nengaged, first in one part, then in another, against the Saxons; but\nhis principal battles were fought in Scotland. He occurs in the Welsh\naccounts of the saints, but never as a hero, always as a despot and\ntyrant. His immediate predecessor, Geraint, in like manner is met with,\nmainly in Cornwall, but also in Wales, where he had a church, and in\nHerefordshire. He had to keep the frontier against the Saxons.\n\nWhat played the mischief with Arthur was that Geoffrey of Monmouth, who\nbecame bishop of S. Asaph in 1152, published, about 1140, his fabulous\n_History of the Britons_, which elevated Arthur into a hero. Geoffrey\nhad an object in view when he wrote this wonderful romance. The period\nwas one in which the Welsh had been horribly maltreated, dispossessed\nof their lands, their churches taken from them and given to Normans,\nwho neither understood their language nor regarded their traditions.\nThe foreigners had castles planted over the country filled with Norman\nsoldiery, tormenting, plundering, insulting the natives. Poor Wales\nwept tears of blood. Now Henry I. had received the beautiful Nest,\ndaughter of Rhys, king of South Wales, as a hostage when her father had\nfallen in battle, and, instead of respecting his trust, he had wronged\nher in her defenceless condition in a cruel manner, and had by her a\nson, Robert, who was raised by him to be Duke of Gloucester. To this\nRobert, half Welsh, Geoffrey dedicated his book, a glorification of the\nBritish kings, a book that surrounded the past history of the Welsh\nwith a halo of glory. The book at once seized on the imagination of\nEnglish and Normans, and a change took place in the way in which the\nWelsh were regarded. The triumph of the Saxon over the Briton came to\nbe viewed in an entirely new light, as that of brutality over heroic\nvirtue.\n\n[Illustration: KING ARTHUR]\n\nGeoffrey succeeded in his object, but he produced bewilderment among\nchroniclers and historians, and seriously influenced them when they\nbegan to write on the history of England.\n\nNow, although all the early portion of Geoffrey\u2019s work is a _tour de\nforce_ of pure imagination, yet he was cautious enough as he drew\nnear to historic times, of which records were still extant, to use\nhistoric facts and work them into his narrative, so that in the latter\nportion all is not unadulterated fable; it is a hotch-potch of fact and\nfiction, with a preponderance of the latter, indeed, but not without\nsome genuine history mixed up with it. The difficulty his book presents\nnow is to discriminate between the false and the true.\n\nAs far as can be judged, it is true that Arthur was son of Uthr, who\nwas Pendragon, or chief king of the Britons, and of Igerna, wife of the\nDuke of Cornwall, whom Geoffrey calls Gorlois, but who is otherwise\nunknown. Uthr saw Igerna at a court feast, and \u201ccontinually served her\nwith tit-bits, and sent her golden cups, and bestowed on her all his\nsmiles, and to her addressed his whole discourse.\u201d Gorlois naturally\nobjected, and removed his wife into Cornwall, and refused to attend the\nking when summoned to do so. Uthr now marched against him. The Duke\nplaced Igerna in the cliff-castle of Tintagel, but himself retreated\ninto Damelioc, a strong caer, that remains almost intact, in the parish\nof S. Kew. Uthr invested Damelioc, and whilst Gorlois was thus hemmed\nin he went to Tintagel and obtained admission by an artifice. Gorlois\nwas killed in a sally, Damelioc was taken and plundered, and Uthr made\nIgerna his wife. It was the old story over again of David and the wife\nof Uriah the Hittite.\n\nThe result of this union was a son, Arthur, and a daughter, Ann, who\neventually became the wife of Lot, king of Lothian, and mother of\nModred.\n\nWe have no means of checking this story and saying how much of it\nis fact and how much false. But it is worth pointing out that in\nGeoffrey\u2019s account there is one significant thing mentioned that looks\nmuch like truth. He says that when Uthr was marching against him,\nGorlois at once appealed for help from Ireland. Now, considering that\nall this district was colonised by Irish and half-Irish, this is just\nwhat a chieftain of the country would have done, but Geoffrey almost\ncertainly knew nothing of this colonisation. Moreover, he had something\nto go upon with regard to Damelioc and Tintagel, unless, which is\nhardly likely, he had lived some time in North-eastern Cornwall, and\nhad seen the earthworks of the former and the fortified headland of the\nlatter, and so was able to use them up in his fabulous tale.\n\nDamelioc is but five or six miles from Tintagel, and in Geoffrey\u2019s\nstory they are represented as at no great distance apart. Had Geoffrey\nbeen in this part of Cornwall and invented the whole story, he would\nhave been more likely to make Gorlois take refuge in the far stronger\nand more commanding Helbury, occupying a conical height 700 feet above\nthe sea, than Damelioc, 500 feet, only, on an extensive plateau.\n\nKing Arthur has been so laid hold of by the romancers, and his story\nhas been so embellished with astounding flourishes of the imagination,\nthat we are inclined to doubt whether he ever existed, and all the\nmore so because we find legend attached to him and associated with\nlocalities alike in Cornwall, Wales, and Scotland. Mr. Skene has shown\nvery good cause for identifying the sites of some of his battles with\nremains of fortifications in Scotland.[9] How, then, can we account\nfor his presence in Cornwall and Wales? As a matter of fact, this\nis perfectly explicable. The Saxons held possession of the whole\neast of Britain as far as the ridge which runs between Yorkshire and\nLancashire; as also the region about Leeds, which latter constituted\nthe kingdom of Elmet. Needwood and Arden forests lay between the\nrival people. Strathclyde, Cumberland, Rheged, now Lancashire, all\nWales, with Powis occupying Shropshire and Cheshire, Gloucester,\nBath, and Dumnonia, extending through Cornwall, Devon, and Somerset,\nformed one great confederation of Britons under a head king. Geraint\nhad previously been head of the confederacy, and we find traces of\nhim accordingly in Cornwall, Somerset, Wales, and at Hereford. The\nPendragon, or chief king, had to be at every post along the frontier\nthat was menaced. So with Arthur; he was in Cornwall, indeed, but he\nwas also in Wales, where he is spoken of in the lives of some of the\nsaints, as we have seen, always as a bully. And he was in Scotland\nopposing the advance of the Bernicians. His father, Uthr, had been head\nking before him, but Geraint had been chosen as Pendragon on the death\nof Uthr; Geraint fell in 522, and it is held that Arthur perished in\n537. There are several reminiscences of King Arthur in the district.\nAt Slaughter Bridge he is thought to have fallen. Above Camelford rise\nDinnevor (Dinnas-vawr), the Great Castle, and King Arthur\u2019s Downs, with\na singular oblong rectangular structure on it called King Arthur\u2019s\nHall, the purport of which has not been discovered. At Tintagel are his\ncups and saucers, hollows in the rock, and his spirit is said to haunt\nthe height as a monstrous white gull wailing over the past glories of\nBritain. At Killmar is his bed. Near Tintagel is Porth-iern, which is\neither the Iron Port or that of Igerna, Arthur\u2019s mother; at Boscastle\nis Pentargon (Arthur\u2019s Head). The Christian name of Gwenivere, his\nfaithless wife, is still by no means rare, as Genefer.\n\nTintagel is but a fragment. There was anciently a rift with a bridge\nover it between one court of the castle and the other; but the rift\nhas expanded to a gaping mouth, and rock and wall have fallen to form\na mound of _d\u00e9bris_ that now connects the mainland with what, but for\nthis heap, would be an islet.\n\n[Illustration: TINTAGEL]\n\nTintagel, properly Dun-diogl, the \u201cSafe Castle,\u201d has been built of the\nblack slate rock, with shells burnt for lime. A few fragments of wall\nremain on the mainland, and a few more on the island, where is also\nthe ruin of a little chapel, with its stone altar still _in situ_. The\nsituation is superb, and were the ruins less ruinous, the scene from\nthe little bay that commands the headland would be hardly surpassed.\nOn Barras Head, opposite, a company are erecting a fashionable modern\nhotel.\n\nAbout the cliffs may still be seen the Cornish chough, with its scarlet\nlegs, but the bird is becoming scarce. The south coast of Cornwall is\nnow entirely deserted by the choughs, and the only remaining colonies\nare found at intervals on the side facing the Atlantic. Unhappily\nvisitors are doing their utmost to get them exterminated by buying the\nyoung birds that are caught and offered for sale. But the jackdaws are\nalso driving them, and probably in-and-in breeding is leading to their\ndiminution. The choughs not being migratory birds, and sticking much to\nthe same localities, those who desire to obtain their eggs or rob the\nnests of the young know exactly which are their haunts year by year.\n\n \u201cThe free wild temperament of choughs,\u201d writes Mr. A. H.\n Malan, \u201cwill not brook any confinement, but must have\n absolute liberty and full exercise for their wings. If this\n is not the case, they generally get an attack of asthma,\n which usually proves fatal, in their first year.\n\n \u201cEveryone has seen a chough, if only in a museum; and\n therefore knows the beautiful glossy black of the adult\n plumage, the long wings crossed over the back and extending\n beyond the squared tail, the long, slender red legs, and\n the brilliant red curved bill. But only those who have\n kept them know their marvellous docility. You may train\n a falcon to sit on your wrist and come down to the lure,\n with infinite labour; but to a chough brought up from the\n nest it comes quite natural to be at one moment flying in\n high air--it may be hotly pursued by a party of rooks, and\n leading them a merry dance, since, being long-winged birds,\n choughs hold the rooks, crows, and jackdaws very cheap,\n inasmuch as these baser creatures can never come near\n enough to injure them--and the next to come in at the open\n window, alight on the table, or jump on one\u2019s knee and sit\n there any length of time, absolutely still, while the head\n and back are stroked with the hand or a pen, combining the\n complete confidence of a cat or a dog with the wild freedom\n of the swallow. No other bird with which I am acquainted\n thus unites the perfection of tameness with the limitless\n impetuosity of unreclaimed nature.\u201d[10]\n\nBrown Willy and Rough Tor are fine hills rising out of really ghastly\nbogs, Crowdy and Stannon and Rough Tor marshes, worse than anything\nof the sort on Dartmoor, places to which you hardly desire to consign\nyour worst enemies, always excepting promoters of certain companies. I\nreally should enjoy seeing them flounder there.\n\nBrown Willy (_bryn geled_ = conspicuous hill) has five heads, and these\nare crowned with cairns.\n\nOwing mainly to the remoteness of this mountain from the habitations\nof men, and from the mischievous activity of stone quarriers for\nbuildings, there are scattered about this stately five-pointed tor\nsome very interesting relics of antiquity, of an antiquity that goes\nback to prehistoric times. Among these most interesting of all are the\nbeehive huts that cluster about the granite rocks like the mud nests of\nswallows.\n\nThe whole of the Cornish moors, like Dartmoor, are strewn with\nprehistoric villages and towns of circular houses, sometimes within\nrings of rude walling that served as a protection to the settlement,\nand connected with enclosures for the cattle against wolves. But though\nin many cases the doorways remain, of upright jambs with a rude lintel\nof granite thrown across, complete examples roofed in are rare, and\nthose to which we direct attention now are known to very few persons\nindeed. The huts in question measure internally from six to eight\nfeet in diameter; the walls are composed of moorstones rudely laid in\ncourses, without having been touched by any tool or bedded in mortar.\nThe walls are some two to three feet thick. Sometimes they are formed\nof two concentric rings of stones set upright in the ground, filled in\nbetween with smaller stones, but such huts were never stone-roofed.\nBeehive-roofed they were, but with their dome formed of oak boughs\nbrought together in the centre, the ends resting on these walls, and\nthe whole thatched with straw or heather or fern. But the stone-built\nand roofed huts have walls of granite blocks laid in courses, and after\nfive feet they are brought to dome over by the overlapping of the\ncoverers, in the primitive fashion that preceded the invention of the\narch.\n\nThe roof was thus gathered in about a smoke-hole, which was itself\nfinally closed with a wide, thin granite slab, and thus the whole roof\nand sides were buried in turf, so that the structure resembled a huge\nant-hill. Most of this encasing flesh and skin has gone, and the bone\nbeneath is exposed. Nevertheless; it does remain in some cases, and\nhas been the means of preserving these curious structures. One such,\nvery perfect, is on the river Erme, above Piles Wood, on Dartmoor. Into\nthis it is quite possible to crawl and take refuge from a shower. It is\ncompletely watertight, but it is not easy to find, as it is overgrown\nwith dense masses of heather. Another is close to the farmhouse of\nFernaker, between Brown Willy and Rough Tor, and it has been spared\nbecause the farmer thought it might serve his purpose as a pig-sty or\na butter-house. This Fernaker hut is rudely quadrangular, and one side\nis formed by a great block of granite rising out of the ground five\nfeet and nine feet long. On this basis the house has been built and\nroofed in the usual manner by five courses of overlapping stones. The\nhighest peak of Brown Willy is occupied by a huge cairn that has never\nbeen explored, owing to the expense and labour of working into it. It\nprobably covers some old Cornish king. Immediately below it, some forty\nfeet, are two beehive huts, in very fair condition, one eight feet in\ndiameter, with a second, much smaller, only four feet six inches in\ndiameter, close to it, opposite the door, with an entrance so small\nthat it probably served as a store-chamber. One huge slab of granite,\nsome twelve feet long and six feet wide, forms half the roof of the\nlarger hut; the remainder has fallen in.\n\n[Illustration: BEEHIVE HUT\n\n(_By kind permission of \u201cThe Daily Graphic\u201d_)]\n\nOn the other side of Brown Willy, the west side, at no great distance\nfrom the source of the river Fowey, is another beehive hut, not\nabsolutely perfect, but nearly so; one course and the smoke-hole\ncoverer have fallen in on one side. The doors to these hovels are\nso low that he who enters one must crawl on hands and knees. In the\nbeehive hut last mentioned the height in the middle is but three feet\nsix inches, so that those who tenanted it could not stand upright\ninside. On Rough Tor, divided from Brown Willy by a valley, are three\nor four more of these huts, and the flanks of the mountains are\ncovered with others, hundreds of them, in a more or less dilapidated\ncondition. Some of these were originally stone-roofed; others were not.\nIn connection with these remains of habitations are numerous relics\nof interments at some distance from them, for our primeval population\nalways buried their dead away from the living. These consist of cairns,\ncovering stone coffins or kistvaens that have been for the most part\nrifled by treasure-seekers. One has a somewhat pathetic interest,\nfor beside the large stone chest just outside the ring of upright\nstones that encloses it is a child\u2019s cist, formed of four blocks of\ngranite two feet seven inches long, the covering-stone removed, and\nthe contents scattered to the winds. Near at hand also is the largest\ncircle of upright stones in Cornwall. The stones themselves are not\ntall, and are much sunk in the boggy soil, but it is very perfect,\nconsisting of fifty-five stones, and 140 feet in diameter. On the\nneighbouring height of Leudon is a logan rock that still oscillates\neasily. The question naturally arises, Do these beehive huts actually\ndate back to prehistoric times? That is not a question we can answer\nwith certainty, for we know that the same methods of construction were\nobserved to a comparatively late period, and that in the Isles of\nLewis and Harris, in the Hebrides, precisely similar huts are even now\ninhabited, and are certainly in many cases of recent construction. But\nwhat is extremely interesting to find is the existence in Cornwall of\nthese beehive habitations of man exactly like those found in Scotland;\nand in Cornwall, as in Scotland, associated with rude stone monuments\nof pre-Christian times. In the Hebrides the beehive huts still occupied\nare not stone-roofed. The roof is of straw, and is renewed every year\nbecause of the value as manure of the peat smoke that saturates it. But\nthere remain earlier beehive huts in Lewis of exactly the same nature\nas those in Cornwall. It is therefore by no means unlikely that both\nbelong to the primitive race that first colonised our isles.\n\nCamelford has given a title, and that to a remarkable man, Lord\nCamelford, the duellist. He was the great-grandson of Governor Pitt,\nwho acquired an ample fortune in India. He was born in 1775, and even\nwhen a boy was violent and unmanageable. He was put in the navy, but\nowing to his refractory conduct was treated with severity by his\ncaptain, Vancouver, and on his return home, meeting Vancouver in Bond\nStreet, was only prevented from striking his captain by his brother\nthrowing himself in the way.\n\nIn town he was incessantly embroiled. On the night of April 2nd, 1799,\nduring a disturbance at Drury Lane Theatre, he savagely attacked\nand wounded a gentleman, and was fined for so doing the sum of \u00a3500\nby the Court of Queen\u2019s Bench. He attacked watchmen, insulted anyone\nwho crossed his humour in the least degree, committed all kinds of\nviolence, till his name became a terror, and he was involved in first\none quarrel and then in another. His irritable and ungovernable\ntemper at length brought about fatal consequences to himself. He had\nbeen acquainted with a Mrs. Simmons. He was told that a Captain Best\nhad reported to her a bit of scandal relative to himself. This so\nincensed his lordship, that on March 6th, 1804, meeting with Best at a\ncoffee-house, he went up to him, and in the hearing of everyone called\nhim \u201ca scoundrel, a liar, and a ruffian.\u201d A challenge followed, and the\nmeeting was fixed for the next morning. The seconds having ascertained\nthe occasion of Lord Camelford\u2019s wrath, Best declared himself ready\nto apologise, and to retract any words that had given offence which\nhe had used to Mrs. Simmons, but his lordship refused to accept such\nan apology. Agreeably to an appointment made by the seconds, Lord\nCamelford and the captain met early next morning at a coffee-house in\nOxford Street, where Captain Best made another effort to prevail on\nLord Camelford to make up the quarrel and to withdraw the expressions\nhe had addressed to him in public. To all remonstrance he replied, \u201cLet\nit go on.\u201d\n\nAccordingly both mounted their horses and took the road to Kensington,\nfollowed by their seconds in a post-chaise. On their arrival at the\n\u201cHorse and Groom\u201d they dismounted, and entered the fields behind\nHolland House. The seconds measured the ground, and took their stations\nat the distance of thirty paces. Lord Camelford fired first, but\nwithout effect. An interval ensued, and those who looked on from a\ndistance believed that Best was again urging his lordship to come to\namicable terms. But Lord Camelford shook his head; then Best fired,\nand his lordship fell at full length. The seconds, together with the\ncaptain, at once ran to his assistance, when he seized his antagonist\nby the hand and said, \u201cBest, I am a dead man; you have killed me, but\nI freely forgive you.\u201d The report of the pistols had attracted the\nattention of some of Lord Holland\u2019s gardeners and servants, who ran to\nthe spot and endeavoured to arrest Captain Best and his second, who\nwere making off. Lord Camelford asked \u201cwhy they endeavoured to detain\nthe gentlemen; he himself was the aggressor, and he frankly forgave the\ngentleman who had shot him, and he hoped that God would forgive him as\nwell.\u201d\n\nA chair was procured, and Lord Camelford was carried into Little\nHolland House, where he expired after three days of suffering.\n\nOn the morning after his decease an inquest was held on the body, and a\nverdict of wilful murder was returned against \u201csome person or persons\nunknown.\u201d A bill of indictment was, however, preferred against Captain\nBest and his second, but was ignored by the grand jury, who were\nsensible that Lord Camelford had brought his death on himself.\n\nIn the neighbourhood of Camelford are several very charming old\nmansions of Cornish families, small but eminently picturesque, all\nnow converted into farmhouses. In next generation they will not be\nconsidered good enough for labourers. One of these is Penvose in S.\nTudy, another Trewane, hard by the station of Port Isaac Road. Both\nthese belonged to the Nicholls family, to two brothers it is said, and\nthe magnificent carved slate monuments of the family are to be seen\nin S. Tudy Church. The slate in this district was sculptured in a way\nreally marvellous, and there are numerous examples in the churches\nround. In S. Endellion are Treshunger, the seat of the Matthews family,\nand Rosecarrock--a fragment only. Basil, previously mentioned, is in S.\nClether. It belonged to the Trevillians. One day a party of Roundheads\ncame to Basil to seize on the squire. Trevillian looked out of the\nwindow. \u201cIf you come on,\u201d said he, \u201cI will send out my spearmen against\nyou.\u201d As they _did_ come on, he threw a beehive among them, and away\nthey fled, every man. Near Slaughter Bridge is Worthyvale, the seat of\na family of the same name.\n\nThe churches of this district are planted, some on the top of hills,\nand with high towers, to serve as waymarks over land that was all\nformerly waste, or else nestle into sweet dells surrounded by Cornish\nelms--warm, sunny nooks where the primrose comes out early and the\ngrass is emerald-green all the winter. Of the former description are S.\nTudy and S. Mabyn. Of the latter S. Kew, a church on no account to be\npassed over, as it is not only singularly beautiful and well restored,\nbut also contains superb old glass, moved from Bodmin Priory at its\ndissolution. One window represents the Passion, and is perfect; another\nonce contained a Jesse tree, but is much broken and defective.\n\nS. Kew is really Docwin, otherwise called Cyngar, the founder of\nCongresbury, in Somersetshire. He was a son of Gildas the historian,\nthat sour creature who threw all the dirt he could at the princes,\npeople, and clergy of his own blood and tongue, and told us the least\npossible about their history, filling his pages with pious scurrility.\n\nIn S. Teath (S. Itha) is a very fine churchyard cross. Here may be\nnoticed the arms of the Carminow family, once perhaps the most powerful\nin Cornwall, now gone--without a living representative remaining of\nthe name. A junior branch was settled at Trehannick, in S. Teath,\nat which place William Carminow died in 1646, the last male heir of\nthis ancient family, which was at home when the Conqueror came. Their\narms are simplicity itself--azure, a bend or--the same as those of\nScrope and of Grosvenor. In the reign of Richard II. there was a\ngreat heraldic dispute over these arms, and it was carried before the\nEarl of Northampton, who was king of arms, and was then in France.\nAs the Carminows could show that they had borne this coat from time\nimmemorial, certainly as long as any Scropes and Grosvenors, it was\nallowed.\n\nIf there be churches dedicated to odd and out-of-the-way saints in this\nregion, there be also parishes with odd and out-of-this-world names, as\nHelland and Blisland. Of the former a tale circulates.\n\nThe vicar was going to town, and hoped that the Archdeacon of Cornwall\ncould be induced to take his service on the Sunday following, and\nhe left it to his neighbour at Blisland to negotiate this little\narrangement for him. All went well, and the latter gave in a telegram\nat the nearest office:--\n\n \u201cThe Archdeacon of Cornwall is going to Helland; you need\n not return.\u201d\n\nBut when it was delivered in London it was thus divided:--\n\n \u201cThe Archdeacon of Cornwall is going to Hell; and you need\n not return.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n\n BUDE\n\n An ugly place--Its charm in the air--Stratton--The\n battle of Stamford Hill--Churches--Norman\n remains--Frescoes at Poughill--Pancras\n Week--Bench-ends--Tonnacombe--Marhayes--Old Stowe--Church\n towers--Landmarks--The candle-end in Bridgerule\n Church--Bridget churches--The clover-field--Ogbeare\n Hall--Whitstone--Camps--Thomasine Bonaventura--Week\n S. Mary--The coast about Bude--Morwenstow--Robert S.\n Hawker--One of his ballads.\n\n\nAn unpicturesque, uninteresting place, wind-blown, treeless, but with\nsands--not always obtainable on the north coast--and with noble cliff\nscenery within easy reach.\n\nThere is nothing commendable in the place itself; the houses are as\nugly as tasteless builders could contrive to erect; the church is\nof the meanest cheap Gothic of seventy years ago; but the air is\nexhilarating, the temperature is even, there are golf-links, and a\nshore for bathers.\n\n[Illustration: BUDE]\n\nNestling in a valley by a little stream newly designated the \u201cStrat,\u201d\nas though Stratton were called from the stream and not the street--the\nRoman road that runs through it--is the parent town, crouching with its\nhair ruffled, and casting a sidelong, dissatisfied eye at its pert and\npushing offspring, Bude. But Stratton has no reason to be discontented.\nIt is sheltered from the furious gales, which Bude is not; it has trees\nand flowers about it, which Bude has not; it has a fine parish church,\nwhich Bude has not; and it has a history, deficient to Bude, which is a\nparvenu, and self-assertive accordingly.\n\nAnd Stratton further has got its battlefield. The height above the town\nwas the scene of one of those encounters in which the Royalist forces\nfor Charles I. were successful. The following description of the battle\nis from Professor Gardiner\u2019s _History of the Great Civil War_:--[11]\n\n \u201cThe Earl of Stamford placed himself at the head of the\n army under his command, and resolved on carrying the war\n into Cornwall. As he could dispose of 6800 men, whilst\n Hopton and the Cornish leaders at Launceston had with them\n less than half the number, he determined to despatch the\n greater part of his horse to Bodmin in order to suppress\n any attempt to muster the trained bands there. With his\n infantry and a few remaining horse he established himself\n near Stratton, in the extreme north-west of the county,\n in a position apparently strong enough to secure him from\n attack, at least till his cavalry returned.\n\n \u201cThe ground occupied by Stamford was well chosen. A ridge\n of high ground running from the north to south parallel\n with the coast dips sharply down, and rises as sharply\n again to a grassy hill, from the southern end of which\n there is a still deeper cleft through which the road\n descends steeply to the left into the valley in which lies\n the little town of Stratton. On the top of this hill, the\n sides of which slope in all directions from the highest\n point to the edge of the plateau, the Parliamentary army\n lay. Beyond this plateau the ground falls away in all\n directions, more especially on the eastern side, where the\n position was almost impregnable if seriously defended. The\n ascent from the west was decidedly the easiest, but an\n earthwork had been thrown up on this side, the guns from\n which commanded the whole approach from this quarter.[12]\n\n \u201cUndismayed by the odds against them, Hopton and his\n comrades resolved to break up from Launceston in order to\n seek the enemy. As they approached Stratton on the morning\n of the 16th (May, 1643) they had the advantage of having\n amongst them one to whom every inch of ground must have\n been perfectly familiar. But a few miles to the north, on\n the bleak hillside above the waves of the Atlantic, lay\n that house of Stowe from which Sir Richard Grenville had\n gone forth to die in the _Revenge_, and where doubtless\n the Lady Grenville of a younger generation was watching\n anxiously for the return of him who had ventured his life\n in the king\u2019s quarrel. It would have been strange if on\n this day of peril the ordering of the fight had not fallen\n into Sir Bevil Grenville\u2019s hands.\n\n \u201cThe little army of Royalists consisted of but 2400, whilst\n their adversaries could number 5400, well provided with\n cannon and ammunition. The attacking force was divided into\n four bands, prepared to storm, or at least to threaten,\n the hill from every side. For some hours every effort was\n in vain against superiority of numbers and superiority\n of position. At three in the afternoon word was brought\n to the commanders that their scanty stock of powder was\n almost exhausted. A retreat under such circumstances would\n have been fatal, and the word was given that a supreme\n effort must be made. Trusting to pike and sword alone,\n the lithe Cornishmen pressed onwards and upwards. Their\n silent march seems to have struck their opponents with\n a sense of power. The defence grew feeble, and on the\n easier western slope, where Grenville fought, and on the\n northern, on which Sir John Berkeley led the attack, the\n outer edge of the plateau was first gained. Immediately the\n handful of horse which had remained with Stamford turned\n and fled, the commander-in-chief, it is said, setting\n the example. In vain Chudleigh, now second in command,\n rallied the force for a desperate charge. For a moment\n he seemed to make an impression on the approaching foe,\n but he incautiously pressed too far in advance, and was\n surrounded and captured. His men, left without a commander,\n at once gave way, and retreated to the further part of the\n plateau. By this time the other two Royalist detachments,\n finding resistance slackening, had made their way up, and\n the victorious commanders embraced one another on the\n hard-won hill-top, thanking God for a success for which at\n one time they had hardly ventured to hope. It was no time\n to prolong their rejoicings, as the enemy, demoralised as\n he was, still clung to the heights. Seizing the cannons\n which had been abandoned in the earthwork, the Royalist\n commanders turned them upon Stamford\u2019s cowed followers.\n The frightened men had no one to encourage them to deeds\n of hardihood, and, following the example of the cavalry,\n they too dashed down the slope in headlong flight. Of\n the Parliamentary soldiers, 300 had been killed and 1700\n were taken prisoners, besides Chudleigh and thirty of his\n officers. All the cannon, with a large store of ammunition\n and provisions, fell into the hands of the victors. From\n that day the spot on which the wealthy earl demonstrated\n his signal incompetence as a leader of men has been known\n as Stamford Hill.\u201d\n\nThe scene of the battle deserves a visit, as it has remained almost\nunaltered since that day. Whether the earthworks belong to the period\nor were earlier, utilised by Stamford, remains open to question. They\nhardly seem disposed with skill and intelligence for the use of cannon.\n\nThe Royalists were not merely about half in number to the Roundheads,\nbut they were short of ammunition, and without cannon. They were also\n\u201cso destitute of provisions, that the best officers had but a biscuit a\nman.\u201d\n\nA monument erected on the hill in commemoration of the battle was\ndestroyed a few years ago, and the plate with an inscription on it\nrecording the victory moved to the front of a house in Stratton.\n\nThere is a good deal to be seen in the way of old houses and churches\nnear Bude. Stratton Church itself is fine, and contains a good tomb of\nan Arundell. It has suffered less than most of the sacred edifices in\nthe neighbourhood from the wrecker. Week S. Mary under his hands has\nbecome a shell out of which life and beauty have fled. Morwenstow has\nbeen reduced to nakedness, but its grand Norman pillars and arches and\ndoorway remain. Kilkhampton has been lovingly treated and the wrecker\nheld at bay. It also has a Norman doorway, and very fine bench-ends;\nPoughill has these latter, also two frescoes of S. Christopher that\nhave been restored--one, through a blunder, as King Olaf. The idea\ngrew up in the fifteenth century that he who looked on a figure of\nS. Christopher would not that day die a sudden death. Consequently\nrepresentations of the saint were multiplied. On the river Wulf in\nDevon at a ford it was held that at night anyone who came to the side\nof the water and cried out was caught up and carried over by a gigantic\nspirit, and there are those alive who protest that they have been so\ntransported across the Wulf. Recently the County Council has built a\nbridge, and so this spectral Christopher\u2019s occupation is gone.\n\nPancras Week has a very fine waggon roof of richly-carved wood.\nHolsworthy is a good church well restored. Here during the restoration\na skeleton was found in the wall, evidently hastily covered up with\nmortar and stone.\n\nAt Poundstock and Launcells are good bench-ends. The most interesting\nold house in the district, because best preserved, is Tonnacombe in\nMorwenstow, very small, with hall and minstrel gallery and panelled\nparlours, but perfect and untouched by the restorer, except in the most\nconservative manner.\n\nPenfound in Poundstock, the seat of the ancient family of Penfound, is\nin a condition verging on ruin. The family has its representatives in\nBude as plain labourers. The last squire died in the poorhouse in 1847.\n\nWhat is so delightful about these old Cornish houses is the way that,\nin a wind-swept region, they nestle into leafy combes.\n\nElford, now the parsonage of Bude, was the seat of the Arundells,\nbut it has been so altered as to have lost most of its character.\nMarhamchurch has a good Jacobean pulpit, and in the parish is\nMarhayes, an interesting house, the basement Tudor, on top of which\na Charles II. house was reared. In one room is a superb ceiling of\nplaster-work. At Dunsland is another, richer, but not so good in\ndesign. Sutcombe Church has the remains of a remarkably good screen\nand some bench-ends. The church has been judiciously restored and not\nwrecked.\n\nIn Poughill, close to Bude, old Broom Hill, now turned into cottages,\nhas a good Elizabethan ceiling. It was here that Sir Bevil Grenville\nslept the night before the battle of Stamford Hill.\n\nIn the deep glen that leads from Kilkhampton to the sea is the site of\nStowe House, built by John, Earl of Bath, in 1680. The title became\nextinct in 1711, and Stowe became the property of the widow of Lord\nCarteret, who was created Countess Grenville. The house was pulled down\nin 1720, so that the same persons saw it built and saw its destruction.\nThe Earl of Bath had the best artists brought there to decorate the\nmansion, and it is due to this that so much splendid plaster-work is to\nbe seen in Northeast Cornwall and near Holsworthy. An exquisite plaster\nceiling of delicate refinement and beauty existed at Whitstone, but\nwas destroyed by the owner of the house, who had not any idea of its\nartistic beauty.\n\nMarsland in Morwenstow, without any architectural features, is a\ncharming example of a small country squire\u2019s house of the seventeenth\ncentury. Stowe Barton, though much altered and spoiled, is the ancient\nseat of the Grenvilles; that has stood, whilst the splendid mansion\nhas disappeared, leaving only its terraces to show where it once was.\n\nBridgerule Church stands high; its tower, that of Pancras Week, and\nthat of Week S. Mary were landmarks when all the land except the\ncombes was a great furzy and rushy waste. The soil is cold, clayey,\nand unproductive. It serves for the breeding of horses and for rough\nstock, and grew grain when grain-growing paid; now it is reverting\nto moor, but anciently it was entirely uncultivated and open, saving\nin the valleys. Bridgerule has a fine tower, and in the church is a\nrespectable modern screen, though not of local character. About the\nrood-loft door hangs a tale.\n\nThere was a widow who had a beautiful daughter, and one evening\na gentleman in a carriage drawn by four black horses and with a\nblack-liveried driver on the box drove to the cottage door. The\ngentleman descended. He was a swarthy but handsome man. He entered\nthe cottage on some excuse, sat by the fire and talked, and eyed the\ndamsel. Then he called, and his liveried servant brought in wines from\nthe sword-case of his carriage, and they drank, till the fire was in\ntheir veins, and the gentleman asked the girl if she would accompany\nhim home if he came for her on the following night. She consented. He\nwould arrive at midnight, so he said.\n\nNow next morning the mother\u2019s mind misgave her, and she went to\nBridgerule and consulted the parson. Said he, \u201cThat was the devil. Did\nyou see his feet?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo--that is, I saw one,\u201d said the widow. \u201cOne that was stretched out\nby the fire, but the other he kept under the chair, and he had let fall\nhis cloak over it. But I did notice that he limped as he walked.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the parson, \u201chere is a consecrated candle; it has burned\non the altar. Take it home, and when the visitor asks your wench to go\nwith him, let her say she will do so as soon as the candle is burnt\nout. He will consent. At once take the candle and run to Bridgerule\nChurch and give it to me, and see what happens.\u201d\n\nNext night the woman lit the candle and set it on the table, and it\nburnt cheerily. But just before midnight the tramp of horses was heard\nand the roll of wheels, and the black coach drew up at her door and the\ngentleman descended. He entered the cottage and asked if Genefer were\nready to attend him.\n\n\u201cShe is upstairs dressing in her Sunday gown,\u201d replied the mother.\n\n\u201cI am impatient; let her come as she is,\u201d said the stranger.\n\n\u201cSuffer her to have time till this candle burns into the socket,\u201d asked\nthe mother.\n\n\u201cI consent, but not for a moment longer,\u201d was his reply.\n\nThen the widow took the candle, and saying she went in quest of her\ndaughter, she left the room, went out at the back door, extinguished\nthe candle, and ran till she reached the church, where the parson\nawaited her with his clerk, who was a mason. He took the candle, gave\nit to his clerk, who placed it in a recess in the wall, and at once\nproceeded to build up the recess.\n\nThe mother hastened home. But as she came to a moor called Affaland she\nsaw the coach drawn by four black horses arrive on it, and proceed to a\npool that was there, but is now dried up or drained away, and in went\nhorses, driver, coach, and all, and a great spout of blue flame came up\nwhere they descended, and after that, they were seen no more. When she\ncame home, she found her daughter in a dead faint.\n\nNow that candle remains behind the wall that closes up the rood-stair\ndoor. And the devil cannot claim the girl, because the candle is not\nburnt out. But if ever that wall be pulled down and the candle be\nremoved, and anyone be wicked enough to burn it, then he will ascend\nfrom the place of outer darkness and the gnashing of teeth, and snatch\nthe soul of Genefer away, even though it be in Abraham\u2019s bosom.\n\nBridgerule is Llan-Bridget, that was granted at the Conquest to a\ncertain Raoul. It is one of the cluster of Bridget churches that are\nfound near the Tamar, of which the others are Virginstow and Bridestow,\nand Landue--now only a house with a holy well of S. Bridget and the\nfoundations of a chapel. Clearly there was in this district a colony\nfrom Leinster, from Magh Brea, the great plain in which Bridget had her\nfoundations. S. Bridget was a real person, and one of great force of\ncharacter; but what gave her such an enormous popularity in Ireland was\nthat she inherited the name of one of the old pagan goddesses, she of\nthe fire, also the earth mother, and the great helper of women in their\ntrouble.\n\nWhen the real Bridget saw the vast plain in Leinster covered with\nwhite clover, from which the wind that wafted over it was sweet as if\nit had breathed from paradise, \u201cOh!\u201d said she, \u201cif this lovely plain\nwere mine I would give it to God.\u201d\n\nS. Columba heard this story. He smiled, and said, \u201cGod accepts the will\nfor the deed. It is the same to Him as if Bridget had freely given Him\nthe wide white clover field.\u201d\n\nThe centre of the cult of S. Bridget in ancient Dumnonia must have\nbeen Bridestow, for there is a sanctuary which marks the main monastic\nestablishment.\n\nOne day a party of bishops and clergy arrived at Bridget\u2019s house of\nKildare very hungry and clamorous for food, and particularly desirous\nto know what they were going to have for dinner.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said Bridget, \u201cI and my spiritual daughters also suffer from\nhunger. We have not the Word of God ministered to us but exceptionally\nwhen stray priest comes this way. Let us go to church first, and do ye\nfeed us with spiritual nourishment whilst dinner is getting ready, and\nthen do you eat your fill.\u201d\n\nIt is a long way to North Tamerton, but worth a visit, for the church\nis well situated above the Tamar, and contains some good bench-ends;\nand in the parish is Ogbeare with a very fine old hall, but a very\nmodern villa residence attached to it--new cloth on the old garment.\n\nWhitstone is so called from the church being founded on a piece of\nwhite sparry rock. When the late Archbishop Benson was bishop of Truro\nhe came to open the church after restoration. As the rector was taking\nhim in he pointed out the white stone. Bishop Benson at once seized on\nthe idea suggested, and preached to the people on the text, \u201cTo him\nthat overcometh will I give ... a white stone.\u201d (Rev. ii. 17.) In the\nchurchyard is a holy well of S. Anne, not of the reputed mother of the\nVirgin, for her cult is comparatively modern, not much earlier than the\nfifteenth century, but dedicated to the mother of S. Sampson, sister of\nS. Padarn\u2019s mother. There must have been much fighting at some time in\nthis neighbourhood. There is a fine camp in Swannacot Wood over against\nWhitstone. Week S. Mary occupies an old camp site, and another is in\nWest Wood, and another, again, in Key Wood, all within a rifle-shot of\neach other.\n\nWeek S. Mary occupies a wind-blasted elevation, over 500 feet above\nthe sea, and with no intervening hills to break the force of the gales\nfrom the Atlantic. The place has interest as the birthsite of Thomasine\nBonaventura. She was the daughter of a labourer, and was one day\nkeeping sheep on the moor, when she engaged the attention of a London\nmerchant who was travelling that way, and stayed to ask of her his\ndirection.\n\nPleased with her Cornish grace of manner, with her fresh face and\nhonest eyes, he took her to London as servant to his wife, and when\nthe latter died he made her the mistress of his house. Dying himself\nshortly afterwards, he bequeathed to her a large fortune. She then\nmarried a person of the name of Gale, whom also she survived. Then Sir\nJohn Percival, Lord Mayor of London, succumbed to her charms of face,\nand above all of manner, and he became her third husband. But he also\ndied, and she was once more a widow. The lady was by this time content\nwith her experience as a wife, and returning from London to Week S.\nMary--think of that! to Week S. Mary, the wind-blown and desolate--she\ndevoted her days and fortune to good works. She founded there a college\nand chantry, and doubtless largely contributed towards the building of\nthe parish church. She repaired the roads, built bridges, gave dowries\nto maidens, and relieved the poor. She contributed also to the building\nof the tower of S. Stephen\u2019s by Launceston.\n\nHer college for the education of the youth of the neighbourhood\ncontinued to flourish till the Reformation, and the best gentlemen\u2019s\nsons of Devon and Cornwall went there for their education. But as there\nwas a chantry attached to the school, this served as an excuse for the\nrapacity of those who desired to increase their goods at the cost of\nChurch and poor, and school and chantry were suppressed together. Week\nS. Mary till lately had its mayor, and was esteemed a borough, though\nit never returned members.\n\nExternally it is fine, the tower remarkably so. In the tower may be\nobserved curious results of a lightning flash.\n\nThe coast of North Cornwall right and left of Bude is very fine; the\ncarboniferous rocks stand up with their strata almost perpendicular,\nbut there are bays and coves that allow of descent to the sea.\nWidmouth promises to become some day a great watering-place.\n\nTo see this coast it is in vain to take the coach road to Bideford\nor to Boscastle. The road runs on the ridge of high land from which\nthe streams descend and spill into the sea. The only way in which to\nappreciate its wildness and beauty is to take the coast road that\nclimbs and descends a succession of rocky waves. By that means scenes\nof the greatest picturesqueness and of the utmost variety are revealed.\nOne excursion must on no account be omitted, that to Morwenstow, for\nmany years the home of a fine poet, an eccentric man, the Rev. Robert\nS. Hawker.\n\nHe was born at Stoke Damerel on December 3rd, 1804, and was the son of\nMr. Jacob Stephen Hawker, at one time a medical man, but afterwards\nordained and vicar of Stratton. Mr. J. S. Hawker was the son of the\nfamous Dr. Hawker, incumbent of Charles Church, Plymouth, author of\n_Morning and Evening Portions_, a book of devotional reading at one\ntime in great request.\n\nYoung Robert was committed to his grandfather to be educated. He was\nsent to Oxford, but his father, then a poor curate, was unable to\nmaintain him there, and told him so. The difficulty was, however,\nhappily surmounted. He proposed to a lady rather older than his mother,\nbut who had about \u00a3200 per annum. She accepted him; he was then aged\ntwenty and she was forty-one, and had taught him his letters. By this\nmeans he was enabled to continue his studies at Oxford. He was given\nthe living of Morwenstow in 1834, and remained there till his death in\n1875.\n\nA writer in the _Standard_ of this latter year thus describes his first\nacquaintance with the vicar of Morwenstow:--\n\n \u201cIt was on a solemn occasion that we first saw Morwenstow.\n The sea was still surly and troubled, with wild lights\n breaking over it and torn clouds driving through the sky.\n Up from the shore, along a narrow path between jagged rocks\n and steep banks tufted with thrift, came the vicar, wearing\n cassock and surplice, and conducting a sad procession,\n which bore along with it the bodies of two seamen flung\n up the same morning on the sands. The office used by Mr.\n Hawker at such times had been arranged by himself, not\n without reference to certain peculiarities which, as he\n conceived, were features of the primitive Cornish Church,\n the same which had had its bishops and its traditions\n long before the conference of Augustine with its leaders\n under the great oak by the Severn. Indeed, at one time he\n carried his adhesion to these Cornish traditions to some\n unusual lengths. There was, we remember, a peculiar yellow\n vestment, in which he appeared much like a Lama of Thibet,\n which he wore in his house and about his parish, and which\n he insisted was an exact copy of a priestly robe worn by\n S. Padarn and S. Teilo. We have seen him in this attire\n proceeding through the lanes on the back of a well-groomed\n mule--the only fitting beast, as he remarked, for a\n churchman.\u201d\n\nWe have here an instance out of many of the manner in which he\ndelighted in hoaxing visitors. The yellow vestment was a poncho. It\ncame into use in the following manner:--\n\nMr. Martyn, of Tonnacombe, was in conversation one day with Mr.\nHawker, when the latter complained that he could not get a greatcoat to\nhis fancy, and one that would keep him dry against the rainstorms.\n\n\u201cWhy not have a poncho?\u201d asked his neighbour.\n\n\u201cPoncho! what is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing but a blanket with a hole in the middle.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you put your legs through the hole and tie the four corners over\nyour head?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered Mr. Martyn. \u201cI will fetch you mine, and you shall try it\non.\u201d\n\nThe poncho was produced; it was dark blue, and the vicar was delighted\nwith it. Next time he went to Bideford he bought a yellowish brown rug,\nand had a hole cut in the middle through which to thrust his head.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t wear your livery, Martyn,\u201d said he, \u201cnor your political\ncolours, so I have got a yellow poncho.\u201d\n\nThose who knew him can picture to themselves the sly twinkle in his eye\nas he informed his credulous visitor that he was invested in the habit\nof S. Padarn and S. Teilo.\n\nBut his dress was extraordinary enough without the poncho. He was wont\nto wear a knitted blue sailor\u2019s jersey, sea-boots above his knees, and\na claret-coloured coat and a clerical wide-awake of the same colour.\nHe had a great aversion to black. \u201cWhy should we parsons be like\ncrows--birds of ill-luck?\u201d he would say. \u201cBlack--black--are we children\nof darkness? Black is the colour of devils only.\u201d\n\nA real poet he was, but desultory, rarely able to remain fixed at work\nand carry out a project to the end. He was an excellent ballad-writer,\nbut he could do better than write ballads. He began a great poem on the\n\u201cQuest of the Sangreal,\u201d but it remains a fragment.\n\nHere is one short specimen of a ballad, the lament of a Cornish mother\nover her dead child:--\n\n \u201cThey say \u2019tis a sin to sorrow--\n That what God doth is best,\n But \u2019tis only a month to-morrow\n I buried it from my breast.\n\n \u201cI know it should be a pleasure\n Your child to God to send;\n But mine was a precious treasure,\n To me and my poor friend.\n\n \u201cI thought it would call me mother,\n The very first words it said;\n Oh! I never can love another\n Like the blessed babe that\u2019s dead.\n\n \u201cWell, God is its own dear Father,\n It was carried to church and bless\u2019d;\n And our Saviour\u2019s arms will gather\n Such children to their rest.\n\n \u201cI will check this foolish sorrow,\n For what God doth is best;\n But oh! \u2019tis a month to-morrow\n I buried it from my breast.\u201d\n\n\nNOTE.--For further information see my _Vicar of Morwenstow_. New and\nrevised edition. Methuen. 1899.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MACES AND SEAL OF SALTASH]\n\n\n CHAPTER X.\n\n SALTASH\n\n Old Town Hall demolished--Nicholas Tyack--Borough of\n Esh--Charters--Albert Bridge--Harbour dues--Contested\n elections--Continued contests--Situation of Saltash--Old\n houses--The Porter family--The Bonds of Earth--The\n boatwomen--Ann Glanville--In the Civil War--Sentences of\n the court--Chapel of the Guildhall--Silver cup--Trematon\n Castle--Riot at Saltash--Modern Guildhall--Maces--Old shop.\n\n\n\u201cJust three weeks too late.\u201d\n\nThat was the answer I received on reaching Saltash and inquiring after\nthe old Town Hall. It had been pulled down and carted away, and now\na hole in a range of buildings, like that in the jaw produced by the\nextraction of a tooth, shows where the old Town Hall had been.\n\nIt is a pity it is gone.\n\nBeside it stood an ancient house that had been occupied during the\nCommonwealth and the reign of Charles II. by Nicholas Tyack, the mayor.\nNicholas Tyack was a turncoat, but somehow, whichever way he turned his\ncoat he always turned it to his advantage.\n\nUnder the Commonwealth he was not only mayor, but a great Presbyterian\nluminary. He harangued and expounded Revelation always in favour of\nthe Commonwealth and Presbyterianism, and against the Crown and the\nMitre. But no sooner did Charles II. land than he swung completely\nround. All his political and religious views changed, and he declared\nthat the great horn was Old Noll and the little horn was Dickon. By\nthis means Nicholas Tyack secured his position, and remained mayor of\nSaltash. He had been high-handed in his proceedings before; he became\nmore high-handed under the Restoration. He wanted to apprentice his son\nin London; so he took the youth to town, lived well whilst there, and\non his return charged the expenses to the town.\n\nNicholas had a great advantage in living next door to the Town Hall,\nfor he was able to break a way into it through the intervening wall.\nAccording to custom and rule, when a meeting of the Town Council\nwas convened, the Town Hall bell had to be rung; but there was no\nspecification as to the _hour_ at which a meeting was to be held,\nnor was it laid down in black and white that the Hall door was to be\nunlocked for the occasion. Now when Nicholas Tyack desired to pass his\naccounts, or to transfer some bit of Corporation land to himself, or\nlegitimatise any other little game to his advantage and the detriment\nof the public, he rang the bell at night, kept the Hall door locked,\nand admitted his adherents through his private door, held the meeting\nin the council-chamber, and passed his accounts and resolutions _nem.\ncon._\n\nBut now both the Town Hall and Tyack\u2019s house have been swept away.\nThe latter had a fine mullioned and many-light window. The house went\nfirst; then the Guildhall.\n\n[Illustration: IN SALTASH]\n\nThe story of the borough of Esh, Esc, or Saltash is specially\ninteresting, as it affords us a precious glimpse into the history of\nthe origin and growth of our municipal towns.\n\nEsh, that is to say, _water_, was so-called because situated on the\ntidal estuary of the united Tamar and Tavy, which junction bears the\nname of the Hamoaze (Hem-uisg), the border water between Devon and\nCornwall, between the English and the British tongues.\n\nHere by the water-side settled some serfs, or \u201cnatives in stock,\u201d of\nthe Baron de Valletort.\n\n \u201cNatives of stock were the purest and most absolute\n bondmen. They were entirely subject to the will of their\n lord, and were subject to being placed in any tenement in\n which he might think fit to place them; and were compelled\n to do for him any work he might call upon them to do; and\n to pay a sort of capitation tax if they were allowed to be\n employed elsewhere.\u201d[13]\n\nLiving beside the water, these serfs ferried across to Devonport,\nmanaged the fishery, raised oysters, had a mill, and tilled the land\nfor their lord. But a charter of 1381 exists which is a confirmation\nby Reginald de Valletort of earlier charters, wherein his ancestors\nhad emancipated these serfs, and had conferred on them considerable\nliberties. They had been granted certain holdings of land as customary\ntenants. They were given a certain tract of land for common use, for\npasturage, etc.; they were accorded the \u201cfer\u00e9bote,\u201d the mill, and\nthe right to organise themselves into a corporation with an elected\n\u201cprepositur.\u201d For all this and other liberties they were required to\npay a small acknowledgment to the feudal lord.\n\nThis charter was confirmed by royal grant in 1385.\n\nNow the number of conventional tenancies was always the same, but some\nof the old habitations on them were pulled down and the sites converted\ninto gardens, and others were divided up and numerous houses erected on\nthem. The holders of the tenancies were free burgesses, and formed the\nsole body which elected the aldermen and mayor.\n\nIn course of time a very curious condition of affairs arose. The\nancient burgage holdings were 160; but many had fallen and were not\nrebuilt, and the population of Saltash had vastly extended beyond the\nbounds of the ancient borough.\n\nThe corporators, or holders of the old free burgages, engrossed to\nthemselves all power and profit, and excluded from participation\nthe inhabitants who were not living in the old tenements or on the\nland where these had stood. This led to a series of angry disputes.\nThe privileges were worth fighting for. The corporators grew fat on\nthem, and their faces shone. The harbour dues--one shilling from\nevery English vessel and two from every foreign keel that anchored\nin the Hamoaze, and seven from each Spanish ship, charged after the\nArmada[14]--this brought in much money; so did the common land now\nbuilt over, so did the oyster fishery, so did the ferry.\n\nAlmost every election of mayor and aldermen led to riots, and the place\nsimmered perpetually with discontent. This angry feeling was greatly\naggravated when Saltash became a borough, returning two members, and\npolitical controversy was added to the local and borough grievance.\nBy this time, moreover, the number of free burgages had sunk to about\nsixty. Contest succeeded contest, the inhabitants claiming a right to\nvote.\n\nIn 1784 the corporation, won over by Government promises and\nappointments, voted as one man for their nominees. But forty-five\nfreeholders tendered their votes for the opposition candidates put\nforward by their overlords. The House of Commons decided against these\nlatter, and the Government candidates and the rights of the corporators\nwere confirmed. Two years later, this decision against the freeholders\nwas reversed. During four years (1786-1790) the question in whom the\nright of voting rested was four times decided--now in one way, then in\nanother. Finally a compromise was arrived at--one representative of\neach set of electors sat for Saltash and \u201ctied\u201d on every important vote\nin the House. In 1806 the corporation was again successful.\n\nBy the Reform Bill of 1832 it was curtailed in its representation--it\nreturned one member. Croker tried to prove borough and parish to\nbe conterminous, but when it was discovered that this was not the\ncase Saltash was put on Schedule A, and its representative history\ncame to an end. More fortunate than some other Cornish boroughs, it\nhas retained its municipal privileges, and boasts of a mayor and\ncorporation to the present day.\n\nSaltash was enfranchised in 1553 by Edward VI. \u201cA little town,\u201d as\ndescribed by Captain Courtney, \u201cscreening itself under the patronage of\nthe Earls of Cornwall, and then of the Dukes, it paid tribute to the\nBlack Prince, and received charters and royalties from Elizabeth.\u201d\n\nIn her time great sailors and ships of merchandise sailed from Saltash.\nThe Castle of Trematon, which had belonged to the Valletorts, became a\nroyal castle, and it was hoped by the advisers of Edward VI. that the\nnewly-enfranchised borough would be completely subservient to the Crown.\n\nBut, like most of the other creations of this period, it passed almost\nat once into other hands, and the history of the borough shows the rise\nand supremacy of the Buller interest, unbroken during the Protectorate\nand unimpaired under the Stuarts. In spite of occasional lapses, the\nelectors of this little borough continued faithful to the Bullers till\nwithin a few years before the Reform Bill, the connection broken now\nand then with flashes of independence.\n\nIn 1722 the electors gave thirty-two votes to Swanton and Hughes\nagainst twenty-five for the Buller candidates. The borough, however,\nsoon learned to repent its independence, and returned to subservience.\n\nFor fifty years there was no contested election, but in 1772 the Buller\ncandidate was defeated. Nevertheless, on petition he secured the seat.\n\nIn 1780 ensued another struggle with the patrons, and the Bullers were\ndefeated, much to the joy of George III.\n\nAgain there was a contest in 1784, rendered, like the former\nstruggles, doubtful because of the ambiguity in the right of voting, as\nalready described.\n\nAs early as 1393 the county assizes were held in Saltash. The first\ncharter of incorporation--that already alluded to--was granted in\nthe reign of Henry III., and received confirmation under Richard II.\nCharles II. renewed it, with additional privileges, in 1662. Thus,\nlike Camelford, Saltash has had six centuries of corporate existence,\nand, grey and antique, seems to gaze with scorn upon the odious Albert\nBridge flung across the Hamoaze by Brunel in 1857-9, at a cost of\n\u00a3230,000, for the Cornwall line, and which, from whatever point it be\nlooked at, is an eyesore.\n\nSaltash occupies the steep slope of the hill that descends to the\nwater\u2019s edge. The main street is as steep as the side of a roof. In\nit on each side are the remains of very ancient houses that were once\nthose of merchants of substance and corporators exercising almost\ndespotic power in the little town. Old windows, carved doorways, and\neven, when these have disappeared, panelled rooms and handsome plaster\nceilings, proclaim at once antiquity and wealth.\n\nThere is much of interest remaining in Saltash. Not only are there in\nit still many ancient houses, but several of the ancient families that\nwere burgage tenants hundreds of years ago are still represented there.\nAs an instance we may notice the Porters. These were the janitors of\nTrematon Castle. The first of this family in a deed of the thirteenth\ncentury, noticed as gatekeeper of Trematon, was granted a plot of\nland outside the castle walls, which has remained in the hands of\nthe Porters to the present day. The arms of the family--sable, three\nbells argent, a canton ermine--have undoubted reference to the duties\nof the porter to answer the bell and to ring the alarum. The motto\n\u201cVigilantibus\u201d is no less significant.\n\nThe Bonds of Earth were landholders under the Valletorts; they remained\nfor centuries on the soil, and in their name recalled their origin; and\nthe name Tyack has much the same significance in Cornish.\n\nSaltash has long been famous for its boatwomen. Mr. Justice Boucaut, a\nSaltash man, and late Premier of South Australia, at a recent banquet\nat Adelaide, spoke with affection of his native Ashe, and in the course\nof his speech said:--\n\n \u201cI won\u2019t even dilate on the pluck and endurance of the\n Saltash women rowers. It was a pretty sight to see half\n a dozen boats start in a regatta with all the women in\n snow-white frilled caps and frilled jackets. One crew, of\n which Ann Glanville was stroke, and which I have seen row,\n would beat a crew of men of the same number, and would\n not, I believe, have thought it anything very wonderful to\n beat a crew of men with a couple of men extra. I read in\n the _Times_ that Ann Glanville, then an old woman, upwards\n of eighty, was introduced to the Duke of Cornwall when he\n was down West, and I have often heard that she used to row\n round the captain\u2019s man-of-war gigs in the Hamoaze and\n chaff the bluejackets.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: ANNE GLANVILLE]\n\nThis Ann Glanville (stroke), Jane House, Emilia Lee, and Hyatt Hocking\nformed the crew of the celebrated Saltash rowing women who won against\ncrews of men at Plymouth, Portsmouth, Liverpool, and Hull. In 1850 a\nmatch was arranged between the Saltash women and a crew of Frenchmen,\nand Ann Glanville with the rest went to Havre in the _Brunswick_\n(Captain Russell). They were escorted into the town by bands and the\nmilitary, and received by the mayor and corporation.\n\nThe Saltash crew, steered by Captain Russell, won easily in the match.\nThe women were dressed in black skirts, long white bedgowns, and\nnightcaps. Mrs. House was so elated at the victory, that on reaching\nthe committee-boat she plunged into the water, dived under the vessel,\nand came up with dripping and drooping nightcap on the opposite side.\n\nAnn was well known to H.R.H. the Duke of Edinburgh, R.N., and Lord\nCharles Beresford, R.N. She died in 1880 at the age of eighty-four.\n\nA boat of Saltash women still appears at regattas, but it is now\ndifficult to--can we say _man_ it? The present generation of women do\nnot take to the water as did their mothers.\n\nSaltash has for long been an unrivalled nursery for the navy, and a\nplace to which old salts love to retire.\n\nIn 1643 the Cornish forces, about 7000 strong, lay at Saltash under\nSlanning, at Liskeard under Lord Mohun, at Launceston under Trevanion,\nand at Stratton under Sir Bevil Grenville. At the outbreak of war,\nKing Charles fortified Saltash, but in the following year, 1644, it\nwas taken by the Parliamentary forces under Lord Essex, who at once\nstrengthened the works, and also added a 400-ton ship, and sixteen\npieces of cannon at the bottom of the hill. After the Royalist victory\nat Braddock Down, near Liskeard, the vanquished, under General\nRuthven, retreated to their stronghold at Saltash, and here made an\nobstinate resistance; but the Royalists, led by Grenville and Mohun,\nattacked the place, took it, and made havoc among the rebels, many of\nwhom were drowned. Their leader, Ruthven, succeeded in effecting his\nescape to Plymouth, which was held for the Parliament by a member of my\nown family, Colonel William Gould.\n\nThis resulted in the Royalists recovering the whole of Cornwall.\nSaltash, however, was again occupied by the Parliamentary forces in\n1645.\n\nAmong the rights and privileges exercised by the borough of Saltash was\nthat the mayor or recorder held a court of quarter sessions till 1886.\nIn 1772 a woman was sentenced to be stripped to her waist and whipped\nin public for stealing a hat. But this sentence, if repugnant to our\nsense of decency, was light compared to one passed in 1844 on two\nwomen for stealing some shirting wherewith to make garments for their\nhusbands. They were transported for seven years. The natural result was\nthat they married again and settled in Botany Bay, and the husbands\nfound for themselves fresh mates at Saltash. In this century the mayor\nsentenced a man to transportation for stealing a watch at a regatta.\nThe only church at Saltash is the chapel of the Guildhall, and the\nchaplain formerly had a bad time of it as the creature of the mayor.\nHappily the advowson was sold in 1836 for \u00a3405, and fell to the bishop.\nThe church possesses a splendid piece of plate, a silver cup over a\nfoot high. This was given to the church in 1624 by Ambrose and Abraham\nJennens and William Pawley, but it is far older.\n\n[Illustration: CHALICE, SALTASH]\n\nIt is said in the place that it is of Spanish workmanship, and was part\nof the spoil of a vessel of the great Armada. This, however, is not the\ncase; it is a fine example of English silversmith\u2019s work of the reign\nof Henry VII.\n\nThe Castle of Trematon, to which the original serfs of Saltash owed\nservice, still exists. It is not remarkable for picturesqueness.\nIt occupies the top of a wooded hill on the banks of the Lynher,\noverlooking the Hamoaze and Plymouth harbour, and consists of a keep,\nthe base-court, and the gate-house. The keep, placed at the north-east\nangle of the court, is oval in form, and dates from the thirteenth\ncentury. The walls are ten feet thick and thirty feet high. It was\nwrecked by the Cornish peasants, who rose against the Reformation,\nstormed the castle, and took the governor prisoner.\n\nAmong the many broils that took place in Saltash between the\ncorporation and the great body of townsmen the most serious was in\n1806, when the Rev. John Buller was mayor. On this occasion the mob\nbroke into the Guildhall, where the mayor stood to his post on the\nstairs, and for some time held back the crowd, dealing mighty blows\nwith the silver-gilt mace, and cracking therewith many crowns. Finally\nthe rioters succeeded in getting hold of the chest, and they destroyed\nor purloined all the documents it contained, with the object of getting\nrid of the evidence in favour of the corporation. At the same time\nthey carried off the silver oar, the symbol of jurisdiction over the\nHamoaze, and this was not recovered for fifty years.\n\nThe corporation maces are singularly handsome and weighty, and are of\nsilver-gilt.\n\nThe present Guildhall is erected over the market-house, and was built\nin 1770. It is ugly, and has this alone to recommend it, that it is\nunpretentious.\n\nOn the da\u00efs within are three handsome carved oak chairs, that for the\nmayor having the arms of the borough on the panel--a lion rampant\nwithin a bordure bezanted. On each side of the shield is a Prince of\nWales\u2019 ostrich plume.\n\nA late mayor was the brother of the famous astronomer, Professor Adams.\n\nThe official costume of the mayor includes a robe of scarlet cloth\ntrimmed with sable and a cocked hat; the justice or ex-mayor has a\nblack mantle; and the mace-bearers have scarlet, silver-laced gowns and\nthree-cornered hats. The maces date from 1696, and were presented by\nFrancis Buller, Esq., and are three feet seven inches high.\n\nNear the water, almost crushed under the mighty arch of Brunel\u2019s\nviaduct, is a little old shop with the date on it of 1584, and it is\none of the very few specimens of a shop of that period that remain to\nus absolutely untouched.\n\nIt is precisely the sort of shop \u201cin our alley\u201d from which Sally must\nhave issued to meet her lover.\n\nAnd verily, as I stood drawing the quaint old place, there peeped out\nat me an absolutely ideal Sally.\n\n \u201cHer father he makes cabbage nets,\n And through the streets does cry \u2019em;\n Her mother she sells laces long,\n To such as please to buy \u2019em.\n But sure such folks could ne\u2019er beget\n So sweet a girl as Sally!\n She is the darling of my heart,\n And she lives in our alley.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: PADSTOW HARBOUR]\n\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n\n BODMIN\n\n Grown up about a monastery--S. Petrock--Theft of his\n relics--Ivory reliquary--\u201cLord\u2019s measures\u201d--The Allan\n rivers--Pencarrow--S. Breock--Padstow--The Hobby-horse--The\n neighbourhood--The Towans--Pentyre--Porth Isaac--A cemetery.\n\n\nA town that has grown up about a monastery. The name is a contraction\nof Bod-minachau, \u201cthe habitation of monks\u201d; and it owes its origin to\nS. Petrock. Petrock is Peter or Pedr, with the diminutive _oc_ added\nto the name. He was a son of Glwys, king of Gwent or Monmouthshire,\naccording to one account, but according to another his father\u2019s name\nwas Clement. Anyhow, he formed one of the great migration from Gwent to\nNorth-east Cornwall. He found a hermit occupying a cell at Bodmin whose\nname was Guron, and this man surrendered to him his humble habitation.\nS. Guron\u2019s Well is in the churchyard near the west end of the church.\n\nFor his education he went to Ireland, where for twenty years he\nstudied profane and sacred literature. He was probably a disciple of\nS. Eugenius, for Kevin, when aged seven, was entrusted to him by his\nparents to be reared for the monastic life, and Kevin, we know, learned\nhis psalms from Eugenius.\n\nSo soon as Petrock considered that he knew as much as could be taught\nhim by his master, he resolved on returning to Cornwall, and embarked\non the same boat which had borne him to Ireland twenty years before--a\ngreat vessel of wicker-work, covered with three coatings of hide, and\nwith a leathern sail.\n\nPetrock and his companions came ashore in the Hayle, or saltflats, by\nPadstow. He was ill received on his arrival by a party of harvesters,\nwho refused him water. In fact, the north of Cornwall had suffered so\nseverely from the Irish, that the natives looked with suspicion on\nanyone coming from the Green Isle.\n\nPetrock landed, and inquired whether any religious man lived in the\nneighbourhood, and was told that Samson was there. This was Samson who\nafterwards became Bishop of Dol. His chapel was demolished when Place\nHouse, above Padstow, was built. At Padstow, Petrock remained for\nthirty years with his disciples, one of whom was Dagan, who disputed\nwith Laurence, Archbishop of Canterbury (597-604) and other Roman\nmissionaries. He refused not only to eat with them, Bede tells us,\nbut even to be under the same roof with them. The story of Petrock\u2019s\npilgrimage to the East is full of myth, but the account of the reason\nwhy he undertook it is probably true.\n\nThere had been a rainy season. One day Petrock assured his disciples\nthat next day the rain would cease, and it would be fine. But on the\nmorrow the rain came down in streams. Petrock was so disgusted at\nhis prophecy having failed, that he left the place, and resolved on\nvisiting the East.\n\nThe rest is mere romance.\n\nHe went to India. There he saw a silver bowl floating on the sea. He\nstepped into it, whereupon the silver bowl carried him far away to a\ncertain island in which he spent seven years, living on a single fish\nthat he caught daily, and which, however often eaten, always returned\nsound to be eaten again next day.\n\nAt the end of the seven years the shining bowl reappeared. He stepped\ninto it again, and was conveyed back to the coast whence he had\nstarted. There he found a wolf that had kept guard over his sheepskin\nand staff which he had left on the shore seven years before.\n\nClearly we have here ingrafted into the history a Cornish myth relative\nto the man in the moon; for the silver bowl cannot be mistaken--it is\nthe latter--and for the dog of the modern version, we here have a wolf.\n\nThrough the rest of his journeyings the wolf attended Petrock. On his\nreturn to Cornwall he had some unpleasantness with Tewdrig, the king,\nwho had opposed the landing of the Irish at St. Ives, and had killed\nsome of them. He remonstrated with him for some of his barbarities, and\nTewdrig had sufficient grace to make him grants of land.\n\nPetrock now moved to Bodmin, and thence he made many excursions through\nDevon, founding churches and monasteries. The date of his death was\nabout A.D. 575.\n\nA curious circumstance occurred relative to his relics. In 1177 a canon\nof Bodmin, named Martin, made a clean bolt with the shrine of the\nsaint, an ivory box that contained his bones, and carried them to S.\nMaen, in Brittany. There were \u201cructions.\u201d The Prior of Bodmin appealed\nto Henry II., who sent orders to the Justiciary of Brittany to insist\non their surrender. Accordingly the prior and this officer went to S.\nMaen, but when required to give up the holy bones the abbot demurred.\nHowever, the justiciary would stand no nonsense, and threatened to use\nsuch severe measures that the abbot was forced to give way, and Prior\nRoger, of Bodmin, marched away with the recovered ivory box and its\ncontents.\n\nCuriously enough this identical box, quaintly ornamented with\npaintings, still exists, and belongs to the municipality: the contents\nhave, of course, disappeared.\n\nIn the market-house is a very interesting granite corn measure.\n\nIt will not be out of place to notice here the \u201clord\u2019s measures\u201d found\nin great numbers about Cornwall. They are small basins cut in granite\nor in some volcanic free stone, usually with lobes or ears outside. At\nS. Enodoc, near the \u201cRock Inn\u201d on the Padstow estuary, a quantity of\nthem have been collected, and are ranged beside the churchyard path.\nThere is another large collection in the parsonage garden at Veryan.\n\nThey were probably standard measures for grain, and were preserved in\nthe churches.\n\nIn Bodmin Church, which is fine, is the rich monument of Prior Vivian,\n1533.\n\nThe bench-ends were carved by one Matthew More in 1491.\n\nCastle Canyck is a fine circular camp, probably Celtic, and west of\nthe town is a quadrangular entrenchment where Roman remains have been\nfound. The Allan and the Camallan, or Crooked Allan, unite to form\nthe Hayle or Saltings. Allan is the name of the river at S. David\u2019s,\nPembrokeshire. The name is found also in Scotland, as the Ilen in\nIreland, and as the Aulne in Finist\u00e8re. The derivation is doubtful.\n\nOn the right hand are the woods of Pencarrow (Pencaerau), the headland\nof camps, with, in fact, remains of two; one must have been important.\nHere, perhaps, dwelt a chieftain Conan.\n\nS. Breock was on his way from Cardigan to Brittany when his\nhide-covered boat was nearly upset by a whale, and so great was the\nalarm of those sailing with him that the vessel put into Hayle estuary\nand ran up to the head.\n\nBreock was now an old man, and could not walk, so his companions made\nfor him a sort of cart in which he could sit, and in which they drew\nhim about. One day they left him to sing psalms in his cart whilst\nthey were engaged at a distance over some pressing business. When they\nreturned they found a pack of wolves round the old man, but whether his\nsanctity, or toughness, kept them from eating him is left undecided.\nThey drove the wolves off, and were careful in future not to leave him\nunattended. Conan, the chief, who lived at Pencarrow, came to know him,\nand, if we may believe the _Life_, was baptised by him, and made him a\ngrant of land; this is S. Breock on the opposite side of the river to\nPencarrow, where there is an interesting church in a lovely situation.\nIt is only a coincidence that at the foot of Pencarrow is a chapel\nbearing his name. It is dedicated to a tenth-century bishop.\n\nFrom Cornwall Breock departed for Brittany, about the year 500, and\ndied there at an advanced age--over ninety--about 510.\n\nPadstow should be visited on May Day. It is one of the few places where\nthe hobby-horse still prances; but the glory of the old May Feast is\nmuch curtailed.\n\nDuring the days that precede the festival no garden is safe. Walls,\nrailings, even barbed wire, are surmounted by boys and men in quest\nof flowers. Conservatories have to be fast locked, or they will be\ninvaded. The house that has a show of flowers in the windows is\nbesieged by pretty children with roguish eyes begging for blossoms\nwhich they cannot steal.\n\nDuring the evening before May Day in years gone by, before shipbuilding\nhad ceased to be an industry of Padstow, when the shipwrights left\nwork they brought with them from the yard two poles, and carried them\nup the street, fastened one above the other, decorated at the top with\nbranches of willow, furze, sycamore, and all kinds of spring flowers\nmade into garlands, and from it were suspended strings of gulls\u2019 eggs.\nThere hung from it also long streamers of coloured ribbon.\n\nA pit was dug, and the Maypole secured by ropes fastened to stakes.\nIn the pavement was a cross laid in with paving stones differently\ncoloured from the rest in the street; these were taken up every time\nthe Maypole was planted, to be again relaid when the merry-making was\nover. But a doctor who lived in the house facing the pole objected, and\nso opposed the planting of the Maypole and the dancing before his door,\nthat the merry-makers moved to an open space somewhat higher up the\nstreet, which was much less convenient. Opposition followed them even\nthere, and a few years ago the Maypole was finally abandoned.\n\nThe \u201cHobby-horse Pairs,\u201d as it was called, _i.e._ a party of eight\nmen, then repaired to the \u201cGolden Lion,\u201d at that time the first inn\nin Padstow, and sat down to a hearty supper off leg of mutton and\nplum-pudding, given them by the landlord. After supper a great many\nyoung men joined the \u201cPairs,\u201d _i.e._ the _peers_, the lords of the\nmerriment, and all started for the country, and went round from one\nfarmhouse to another, singing at the doors of each, and soliciting\ncontributions to the festivities of the morrow.\n\nThey returned into Padstow about three o\u2019clock in the morning, and\npromenaded the streets singing the \u201cNight Song.\u201d After that they\nretired to rest for a few hours. At ten o\u2019clock in the morning the\n\u201cPairs\u201d assembled at the \u201cGolden Lion\u201d again, and now was brought forth\nthe hobby-horse. The drum and fife band was marshalled to precede, and\nthen came the young girls of Padstow dressed in white, with garlands of\nflowers in their hair, and their white gowns pinned up with flowers.\nThe men followed armed with pistols, loaded with a little powder,\nwhich they fired into the air or at the spectators. Lastly came the\nhobby-horse, ambling, curvetting, and snapping its jaws. It may be\nremarked that the Padstow hobby-horse is wonderfully like the Celtic\nhorse decoration found on old pillars and crosses with interlaced work.\nThe procession went first to Prideaux Place, where the late squire, Mr.\nPrideaux Brune, always emptied a purse of money into the hands of the\n\u201cPairs.\u201d Then the procession visited the vicarage, and was welcomed by\nthe parson. After that it went forth from the town to Treator Pool \u201cfor\nthe horse to drink.\u201d\n\nThe Mayers finally arrived at the Maypole, and danced round it singing\nthe \u201cDay Song.\u201d\n\n _Refrain._ \u201cAwake, S. George, our English knight, O!\n For summer is a-come, and winter is a-go.\n\n 1. \u201cWhere is S. George? and where is he, O?\n He\u2019s down in his long boat, upon the salt sea, O!\n\n 2. \u201cWhere are the French dogs that made such a boast, O?\n They shall eat the goose feathers, and we\u2019ll eat the roast, O!\n\n 3. \u201cThou might\u2019st ha\u2019 shown thy knavish face and tarried at home, O!\n But thou shalt be a rascal, and shalt wear the horns, O!\n\n 4. \u201cUp flies the kite, down falls the lark, O!\n Aunt Ursula Birdwood she had an old ewe.\n\n 5. \u201cAunt Ursula Birdwood she had an old ewe,\n And she died in her own park long ago.\u201d\n\nIt is obvious that the song is very corrupt, but the air to this and to\nthe \u201cMorning Song\u201d are very bold and ancient.[15]\n\nAlthough the Maypole has been given up, the hobby-horse still prances\non May Day.\n\nPadstow Harbour is spoiled by the Doom Bar, a shifting bank of sand at\nthe mouth. But this might be placed under control and rectified by the\nexpenditure of money, and the mouth of the Hayle be made into what is\nsorely needed, a harbour of refuge on the north coast.\n\nThe neighbourhood of Padstow abounds in interest; the cliffs are\nsuperb, towering above a sea blue as a peacock\u2019s neck, here and there\ncrowned with cliff castles. In the sand-dunes or Towans is the buried\nchurch of S. Constantine, a convert of S. Petrock, Duke or King of\nCornwall, who was so ballyragged by Gildas. There are old Cornish\nmansions, such as Treshunger, lying in dips among trees; and churches\non wind-blown heights, their towers intended as landmarks.\n\nBut this is not a guide-book, and such details must be passed over.\n\nOn no account should Pentyre Point be missed. It is a grand and\nglorious cliff, and a projection called the Rumps is occupied by a\nwell-preserved cliff-castle. Porth Gaverne, Porth Isaac, Porthquin,\nPolzeath are all delightful little bays. The pilchard cellars cut in\nthe rocks should be noticed. Porthquin was once a flourishing little\nplace, but in a terrible storm nearly every man connected with the\nplace, being out fishing, was lost, and it has never recovered.\n\nPorth Isaac--let not those amiable faddists who hold that we are\nAnglo-Israelites fasten on the name--means the Corn Port, Porthquin the\nWhite Port, from the spar in the rock, and Porth Gaverne the Goat Port.\nA curious fact, to be noted, is that there exists an extensive ancient\ncemetery close to where is now rising a cluster of new houses at\nTrevose. Bones are continually turned up by the sea as it encroaches,\nbut all record of a church with burial-ground there is lost. There is a\nruined chapel of S. Cadoc, but that is half a mile distant. Cadoc was\nan elder brother or cousin--it is not certain which--of S. Petrock of\nPadstow. He must have come here to visit his kinsman.\n\nThe story goes that he had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and he\nbrought back with him some of the water of Jordan, and this he poured\ninto a well at this place, which thenceforth possessed marvellous\npowers. The well is not now easily traced, but bits of carved stone of\nthe chapel lie strewn around. Cadoc was for a while in an island of\nthe lagoon d\u2019Elet, near Belz, in the Morbihan, where he constructed a\ncauseway to the mainland, of which traces remain. He was one of the\nmost restless beings conceivable, and no sooner had he established a\nmonastic centre in one place than he tired of it, and started off to\nfound another somewhere else. He played a scurvy trick once on a South\nWelsh chief, who with a large party came down on him and imperiously\ndemanded meat and drink. They took all they could get, and got drunk\nand incapable on the spot. Cado shaved half of their heads and beards\nas they thus lay, but, worse than this, cut off the lips of their\nhorses. He was a violent-tempered man, of tremendous energy in all\nhe did. According to one account he fell a victim to his rashness or\nenthusiasm; he tried to carry the Gospel to the Saxons, but was cut\ndown by their axes at the foot of the altar.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n\n THE TWO LOOES\n\n East Looe--Church--Narrow and picturesque streets--A fair--A\n strolling company--West Looe--Looe Island--The Fyns--\n Smuggling--The East Looe river--Duloe--S. Keyne\u2019s Well--\n Liskeard--Menheniot--The West Looe river--Trelawne--The\n Trelawny ballad--Polperro--Privateers--Robert Jeffrey--Tom\n Potter--Lanreath.\n\n\nEast and West Looe, separated by a tidal stream, the Looe (the same as\nLiffey from Welsh _llifo_ to flow, _llif_ a flood[16]), and united by a\nlong bridge, at one time returned four members to Parliament.\n\nEast Looe is the more considerable place of the two, and possesses\na new and respectable Guildhall, and some quaint old houses and an\nancient picturesque market-house. The church is modern and poor of its\nkind--one of those structures that do not convey an idea to the mind\nof either beauty or of ugliness, but are mediocre in conception and\nexecution. It occupies the site of an earlier church dedicated to S.\nKeyne, but it is now dedicated to S. Anne, who formerly had a chapel on\nthe bridge.\n\nThe streets are narrow and full of quaint bits. As I first saw Looe\nit struck me as one of the oddest old-world places in England. A man\nhad been there selling paper flags and coloured streamers also of\npaper, and the children in the narrow alleys were fluttering these, and\nhad hung them from the windows, and were dancing with coloured paper\ncaps on their heads or harlequin sashes about their bodies, whilst\nan Italian organ-grinder played to them. From the narrow casements\nleaned their mothers, watching, laughing, and encouraging the dancers.\nA little way back was a booth theatre, hardly up to the level of that\nof Mr. Vincent Crummel\u2019s, enclosed in dingy green canvas. Reserved\nseats, 6_d._; back seats, 3_d._ and 1_d._ The _r\u00e9pertoire_ comprised\nblood-curdling tragedies. I went in and saw \u201cThe Midnight Assassin; or,\nThe Dumb Witness.\u201d\n\nNext evening was to be given \u201cThe Vampire\u2019s Feast; or, The Rifled\nTomb.\u201d The tragedy was followed by Allingham\u2019s play, \u201cFortune\u2019s\nFrolick\u201d (1799), adapted to the narrow capacities of the company. It\nwas performed in broad Cornish, and interspersed with some rather good\nand, I fancy, original songs. But surely nowhere else but at Looe could\nsuch a reminiscence of the old strolling company-show of fifty or sixty\nyears ago be seen.\n\nBut this is not all. A stranger having seen something I wrote about\npuppet-shows in a paper, wherein I said that the last I had sat through\nwas sixty years ago, wrote to me:--\n\n \u201cAt West Looe, far more recently, at the annual fair,\n which commences on the 6th May, I saw a show in which the\n figures were all moved by strings manipulated from above.\n I regret that I am unable to remember the subject of the\n play, but the droll antics of the puppets, the rapidity of\n their movements, and the cleverness of the whole thing,\n remains distinctly impressed on my mind.\u201d\n\nI believe that venerable amusements we old folks saw in our childhood\nare \u201cresurrected\u201d at West Looe at that 6th May fair. Therefore, if\nyou want to see funny things, go there. The place is still out of the\nworld, but will not long be so, as a London company has bought the\ncliffs, and is blasting a road in them to make promenade, hotel, and\nbring the world and the twentieth century to Looe and rumple up the old\nplace.\n\nEast Looe is properly in S. Martin\u2019s parish, and the church was a\nchapel-of-ease to it. At S. Martin\u2019s are a Norman doorway and an early\nfont.\n\nWest Looe has a little church, dedicated to S. Nicholas, that long\nserved as town hall and as a theatre for strolling players. Here also\nare some quaint old slated houses; the \u201cvalleys\u201d are not leaded, but\nthe slates are so worked as to fold over the angles very ingeniously\nand picturesquely, and admirably answering the object in view of\ncarrying off the water.\n\nOff the coast lies Looe Island. This was for many years the\ndwelling-place of a man named Fyn and his sister, \u201cBlack Joan.\u201d They\nwere son and daughter of an outlaw, who had spent his life since his\noutlawry on the Mewstone off Gara Point, at the entrance of Plymouth\nSound. Here he and his wife lived a wild life like sea-mews, and there\nreared their young, who grew up without any religious, moral, or\nintellectual training. The outlaw died on the Mewstone, and Fyn and his\nsister, accustomed from infancy to an island life, could not endure\nthe thought of going to the mainland for the rest of their days, and\nso they settled on Looe Island. Here they were joined by a negro, and\nby their united efforts honeycombed the ground under their hovel and\nthe large barn adjoining for the accommodation of smuggled goods. Their\nonly associates were these free-traders.\n\nOne day the black man vanished, and it was never known what had become\nof him, whether he had left or been murdered by Fyn and his sister.\nThere were naturally no witnesses; nothing could be proved against\nthem. Recently a skull has been dug up near the house, and is kept in\na box in the dwelling, but it is not that of a negro. Actually there\nis a layer of human remains about two feet below the surface of the\nturf, exposed on the east side of the island, where wind and spray are\ngnawing away the cliff, and any number of teeth and bones may be picked\nout. Whether these are the remains of an early Christian monastic\ncemetery, or of shipwrecked sailors buried on the cliffs, cannot be\ntold, as no investigation has been made to discover the approximate\nperiod to which this layer of dead men\u2019s bones belongs.\n\nFormerly there was a chapel on the summit of the island, but only its\nfoundations remain. The island belonged to the monastery of Lamana\n(_lan-manachau_, the church of the monks) on the mainland.\n\nBut to return to the Fyns.\n\nOn that island they spent many years, hand in glove with the smugglers.\n\nThere was an old fellow, a farmer on the mainland, who rode a white\nhorse into Looe. He acted as spy, and was intimate with the preventive\nmen, who trusted him, and perhaps some of them had their palms greased\nto give him information. If the white horse were seen returning along\nthe coast road to the west, that was a signal to Fyn that all was safe.\nBut sometimes the horse was too lame or tired to return home, and the\nfarmer went his way on foot; that always coincided with activity among\nthe officers of the revenue.\n\nFrom Looe Island, Fyn or his sister signalled by lights to the\nsmugglers lying in the offing.\n\nAt length their daring and their success induced the Government to\nestablish one of their guard on the island itself--the station is still\nthere--and the man was bidden keep a watchful eye on Black Joan and her\nbrother.\n\nNow the Fyns had their secret stores full of a cargo they desired to\nrun ashore, but were afraid of being seen by this man.\n\nOne day Black Joan hastened to the preventive officer with, \u201cOh, my\ndear! Now ther\u2019s that terr\u2019ble put out I be. What du \u2019y think now? My\nboat hev a broke her moorings, and is driftin\u2019 wi\u2019 the tide out to say.\nOh, my dear man, du \u2019y now bring her in for me.\u201d The officer ran to the\ncliff, and sure enough there was the boat slowly floating away on the\nebb of the tide.\n\nBeing a good-natured man, and suspecting no ill, he at once got into\nhis own boat and rowed hard after that which was adrift. The moment he\nwas gone, a swarm of boats and men appeared on the shore on the further\nside of the island, and before the fellow was back, every keg had been\ncarried across to the mainland.\n\nBut the officer in command had great difficulties with the station on\nLooe Isle. Partly through Black Joan\u2019s fascinations, mainly through the\nliberal flow of drink at the hut of the Fyns, and the tedium of the\nlong evenings in solitude, he could never rely on a man who was sent\nto Looe Island. In some way or other he was bamboozled, so that goods\nwere landed there and transferred to the mainland almost as freely as\nformerly.\n\nWhat was the end of this family I have not learned.\n\nA few years ago, when a picnic party went to the island and were\nallowed the barn to feed in, as a drizzle had come on, suddenly the\nfloor collapsed, and it was thus discovered that beneath was a cellar\nfor the accommodation of spirits that were not intended to pay duty.\n\nThe East and the West Looe rivers unite above the bridge, where also\nformerly stood a most picturesque tidal mill. Each stream runs through\na narrow, well-wooded valley, and passes points of some interest.\nAscending the East Looe, we have on the right the creek of Morval with\nthe ancient house of the Bullers. Further up on the left is Duloe, with\nS. Cuby\u2019s holy well, and a so-called Druidical circle. The place takes\nits name from being between the two Looes. Higher up again on the same\nside is S. Keyne, with an interesting church and a well, the story of\nwhich is sufficiently known, made the subject of a ballad by Southey.\n\nLiskeard is a town that was surmounted by a castle that has now\ndisappeared. Its name implies that it was a _lis_ or court on a rock.\nA copious spring, once a holy well, pours forth from the rock and\nsupplies the town. But no ancient masonry remains about it.\n\nLiskeard Church has an interesting lych-gate, a fine tower, and a good\npulpit of 1627. At Menheniot (_Maen-h\u00ean-Niot_, the old stone of S.\nNeot) are some fine camps, Padesbury and Blackaton Rings. Clicker Tor,\nunder which runs the line, is an outcrop of serpentine, which stone\ndoes not reappear till the Lizard is reached. A visit to S. Neot, with\nits superb old windows, should on no account be omitted. No collection\nof ancient stained glass comparable to it exists elsewhere in Devon or\nCornwall.\n\nThe West Looe flows past several camps, two of which are in Pelynt\nparish. The church here is dedicated to S. Nun, mother of S. David, and\nher gabled holy well remains in tolerable condition. In this parish\nalso is Trelawne, the seat of the Trelawny family, an ancient house,\nbut much modernised. It contains some fine portraits, and in the church\nis a model of the pastoral staff of Bishop Jonathan Trelawny, one\nof the non-juring prelates who were turned out of their sees on the\naccession of Dutch William. He was one of the seven bishops who had\nbeen committed to the Tower by James II. Of him the song was sung:--\n\n \u201cA good sword and trusty sword!\n A merry heart and true!\n King James\u2019s men shall understand\n What Cornish lads can do!\n\n \u201cAnd have they fixed the where and when?\n And shall Trelawny die?\n There\u2019s twenty thousand Cornish men\n Will know the reason why.\n\n \u201cOut spake their captain brave and bold,\n A merry wight was he;\n If London Tower were Michael\u2019s hold,\n We\u2019ll set Trelawny free!\n\n \u201cWe\u2019ll cross the Tamar, land to land,\n The Severn is no stay--\n With One and All and hand in hand,\n And who shall bid us nay?\n\n \u201cAnd when we come to London Wall,\n A pleasant sight to view,\n Come forth! come forth! ye cowards all,\n Here\u2019s men as good as you.\n\n \u201cTrelawny he\u2019s in keep and hold,\n Trelawny he may die--\n But twenty thousand Cornish bold\n Will know the reason why!\u201d\n\nWith the exception of the choral lines--\n\n \u201cAnd shall Trelawny die?\n Here\u2019s twenty thousand Cornishmen\n Will know the reason why!\u201d\n\nthe rest is mainly, if not wholly, the composition of the late Rev.\nR. S. Hawker, of Morwenstow. It was written by him in 1825, and was\nprinted first in a Plymouth paper, and then by Mr. Davies Gilbert,\nthe antiquary and historian. It appeared in the _Gentleman\u2019s Magazine_\nof November, 1827. Sir Walter Scott, and later, Lord Macaulay, quite\nthought it was a genuine ancient ballad.\n\nThat it is not an antique is almost certain, as it has no local and\noriginal air to which it is set; it is sung to \u201cLe Petit Tambour,\u201d and\nno old miners or labourers know it.\n\nThere is a novel by Mrs. Bray, _Trelawny of Trelawne_, written in\n1834, that relates to this house, and by no means deserves to be\nforgotten. Mrs. Bray\u2019s novels, though old-fashioned, are guides to\nthe neighbourhood of Tavistock, and that just mentioned interests the\nreader in the district about Trelawne.[17]\n\n \u201cLooe,\u201d says she, \u201cbeautiful as it is, is not to be\n compared to Polperro, two miles distant from Trelawne. The\n descent to it is so steep, that I, who was not accustomed\n to the path, could only get down by clinging to Mr. Bray\u2019s\n arm for support; it was slippery, and so rocky that in some\n places there were steps cut in the road for the convenience\n of the passenger. The view of the little port, the old\n town in the bottom (if town it can be called), the cliffs,\n and the spiked rocks, that start up in the wildest and\n most abrupt manner, breaking the direct sweep of the waves\n towards the harbour, altogether produced such a combination\n of magnificent coast scenery as may truly be called\n sublime.\u201d\n\nAccess to Polperro is very much easier than it was in 1833, when\nvisited by Mrs. Bray. A good many of the quaint old houses have been\npulled down, but the place is still eminently picturesque, and is a\nhaunt of artists.\n\nIn 1807, the year of the treacherous peace of Tilsit, privateering was\ncarried on briskly at Polperro. Among other vessels, the _Lord Nelson_\nsailed from this port, manned by a crew of hardy and experienced\nsailors. After cruising in the Channel for a week without success,\nshe put into Falmouth for provisions. Here she was boarded by the\n_Recruit_, and several of the men were impressed. Amongst these was\none Robert Jeffrey, who had been brought up as a blacksmith by his\nstepfather. The _Recruit_ was a sloop-of-war commanded by Captain\nLake, which at once sailed for the West Indies. Whilst cruising in the\nCaribbean Sea, Jeffrey got at a barrel of spruce beer. The captain,\nvery angry, ordered the boat to be lowered, and Jeffrey to be taken to\na barren rock and left there.\n\nThe order was obeyed with some reluctance, and the poor young fellow\nwas deserted on the rock, without food, and with nothing save a\nkerchief, a knife, and a piece of wood, which had been given him by his\ncomrades for the purpose of signalling any passing ship.\n\nThe place on which he had been left was the islet of Sombrero, one of\nthe Leeward group, desolate and treeless, a naked lump of rock, with\nno springs. Jeffrey suffered frightfully from hunger, and worse from\nthirst.\n\nThe _Recruit_, on leaving the island, steered for Barbadoes to join\nthe squadron under the command of Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane. The\nstory of Jeffrey\u2019s punishment got wind, and the admiral, hearing of\nit, severely reprimanded Captain Lake for his brutality, and ordered\nhim to return to Sombrero and rescue Jeffrey if he were still alive.\nCaptain Lake accordingly went back to the islet, but found no one on\nit. A pair of trousers (not Jeffrey\u2019s) and a tomahawk handle were the\nonly vestiges of humanity discoverable. The admiral was satisfied that\nthe poor fellow had been rescued by some passing ship, and let the\nmatter rest.\n\nThe story was, however, so widely circulated, that on his return to\nEngland Captain Lake was court-martialled and cashiered.\n\nWhilst this was passing, the greatest uncertainty existed as to the\nman\u2019s fate. His wrongs were commented on in the House by Sir Francis\nBurdett, and the case was kept so perseveringly before the public, that\nthe Government issued orders for a strict inquiry to be made as to\nwhether he were still alive or dead.\n\nPresently an account was received, purporting to be by Jeffrey, giving\nan account of his rescue and his condition in America; but as to this\nwas appended a cross for his signature, whereas Jeffrey was known to\nhave been able to write, the public were led to suspect that this was a\nfabrication contrived by Lake\u2019s relatives and friends.\n\nTo settle the matter finally, a ship was despatched to bring Jeffrey\nhome, and he arrived at Portsmouth in October, 1810, three years after\nhis adventure on the island of Sombrero.\n\nHis escape had been due to his signals of distress having been seen\nand responded to by the captain of an American schooner, but when taken\non board he was too exhausted to speak. He was conveyed to Marblehead,\nin Massachusetts, where he had remained working at a forge, and had\nculpably neglected to send home word of his escape. The reason he\ngave for not having signed the paper relative to his being taken off\nSombrero was that it was presented to him by gentlemen, and he was too\nnervous in their presence to append his proper signature.\n\nThere was vast rejoicing at Polperro on his return. Almost the whole\nvillage turned out to welcome him, with a band playing and flags flying.\n\nHe was then persuaded to let himself be made a public show, and hired\nhimself out at some of the minor London theatres to be exhibited as\n\u201cJeffrey the Sailor.\u201d After a few months he returned to Polperro with\nmoney in his pocket enough to purchase a small schooner intended for\nthe coasting trade.\n\nThe speculation was unsuccessful. Jeffrey fell into consumption, and\ndied leaving a wife and daughter in great poverty.\n\nPolperro was also a notorious hole for smugglers. The last affair with\nthem in which life was lost was in 1810, or thereabouts.\n\nOne morning a lugger was descried by the crew of the revenue boat,\nthen stationed on shore. She was lying becalmed in Whitsand Bay. The\nglass informed them that it was the _Lottery_, of Polperro, well known\nfor her fast sailing qualities, as well as for the hardihood of her\ncrew. There was little doubt that with the springing up of the breeze\nshe would put to sea. Accordingly the officer in command, with all\ndespatch, manned two or three boats and put off, making sure of a rare\ncapture, for there seemed little chance of an escape.\n\nTheir movements were, however, observed by the smugglers, who made\npreparations for resistance. The boats, on seeing their intentions,\ncommenced firing when at a considerable distance; but it was not until\nthey had approached her pretty near that the shots were returned from\nthe lugger, which now assumed an unmistakable attitude of defiance.\nWhen within a few yards of the expected prize, Ambrose Bowden, who\npulled the bow-oar of one of the attacking boats, fell mortally wounded.\n\nIt was plain that the Polperro men had come to a determination not\nto give up their fine craft and valuable cargo without a struggle,\nso the boats withdrew, and allowed the _Lottery_ to proceed to sea.\nThis affray was reported to the authorities, and orders were issued\nat all hazards to arrest the vessel and her crew. The smugglers were\nalarmed at what had been done, and at the dogged manner in which the\nofficers of justice pursued them. They were kept continually concealed\nin pilchard cellars, in barns, in closets, and were liable at dead\nof night to have their houses surrounded and searched by a troop of\ndragoons, who made stealthy descents on the town.\n\nAt length a certain Toms, who had formed one of the crew of the\n_Lottery_, gave himself up, and declared that a man named Tom Potter\nhad fired the fatal shot.\n\nThe Polperro people made common cause of this, and resolved at once to\npreserve Potter and to punish Toms. The revenue men knew the danger in\nwhich the latter stood, and they took him on board a cutter cruising\noff the coast\n\nOn a certain occasion the cutter was off Polruan, when some of the\nPolperro men persuaded Toms\u2019 wife to decoy him on land, solemnly\nassuring her that they would not touch his life, and that all they\ndesired was to remove the only evidence that existed against Potter.\n\nShe fell in with their wishes, and by her means Toms was seized and at\nonce carried off, kept in hiding-places till an opportunity occurred,\nwhen he was shipped to Guernsey, preparatory to conveying him to\nAmerica. But he was traced, and was pounced on by the Government\nofficers in the hold of an outward-bound vessel.\n\nMeanwhile the dragoons, who had been engaged in the search at home,\ndiscovered that their movements were observed, and that intelligence of\ntheir approach from Plymouth was sure to precede them to Polperro. A\ndetachment was therefore sent to Truro, with orders to march from the\nwest, in which way they were enabled to come on Polperro unobserved.\nOn one of these visits Potter was captured. He was taken to London,\ntried at the Old Bailey, convicted on the evidence of Toms, and hanged.\nThe evidence, however, was strongly believed to be false. The shot had\nentered the breast of Bowden in a direction opposite to the fire of\nthe smugglers; and one of the coastguardsmen who were engaged in the\naffair averred that the unfortunate man Bowden was accidentally shot by\none of his own crew.\n\nToms was never able to show his face again in Polperro, and a place was\nfound for him in a menial capacity in Newgate, where he ended his days.\n\nLanreath stands between the Fowey and the Looe rivers, about midway.\nIt has a fine church with a beautiful screen. Usually the paintings on\nthese screens are mere daubs, but such as remain at Lanreath, though\nsadly defaced, show that there was at the end of the fifteenth or\nbeginning of the sixteenth century a school of real artists in the\nWest. Unhappily, only scanty remains of the paintings can be seen. A\nlate rector is said to have proposed to scrape one half the screen if\nthe parish would do the other half. Accordingly he effaced all the\nbeautiful painted work of the portion between nave and chancel. The\nparish, however, did not like this sort of \u201crestoration,\u201d and happily\nrefused to complete the defacing of this work of art.\n\nCourt, near the church, is the old nest of the Grylls family, a\npicturesque mansion containing much of interest. It is in such a\nruinous condition that it will have to be largely rebuilt, but the\nowner, Mr. T. H. Spry, purposes doing this in a thoroughly conservative\nspirit. The house contains one very handsome room with rich carved oak\npanelling.\n\n\nNOTE.--Books to be consulted on Looe and Polperro:--\n\nBOND (T.), _Topographical and Historical Sketches of East and West\nLooe_. London, 1823.\n\nCOUCH (T. Q.), _The History of Polperro_. Truro, 1871.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n\n FOWEY\n\n Derivation of the name Fowey--The Fowey river--Lostwithiel--A\n rotten borough--Old Stannary Court--S. Winnow--His\n Settlement in Brittany--Beating the bounds--Golant--S.\n Samson--Dol--Tower of Fowey--Place--S. Finbar--The \u201cLugger\n Inn\u201d--Polruan--The Mohun family--Death of Lord Mohun--The\n Rashleigh family--Sale of the borough.\n\n\nAlthough pronounced Foye, the name of the place is spelled Fowey; it\ntakes its appellation from the river. Mr. Ferguson, in his _River\nNames of Europe_, derives this from the Gaelic _fuair_, sound, _faoi_,\na rising stream, and instances the Foyers in Inverness, and the Gaur\nin Perthshire, for _fuair_ takes also the form _gaoir_, signifying\ndin, and the Foyers is noted as forming one of the finest falls in\nBritain. But this won\u2019t do. The Foye is the meekest, quietest, and\nmost unbrawling of rivers. The name is identical with that of the Fal,\nbut the _l_ has been dropped, and both derive from _falbh_, running,\nwaving, flowing.\n\n[Illustration: FOWEY HARBOUR]\n\n[Illustration: LOSTWITHIEL BRIDGE]\n\nThe river takes its rise on High Moor under Buttern Hill on the Bodmin\nmoors, a mile north-west of Fowey Well that is under Brown Willy,\nwhich probably takes its name from being supposed to ebb and flow\nwith the tide, which, however, it does not. The river has a fall of\nnine hundred feet before it reaches the sea. It does not present\nanything remarkable till it comes in sight of the highway from Liskeard\nto Bodmin, as also of the railway, when at once it turns sharply to\nthe west, at right angles to its previous course, and runs through a\nwell-wooded and picturesque valley under the camp of Largin. Then,\nafter flowing side by side with road and rail till it reaches Bodmin\nRoad Station, it turns abruptly south, attending the railway to\nLostwithiel, slipping under Restormel Castle.\n\nLostwithiel is not Lost-wi\u2019in-a-hill as is the popular derivation, but\nLes-Gwythiel, the palace in the wood, as Liskeard is that on the rock.\nIt is charmingly situated.\n\nIt is an old rotten borough, once in the hands of the Earls of\nMount Edgcumbe. But before that it was a seat of the Stannary Court\nfor Cornwall, and here the Dukes of Cornwall had their palace. Of\nthis considerable remains exist, but it has been meddled with, and\nvulgarised by the insertion of quite unsuitable windows.\n\nThe church is interesting; it possesses a fine lantern of a character\nnowhere else met with in the West. Anciently the tide came up as far as\nthe town, and the portreeve had rights over the river, for which reason\nthe town arms are represented with an oar.\n\nBelow the town the river to Fowey is full of beauty. It passes S.\nWinnow, with fine fifteenth-century glass; the church is beautifully\nsituated. Here is a chapel of S. Nectan, of Hartland, to which was\nattached a college of secular priests endowed by Gytha, wife of Godwin,\nEarl of Kent. The priests of this college were married and allowed to\nmarry, as all Celtic clergy were.\n\nS. Winnow was son of Gildas the historian. Gildas and Finian were\ntogether for some time at S. David\u2019s monastery, and became close\nfriends. Then Gildas entrusted his son Winnoc, or Winnow, to Finian to\nbe educated, and Finian took the boy with him to Clonard and educated\nhim. When Winnoc thought that it was time for him to leave, he returned\nto Britain and settled in Cornwall. As he was allied to the royal\nfamily, he received large grants of land, and certainly chose a lovely\nspot for his establishment. S. Veep, or Wennapa, was his aunt, and\nhe served as her spiritual adviser. After a while, for some reason\nunknown, but probably on account of a breeze with his kinsman King\nConstantine, whom Winnow\u2019s father, Gildas, has abused in the most\nuncompromising terms, and Constantine\u2019s mother as well, Winnow left\nCornwall and settled in Brittany. He was accompanied by his brother\nMadoc and his sister, whom the Welsh call Dolgar and the Bretons\nTugdonia. He landed in the neighbourhood of Brest, where he was found\nby Conmor, Count of Vannes, the usurper, who was killed in 500. Conmor\ngranted him as much land as he could enclose in a day. The story goes\nthat Madoc, or Madan, as the Bretons call him,[18] took a pitchfork and\ndrew it behind him, and it formed a ditch and a bank that enclosed a\nbit of land. The fosse and embankment exist to the present day, and\nthe story means no more than that under Madoc\u2019s supervision the _lis_\nor _rath_ was thrown up to enclose the monastic settlement.\n\nWithin this defensive work Winnow constituted his establishment, built\na church, and erected a number of beehive cells. Outside he set up\nstones to mark the bounds of his _minihi_, or sanctuary, and all who\ntook refuge in this were allowed to pass under his protection and\nbecome members of his tribe.\n\nOne day Winnow went to Quimperl\u00e9, where some building was in progress.\nHe incautiously stood under the scaffolding, and a mason who was above\nlet fall his hammer on his head. This killed him.\n\nThe Welsh call him Gwynnog, and the Bretons Gouzenou. A very funny\nstory is told of his establishment. It became a custom to beat the\nbounds every Ascension Day. The clergy with banners, and preceded by a\ncross, led the procession. One day the rain came down in torrents, and\nthe clergy did not relish being wet to the skin, so they decided not to\nbeat the bounds. However, cross and banners would not be done out of\ntheir little flirt, and to the astonishment of all, away they trotted,\nnone bearing them, and made the rounds by themselves. Popular tradition\nis prudently silent as to when this took place.\n\nThat Winnow should have been forced to leave Cornwall after his\nfather had addressed the king in such forcible but inelegant terms\nas \u201cTyrannical whelp of the unclean lioness of Dumnonia,\u201d is not\nsurprising. You could not well stay in the house of a man in whose\nface your venerable father has spat--not if you have any self-respect.\n\nA little further down the river is Golant, or S. Samson. This is a\nfoundation of a man better known than S. Winnow. His story deserves\ntelling, at least so much of it as pertains to Cornwall.\n\nSamson was son of Amwn the Black, Prince of Bro-Weroc in Brittany, that\nis to say, the country about Vannes which had been colonised by British\nsettlers. There ensued a little family brawl, which obliged Amwn to fly\nfor his life. He escaped into Wales, where he married Anne, daughter\nof the Prince of Glamorgan. Samson was educated by S. Iltyd in Caldey\nIsle, and was taught \u201call the Old and New Testament, and all sorts of\nphilosophy, to wit, geometry and rhetoric, grammar and arithmetic, and\nall the arts known in Britain.\u201d\n\nHe devoted himself to the ecclesiastical state, and spent many years in\nWales. He paid a visit to Ireland, inspected the monasteries there, and\nthen returned to Wales, where he was ordained bishop. After a while he\nconsidered that he might just as well try to get back to Brittany, and\nsee whether he could recover some of the authority and the lands and\nposition of which his father had been deprived. Accordingly he crossed\nto Cornwall and landed at Padstow, where he dedicated a little chapel,\nwhere now stands Prideaux Place. Here he was visited by S. Petrock on\nhis arrival, as also by S. Winnow, not the Winnow of the Fowey river,\nbut another, a brother of S. Winwaloe, who had settled at Lewanick. He\nwas related to Samson through his mother.\n\nThe arrival of Petrock determined Samson to depart. He went on to\nPetherwin, where his first cousin, S. Padarn, was settled. He had\nbrought with him all the sacred vessels and books he could collect, and\nhad laden with them a waggon, drawn by two horses that he had brought\nfrom Ireland.\n\nHe sent forward a messenger to tell Padarn that he was on his way,\nand drawing near. The story has been already told how the news\nreached Padarn at the time he was dressing. Whilst in the district of\nTrigg Samson made the acquaintance of the chieftain, named Gwythiel,\nand rendered him some service with his son, who was stunned by a\nfall from his horse. Gwythiel seems to have followed him. Later on\nhe became a disciple of S. Winwaloe, and founded a church in West\nCornwall. Samson went on to Northill, where he remained for some\ntime, and then proceeded to Golant. His main object in remaining in\nCornwall was to watch affairs in Brittany. He had with him several\ncompanions--disciples from Wales, Austell, and Mewan and Erme. At\nGolant Samson continued till the arrival of his cousin, Maglorius, with\ntidings from Brittany, whereupon he entrusted his church to a disciple,\ncrossed over, and settled at Dol. Canno, prince of the blood royal, had\nmurdered his brother, the reigning prince, in 546, and had usurped the\nthrone. Judual, the son of the murdered king, had fled to the court\nof Childebert, King of the Franks. Samson visited Paris, and used\npersuasion to induce the Frank king to interfere and reinstate Judual.\nChildebert would not do this, but finally gave Samson leave to do what\nhe could off his own bat. Samson then retired to the Channel Islands,\nwhere he enlisted soldiers and drilled them, and then landed on the\nBrittany coast, and proclaimed Judual. In the meantime Mewan had acted\nas his agent, travelling through the country preparing for a general\nrevolt. Three bloody battles were fought, and in the third Canno\nwas killed by the hand of Prince Judual, A.D. 560, whereupon Judual\nascended the throne, and rewarded Samson as liberally as he could have\ndesired, but the bishop died five years later. Samson must have spent\na good many years in Cornwall if he left Wales in 548 to escape the\nyellow plague which was then ravaging the land.\n\nAt Golant the saying is that there is to be seen \u201ca tree above the\ntower, a well in the porch, and a chimney in the roof.\u201d The tree was\nprobably once growing out of the stones on the top of the tower; the\nwell is there still, close to the entrance to the church, under a rude\narch. It is a holy well, and is said to have been a spring elicited by\nSamson with his staff.\n\nThe church is late Perpendicular.[19] The pulpit and reading-desk are\nmade up of old bench-ends, representing apostles, the M of Mary, and\nthe lily of the Annunciation, and instruments of the Passion.\n\nOn the tower of S. Austell under niches are representations of S.\nSamson habited as an archbishop--which he was not--and his disciple\nS. Austell. The reason of his being represented as an archbishop is\ncurious. In 848 Nominoe, King of Brittany, determined to free his\ncountry from being Frenchified, and he not only made it independent\nof the Frank crown, but he also dismissed the Frank bishops from\nthe Breton sees, and filled their places with native prelates. He\nalso elevated the see of Dol into an archbishopric over all the\nBritish-speaking races in Armorica. Now it so happened that there had\nbeen a Samson of York, but he was never more than a priest, and he was\nquite a different man from Samson, son of Amwn the Black, who settled\nat Dol. However, because York was an archiepiscopal see, and a Samson\nhad once been there, it was supposed that he had been archbishop. Next\nhe was confounded with Samson of Dol, and it was pretended that he had\nresigned York and come to Dol to set up his archiepiscopal see there.\nThis served quite well enough as an excuse for withdrawing Dol and all\nthe Breton bishoprics from allegiance to the Metropolitan of Tours; and\nDol was able to maintain itself as a Breton archbishropic till 1172,\nthat is to say, for over three hundred years.\n\nNear S. Samson, or Golant, is Castle Dor, a very early fortification,\nthat was, in historic times, held by the Crown, and a castle erected on\nthe spot to keep the Cornish in order.\n\nFowey itself lies near the river-mouth; it much resembles a miniature\nDartmouth. Opposite the town opens the creek that runs to Lanteglos.\nThere were and are two castles, as at Dartmouth, commanding the\nentrance to the harbour, but they are insignificant, and form no\nfeature of the scenery. Fowey is a curious, rambling place--one long\nstreet twisting in and out among houses, commanded by Place, the\nbeautiful mansion of the Treffry family, that would have been entirely\nbeautiful but for absurd and tasteless additions. This stands on a rock\nabove the town, which is crowded below it.\n\nThe very fine church, with noble tower, is dedicated to, because\nfounded by, S. Finbar, afterwards Bishop of Cork. In 1336 Bishop\nGrandisson rededicated the church to S. Nicholas. He sought\npersistently to drive out the local and Celtic saints and substitute\nfor them such as were in the Roman calendar. But he has failed; the\nIrish patron maintains his place. Finbar was a disciple of S. David.\nHis origin was not very creditable. He was the son of a noble lady by a\nvulgar intrigue with a smith, for which both were sentenced to be burnt\nalive, but the sentence was commuted to expulsion from the kingdom of\nConnaught. Finbar\u2019s real name was Lochan, but he received the other in\nallusion to his fair hair.\n\nIn a gloss by the O\u2019Clearys on the martyrology of Oengus is a funny\nlegend of S. Finbar. One day, as he was walking on the sea, on his way\nhome to Ireland from Cornwall, he met S. Scuthin similarly walking,\nstarting on his pilgrimage to Rome. \u201cArrah, now!\u201d said Finbar, \u201chow\ncome you to be walkin\u2019 on the salt say?\u201d \u201cWhy not?\u201d answered Scuthin;\n\u201cain\u2019t I now walking over an illegant meadow?\u201d Then he stooped, plucked\na purple flower, and threw it at Finbar. The latter at once bowed, put\ndown his hand, caught a salmon, and threw it flop into S. Scuthin\u2019s\nface. The O\u2019Clearys got this from popular legend. Finbar died in 623.\n\nThe only really picturesque old house in Fowey is the \u201cLugger Inn,\u201d\nwhere Mr. Varcoe, the kindly host, has, more than once, made me very\ncomfortable. A beam in the house bears the date 1633. The \u201cShip\u201d\nis older; it was built in 1570, as the date over the chimney-piece\nrecords, but the house has been modernised externally. Near the club,\non the south side, stands the house of Peter Pindar.\n\nImmediately opposite Fowey is Polruan, the Pool of S. Ruan, who\nwas an Irishman like Finbar. His bones were translated by Ordgar,\nEarl of Devon, to Tavistock in 960. Thence an excursion can be made\nto Lanteglos, dedicated to S. Wyllow, a local saint, murdered by\na kinsman, Melyn. The church is chiefly interesting as containing\nmonuments of the Mohun family. Indeed, it would seem to have been their\nprincipal place after Dunster.\n\nReginald, a younger son of Baron John Mohun of Dunster (died 1330),\nmarried a daughter of John Fitz-William, and settled at Hall, in\nLanteglos. From Hall the Mohun family removed to Boconnoc, and a\nbaronetcy was obtained in 1612 for the head of the house. John, son\nof the first baronet, was a venal adherent of Charles I., and owed\nhis elevation to the peerage mainly to the clamorous importunities of\na still more venal placeman, Sir James Bagg. Writing to the Duke of\nBuckingham, the latter urged, \u201cMr. Mohun is so your servant, as in\nlife and fortune will be my second. Enable him by honour to be fit\nfor you; so in the Upper House or in the country will he be the more\nadvantageous to your grace.\u201d\n\nMohun was created Baron of Okehampton in 1628. His great-grandson\nwas Charles, the fifth and last Lord Mohun. This man, possessed of a\npassionate and vindictive temper, lost his father early; his mother\nmarried again, and his education was neglected. When he had scarcely\nattained the age of twenty he was mixed up in the murder of Mountford,\nthe actor. He was tried before his peers in 1692, and was acquitted;\nbut there can be no doubt that he was associated in the murder. Seven\nyears afterwards, in 1699, he was again tried for his life, along with\nthe Earl of Warwick, for the murder of Captain Coote. He was again\nacquitted. This second escape sobered him for a while. For long he\nand the Duke of Hamilton entertained ill-feeling towards each other,\noccasioned by some money disagreement. This came to a head in 1712,\nwhen it ended in a challenge. Which it was, however, who challenged\nthe other was never certainly decided. Colonel Macartney was Lord\nMohun\u2019s second, and Colonel Hamilton exercised the same office for the\nduke. They met in Hyde Park on Saturday morning, the 15th November,\nand swords were the weapons employed. A furious encounter ensued, the\ncombatants fighting to the death with the savagery of demons, so that\nwhen the keepers of the park, hearing the clash of swords, hurried to\nthe spot, they found both the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun weltering\nin their blood and dying, and the two seconds also engaged in mortal\ncombat. The keepers separated the latter. Then Colonel Hamilton and\none keeper lifted the duke; Macartney and the other endeavoured to do\nthe same by Lord Mohun, who, however, expired, and his body was sent\nhome in the coach that had brought him. Swift, writing to Stella at\nthe time, says that, \u201cwhile the duke was over him, Mohun shortened his\nsword, and stabbed him in the shoulder to the heart.\u201d According to the\nevidence of the surgeons who examined the bodies, each had received\nfour frightful wounds, and both appeared to have given each other the\nmortal thrust at the same instant.\n\nFowey has for long been a nursery of Treffrys and Rashleighs, though\nthe latter really issue from a place called by the same name near\nEggesford, in Devon, where is an interesting old house, their mansion,\nwith beautiful Elizabethan plaster-work, and their very peculiar\narms--a cross or between, in the dexter chief quarter a Cornish chough\narg., beaked and legged gu., in the sinister chief quarter a text T,\nand in base two crescents, all arg. A coat, this, that suggests that\nsome story must be connected with its origin, but what that story was\nis now forgotten. The history of Fowey is interwoven with that of the\nRashleighs and the Treffrys.\n\nFowey was one of the rotten boroughs that were disfranchised. It was\ncreated by Elizabeth in 1571. In 1813 the borough manor of Fowey,\nformerly the property of the Duchy, passed from the control of the\nRashleighs to Lucy of Charlescot, in Warwickshire; it was sold for\n\u00a320,000 and an expenditure of \u00a360,000 to acquire whole influence over\nvoters. The Lucys opposed Lord Valletort, who had represented the\nborough since 1790--a long time for a Cornish borough--and desperate\ncontests ensued, with varying success. When disfranchisement came they\nfound they had laid out vast sums, and had nothing to show for it.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n\n THE FAL\n\n Truro--The cathedral--Probus tower--S. Kea--Polgerran--King\n Geraint--His tomb--S. Just--Mylor--Falmouth a modern\n town--How it sprang up--The Killigrews--Arewenack--A\n station for the packets--Church--Pendennis Castle--The\n Manacles--The Black Rock--Mr. Trefusis of Trefusis--S.\n Mawes Castle--Roseland--Smuggling--S. Mawes a borough--S.\n Tudy--The climate of Falmouth.\n\n\nThe cathedral city of Cornwall is planted at the head of a long creek\nthat unites with the Tresillian river, and together they join the Fal.\nThe name is thought to signify Three Roads, that united at this point.\nThe town lies in a hollow, and the descent into it from the railway\nstation is considerable. It has been a place of more consequence in the\npast than Bodmin, and several of the Cornish county families had their\ntown residences in Truro, going there for the winter, to enjoy assembly\nballs and card parties.\n\nThe cathedral soars up above the houses, and is a fine structure,\ndoing vast credit to the county, which has strained every nerve to\nerect it at a time of depression and the death of the chief industry.\nWhen completed the effect will be very noble. One may regret that\nthe architect chose as his style a foreign type--French Early\nPointed--instead of adhering to the Perpendicular, which is that of\nthe churches of the county. Now, instead of looking like the mother of\nthese, which are her chicks, she holds herself up as of a distinct and\nalien breed. The poorest features are its over-enriched porch, which is\nelaborate without being pleasing, and the reredos, which looks as if\nshorn away at the head, and cries out for rich pinnacle-work to take\noff its ugly baldness. But perhaps the most pleasing portion of the\ncathedral is S. Mary\u2019s aisle, that belonged to the old parish church.\nAn enduring debt of gratitude is due to the first Bishop of Truro,\nafterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, in making a bold stand against the\ndesigning of the building being left to local incapacity.\n\nA visit to Probus should on no account be omitted. The magnificent\ntower is interesting as having been erected so late as the reign of\nElizabeth. The church is dedicated to S. Probus, to whom also Sherborne\nAbbey was dedicated by Cenwalch. His history is not known.\n\nJust below Malpas, the point of juncture of the Truro river and that of\nTresillian, are the remains of Old Kea Church.\n\nKea is a contraction for Kenan. He was one of the hostages held by\nLaogaire when S. Patrick came before him. Every high king in Ireland\nretained about him hostages delivered over by the under kings who\nacknowledged his sway. In fact, as an Irish law tract says, \u201cNo\nhostages, no king,\u201d and a king\u2019s _dun_ was always provided with a\ncourt for the hostages. When S. Patrick preached before Laogaire Kenan\nbelieved, and he obtained his release through the intervention of the\napostle, and was consecrated bishop by him.\n\nFor some unknown reason he left Ireland and visited Wales, where he\ntarried for a while. Then he went further through Britain till he\nreached the Fal estuary, then called Hir-drech, or the long tidal\ncreek. As he lay there on the grass where is now Tregothnan, he heard\nmen talking on the further side of the creek. Said one to another,\n\u201cHave you seen my cows anywhere?\u201d The other replied, \u201cAye, I have; I\nsaw them yesterday in Rosinis.\u201d Then Kea remembered having heard a\nvoice come to him in a dream, which said, \u201cSettle where you hear the\nname Rosinis called.\u201d\n\nSo he crossed the water along with his comrades, and they set to work\nto build huts where now stands Old Kea.\n\nNow the king, or prince, lived at Goodern, where are still mounds of a\n_lis_, and he was by no means pleased to hear that foreign monks had\nsettled on the river-bank without his permission.\n\nHe sent and had seven of the oxen and a cow belonging to Kea taken from\nhim. The legend says that seven stags came from the forest, and allowed\nKea to yoke them and make them draw the plough. But this is a fabulous\naddition to the history. What is really true is that he went to Goodern\nand remonstrated with the prince, who was none other than Tewdrig, who\nbehaved so roughly to the colony of Irish saints in the Land\u2019s End\ndistrict. Tewdrig flew into a passion and struck Kea in the mouth, so\nas to break one of his front teeth.\n\nHowever, shortly after this Tewdrig fell ill--caught a heavy head-cold\nperhaps--and, thinking that he had been \u201cill-wished\u201d by Kea, hastily\nreconciled himself with the saint, and restored his oxen. The Rosinis\nin the narrative is Roseland, but the Kestell Carveth, or Stag\u2019s\nCastle, where Kea made his first settlement, cannot be identified by\nname, though it was probably what is now called Woodbury.\n\nBut the relations with Tewdrig continued strained, and the condition\nof affairs was worse when the king fell from his horse and broke his\nneck. Kea, fearing lest this should be imputed to him, as occasioned by\nhis \u201cill-wishing,\u201d resolved on flight to Brittany. He went to Landegu,\n_i.e._ Landege, the old name of the place, as we learn from Bishop\nStapleton\u2019s Register (1310). Here was a merchant about to send a cargo\nof corn to Brittany, and Kea, with his companions, were permitted by\nthe merchant to depart in the grain ship.\n\nHe reached the Brittany coast at Cleder, and there he remained till\nthe discord broke out between Arthur and Mordred, when Kea returned to\nBritain, and endeavoured, but in vain, to reconcile them. After the\ndeath of Arthur, it was Kea who told Queen Gwenever some unpleasant\nhome-truths, and induced her to retire into a convent. Then, in 542,\nhe returned to Cleder, where he died shortly after at an advanced age.\nBut this story of his connection with Arthur and Gwenever is very\nproblematical, indeed impossible to reconcile with his history, if he\nwas converted in 433. In Brittany he is called S. Kay, or Kea, as in\nCornwall.\n\nA little lower down the river is the wooded slope of Polgerran, and\nan ancient chapel stands above it. Gerran, or Geraint, was King\nof Cornwall, and married Enid, daughter of the Count-in-Chief of\nC\u00e6rleon. Tennyson has revivified her charming story. After the death\nof Arthur, he seems to have been elected Pendragon, or high king,\nover the Britons, and his life was spent in fighting the Saxons along\nthe frontier from the Roman wall down to the Severn. S. Senan, of the\nLand\u2019s End, was on good terms with him, and there is a story told in\nthe life of that saint concerning Geraint. The king had a fleet of six\nscore vessels in the Severn, and the fatal battle in which he fell was\nat Langport on the Parret, whither at that time vessels could ascend.\nHis palace was at Dingerrein, in the parish of S. Gerrans in Roseland.\nHis tomb is shown at Carn Point, where he was said to lie in a golden\nboat with silver oars, an interesting instance of persistence of\ntradition in associating him with ships. When the tumulus was broken\ninto, in 1855, by treasure-seekers, a kistvaen was discovered and\nbones, but no precious metal. As Geraint fell at Langport he would\nhardly have been brought to Cornwall for interment. But there were two\nother princes of Cornwall of the same name, who reigned later.\n\nThe long Restronguet Creek enters the estuary of the Fal where that\nestuary becomes wide and a fine sheet of water. The peninsula is\nRoseland, the old Rosinis--Moorland Isle.\n\nRestronguet Creek has been choked with the wash coming down from the\nmines and kaolin works. At one time it was a fine long arm of water.\nImmediately opposite each other are Mylor and S. Just, the latter\nhidden in a lovely creek and buried in trees. The interesting little\nchurch stands by the water-side. It was founded by Just, or Justin,\none of the sons of Geraint. By an odd mistake, over the north porch is\ninscribed, \u201cI was glad when they said unto me, Let us _go up_ unto the\nhouse of the Lord,\u201d whereas the congregation have to descend to it some\ntwo hundred feet, and the churchyard gate is level with the ridge of\nthe roof.\n\nMylor Church is interesting as possessing old crosses with Celtic\ninterlaced work. There were formerly curious frescoes in the church.\nIt is dedicated to a prince of the blood royal. His father, Melyan,\nwas brother of the ruffian Tewdrig, who carried off S. Kea\u2019s cows and\nkilled some of the Irish colonists. His uncles were S. Oudoc, Bishop\nof Llandaff, and Ismael, a favourite pupil of S. David. But he had\nanother, an ambitious uncle named Howel, who asked Melyan to meet him,\nand suddenly and treacherously stabbed him, in 537. This probably took\nplace not far from Par, where are a Lan-melyan and a Merthan close\ntogether, indicative of a place of martyrdom, and a chapel to the\nmartyred prince. Howel at once assumed the crown over Cornwall and\nDevon. In order to incapacitate his nephew Melor, son of the murdered\nMelyan, from menacing his throne, he had his right hand and one foot\ncut off, as by Celtic law no cripple or disfigured person is qualified\nto become a chief or a prince. Melor was sent into Brittany. But there\nhe became such an object of interest and sympathy, that Howel was\nafraid, and had him also secretly assassinated.\n\nThe wonderful harbour of Falmouth now bursts on the view, almost closed\nbetween the jaws of Pendennis Point and S. Anthony\u2019s Head.\n\nA creek runs up to the right to Penryn, and on the left, another\npenetrates deep into Roseland.\n\nFalmouth is a modern place with a modern name. Anciently it was but a\nfishing hamlet--Penycomequick, _i.e._ Pen-y-cwm-wick, the village at\nthe head of the valley--with another, Smithick, hard by about a forge.\nBut the Killigrews had a fine place and deerpark at Arwenack.\n\nLeland (about 1520), who mentions every place worth notice, including\nevery \u201cpraty\u201d and every \u201cpore fisching town,\u201d says nothing of Falmouth\nbeyond it being \u201ca havyn very notable and famox.\u201d\n\nArwenack and the fortifications of Pendennis are noticed by Carew, but\nnothing is said of Falmouth.\n\nCamden (in 1607) mentions Penryn, Pendennis Castle, S. Mawes Castle,\nand Arwenack, but says nothing of Falmouth.\n\nWhen, however, Sir Walter Raleigh put into Falmouth Harbour on his way\nhomewards from Guiana, he was entertained at the great house, but his\nmen could hardly find any accommodation, and he represented the matter\nto Government, urging the importance of this splendid harbour.\n\nSir John Killigrew went repeatedly to town on the matter, but was\nopposed by the Penryn interest. However, he obtained a licence to\nbuild four houses on the spot. As the place rapidly increased beyond\nthe licence, in 1613 Sir John was disposed to further extend it, and\nbuild a town, but was interrupted in his attempt by Truro, Penryn, and\nHelston, which exerted all their influence to prevent it. Truro was\njealous of the prosperity of Penryn, and was deadly opposed to the\ngrowth of a new town so near the entrance of the harbour, one which\nwould have many advantages over itself in point of situation.\n\nIn a petition to James I. it was said that the erection of a town at\nSmithick would tend to the impoverishment of the ancient coinage towns\nand market towns aforenamed, and therefore humbly prayed that Killigrew\nmight be restrained in his undertaking. The king thereupon stopped the\nbuilders, and ordered his privy councillors to get information from\nthe Governor of Pendennis Castle relative to the projected town. The\nlatter replied that the project was excellent, as such a place, being\nat the mouth of the Fal Harbour, could at once and readily supply such\nships as put in there, instead of forcing them to go up two miles to\nPenryn or nine to Truro. The king then resolved on erecting a town at\nSmithick, and Sir John Killigrew was encouraged to proceed.\n\nDuring the protectorship of Cromwell, although the Killigrews had been\nstaunch Royalists, yet Sir Peter succeeded in having the custom-house\nremoved from Penryn to Smithick, and in 1652 in getting the place\nelevated to the position of market town. Smithick continued to be the\nname until August 20th, 1660, when, in consequence of an application\nfrom Sir Peter Killigrew, a proclamation was issued by Charles II.\nordering \u201cthat Smithike, _alias_ Penny-come-quick, should for ever\nafter that day be called, named, and known by the name of Falmouth.\u201d\nIn the following year a charter of incorporation was granted, and\nthenceforth the story of Falmouth is one of incessant quarrels between\nthe corporation and the Killigrews, the former intent on jobbing for\ntheir private advantage, whereas the Killigrews were ambitious in every\nway to benefit and enlarge the town.\n\nThe old mansion of Arwenack has almost disappeared--it has given its\nname to a street--and the Killigrews have also vanished. The last was\nkilled in a tavern brawl at Penryn in 1687, and through females the\nproperty has passed to Erisey, to West, to Berkeley, and to Wodehouse,\nand is now owned by Lord Kimberley.\n\nWhat made Falmouth at one time a place of importance was that from it\nsailed the packets. At first they were a matter of contract between\nthe General Post Office and the captains of the several boats; and\nthis system continued till 1823, when the packets were placed under\nthe orders of the Board of Admiralty. The transfer of the packets\nfrom the Post Office to the Admiralty at first excited much alarm\namong the inhabitants, and doubtless many of them suffered, owing to\nthe decreased demand for ships\u2019 stores of all descriptions, as the\nsloops-of-war were provided by the Government; but the change did\nnot prove so disastrous as was expected, for many persons were drawn\nto live at the place, persons who belonged to the families of the\ncommanders, and also because a greater number of men were employed on\nthe new system. Packets were first stationed at Falmouth in or about\nthe year 1688, when some were employed to sail to Corunna; and in 1705\nthey ran to the West Indies; in 1709 five sailed to Lisbon; and the\nnumber gradually increased. In 1827 there were thirty-nine packets\nemployed. But all this came to an end in 1850, when the mails were sent\nfrom Southampton in place of Falmouth.\n\nThe church was dedicated in 1663 to Charles the Martyr. It is a mean\nbuilding, without architectural merit, and with a stumpy tower, vastly\ninferior to the other church dedicated to the royal martyr at Plymouth.\n\nPendennis Castle (Pen-Dinas, the Castle on the Head) is not a very\nstriking feature. It was erected in the reign of Henry VIII., but it\nhas been since somewhat extended. In 1644 Pendennis sheltered the\nunfortunate Henrietta Maria, when embarking for France. It was from\nhence that Arwenack House, esteemed the finest mansion in Cornwall,\nwas fired, during the siege by the Parliamentary troops, lest it\nshould furnish them with shelter. John Arundell, of Trerice, commonly\ncalled Jack-for-the-King, defended it for six months, he being in his\neighty-seventh year, and only surrendered when starved out.\n\nFrom the ramparts a fine view is obtained of the Lizard promontory, and\nof the terrible Manacles, on which the _Mohegan_ was lost in October,\n1898. Perhaps even more terrible was the wreck of the _Despatch_, in\nJanuary, 1809, when, two days before Sir John Moore\u2019s death, three\nofficers and seventy-two non-commissioned officers and privates were\nlost on Lowland Point; and almost simultaneously the _Primrose_, with\n120 officers and men and six passengers, was wrecked on the Manacles.\n\nAbout half-way across the mouth of the harbour is the Black Rock,\nexposed at low water, but covered when the tide rises. An eccentric\nMr. Trefusis, of Trefusis, opposite Falmouth, one day invited his wife\nto boat with him to the Black Rock and picnic there. She incautiously\naccepted, and when he had landed her, he made his bow, and rowed away\nwith, \u201cMadam, we are mutually tired of each other, and you will agree\nwith me that it were best to part.\u201d\n\nFortunately a fishing-smack picked her off just as the tide was flowing\nover it, and brought her back to Trefusis. \u201cBe hanged to you rogues,\u201d\nsaid the husband. \u201cI\u2019d have given you a guinea each to let her drown;\nnow you shan\u2019t have a shilling from me.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: S. MAWES\u2019 CASTLE]\n\nS. Mawes Castle commands the harbour entrance from the other side, as\nalso that to S. Mawes Creek. The long promontory, over four miles in\nlength, that intervenes between the creek and the sea is Roseland.\nThe neck of land dividing them is in two places very contracted.\nRoseland was a great harbour for smugglers, whose headquarters were at\nPorthscatho. When employed in conveying their goods ashore in Gerrans\nBay, they always had their scouts on the hills, and as the customs\nstation was at S. Mawes, no sooner did the preventive boat put forth,\nthan notice was given, and the boats dispersed; so that by the time\nshe came into the bay all was quiet. Finding this to be the case,\nthe officer in command one day took his boat up the river, and had\nher carried by the crew across the neck of land, and he dropped into\nGerrans Bay before the scouts were aware that he had left the harbour.\nHe secured a good prize, and struck a severe blow at the contraband\ntrade. Porthscatho, perhaps, takes its name from Cado, or Cathaw, the\nson of Geraint, and Duke of Cornwall. The whole of the district from\nRoseland to Grampound teems with reminiscences of the Cornish royal\nfamily. Lansallos is a foundation of Salomon, or Selyf, son of Geraint;\nand in S. Gerrans parish is a holy well of S. Non, mother of S. David,\nand sister to Selyf\u2019s wife, S. Wenn. Tregony Church is a foundation of\nS. Cuby, son of Selyf, and grandson of Geraint. Filleigh was founded\nby a son of Gildas, who was grandson of Geraint. Dingerrein, the royal\npalace, is now represented by a mound, but hence hailed one of the\nearly bishops of Cornwall, Kenstig, who submitted to Canterbury in or\nabout 850.\n\nS. Mawes was formerly a borough returning two members. It consists of a\nrow of houses looking upon the creek. It takes its name from an Irish\nsettler, who perhaps came with S. Ruan. He arrived with two disciples.\nTudy was one, or, as the Welsh call him, Tegwyn, so that in all\nlikelihood he had halted for some time on his way in Wales, doubtless\nat S. David\u2019s. There was formerly a stone chair near the beach, but it\nhas been built into the sea-wall. From this he taught the many pupils\nwho came to him.\n\nBut whilst they listened to or pondered over his instructions, they\nwere much distracted by the frolics of a great seal that came near,\nstared at them, and made grunting noises. This was so vexing that one\nday Mawes jumped out of his chair and, taking a big stone in his hand,\nran into the shallow water to try conclusions with the seal. He got\nnear enough to throw the stone at it, and to hit it on the head, after\nwhich he was no more troubled with the interruption.\n\nThe reason why Mawes settled where he did was probably this. His\ndisciple, Tudy, was a cousin of S. Wenn, who was queen, the wife of\nSelyf, or Salomon, and Tudy doubtless advised his master to go to\nCornwall, and see whether his kinsfolk would do something for them.\nHowever, Mawes does not seem to have been long satisfied with his\nentertainment, for he crossed into Brittany, where he died.\n\nThe holy well of S. Mawes is immediately opposite the post office, and\nsupplies the place with drinking water. The pointed arched door is\nwalled up, and two ugly ventilating shafts have been inserted to keep\nthe air sweet above the spring.\n\nFrom the land side, the castle of S. Mawes is a picturesque object.\n\nOne of the main charms of Falmouth and its neighbourhood is the\nclimate. Sharp frosts are almost unknown, the mild and balmy air\nis wonderfully even in temperature, and the marvellous gardens of\nEnys show delicate kinds of rhododendron--elsewhere growing in\ngreenhouses--luxuriating in the open air.\n\nThe climate is that of the lotus-eaters, pleasant but enervating.\n\n \u201cPropt on beds of amaranth and molly,\n How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)\n With half-dropt eyelids still,\n Beneath a heaven dark and holy,\n To watch the long bright river drawing slowly\n His waters from the purple hill--\n Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,\n Only to hear were sweet, stretch\u2019d out beneath the pine.\n\n * * * * *\n\n \u201cLet us swear an oath, and keep it with equal mind,\n In the hollow lotus-land to live, and lie reclined\n On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind.\u201d\n\nAnd there are good hotels at Falmouth where the lotus-eaters may do\nthis.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n\n NEWOUAY\n\n Mr. Austin Treffry--The\n sands--Cliff-castles--Castel-an-Dinas--The Gannel--S.\n Carantock--Newlyn--Perranzabuloe--Church of S.\n Piran--History--Roche--S. Denis--Columb Major and\n Minor--S. Agnes--The Cornish rotten boroughs--How they\n passed away from the Crown--Mitchell--The town hall--Kit\n Hawkins--Trerice--Lanherne--Church--William Noye--S.\n Mawgan--The educator of the early missionaries.\n\n\nNewquay is a very new place; it was projected by Mr. J. T. (Austin)\nTreffry, of Place House, Fowey, a very remarkable man, far in advance\nof his time, to whom not Fowey only, but Cornwall generally owes a debt\nof gratitude. His projects have been worked out since his death with\ncomplete success.\n\nIn itself uninteresting to the last degree, it is the key to very fine\ncoast scenery, and the air is bracing without being cold. It possesses\nexcellent sands, both at Newquay and Fistral Bays. There is further\na long tract of sand, two and a quarter miles long, to the north of\nS. Columb Porth, the Tregurian Beach. The rocks will interest the\ngeologist as well as form a subject for the artist.\n\nThe coast presents examples of several cliff-castles, as at Kelsey,\nTrevelgue and Griffith\u2019s Heads, and Redcliff above Bedruthan; but the\nfinest example of a castle is Castel-an-Dinas, near S. Columb Major.\n\nThis fortress comprises about six acres of land, enclosed within\nthree concentric rings of bank and moat, built up of earth and stone\ntogether, about a pyramidal hill. The innermost enclosure contains\nabout an acre and a half, and there were at one time indications\nof habitations therein, but these have now disappeared. There are,\nhowever, traces of a pit that was a well or tank for rain-water,\nas there is no spring on the hill. There are two entrances to this\ninteresting camp or dinas.\n\nAccording to legend, King Arthur lived here and hunted the wild deer on\nTregoss Moors.\n\nNear Perranzabuloe are Caer Kieff (_eyf_, perfect) and Caer Dane\n(dinas).\n\nTo the south of Newquay is the curious creek called the Gannel\n(_gan-hael_, the mouth of saltings). A very slight thread of sweet\nwater descends from the land into a creek of three miles of salt\nmarsh and sand, filled at high water with the tide. Here it was that\nS. Patrick\u2019s companion, adviser, and friend, Carantock, on leaving\nIreland, set up his residence. He was a remarkable man, for he was one\nof the three bishops chosen by Laogaire at Tara to revise the laws of\nIreland. When the Irish accepted Christianity it was obvious that the\nlaws needed modification. King Laogaire was not and never did become a\nChristian, but he accepted the situation, and appointed a commission\nfor the revision of the laws, and on this sat Carantock. The result was\nthe Senchus Mor, the great code by which the Irish were ruled till\n1600. Carantock was an acquaintance of King Arthur, but he met him, not\nat Castel-an-Dinas, but on the Severn at Dinedor, and did not get on\nwell with him.\n\nAn odd story is told of his fixing the site for his church at Crantock.\nAfter he had landed in the Gannel he went up on the land, and began to\ntill a scrap of land granted him; and when not at work on the soil, he\nwhittled his staff, to make the handle smooth. Then, when he resumed\nhis mattock, he saw a wood-pigeon fly down, pick up the shavings, and\ncarry them off. He was curious to know what she did with them, so he\nfollowed, and saw that she dropped them in one spot in a little heap.\n\u201cThere must be some meaning in this,\u201d said Carantock, and he resolved\nto build his church there. Those Celtic saints looked out for some omen\nto direct them in all their doings.\n\nCrantock Church was collegiate; it fell into a condition of decay, and\nwas shockingly mutilated, but is about to be restored carefully and\nconservatively.\n\nAnother interesting church, one with a fine screen and in good\ncondition, is Newlyn. This is probably situated on the patrimony of\nS. Newlyna--\u201cthe white cloud,\u201d as her name signifies. She was of\nnoble birth, but, like the rest of the Celtic saints, thought she\nmust travel, so she took ship at Newlyn West, where she has also left\nher name, and arrived in Brittany with her foster-mother as chaperon.\nThere she had an unpleasant experience. She caught the fancy of a local\nmagnate, who pursued her when she fled from him, and as she stubbornly\nrepelled his advances, in a fit of fury, struck her with his sword and\nkilled her. She is commemorated at Noualen, or Noyal-Poutivy, where\nthe screen was formerly painted with a series of subjects relative to\nher story. This was destroyed in 1684 by order of the vicar-general,\nbecause it concealed the new reredos in the debased style of the\nperiod. This tasteless construction has been in turn demolished, and\nthe paintings that formerly decorated the jub\u00e9 have been reproduced in\ncoloured glass in the windows.\n\nThe great towans, or sand dunes, of Penhale extend three miles in\nlength, and almost two in parts inland. They are held in check to the\nnorth and north-east by the little stream that finds its way into\nHolywell Bay. In these sands was found S. Piran\u2019s Chapel, of the eighth\nor ninth century, in 1835, exactly resembling similar structures of the\nsame date in Ireland. It was cleared out by Mr. William Mitchell, of\nComprigney, near Truro, and he thus describes it:--\n\n \u201cThe church, which is built nearly east and west, inclining\n only 4\u00b0 north of west, is of but small dimensions, the\n length without the walls being 30 feet and within the walls\n 25 feet; the width within 13 feet in the chancel and 12\n feet in the nave, and the height about 13 feet. There is a\n very neat arched doorway in a good state of preservation\n at the date of the work, viz. the day when I removed the\n sand from it, 7 ft. 4 in. by 2 ft. 4 in., ornamented with\n Saxon tracery [this is inaccurate, no Saxon about it], the\n arch itself having on its keystone the head of a tiger,\n and the points of its curve (_i.e._ label-terminations)\n the head of a man and that of a woman, rudely sculptured\n in stone, in the centre of the nave on the south wall; and\n another doorway in the north-east corner, near the altar,\n of similar dimensions and style, if we may judge from the\n remains of its arch lying near it, and which may be assumed\n to be that intended for the priest himself, leading into\n the chancel. The chancel is exactly 9\u00bd feet long, and shows\n in the north and south walls the precise spots where the\n railing (screen) separating it from the nave was fixed.\n Attached to the eastern wall of the church is an altar\n nearly equidistant between the north and south walls, 5 ft.\n 3 in. long by 2 ft. 3 in. wide, and 4 feet high, built of\n stone and neatly plastered with lime. Eight inches above\n this altar is a recess or niche about 12 inches high by 8\n inches wide, in which, undoubtedly, was once S. Piran\u2019s\n shrine.... There is only one small aperture or window, 12\n inches high by 10 inches wide, about 10 feet above the\n floor, in the south wall of the chancel.... A stone seat,\n raised 14 inches above the level of the floor, and 12\n inches wide, covered with lime-plaster, runs all round the\n walls except the east and south walls of the chancel. The\n nave is exactly 15\u00bd feet long, its floor, together with\n the floor of the chancel, being composed of lime and sand,\n apparently as perfect as when first laid down. Each door\n has two low steps to descend into the church. The church\n itself is plastered with beautiful white lime. The masonry\n of the entire building is of the rudest kind, and evidently\n of very remote antiquity. There is not the slightest\n attempt at regular courses, but the stones, consisting\n of granite, quartz, sandstone, porphyry, etc., appear to\n have been thrown together almost at random--horizontally,\n perpendicularly, and at every angle of inclination--just\n as the hand, not the eye, of the workman happened to\n direct him. To render the church as perfect as when it\n was originally erected, nothing seemed wanting but its\n doors and roof. Not an atom of wood, except a piece of\n about 8 inches long by 2 inches wide, and an inch thick,\n was found within the walls. That there were many bodies\n interred both in the chancel and nave of the church is\n an unquestionable fact. Several skeletons have been\n found deposited about 2 feet below the floor. Three were\n discovered with their feet lying under the altar, one of\n them of gigantic dimensions, measuring about 7 ft. 6 in....\n Their heads, which appeared to be almost cemented together,\n lay between the knees of the skeleton deposited nearest to\n the south wall.\n\n \u201cOn the southern and western sides of this venerable\n ruin is the ancient burying-ground, strewed over tens of\n thousands of human bones and teeth as white as snow; and,\n strange as it may seem, the showers of sand which fall all\n around hardly ever remain on these melancholy relics of\n mortality.\u201d[20]\n\nUnhappily nothing was done to preserve this little church after it had\nbeen excavated from the sand. The three heads from the doorway were\ncarried off for Truro Museum; visitors pulled out stones, boys tore\ndown the walls, and now little more than a gable remains. But to this\nwas added the mischievous meddlesomeness of the curate-in-charge, the\nRev. William Haslam, who turned the altar-stones about, as he had got\na theory into his head that they had formed a tomb, and rebuilt them\nin this fashion, pointing east and west, and cut upon the altar-slab\nthe words \u201cS. Piranus.\u201d It is purposed to undo Mr. Haslam\u2019s work, and\nreplace the altar as originally found. More should be done. Cement\nshould be run along the top of such wall as remains to save it from\nfalling.\n\nThe Rev. C. Collins Trelawny, soon after the discovery, wrote an\naccount in a book entitled _Perranzabulo, the Lost Church Found_, which\nwent through seven editions (1837-72).\n\nIn 1844 Mr. Haslam published another book on the subject, and again\nanother in 1888, _From Death unto Life_, in which he assumed to himself\nthe credit of Mr. Mitchell\u2019s discovery. The church has not the extreme\nantiquity attributed to it. The fact of there being a chancel is\nsufficient evidence that it does not belong to the sixth century, as\nnone of the earliest Irish churches possess this feature.[21] It is\nabout two centuries later, though doubtless a reconstruction of the old\nmaterials, and perhaps on the old lines. Judging from Irish examples,\nin one point only is Mr. Haslam more correct than Mr. Mitchell. He\nconsidered the niche over the altar to have been a walled-up window,\nand in this was right.\n\nThe story of S. Piran, or Kieran, as he is called in Ireland, is of\nsufficient interest to be given.\n\nHe was born in Clear Island, in the county of Cork, the extreme south\npoint of Ireland. He established a monastery at Saighir, in the extreme\nnorth of Munster. The legend is that his first disciples were a boar,\na fox, a badger, a wolf, and a doe. And in this we have an instance of\nthe manner in which simple facts assume a fabulous character in the\nhands of late writers. The district was that of the clan of Hy Sinnach,\n_i.e._ the foxes; an adjoining tribe was that of the Hy Broc, or the\nbadgers; an Ossorian disciple was regarded as _Os_, _i.e._ a doe; and\nhis wolf was no other than one of the Hy Faeladh, which has a double\nmeaning of \u201chospitable\u201d or \u201cwolfish;\u201d another disciple was S. Torc, and\nthe name means \u201cboar.\u201d\n\nKieran, as his name is in Irish, invoked the assistance of his mother,\nLiadhain, and induced her to start a school for girls at Kellyon, not\nfar from Saighir. The arrangement was not happy, as at least one of his\ndisciples carried on a lively flirtation with Liadhain\u2019s damsels.\n\nHow Kieran placed Buriena the Slender with Liadhain, and how a chief\nran away with her, and how Kieran got her back, shall be told when we\ncome to Land\u2019s End. It was possibly on account of this unpleasantness\nthat he withdrew to Cornwall, and brought with him both his nurse,\nCocca, and Buriena. But there were other reasons. Kieran belonged\nto the royal race of Ossory, and in his time Ossory was overrun\nby Cucraidh, who massacred all he could lay hands on of the royal\nrace of the O\u2019Bairrche, to which Kieran belonged. Most of Kieran\u2019s\nclan migrated to the north of Ossory, where they maintained their\nindependence till 642. It was not likely that Kieran cared to remain\nin the country under an usurper whose hands were steeped in the blood\nof his brethren. Cucraidh tried to make terms with the saint, and\nhis granddaughter was either put under his rule, or else voluntarily\nentrusted herself to him. But even if Cucraidh invited Kieran to\nremain, he was but under-king to Aengus, King of Munster, and Kieran\nquarrelled with the latter and denounced him to death. In fact, Aengus\nwas killed in battle in 489. There was consequently very good reason\nwhy the saint should leave Ireland.\n\nKieran\u2019s monastery at Saighir was on a princely scale. \u201cNumerous were\nhis cattle; there were ten doors to the shed of his kine, and ten\nstalls at every door, and ten calves for every stall, and ten cows with\nevery calf.... Moreover, there were fifty tame horses with Kieran for\ntilling and ploughing the ground. And this was his dinner every night:\na little bit of barley bread and two roots, and water of a spring.\nSkins of fawns were his raiment, and a haircloth over these. He always\nslept on a pillow of stone.\u201d Carantock was his scribe, and some of\nthe books written by Carantock were long preserved at Saighir. One of\nKieran\u2019s disciples was Carthag, who, although a saint, was a somewhat\nloose fish, and gave the abbot not a little trouble. S. Itha put one of\nhis escapades in as delicate a way as might be when she said--\n\n \u201cA son will be born to Carthag,\n And Carthag will not be thought better of accordingly.\u201d\n\nOn account of his disreputable conduct, Kieran kicked him out, and bade\nhim go to Rome, hoping that he might sow his wild oats in that chaste\nand holy place.\n\nOne day Kieran of Clonmacneis and the two Brendans came to visit him.\nThe steward approached him in dismay. \u201cThere is nothing to offer these\ndistinguished guests except some scraps of rusty bacon and water.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen serve up the bacon and the water.\u201d\n\nNow there was at table a lay brother, and when the bacon was set before\nhim he thrust his platter contemptuously from him, for he was tired\nof bacon, and when out visiting, by dad! he expected to be fed like a\ngintleman.\n\n\u201cHah!\u201d said Kieran turning angry, \u201cyou are dainty, son of Comgal; it is\njust such as you who would not scruple to eat ass\u2019s flesh in Lent.\u201d\n\nAcross the backbone of Cornwall is Ladock, and if I am not mistaken,\nKieran planted there his old nurse, Cocca, who also became head of a\nreligious house for women.\n\nIt is said that every Christmas night, after divine service at his own\nmonastery, Kieran started off walking, and arrived at early morning to\nperform divine worship for his old nurse, and gave her the compliments\nof the season. The date of his death is not known, but it is thought to\nhave been about 550.\n\nA friend writes to me:--\n\n \u201cIt may be foolishness, but to me such a place as the\n ruined church of Peranzabulo appeals most powerfully. I\n determined to find it unaided, and when found I spent hours\n there, sometimes at dark, trying as best I might to recall\n the place as it once was, and to revivify the bones which\n were lying in several little heaps where the workmen, who\n had been railing about the ruin, had collected them.\n\n \u201cIt seems to me that one loses a great deal in stifling and\n choking the imagination.\n\n \u201cIn the dusk of evening, with the swallows in vast\n quantities gathered for their flight to the south, and the\n white bones lying before me, the wind sighing and piping\n in the grass, and the sea moaning in the distance, the\n scene was one that deeply impressed me, and will never be\n forgotten.\u201d\n\nAlthough the ruin is that of an early church, it is a mistake to\nsuppose that it is contemporary with the founder. It is probably two\ncenturies later.\n\nThe rock and hermitage of Roche, standing up in a district that has\nbeen turned over and undermined for tin, and is strewn with ruined\nengine-houses, deserve to be seen. The rock is a prong shooting up\nboldly, and a chapel and the cell of an ancient hermit have been\nconstructed on it.\n\nS. Denis is a conical hill with an earthwork round it; in fact, it was\nan old _Dinas_, or palace of a chief. The church within was called\nLan-dinas. The bishops of Exeter, not understanding the real meaning,\nconcluded that it was the church of S. Denis, and dedicated it to\nthe Bishop-martyr of Paris, a somewhat apocryphal personage. So two\nfortified headlands were each Lan-an-dinas,[22] and they were converted\ninto churches of S. Anthony.\n\nS. Columb Major has a fine church, which unhappily suffered from an\nexplosion of gunpowder in 1676, when three boys carelessly set fire\nto a barrel of this explosive, which had been placed in the rood-loft\nstaircase. The windows and roof were blown away, and the pillars\nthrown out of the perpendicular. Happily the fine carved benches were\nunhurt; they are curious. Apparently a travelling show of wild beasts\npassed through the town when they were being carved, and the workmen\nreproduced on them the strange beasts they saw.\n\nThere is an interesting and picturesque old slated house at the\nentrance to the churchyard.\n\nThe old custom of hurling is still observed at S. Columb on the feast,\nwhich is in November, and the silver ball is thrown in the market-place.\n\nS. Columb Minor bench-ends, according to Hals, were of black oak, and\nbore the date 1525, and it had a fine rood-screen with loft, \u201ca most\ncurious and costly piece of workmanship, carved, and painted with gold,\nsilver, vermillion, and bice, and is the masterpiece of art in those\nparts of that kind.\u201d This has all disappeared now.\n\nS. Agnes\u2019 Head, pronounced S. Anne\u2019s, presumedly takes its name from\nAnn, the mother of the gods among the Irish Celts, and probably also\namong the Cymri. She gives her name to the Two Paps of Ana, in the\ncounty of Kerry. The parish was constituted late. There was no such\nparish at the time of the Conquest, and the present church was built\nand consecrated in 1484.\n\nA story is told of a house in S. Agnes. When Wesley visited this part\nof Cornwall preaching, he was refused shelter elsewhere than in an\nancient mansion that was unoccupied because haunted by ghosts.\n\nWesley went to the house, and sat up reading by candlelight. At\nmidnight he heard a noise in the hall, and on issuing from his room\nsaw that a banquet was spread, and that richly-apparelled ladies and\ngentlemen were about the board.\n\nThen one cavalier, with dark, piercing eyes and a pointed black beard,\nwearing a red feather in his cap, said: \u201cWe invite you to eat and to\ndrink with us,\u201d and pointed to an empty chair.\n\nWesley at once took the place indicated, but before he put in his\nmouth a bite of food or drank a drop, said: \u201cIt is my custom to ask a\nblessing; stand all!\u201d Then the spectres rose.\n\nWesley began his accustomed grace, \u201cThe name of God, high over all----\u201d\nwhen suddenly the room darkened, and all the apparitions vanished.\n\nThe story of the creation, subsequent history, and extinction of those\nEnglish boroughs which were swept away by the Reform Bill of 1832, and\nwhich were commonly designated as pocket or rotten boroughs, is too\ncurious an episode in Parliamentary history to be allowed to remain\nin the limbo of Parliamentary reports--a charnel-house of the bones\nof facts--unclothed with the personal reminiscences and local details\nwhich invest these dry bones with flesh, and give to them a living\ninterest.\n\nIn a very few years there will not be a man alive who can recall the\nlast election for them. Their story is this: They were creations of the\nCrown when its tenure of power was insecure, and the object aimed at\nwas to pack the House of Commons with members who were mere creatures\nof the Crown. The shock of the Reformation had upset men\u2019s minds. What\nhad been held sacred for ages was sacred no longer, and the men who had\nbeen encouraged to profane the altar were ready enough to turn their\nhands against the throne. The revolt of the Parliament under Charles\nI. was long in brewing; its possibility was seen, and the creation of\npocket boroughs was devised as an expedient to prevent it.\n\nIn order that the Crown might have a strong body of obedient henchmen\nin the House, a number of villages or mere insignificant hamlets were\naccorded the franchise, villages and hamlets on land belonging to the\nDuchy of Cornwall that went with the royal family as an appanage of\nthe Prince of Wales, or were under the control of pliant courtiers. As\nthe country was in a ferment of religious passion, many, if not most,\nof these new boroughs were specially chosen because far removed from\necclesiastical influence, either because they lay at the junction of\nseveral parishes, or because they were places remote from churches.\n\nIn Cornwall in the reign of Edward VI. eight petty places were given\nthe privilege of returning two members apiece. These were Bossiney, a\nmound in a field, with a farmhouse adjoining, West Looe, Grampound,\nPenryn, Newport, Camelford, and Mitchell.\n\nQueen Mary followed by raising S. Ives to the position of a borough;\nElizabeth proceeded to confer the same privileges on S. Germans, S.\nMawes, Tregony, East Looe, Fowey, and Callington. Those called into\nexistence by Edward were all under Duchy influence with the exception\nof Mitchell, \u201cthe meanest hamlet within or without Cornwall,\u201d which was\nunder the control of the Arundels of Lanherne.\n\nFour of the new boroughs had been places belonging to monastic\nestablishments, but since the suppression of the religious houses they\nhad passed under the domination of the Crown. S. Ives, which had been\nconstituted a borough by Philip and Mary, was in the hands of Paulet,\nMarquis of Winchester, who could be relied upon. For the same reason\nCallington was given two members in 1584, as this also was held by\nthe Paulets. The fear of ecclesiastical influence is conspicuous in\nnumerous instances. Camelford is two miles distant from a church, and\nthe only chapel in it was confiscated and demolished. Saltash was\nanother churchless place; it belonged to the parish of S. Stephen\u2019s,\ntwo miles distant, and had in it no other place of worship than a\nmunicipal chapel. Grampound was at a like distance from its parish\nchurch, S. Creed; Tregony was planted at the junction of several\nparishes; Mitchell divided between two equidistant churches two miles\naway. Another remarkable feature in these boroughs is that they rapidly\nslipped away from the influence of the Crown, and fell under the\ncontrol of great landlords. Founded for the servile support of the\nThrone, they became a prey, not even to Duchy tenants, but to private\nowners, and resolved into saleable commodities, that passed rapidly\nfrom hand to hand. In 1783 it was noticed that seven peers directed or\ninfluenced the return of twenty members; eleven commoners controlled\nthe election of twenty-one; and the people one only, that of S. Ives.\nIt was a recognised thing that the man who held six boroughs in his\nhand, that is to say, who could return twelve members to support the\nMinistry, could demand and obtain a peerage. Even a foreign Jew who,\nat a pinch, could assist the Ministry by means of three boroughs which\nhe had bought, could exact a baronetage in part payment.\n\nCornwall returned forty members, as many, excepting one, as the entire\nkingdom of Scotland; more by two than Durham, Northumberland, and\nYorkshire together; and along with Wiltshire, where was another nest of\npocket boroughs, more than Yorkshire, Lancashire, Middlesex, Warwick,\nWorcester, and Somersetshire.\n\nAnother interesting feature in the pocket boroughs was the various\nmethods of voting. In some it was close and secret; in others open\nand democratic. In some the electors were nominated by the patron; in\nothers they maintained a measure of independence, and disposed of their\nvotes to the highest bidder.\n\nOne of the most notorious of the rotten boroughs was Mitchell,\nModishole, or, as it was sometimes called in error, S. Michael. It is a\nwretched hamlet on a bleak portion of the great backbone of Cornwall,\nexposed to every blast from the Atlantic, without trade, without\nmanufacture, almost without agriculture, so poor and unremunerative\nis the soil. It owed its origin solely to the fact that it was a\nconvenient centre for the distribution of contraband goods that had\nbeen run ashore in the bays between Crantock and Newquay. When raised\ninto a borough it existed, without thriving, on the two demoralising\nbusinesses of smuggling and elections. In Parliamentary lists it\nfigures as S. Michael\u2019s, but the archangel has never had anything to do\nwith it, never had even a chapel there. The place belongs in part to\nthe parish of S. Enoder, in part to that of S. Newlyn.\n\nThe name of Mitchell given it was surely given in satire, for in\nCornish this word signifies greatness.\n\nThe place consists at present of nineteen houses. At the time of its\ndisfranchisement it had 180 inhabitants, but only three of these were\nqualified to vote, whose names were Retallack, Vincent, and Parker, and\nthese three returned the two last members who sat for Mitchell.\n\nA few sycamore and ash and thorn trees brave the gales that sweep the\ndesolate slope on which the old borough stands. It has a handsome old\ninn with granite porch, some quaint old houses, one with the date 1683\non the parvise, and a diminutive town hall.\n\nWhether the borough ever had a seal is uncertain: no impressions are\nknown to exist. The town hall has gone through a series of uses since\nthe place ceased to be a borough. For a while after 1832 it was a\ndame\u2019s school, then was converted into a Wesleyan chapel, then into\none of the Church of England, next into a manure store, then into a\ncarpenter\u2019s shop, and now it is a beer brewery, in a hamlet made up\nalmost wholly of total abstainers.\n\nThe place, as already said, consists of nineteen houses. There is\nnot a shop there. The dame\u2019s school has been transferred from the\ntown hall to a one-roomed cottage, that crouches under a bank, and is\novershadowed by sycamores.\n\nThe privileges it possessed proved to it a curse, for if there were\nvoters in it sufficiently independent to think differently from the\npatron, he tore down their dwellings. After the last election but one\nSir Christopher Hawkins swept away numerous cottages from his land, so\nas to reduce the number of voters, not because they were recalcitrant,\nbut because all demanded payment for their votes; and to diminish the\nvoters, as he did, from eighty to three meant a corresponding reduction\nin election expenses. At the election of 1831 there was no voting at\nall. The steward invited some two dozen individuals to dine with him in\nthe inn; of these three only were nominated to vote. A worm-eaten chair\nwas thrust on the balcony of the inn, and the nominee of the patron was\ndeclared chosen and chaired.\n\nImmediately after this election the same patron, Sir Christopher\nHawkins, pulled down twelve more houses; amongst these a handsome\nmansion opposite the town hall, that had been erected by Lord Falmouth\nin 1780, when he was dominant in the borough, and all the stonework\nwas carried away for the construction of Lord Falmouth\u2019s new house at\nTregothnan.\n\nIn the penultimate election there were but thirteen electors, who were\nnominated by the patron. But even these were not altogether submissive.\nA stranger came amongst them, and by large promises induced most of\nthem to agree to vote for him as second representative. Dread of their\npatron, however, in the end proved too strong, and they returned both\nhis nominees. The stranger, however, assured them that he would send\nthem presents all round, and on a certain day the carrier arrived\nwith a large chest addressed to the free and independent electors of\nMitchell. On opening it, the chest was found to be full of stones, and\nto have thirteen halters on the top properly addressed to the several\nelectors, among whom, by the way, were three parsons.\n\nThe unfortunate borough during the later years of its existence was\na battleground of many combatants. It was never certain who had the\nright to vote. This question was left in ambiguity till 1700, and every\nsuccessive election gave rise to a petition and Parliamentary inquiry.\n\nIn 1639, when Courtenay and Chadwell were elected, a petition was sent\nup to the House appealing against it, and the plea set up was that the\nmembers had got in by the aid of voters who were not qualified.\n\nBetween this date and 1705 the borough came before the Election\nCommittee no less than fifteen times, and the right of voting was\naltered from time to time.\n\nIn 1660 the question arose whether the right of voting lay in the\ncommonalty at large or in two functionaries called Eligers, nominated\nby the lord of the manor, and in twenty-two free men of their\nappointment. The Committee of the House considered that it rested\nwith these nominees, and that the householders of Mitchell had no\nelectoral rights whatever. But in 1689 the Committee decided that\n\u201cthe right of election lay with the lords of the borough, who were\nliable to be chosen portreeves, and in the householders of the same not\nreceiving alms.\u201d Here was a fundamental change. All at once universal\nsuffrage was introduced. Next year (1690) Rowe, for the second place,\ngot in by thirty-one votes against twenty given for Courtenay. Upon\ninvestigation, it was proved that Rowe had bribed a dozen voters with\n\u00a35 or \u00a36 apiece.\n\nIn 1695 another election took place, when four members were returned,\ntwo by a deputy-portreeve, and two by the actual portreeve, a certain\nTimothy Gully, who was an outlaw, and lived in White Friars.\n\nThe struggles of Anthony Rowe and Humphrey Courtenay occupy and almost\nproverbialise this epoch. About 1698 it was noted that \u201cthe cost of\nthese struggles had been enormous, and William Courtenay, son and heir\nof Humphrey, was forced to petition the House to be allowed to sell his\nentailed estates to defray them.\u201d\n\nRowe was pronounced elected in 1696, but was unseated as speedily on\nappeal from the defeated side.\n\nIn 1707 \u201cthe traditional contest takes place at Mitchell between Rowe\nand two others. Rowe, who was elected, was soon confronted with the\ninevitable petition.\u201d\n\nThe right of voting for this distracted borough had already been\nchanged from one of nominees of the patron to one purely democratic,\nand now, in 1701, it was again changed. This time it was invested in\nthe portreeve, and in the inhabitants paying scot and lot.\n\nFor nearly half a century no election petition came up from Mitchell,\nbut in 1754 the scandals became more flagrant than before, and the\ninterest of the political world was drawn to this obscure and ragged\nhamlet. Lord Sandwich had squared the returning officer, and his\ncandidate was elected by thirty against twenty-five. The Duke of\nNewcastle now disputed this election. There were, at that period, two\ntaverns at Mitchell, each with its picturesque projecting porch on\ngranite pillars. Each of these became the centre of party cabal and\ncaucus, and this continued for ten months, during which ale and wine\nflowed and money circulated, and the electors ate and drank at the\nexpense of the Earl of Sandwich and the Duke of Newcastle, and devoted\nall their energies to swell their several factions at the expense of\nthe other. At last the duke\u2019s candidates, Luttrell and Hussey, were\nreturned _vice_ Clive (a cousin of the Indian Clive) and Stephenson,\nwho were sustained by the earl.\n\nAfter this \u201cstranger succeeded stranger in the representation of\nMitchell.\u201d In 1784 the two patrons were Lord Falmouth and Francis\nBasset, Esq. No sooner was the election declared than a petition\nagainst the return was sent up to the House, and the Committee found\nthat the evidence of bribery and corruption by one of the returned\nmembers was so gross that he was forthwith unseated.\n\nSir Christopher Hawkins of Trewithen, Bart., was sole owner of the\nborough between 1784 and 1796, and he held it with an iron grasp. By\nmeans of pulling down houses, this crafty baronet thinned down the\nelectors to sixteen, and finally further reduced the number to three.\nSir Christopher held Grampound and Tregony as well in his fist, and\nhad runners at his several boroughs to keep him informed how election\nproceedings went on in each place. His high-handed proceedings and his\ncloseness in everything not connected with elections made him vastly\nunpopular. One morning a paper was found affixed to the gates of\nTrewithen.\n\n \u201cA large house, and no cheer,\n A large park, and no deer,\n A large cellar, and no beer.\n Sir Christopher Hawkins lives here.\u201d\n\nSir Kit died in 1829, unmarried, when the title became extinct, but his\nmemory continues green, if not sweet, in the minds of Cornishmen of the\nparts where he ruled.\n\nIn 1806 one of the representatives of the borough was Arthur Wellesley,\nthe subsequent Duke of Wellington.\n\nDuring eleven years, 1807-1818, there were _nine_ elections at\nMitchell. No event of importance occurred after 1818, except the\nextraordinary and significant revelation made at the contested election\nof 1831, when Hawkins, the nephew of Sir Christopher, got two votes;\nKenyon, a Tory, five; and Bent three. In the following year the five\nelectors of Mitchell found their borough disfranchised.\n\nThere were, when I visited Mitchell in 1893, two old men, brothers, of\nthe name of Manhire, one aged ninety-four, who could recollect the last\nelection, and could tell some good stories about it.\n\nTrerice, the ancient seat of the Arundells, is near Mitchell, which,\nit may be remembered, was made into a borough because completely under\ntheir control. But their influence rapidly declined, and they lost all\npower over the voters. The old house is converted into a farm, and\nis no longer in the possession of the Arundells. Its fine carved oak\nfurniture was scattered.\n\nMore charmingly idyllic than Trerice is Lanherne, another seat of the\nArundells. Roger de Arundell was at home when the Conqueror came to\nEngland. William Arundell had his lands forfeited for rebellion in the\nreign of King John, but they passed to his nephew, Humphrey Arundell,\nin 1216. His son, Sir Renfrey Arundell of Treffry, married the daughter\nand heiress of Sir John de Lanherne in the reign of Henry III., and\nsince then Lanherne became one of the favourite family seats of a house\nthat acquired the baronies of Wardour and Trerice.\n\nLanherne lies in the loveliest vale in Cornwall, shut in and screened\nfrom the blasts that sweep from the Atlantic. The old house was\nabandoned in 1794 to the nuns of Mount Carmel, who fled to England\nfor refuge from the storms of the French Revolution. The front of the\nmansion is of the date 1580, and is eminently picturesque. A modern\nrange of buildings has been added for the accommodation of the nuns,\nbut it is not unsightly. The lovely pinnacled tower of the church of\nS. Mawgan rises beside the ancient mansion, at a considerably lower\nlevel, and the interior is rich with sculptured oak, and with monuments\nof the Arundells.\n\nAlas! the mighty family that once dominated in Cornwall, second in\npower only to the Princes of Wales, royal dukes of that duchy, is now\nrepresented in Cornwall by empty mansions, alienated to other holders,\nand by tombs.\n\nThe motto of the family is \u201cDeo data--Given by God.\u201d It might be\nproperly supplemented, If the Lord gave, the Lord hath also taken away.\n\nLanherne is in the parish of S. Mawgan. The church has been coldly and\nunsympathetically renovated by Mr. Butterfield. It contains very fine\ncarved bench-ends and a screen that deserve inspection. The tower of\nthe church is peculiarly beautiful, and the church rises above a grove\nof the true Cornish elm, growing like poplars, small-leaved.\n\nCarnanton was formerly the dwelling of William Noye, a farmer of\nBuryan, who was bred as student-at-law in Lincoln\u2019s Inn, and afterwards\nbecame M. P. for S. Ives in Cornwall, in which capacity he stood for\nseveral Parliaments in the beginning of the reign of Charles I.,\nand was one of the boldest and stoutest champions of the rights of\nParliament against absolute monarchy. Charles I. then made him his\nattorney-general, 1631, whereupon his views underwent a complete\nchange, \u201cso that,\u201d as Halls says, \u201clike the image of Janus at Rome,\nhe looked forward and backward, and by means thereof greatly enriched\nhimself.\u201d He it was who contrived the ship-money tax, which was so\nobnoxious, and was a principal occasion of the Rebellion.\n\nThe attorney-general one day was entertaining King Charles I. and the\nnobility of the court at dinner in his house in London. Ben Jonson and\nother choice spirits were at the same time in a tavern on the opposite\nside of the street, very much out of pocket, and with their stomachs\nequally empty.\n\nBen, knowing what was going on opposite, wrote this little metrical\nepistle and sent it to the attorney-general on a white wood trencher:--\n\n \u201cWhen the World was drown\u2019d\n No deer was found,\n Because there was noe Park;\n And here I sitt\n Without een a bitt,\n \u2019Cause Noyah hath all in his Arke.\u201d\n\nThe presentation of this billet caused great amusement, and Noyes sent\nback a dish of venison with the rhymes recast, at the dictation of the\nking, in this fashion:--\n\n \u201cWhen the World was drown\u2019d\n There deer was found,\n Althoe there was noe Park;\n I send thee a bitt\n To quicken thy witt,\n Which comes from Noya\u2019s Arke.\u201d\n\nHalls says:--\n\n \u201cWilliam Noye was blow-coal, incendiary, and stirrer up\n of the Civil Wars by assisting and setting up the King\u2019s\n prerogative to the highest pitch, as King James I. had\n done before, beyond the laws of the land. As counsell for\n the King he prosecuted for King Charles I. the imprisoned\n members of the House of Commons, 1628; viz., Sir John\n Elyot, Mr. Coryton, and others; whom after much cost and\n trouble he got to be fined two thousand pounds each, the\n others five hundred pounds.\u201d\n\nA portrait of William Noye, by Cornelius Jansen, is at Enys, the\nproperty of D. G. Enys, Esq.\n\nS. Mawgan, the founder of the church, as also of that in Kerrier, was a\nman of extraordinary importance to the early Celtic Church in Ireland,\nWales, Scotland, and Cornwall. He was the great educator of the saints,\nand perhaps the first head of a college in Britain. He had under him\nS. David, Paulinus, and the ill-conditioned Gildas; and he is probably\nthe same as Maucan, \u201cthe master,\u201d entrusted by S. Patrick with the\neducation of the clergy for the Irish mission. S. Euny and S. Torney\nwere disciples of his, and it was he who gave to Brig, or Breaca, the\nrules by which a religious community of women should be governed.\n\nHis great educational establishment was at Ty Gwyn, or the White House.\nThis was planted on the slope of Carn Llidy, a purple, heather-clothed\ncrag close to S. David\u2019s Head in Pembrokeshire, whence in the evening\nthe sun can be seen setting behind the mountains of Wexford.\n\nHere remains of a rude old chapel can be traced, and around it are\ncountless very early interments in unhewn stone graves, pointing east\nand west. In fact, this is the necropolis of the great missionary home\nwhence streamed the first Christian teachers into Ireland, and whence\nScotland, Cornwall, and Wales were supplied with evangelists.[23]\n\nHis establishment was a double one, of female disciples as well as of\nmales, and the consequences were not always satisfactory.\n\nA British king named Drust (523-28) sent his daughter to Ty Gwyn to\nbe educated. In the college were at the time Finnian, afterwards of\nClonard, and two other Irishmen, Rioc and Talmage. Rioc fell in love\nwith the girl, and bribed Finnian to be his go-between and get her for\nhim as wife by the promise of a copy of all Mawgan\u2019s books that he\nundertook to make. Finnian agreed, but by treachery, or as a joke, did\nthe courting for Talmage in place of Rioc. When the circumstances came\nto the ears of Mawgan he was very angry, and he gave his boy a hatchet,\nand told him to hide behind the chapel, and when Finnian came to matins\nto hew at him from behind. But instead of Finnian, the first to arrive\nwas Mawgan himself, and he received the blow destined for Finnian.\nHappily, either because the boy missed his aim in the dark, or more\nprobably because the order had been given to beat Finnian and not kill\nhim, Mawgan was not mortally wounded.\n\nNon, the mother of S. David, was brought up in the same house, and was\nthere when it was visited by Gildas the historian, whose works we have.\n\nIt does not at all appear that the rule of celibacy was required of\nclergy, even of abbots, in the early Celtic Church, for this same\nGildas was father of two founders of churches in Cornwall--S. Eval and\nS. Filius, of Philleigh; and S. Kenneth, the crippled Abbot of Gower,\nwas the father of S. Enoder.\n\nS. Patrick in Ireland did not require his bishops to be unmarried; all\nhe demanded of them was that they should follow the apostolic rule,\nand that each should be the husband of one wife. The same regulation\ncontinued in force in Wales till the Norman invasion in the twelfth\ncentury.\n\nS. Patrick was no doubt mainly guided in making his rule by what was\nordered in Scripture, but he was also doubtless satisfied that on\npractical grounds it was the best course, for he had a difficult team\nof missionaries to drive. This comes out clearly enough in the \u201cLives\u201d\nextant.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVI.\n\n THE LIZARD\n\n Meneage--The meaning of Lizard--The character of the\n district--Helston--The Furry Day--Pixy pots--Loe\n Pool--Tennyson--Serpentine--The Cornish heath--The\n Strapwort--Other plants--Woad--S. Piran and the\n woad--Windmill--Peter Odger--Mullion--Tregonning Hill--S.\n Ruan--S. Winwaloe--One and All--Gunwalloe Church--Cury--The\n colonisation of Brittany--Wrecks.\n\n\n\u201cThe learned Scotus\u201d, says Addison in the 174th number of the _Tatler_,\n\u201cto distinguish the race of mankind, gives to every individual of that\nspecies what he calls a seity, something peculiar to himself, which\nmakes him different from all other persons in the world.\u201d\n\nWhat the learned Scotus said of individuals may as truly be said of\nlocalities; and indisputably the seity of the Lizard is most pronounced.\n\nIn itself the district is not beautiful. It consists of a tableland\nelevated a few hundred feet above the sea, very bald and treeless, and\nwithout hills to break its uniformity.\n\n[Illustration: THE LIZARD]\n\nProperly it is not the Lizard at all, but Meneage, _i.e._ the land of\nthe Minachau, the monks. Lizard--Lis-arth, the high-placed or lofty\nLis(court)--applies merely to the head and point where stands now\nLizard Town, and where was formerly the enclosed court of a prince\nof the district, or perhaps that of the Irish monks, who occupied the\nregion and appropriated it.\n\nIt is almost an island, for the Helford river runs up to Gweek, five\nmiles from the Helston river, that opens into Loe Pool.\n\nHelston is not a particularly interesting place in itself. It consists\nof a long street leading to the old bowling-green, which is preserved,\nand stands above the ravine of the Cober (Gael. _cobhair_, foam), where\nis an archway to William Millett Grylls, designed for execution in\nsugar-candy and executed in granite.\n\nWhat makes Helston interesting is the annual observance of the Furry\nDay, on May 8th. It has been often described. The morning is ushered\nin by a peal of bells from the church tower, and at about nine o\u2019clock\nthe people assemble and demand their prescriptive holiday. They then\ncollect donations, and repair to the fields \u201cto bring home the May.\u201d\n\nAbout noon they return, carrying flowers and branches, and a procession\nof dancing couples is formed at the Town Hall; and this proceeds down\nthe town, dancing in at the front door of every house and out at the\nback, and so along their way, with a band preceding them, performing\nthe traditional Furry Dance tune, which is not of any remarkable age,\nbeing a hornpipe. The dancers first trip in couples, hand in hand,\nduring the first part of the tune, forming a string of from thirty to\nforty couples, or perhaps more; at the second part of the tune the\nfirst gentleman turns, with both hands, the lady behind him, and her\npartner turns in like manner as the first lady; then each gentleman\nturns his own partner, and they trip on as before. The other couples\npair and turn in the same way and at the same time.\n\nIt is considered a slight to pass a house and not to dance through it.\nFinally the train enters the Assembly Room, and there resolves itself\ninto an ordinary waltz.\n\nAs soon as the first party has finished another goes through the same\nevolutions, and then another, and so on; and it is not till late at\nnight that the town returns to its peaceful propriety.\n\nThe dancers on the first day are the gentlemen and ladies. The servants\ngo through the same proceedings on the morrow.\n\nI have given both the song and tune in my _Songs of the West_.\n\nA few years ago the celebration was discontinued; but this provoked\nsuch dissatisfaction that it was revived with fresh zest.\n\nThe visitor to Helston may see an occasional pixy pot on a roof-ridge\nof an old house. This is a bulbous ornament, on which the pixies are\nsupposed to dance, and in dancing drop luck on the house below.\n\nLoe Pool is the largest lake in Cornwall; the only other is Dozmare.\nIt is a beautiful sheet of fresh water cut off from the sea by a\npebble ridge, which it was wont to overflow, but a culvert has been\nbored through the rocks to enable the Cober to discharge without, as\nformerly, rising and inundating the land below Helston.\n\nIt is really marvellous to see how the mesembryanthemum flourishes\nhere, throwing up masses of pink and white blossom.\n\nIn the neighbourhood it is fondly dreamed that this was the tarn into\nwhich Arthur had Excalibur cast.\n\n \u201cOn one side lay the ocean, and on one\n Lay a great water----\u201d\n\nAfter the sword had been cast in, hither Arthur was carried by Sir\nBedivere.\n\n \u201cTo left and right\n The bare black cliff clang\u2019d round him, as he based\n His feet on juts of slippery crag, that rang\n Sharp smitten with the dint of armed heels--\n And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,\n And the long glories of the winter moon.\u201d\n\nHither came the \u201cdusky barge\u201d that was to bear Arthur away to the isles\nof the blessed. This is very pretty; the lake, the black serpentine\nrocks agree well enough, but how was the fairy barge to get over the\npebble ridge? Mr. Rogers had not then cut the culvert. No doubt it was\nbrimming, but it must have been risky over the bar. I do not believe a\nword of it. Arthur never was down there. The reputed site of the battle\nis at Slaughter Bridge, near Camelford. But before we settle where\nthe battle was fought, we must fix Arthur himself, and he is slippery\n(historically) as an eel.\n\nWhat makes the Lizard district interesting is in the first place the\nserpentine rock that forms it, and then the plants which luxuriate on\nthe serpentine.\n\nThe serpentine lies to the west, reared up in the magnificent cliffs of\nMullion and Kynance coves, but the main body of the upheaved plateau\nconsists of another volcanic rock called gabbro. The serpentine is so\ncalled because it has something of the glaze and greenness of a snake\u2019s\nskin.\n\nThe Lizard rocks have long been an object of interest and dispute among\ngeologists. For a study of them I must refer to the papers of Mr. T.\nClark in the _Transactions of the Polytechnic Institution of Cornwall_.\n\nThe most casual visitor must be struck, if in Meneage at the season of\nflowering, with the abundance of the beautiful Cornish heath (_Erica\nvagans_), which in growth and general appearance cannot for a moment be\nmistaken for the common heath. The Rev. C. A. Johns says of it in his\n_Week at the Lizard_:--\n\n \u201cThe stems are much branched, and in the upper parts very\n leafy, from two to four feet high. The flowers are light\n purple, rose-coloured, or pure white. In the purple variety\n the anthers are dark purple; in the white, bright red; and\n in all cases they form a ring outside the corolla until\n they have shed their pollen, when they droop to the sides.\n On the Goonhilley Downs in Cornwall these varieties of\n heath grow together in the greatest profusion, covering\n many hundreds of acres, and almost excluding the two\n species so common elsewhere.\u201d\n\nIt flowers from July to September.\n\nAnother heath found there and near Truro is the _Erica ciliaris_, with\nbright purple flowers of oblong form; it is by far the most beautiful\nof our English heaths. The flowers are half an inch in length, growing\ndown the upper part of the stem, and the leaves are delicately fringed\nwith hairs. It has a somewhat glutinous feel. It is rare except in\nCornwall.\n\nA rare plant, and pretty withal, is the strapwort (_Corrigiola\nlittoralis_), trailing among the shingle on the bar of Loe Pool. It has\nminute white flowers and glaucous leaves. The plant has a curious habit\nof shifting its quarters almost every year from one part of the shore\nto another.\n\n \u201cSometimes, for instance, it abounds on the slaty beach at\n Penrose, but scarcely a single specimen is to be found on\n the opposite side of the lake. Next year, perhaps, it grows\n in profusion on the eastern beaches, but has disappeared\n from its former station.\u201d (JOHNS.)\n\nThe strapwort grows nowhere else in Britain but here and in two places\nin Devonshire.\n\nOn the cliffs may be seen the sky-blue vernal squill in May and June,\nbut by midsummer it has disappeared to make room for the autumnal\nsquill, a much less beautiful species.\n\nIn marshy spots may be found the pale pinguicula and the buckbean. Four\nkinds of genistas are to be seen in flower, bright and yellow.\n\nThe purple allium, or chive garlic, may be found where water has stood\nduring the winter.\n\nThe common asparagus grows in great abundance in the clefts of the\nrocks. In ravines flourishes the blood-red crane\u2019s-bill, and the common\nharebell, so desiderated on the granite formation, but not found there,\nmay here be met with.\n\nMr. Johns says:--\n\n \u201cA sloping bank on the right hand of Caerthillian valley,\n about a hundred yards from the sea, produces, I think, more\n botanical rarities than any other spot of equal dimensions\n in Great Britain. Here are crowded together in so small a\n space that I actually covered with my hat growing specimens\n all together of _Lotus hispidus_, _Trifolium Bocconi_, _T.\n Molinerii_, and _T. Strictum_. The first of these is far\n from common, the others grow nowhere else in Great Britain.\u201d\n\nThe cross-leaved heath, found elsewhere pretty generally, with its\nlittle cluster of pale waxlike bells at the head of the stalk, does not\naffect the Lizard.\n\nThe woad, wherewith our British ancestors dyed themselves, flourishes\nabundantly in the Meneage peninsula. It has bright yellow flowers in\npanicles growing on an upright stem, some two or three feet high, and\nappears in June and July.\n\nThe woad (_Isatis tinctoria_) yields true indigo, but it contains only\nabout one-thirtieth of the quantity found on the indigo tinctoria\ncultivated in India. The leaves are ground to a paste in a mill, and\nthen allowed to ferment during eight or twelve days. After that they\nare formed into balls and dried.\n\nIn ancient times this pasty mess was directly used in dyeing by\nthose who carried on all kinds of domestic works at home. During\nthe putrefactive fermentation of the woad ammonia is formed and\nhydrogen evolved. The latter, while in the nascent state, reduces the\nblue indigo to the state of white indigo, which, being soluble, can\npenetrate the wool to be dyed, where it is deposited in the insoluble\nstate as blue indigo, on exposure to the oxygen of the air.\n\nThere is an incident in the life of S. Piran, or Kieran, who founded\na church, S. Keverne, in the Lizard district, which is connected with\ndyeing with woad.\n\nHis mother was one day engaged in preparing the dye, called by the\nIrish _glasin_. Kieran, then a child, was present; and as it was deemed\nunlucky for a male person to witness the preparation of the dye, she\nbundled him out of the cabin, whereon he uttered a curse, \u201cMay there\nbe a dark stripe in the wool,\u201d and the cloth in dyeing actually did\nexhibit a dark grey stripe in it. The _glasin_ was again prepared, and\nagain Kieran was turned out of the house, whereon he again cursed the\nprocess that the material to be dyed might be whiter than bone, and\nagain it was as he had said. The woad was prepared a third time, and\nKieran\u2019s mother asked him not to spoil it, but, on the contrary, to\nbless it. This he did with such effect that there was not made before\nor after a _glasin_ that was its equal, for what remained in the vat\nserved not only to colour all the cloth of the tribe, but made the cats\nand dogs that touched it blue as well. The explanation of the miracle\nis very simple. The two failures were due to imperfect fermentation\nin one case and over-fermentation in the other, accidents to which\nwoad was always liable, especially when prepared, as it was in ancient\ntimes, from the fresh leaves, in different stages of growth, and at one\nperiod of the year, when the weather was warm and changeable.[24]\n\nWe can see in this story how a fable of a miracle grew up. The\ncircumstance certainly may have happened, and it was afterwards\nattributed to the saintly boy being turned out of doors, and\nill-wishing the dye-vat.\n\nBefore the introduction of indigo, woad was specially cultivated in\nEurope, but after the former was brought in, the woad was no longer\nraised. At first, indeed, indigo and woad were employed together in\ndyeing; then came the plan of using certain chemicals in place of\nwoad, which injured the wool and destroyed the quality of cloths; so\nthat in Thuringia orders were issued by the Government prohibiting the\nemployment of indigo.\n\nThere is plenty of material for dyeing to be found in Meneage. The\nmoss _Hypnum cupressiformum_ is still employed in the county of Mayo\nfor the purpose of giving wool for stockings a reddish brown colour\nmottled with white. The white woollen yarn to be dyed is made into\nskeins; these are tied at intervals by very tight ligatures of linen\nthread, and then put into the dye vat. The binds prevent the dye from\npenetrating into that portion of the wool compressed by them, and\nthese portions remain pure white, whereas the rest comes out a rich\norange-brown colour. When this thread is knitted into stockings it\nproduces a pretty mottled pattern--the heather, as it is now called.\nAnd in all probability the speckled garments to which old King Brychan\nowed his name were thus produced.\n\nBed-straw and madder again yield yellow and red, and alder and bogbean\na fine black. So the Lizard, when other trades fail, can go in for\ndyeing.\n\nThere is a single windmill in the district.\n\nThe story goes that at one time it was rumoured that a second was about\nto be constructed. The miller was concerned. He went to see the man who\nentertained the scheme.\n\n\u201cI say, mate, be you goin\u2019 to set up another windmill?\u201d\n\n\u201cI reckon I be; you don\u2019t object? There\u2019s room for more nor one.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, room, room enough! But there mayn\u2019t be wind enough to sarve us\nboth.\u201d\n\nAn old chap named Peter Odger lived near Mullion. He was somewhat given\nto the bottle. One day he went with a cart and horse along the road,\nand took a keg of cider with him. The day was hot, the cider got into\nhis head, and he fell asleep. Some boys found the horse standing in the\nroad feeding. They took the brute out and drove it away.\n\nAn hour later Peter awoke, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. \u201cWell, if\niver!\u201d said he. \u201cBe I Peter Odger or be I not? \u2019Tes contrary any way.\nIf I be Peter Odger, I\u2019ve lost an \u2019orse; if I bain\u2019t, why I\u2019ve gained\na cart.\u201d\n\nPeter and his wife did not get on very \u201csuant\u201d together. At last Peter\ncould endure domestic broils no longer; so one day he took every penny\nhe had, and started for the United States. He shipped from Liverpool.\n\nAs the vessel neared the Newfoundland coast it got into the cold\ncurrent setting down from the north, and an iceberg hove in sight. This\nwas too much for Peter. \u201cI likes warmth,\u201d said he, \u201cand the only warmth\nI don\u2019t like is when my wife gives it me. I reckon I\u2019ll go home.\u201d So he\ncovenanted to work his passage back, and by some means or other he did\nnot surrender his ticket for the passage across.\n\nWithout landing in America, Peter returned in the vessel in which he\nhad gone out, and with his ticket in his pocket. He walked quietly into\nhis cottage, and put the ticket up on the mantel-shelf.\n\n\u201cThear, old woman,\u201d said he, \u201cI\u2019ve been and got your ticket for the\nother world. It cost a sight o\u2019 money, but I don\u2019t grudge it.\u201d\n\nMrs. Odger in the meanwhile had been hard put to it, with no money in\nthe house, and had led a hand-to-mouth existence, mainly on charity.\nShe did not like it. She was glad to see Peter back.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve been a long time away,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cEes, I reckon. I just tripped over to see that all were ready for you\nin the other world. They\u2019m expectin\u2019 of you, and here\u2019s your ticket.\u201d\n\nIt is said that Mrs. Odger was amiable after that. The ticket was ever\nheld in terror over her head.\n\nAt Mullion, once a quiet, lost corner of the world, are now three\nmonster hotels with electric light; their windows look out seaward\nacross the great bay towards Penzance and the granitic headlands of\nPenwith. From the Lizard the only prominent hill visible is Tregonning,\nwhich was held by the Irish colony in the beginning of the sixth\ncentury against the Cornish King Tewdrig, and is still crowned with\ntheir stone camp.\n\nOne of the Irish who settled in Meneage was S. Ruan, or Rumon. How\nlong he remained there we do not know, but he not only founded two\nchurches in the Lizard district and blessed there a holy well, but he\nalso planted an establishment at Ruan Lanihorne, near Tregony, and a\nchapel at the mouth of the Fal; his bones were translated to Tavistock\nAbbey in 960. He was a convert of S. Patrick, but left his native\nisland early for Britain, where he was ordained. On leaving Cornwall\nhe visited Brittany, and got into trouble there, for the people took\nit into their heads that he was a magician, who every night went about\nin the form of a wolf and devoured their sheep and carried off their\nchildren. One woman even denounced him to the prince, Gradlo, for\nhaving eaten her daughter. The prince, or duke, could not directly\noppose the superstition of his people, so he announced that he would\nexpose Ruan to his wolf-dogs, and if they smelt anything of the wild\nbeast about him they would tear him to pieces. This was a satisfactory\ndecision; it promised sport. But, in the meantime, Gradlo suffered his\nhounds to be with Ruan, and to be fed from his hand. Accordingly, when\nthe old Irish monk was produced before his accusers and the hounds let\nin on him, they licked his hands. The people were quite satisfied, and\nRuan doubtless then had a hint to make tracks for Cornwall once more,\nwhere there were no wolves--at least, in the Lizard district.\n\nMullion Church is perhaps dedicated to S. Melyan, a prince of Cornwall,\nwho was treacherously murdered by his brother-in-law, Riwhal, at a\nconference. I have already told the story. But it is also possible that\nthe patron saint may be a Brittany bishop.\n\nLandewednack and Gunwalloe are foundations of S. Winwaloe, related to\nthe Cornish royal family, but chiefly known as a founder in Brittany.\n\nHis great foundation there was Landewennec; but that he visited Britain\nto see what was the rule observed in British monasteries is what we\nare expressly told in his _Life_. However, he clearly came to Britain\nto make foundations as well, and he not only established the Cornish\nLandewednack and Gunwalloe in the Lizard district, but churches near\nLaunceston, and Portlemouth on the estuary of the Kingsbridge creek in\nDevon.\n\n[Illustration: GUNWALLOC CHURCH]\n\nHis mother is called Gwen the Three-breasted, and she is actually\nrepresented with three breasts on a monument in Brittany. She was niece\nof Constantine I. of Cornwall and Devon, and cousin of Geraint. Gwen\nhad been married before, and had become the mother of S. Cadfan. She\nand her husband had a rough time of it when they landed in Brittany,\nat Brehat, at the mouth of the Gouet, as the region was almost void of\npopulation, and given up to wilderness and wood. Winwaloe was sent into\nthe little islet of Brehat to S. Budoc, who lived there and received\nand taught disciples. It is interesting to know that the circular huts,\nor foundations of the huts, of his monastery still exist there as well\nas the cemetery, and the abbot\u2019s beehive habitation is kept in repair\nas a landmark for fishermen.\n\nWhen Winwaloe came to man\u2019s estate he resolved on founding a monastery\nof his own. He gathered together a certain number of disciples,\nthirteen in all, and they settled on a bleak island off the western\ncoast, and remained there for three years.\n\nOn this islet was a rocky hill, whereon S. Winwaloe sat and taught; and\nfar away to the east, as he taught, he saw the green forests and the\nsmiling pastures of the mainland golden with buttercups, and there rose\nthe smoke from the hearths of the inhabitants.\n\nNow when the three years were ended, one day there came an\nextraordinary ebb-tide. And when the saint saw that there was a way\ndry, or almost dry, to the land, \u201cArise,\u201d said he; \u201cin God\u2019s name let\nus go over;\u201d and he bade his disciples follow him. \u201cBut,\u201d said he, \u201clet\nnone go alone; let one hold my hand, and with his other hand hold his\nbrother\u2019s, and so let us advance in chain, and we shall peradventure be\nable to reach the land before the tide turns and overwhelms all. Let\nus hold together, that the strong may support the weak, and that if one\nfalls the others may lift him up.\u201d\n\nNow when Winwaloe said this, he spoke like a true Cornishman, and it\nshows that the great Cornish principle of One and All was seated in his\nheart all those centuries ago; in fact, in the sixth century.\n\nAn old miner from Australia said to me the other day, \u201cNever saw such\nfellows as those Cornishmen; they hold together like bees. When I\nwas out in Australia there was a Cornishman with me, my pal. One day\nsomeone said to us, \u2018There is a Cornishman from Penzance just landed\nat Melbourne.\u2019 \u2018Where\u2019s his diggings?\u2019 asked my pal. \u2018Oh, he is gone\nup country to----\u2019 I forget the name of the mine. Will you believe it,\noff went my pal walking, I can\u2019t tell you how far, and was away several\ndays from his work--gone off to see that newly-arrived chap; didn\u2019t\nknow his name even, but _he was a Cornishman_, and that was enough to\ndraw him.\u201d\n\nSir Redvers Buller told me a story. He was on his way with a regiment\nof soldiers to Canada. Off the entrance to the S. Lawrence the vessel\nwas enveloped in fogs and delayed, so that provisions ran short. Now\nthere was a station on an islet there for shipwrecked mariners, where\nwere supplies. So Sir Redvers went ashore in a boat to visit the store\nand ask for assistance.\n\nWhen he applied, he found a woman only in charge.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said she; \u201cthe supplies are for those who be shipwrecked, not for\nsuch as you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut this is a Government dep\u00f4t, and we are servants of the Crown.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t help it; you\u2019m not shipwrecked.\u201d\n\nNow there was a very recognisable intonation in the woman\u2019s voice. Sir\nRedvers at once assumed the Cornish accent, and said, \u201cWhat! not for\ndear old One and All, and I a Buller?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! from Cornwall, and a Buller! Take everything there is in the\nplace; you\u2019m heartily welcome.\u201d\n\nGunwalloe is a chapelry in the parish of Cury. It has a singular tower\nstanding by itself against the sandhill at the back. There is a holy\nwell on the beach, but the tide has filled it with stones. It was\nformerly cleared out on S. Gunwalloe\u2019s Day, but this, unfortunately, is\none of the good old customs that have fallen into neglect.\n\nAbout Cury a word must be said. It is dedicated to S. Corentine, a\nsaint of Quimper, in Brittany, and this is probably a place where\nAthelstan placed one of the batches of Bretons who fled to him for\nprotection in 920, but whom he could not have planted in Cornwall till\n936. That Cornwall should have received refugees from Brittany was but\njust, for Brittany had been colonised from Devon and Cornwall to a very\nconsiderable extent. As the facts are little known, I will narrate them\nhere.\n\nThe advance of the Saxons and the rolling back of the Britons had\nheaped up crowds of refugees in Wales and in Devon and Cornwall, more\nin fact than the country could maintain. Accordingly an outlet had to\nbe sought.\n\nThe Armorican peninsula was thinly populated.\n\nIn consequence of the exactions of the decaying empire, and the ravages\nof northern pirates, the Armorican seaboard was all but uninhabited,\nand the centre of the peninsula was occupied by a vast untrodden\nforest, or by barren stone-strewn moors. Armorica, therefore, was a\npromising field for colonisation.\n\nProcopius says that in the sixth century swarms of immigrants arrived\nfrom Britain, men bringing with them their wives and children. These\nmigrations assumed large dimensions in 450, 512-14, and between 561 and\n566.\n\nSo early as 461 we hear of a \u201cBishop of the Britons\u201d attending the\nCouncil of Tours. In 469 the British settlers were in sufficient force\nat the mouth of the Loire to become valuable auxiliaries against the\ninvading Visigoths.\n\nThe author of the _Life of S. Winwalloe_ says:--\n\n \u201cThe sons of the Britons, leaving the British sea, landed\n on these shores at the period when the barbarian Saxon\n conquered the isle. These children of a beloved race\n established themselves in this country, glad to find repose\n after so many griefs. In the meantime the unfortunate\n Britons who had not quitted this country were decimated\n by plague. Their corpses lay without sepulchre. The major\n portion of the isle was depopulated. Then a small number of\n men, who had escaped the sword of the invaders, abandoned\n their native land to seek refuge, some among the Scots\n (Irish), the rest in Belgic Gaul.\u201d\n\nThe plague to which reference is made is the Yellow Death, that carried\noff Maelgwn Gwynedd, King of Wales, 547.\n\nThe invasion was not a military occupation; the settlers encountered\nno resistance. Every account we have represents them as landing in a\ncountry that was denuded of its population, except in the district of\nVannes and on the Loire.\n\nIn or about 514 Riwhal, son of a Damnonian king, arrived with a large\nfleet on the north-east coast, and founded the colony and principality\nof Domnonia on the mainland.\n\nOne swarm came from Gwent, that is to say, Monmouthshire and\nGlamorganshire, where the Britons were hard pressed by the Saxons; and\nthis Gwentian colony planted itself in the north-west of the Armorican\npeninsula, and called it Leon, or Lyonesse, after the Caerleon that had\nbeen abandoned.\n\nThis Leon was afterwards annexed to Domnonia in Brittany, so as to form\na single kingdom.\n\nAgain another swarm took possession of the western seaboard, and called\nthat Cornu, either after their Cornwall at home, or because Finisterre\nis, like that, a horn thrust forward into the Atlantic.\n\nBy degrees Vannes, itself a Gallo-Roman city, was enveloped by the\nnew-comers, so that in 590 the Bishop Regalis complained that he\nwas as it were imprisoned by them within the walls of his city.\nThe Gallo-Roman prelate disliked these British invaders and their\nindependent ways. S. Melanius of Rennes and S. Felix of Nantes shared\nhis dislike. The prelates exercised much of the magisterial authority\nof the imperial governors, and to this the newly-arrived Britons\nrefused to submit. The Britons brought with them their own laws,\ncustoms, and organisation, both civil and ecclesiastical, as well as\ntheir own language.\n\nThey were at first few in numbers, and did not desire to emancipate\nthemselves wholly from Britain. Consequently, although establishing\nthemselves in clans, they held themselves to be under the sovereignty\nof their native princes at home.\n\nThis appears from the coincidence of the names of the kings in Armorica\nand in insular Domnonia.[25]\n\nAbout the downs may be seen numerous cairns and barrows. Some of these\nhave been explored, and some fine urns of the Bronze Age, that were\nfound near Gunwalloe, are now in the Truro Museum.\n\nAlas! there is one thing for which Lizard is notorious, and that is\nwrecks. The last great tragedy of that nature was the loss of the\n_Mohegan_, in 1898. A mysterious loss, for the two lights of Lizard\nshone clear to the left, and she was steered straight on the deadly\nManacles, where she went to pieces. The churchyards of S. Keverne,\nLandewednack, and Mullion contain the graves of many and many a drowned\nman and woman thrown up by the sea. But, be it remembered, formerly\nthose thus cast up, unless known, were not buried in churchyards, but\non the cliffs, as there was no guarantee that the bodies were those\nof Christians. For this reason it is by no means uncommon on these\ncliffs to come on bones protruding from the ground on the edge of the\nsea--the remains of drowned mariners, without name, and of an unknown\ndate. Indeed, it was not till 1808 that an Act was passed requiring\nthe bodies of those cast up by the sea to be buried in the parish\nchurchyard. \u201cWhat is the usual proceeding?\u201d said a curate to some\nnatives, as a drowned man from a wreck was washed ashore. \u201cIn such a\ncase as this what should be done?\u201d\n\n\u201cSarch \u2019is pockets,\u201d was the prompt reply.\n\n\nNOTE.--Books on the Lizard:--\n\nJOHNS (C. P.), _A Week at the Lizard_. S.P.C.K., 1848. Though an old\nbook, quite unsurpassed.\n\nHARVEY (T. G.), _Mullyon_. Truro, 1875.\n\nCUMMINS (A. H.), _Cury and Gunwalloe_. Truro, 1875. Good, but all these\nbooks are wild in their derivation of place-names, and not too much to\nbe trusted in their history, as, for instance, when they mistake the\nBreton Cornouaille for Cornwall, and relate as occurring in the latter\nwhat actually belongs to the Breton Cornouaille.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVII.\n\n SMUGGLING\n\n A _cache_--Smugglers\u2019\n paths--Donkeys--Hiding-places--Connivance with\n smugglers--A baronet\u2019s carriage--Wrecking--\u201cFatal\n curiosity\u201d--A ballad--Excuses made for smuggling--Story\n by Hawker--Desperate affrays--Sub-division of\n labour--\u201cCreeping\u201d--Fogous--One at Porth-cothan.\n\n\nThe other day I saw an old farmhouse in process of demolition in the\nparish of Altarnon, on the edge of the Bodmin moors. The great hall\nchimney was of unusual bulk, bulky as such chimneys usually are; and\nwhen it was thrown down it revealed the explanation of this unwonted\nsize. Behind the back of the hearth was a chamber fashioned in the\nthickness of the wall, to which access might have been had at some time\nthrough a low walled-up doorway that was concealed behind the kitchen\ndresser and plastered over. This door was so low that it could be\npassed through only on all-fours.\n\nNow the concealed chamber had also another way by which it could be\nentered, and this was through a hole in the floor of a bedroom above.\nA plank of the floor could be lifted, when an opening was disclosed\nby which anyone might pass under the wall through a sort of door, and\ndown steps into this apartment, which was entirely without light. Of\nwhat use was this singular concealed chamber? There could be little\nquestion. It was a place in which formerly kegs of smuggled spirits and\ntobacco were hidden. The place lies some fourteen or fifteen miles from\nBoscastle, a dangerous little harbour on the North Cornish coast, and\nabout a mile off the main road from London, by Exeter and Launceston,\nto Falmouth. The coach travellers in old days consumed a good deal of\nspirits, and here in a tangle of lanes lay a little emporium always\nkept well supplied with a stock of spirits which had not paid duty, and\nwhence the taverners along the road could derive the contraband liquor,\nwith which they supplied the travellers. Between this emporium and the\nsea the roads--parish roads--lie over wild moors or creep between high\nhedges of earth, on which the traveller can step along when the lane\nbelow is converted into the bed of a stream, also on which the wary\nsmuggler could stride whilst his laden mules and asses stumbled forward\nin the concealment of the deep-set lane.\n\n[Illustration: MOUNT\u2019S BAY]\n\nA very curious feature of the coasts of the West of England, where\nrocky or wild, is the trenched and banked-up paths from the coves along\nthe coast. These are noticeable in Devon and Cornwall and along the\nBristol Channel. That terrible sea-front consists of precipitous walls\nof rock, with only here and there a dip, where a brawling stream has\nsawn its course down to the sea; and here there is, perhaps, a sandy\nshore of diminutive proportions, and the rocks around are pierced in\nall directions with caverns. The smugglers formerly ran their goods\ninto these coves when the weather permitted, or the preventive men\nwere not on the look-out. They stowed away their goods in the caves,\nand gave notice to the farmers and gentry of the neighbourhood, all of\nwhom were provided with numerous donkeys, which were forthwith sent\ndown to the _caches_, and the kegs and bales were removed under cover\nof night or of storm.\n\nAs an excuse for keeping droves of donkeys, it was pretended that the\nsea-sand and the kelp served as admirable dressing for the land, and\nno doubt so they did. The trains of asses sometimes came up laden with\nsacks of sand, but not infrequently with kegs of brandy.\n\nNow a wary preventive man might watch too narrowly the proceedings of\nthese trains of asses. Accordingly squires, yeomen, farmers, alike set\nto work to cut deep ways in the face of the downs, along the slopes of\nthe hills, and bank them up, so that whole caravans of laden beasts\nmight travel up and down absolutely unseen from the sea, and greatly\nscreened from the land side.\n\nUndoubtedly the sunken ways and high banks are some protection against\nthe weather. So they were represented to be, and no doubt greatly\nwere the good folks commended for their consideration for the beasts\nand their drivers in thus, at great cost, shutting them off from the\nviolence of the gale. Nevertheless, it can hardly be doubted that\nconcealment from the eye of the coastguard was sought by this means\nquite as much as, if not more than, the sheltering the beasts of burden\nfrom the weather.\n\nA few years ago an old church house was demolished. When it was pulled\ndown it was found that the floor of large slate slabs in the lower\nroom was undermined with hollows like graves, only of much larger\ndimensions, and these had served for the concealment of smuggled\nspirits. The clerk had, in fact, dug them out, and did a little trade\non Sundays with selling contraband liquor from these stores.\n\nThe story is told of a certain baronet, who had a handsome house and\npark near the coast. By the way, he died at an advanced age only a\ncouple of years ago. The preventive men had long suspected that Sir\nThomas had done more than wink at the proceedings of the receivers of\nsmuggled goods. His park dipped in graceful undulations to the sea, and\nto a lovely creek, in which was his boathouse. But they never had been\nable to establish the fact that he favoured the smugglers, and allowed\nthem to use his grounds and outbuildings.\n\nHowever, at last, one night, a party of men with kegs on their\nshoulders was seen stealing through the park towards the mansion. They\nwere observed also leaving without the kegs. Accordingly, next morning\nthe officer in command called, together with several underlings.\nHe apologised to the baronet for any inconvenience his visit might\noccasion--he was quite sure that Sir Thomas was ignorant of the use\nmade of his park, his landing-place, even of his house--but there was\nevidence that \u201crun\u201d goods had been brought to the mansion the preceding\nnight, and it was but the duty of the officer to point this out to Sir\nThomas, and ask him to permit a search--which would be conducted with\nall the delicacy possible. The baronet, an exceedingly urbane man,\npromptly expressed his readiness to allow house, cellar, attic--every\npart of his house and every outbuilding--unreservedly to be searched.\nHe produced his keys. The cellar was, of course, the place where wine\nand spirits were most likely to be found--let that be explored first.\nHe had a cellar-book, which he produced, and he would be glad if the\nofficer would compare what he found below with his entries in the book.\nThe search was entered into with some zest, for the Government officers\nhad long looked on Sir Thomas with mistrust, and yet were somewhat\ndisarmed by the frankness with which he met them. But they ransacked\nthe mansion from garret to cellar, and every part of the outbuildings,\nand found nothing. They had omitted to look into the family coach,\nwhich was full of rum kegs, so full that to prevent the springs being\nbroken, or showing that the carriage was laden, the axle-trees had been\n\u201ctrigged up\u201d below with blocks of wood.\n\nWrecking was another form of sea-poaching. Terrible stories of ships\nlured to destruction by the exhibition of false lights are told, but\nall belong to the past. I remember an old fellow--the last of the\nCornish wreckers--who ended his days as keeper of a toll-gate. But\nhe never would allow that he had wilfully drawn a vessel upon the\nbreakers. When a ship was cast up by the gale it was another matter.\nThe dwellers on the coast could not believe that they had not a perfect\nright to whatever was washed ashore. Nowadays the coastguards keep so\nsharp a look-out after a storm that very little can be picked up. The\nusual course at present is for those who are early on the beach, and\nhave not time to secure--or fear the risk of securing--something they\ncovet, to heave the article up the cliff and lodge it there where not\neasily accessible. If it be observed--when the auction takes place--it\nis knocked down for a trifle, and the man who put it where it is\ndiscerned obtains it by a lawful claim. If it be not observed, then\nhe fetches it at his convenience. But it is now considered too risky\nafter a wreck to carry off anything of size found, and as the number\nof bidders at a sale of wreckage is not large, and they do not compete\nwith each other keenly, things of value are got for very slender\npayments.\n\nThe terrible story of the murder of a son by his father and mother,\nto secure his gold, they not knowing him, and believing him to be a\ncast-up from a wreck--the story on which the popular drama of _Fatal\nCuriosity_, by Lillo, was founded--actually took place at Boheland,\nnear Penryn.\n\nTo return to the smugglers.\n\nWhen a train of asses or mules conveyed contraband goods along a road,\nit was often customary to put stockings over the hoofs to deaden the\nsound of their steps.\n\nOne night, many years ago, a friend of the writer--a parson on the\nnorth coast of Cornwall--was walking along a lane in his parish at\nnight. It was near midnight. He had been to see, or had been sitting up\nwith, a dying person.\n\nAs he came to a branch in the lane he saw a man there, and he called\nout \u201cGood-night.\u201d He then stood still a moment, to consider which lane\nhe should take. Both led to his rectory, but one was somewhat shorter\nthan the other. The shorter was, however, stony and very wet. He chose\nthe longer way, and turned to the right. Thirty years after he was\nspeaking with a parishioner who was ill, when the man said to him\nsuddenly, \u201cDo you remember such and such a night, when you came to the\nY? You had been with Nankevill, who was dying.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I do recall something about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you remember you said \u2018Good-night\u2019 to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI remember that someone was there; I did not know it was you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you turned right, instead of left?\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare say.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you had taken the left-hand road you would never have seen next\nmorning.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy so?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere was a large cargo of \u2018run\u2019 goods being transported that night,\nand you would have met it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat of that?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat of that? You would have been chucked over the cliffs.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how could they suppose I would peach?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir! They\u2019d ha\u2019 took good care you shouldn\u2019t a\u2019 had the chance!\u201d\n\nI was sitting in a little seaport tavern in Cornwall one winter\u2019s\nevening, over a great fire, with a company of very old \u201csalts,\u201d\ngossiping, yarning, singing, when up got a tough old fellow with a\nface the colour of mahogany, and dark, piercing eyes, and the nose of\na hawk. Planting his feet wide apart, as though on deck in a rolling\nsea, he began to sing in stentorian tones a folk-song relative to\na highwayman in the old times, when Sir John Fielding, the blind\nmagistrate at Westminster, put down highway robbery.\n\nThe ballad told of the evil deeds of this mounted robber of the\nhighways, and of how he was captured by \u201cFielding\u2019s crew\u201d and condemned\nto die. It concluded:--\n\n \u201cWhen I am dead, borne to my grave,\n A gallant funeral may I have;\n Six highwaymen to carry me,\n With good broad swords and sweet liberty.\n\n \u201cSix blooming maidens shall bear my pall,\n Give them white gloves and pink ribbons all;\n And when I\u2019m dead they\u2019ll tell the truth,\n I was a wild and a wicked youth.\u201d\n\nAt the conclusion of each verse the whole assembly repeated the two\nfinal lines. It was a striking scene; their eyes flashed, their colour\nmounted, they hammered with their fists on the table and with their\nheels on the floor. Some, in the wildness of their excitement, sprang\nup, thrust their hands through their white or grey hair, and flourished\nthem, roaring like bulls.\n\nWhen the song was done, and composure had settled over the faces of the\nexcited men, one of them said apologetically to me, \u201cYou see, sir, we\nbe all old smugglers, and have gone agin the law in our best days.\u201d\n\nThere is something to be said in extenuation of the wrongfulness of\nEnglish smuggling.\n\nThe customs duties were imposed first in England for the purpose\nof protecting the coasts against pirates, who made descents on the\nundefended villages, and kidnapped and carried off children and men to\nsell as slaves in Africa, or who waylaid merchant vessels and plundered\nthem. But when all danger from pirates ceased, the duties were not only\nmaintained, but made more onerous.\n\nIt was consequently felt that there had been a violation of compact\non the side of the Crown, and bold spirits entertained no scruple\nof conscience in carrying on contraband trade. The officers of the\nCrown no longer proceeded to capture, bring to justice, and hang\nnotorious foreign pirates, but to capture, bring to justice, and hang\nnative seamen and traders. The preventive service became a means of\noppression, and not of relief.\n\nThat is the light in which the bold men of Cornwall regarded it;\nthat is the way in which it was regarded, not by the ignorant seamen\nonly, but by magistrates, country gentlemen, and parsons alike. As an\nillustration of this, we may quote the story told by the late Rev. R.\nS. Hawker, for many years vicar of Morwenstow, on the North Cornish\ncoast:--\n\n\u201cIt was full six o\u2019clock in the afternoon of an autumn day when a\ntraveller arrived where the road ran along by a sandy beach just above\nhigh-water mark.\n\n\u201cThe stranger, a native of some inland town, and entirely unacquainted\nwith Cornwall and its ways, had reached the brink of the tide just as a\nlanding was coming off. It was a scene not only to instruct a townsman,\nbut to dazzle and surprise.\n\n\u201cAt sea, just beyond the billows, lay a vessel, well moored with\nanchors at stem and stern. Between the ship and the shore boats laden\nto the gunwale passed to and fro. Crowds assembled on the beach to help\nthe cargo ashore.\n\n\u201cOn the one hand a boisterous group surrounding a keg with the head\nknocked in, into which they dipped whatsoever vessel came first to\nhand; one man had filled his shoe. On the other side they fought and\nwrestled, cursed and swore.\n\n\u201cHorrified at what he saw, the stranger lost all self-command and,\noblivious of personal danger, he began to shout: \u2018What a horrible\nsight! Have you no shame? Is there no magistrate at hand? Cannot any\njustice of the peace be found in this fearful country?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018No, thanks be,\u2019 answered a hoarse, gruff voice; \u2018none within eight\nmiles.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, then,\u2019 screamed the stranger, \u2018is there no clergyman\nhereabouts? Does no minister of the parish live among you on this\ncoast?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Aye, to be sure there is,\u2019 said the same deep voice.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, how far off does he live? Where is he?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018That\u2019s he, sir, yonder with the lantern.\u2019 And sure enough, there he\nstood on a rock, and poured, with pastoral diligence, \u2018the light of\nother days\u2019 on a busy congregation.\u201d\n\nIt may almost be said that the Government did its best to encourage\nsmuggling by the harsh and vexatious restrictions it put on trade. A\nprohibitory list of goods which might under no conditions whatever be\nimported into Great Britain included gold and silver brocade, cocoanut\nshells, foreign embroidery, manufactures of gold and silver plate,\nribbons and laces, chocolate and cocoa, calicoes printed or dyed\nabroad, gloves and mittens.\n\nBeside these a vast number of goods were charged with heavy duties, as\nspirits, tea, tobacco. The duties on these were so exorbitant, that it\nwas worth while for men to attempt to run a cargo without paying duty.\n\nTo quote a writer in the _Edinburgh Review_, at the time when smuggling\nwas fairly rife:--\n\n \u201cTo create by means of high duties an overwhelming\n temptation to indulge in crime, and then to punish men for\n indulging in it, is a proceeding wholly and completely\n subversive of every principle of justice. It revolts the\n natural feelings of the people, and teaches them to feel an\n interest in the worst characters, to espouse their cause\n and to avenge their wrongs.\u201d\n\nDesperate affrays took place between smugglers and the preventive men,\nwho were aware that the magistracy took a lenient view of the case when\none of them fell, and brought in \u201cmurder\u201d when an officer of the Crown\nshot a \u201cfree-trader.\u201d\n\nOne of the most terrible men on the Cornish coast, remembered by his\nevil repute, was \u201cCruel Coppinger.\u201d He had a house at Welcombe on the\nnorth coast, where lived his wife, an heiress. The bed is still shown\nto the post of which he tied her and thrashed her with a rope till she\nconsented to make over her little fortune to his exclusive use.\n\nCoppinger had a small estate at Roscoff, in Brittany, which was the\nheadquarters of the smuggling trade during the European war. He was\npaid by the British Government to carry despatches to and from the\nFrench coast, but he took advantage of his credentials as a Government\nagent to do much contraband business himself.\n\nI remember, as a boy, an evil-faced old man, his complexion flaming\nred and his hair very white, who kept a small tavern not in the best\nrepute. A story of this innkeeper was told, and it is possible that it\nmay be true--naturally the subject was not one on which it was possible\nto question him. He had been a smuggler in his day, and a wild one too.\n\nOn one occasion, as he and his men were rowing a cargo ashore they were\npursued by a revenue boat. Tristram Davey, as I will call this man,\nknew this bit of coast perfectly. There was a reef of sharp slate rock\nthat ran across the little bay, like a very keen saw with the teeth\nset outward, and there was but one point at which this saw could be\ncrossed. Tristram knew the point to a nicety, even in the gloaming, and\nhe made for it, the revenue boat following.\n\nHe, however, did not make direct for it, but steered a little on one\nside and then suddenly swerved and shot through the break. The revenue\nboat came straight on, went upon the jaws of the reef, was torn, and\nbegan to fill. Now the mate of this boat was one against whom Tristram\nentertained a deadly enmity, because he had been the means of a capture\nin which his property had been concerned. So he turned the boat, and\nrunning back, he stood up, levelled a gun and shot the mate through the\nheart; then away went the smuggling boat to shore, leaving the rest of\nthe revenue men to shift as best they could with their injured boat.\n\nThe most noted smuggling centre between Penzance and Porthleven was\nPrussia Cove, and there, to this day, stands the house of John Carter,\n\u201cThe King of Prussia,\u201d as he was called, the most successful and\nnotorious smuggler of the district. His reign extended from 1777 to\n1807, and he was succeeded by his son-in-law, Captain William Richards,\nunder whom Prussia Cove maintained its old celebrity.\n\nThe story goes that John Carter, as a boy, playing at soldiers with\nother boys, received the nickname of \u201cThe King of Prussia.\u201d Formerly\nthe cove was called Porthleah, but in recollection of his exploits it\nis now known as Prussia Cove.\n\nOn one occasion, during his absence from home, the excise officers\ncarried off a cargo that had lately arrived for Carter from France.\nThey conveyed it to the custom-house store. On his return, Carter\nsummoned his men, and at night he and they broke into the stores and\ncarried off all that he held to be his own, without touching a single\narticle to which he considered he had no claim. On another occasion,\nwhen Carter was pursued by a revenue cutter, and sore pressed, he ran\nthrough a narrow passage in the reefs, and fired on the cutter\u2019s boat\nsent after him. The fire was continued till night fell, and Carter was\nthen able to effect his escape.\n\nThree classes of men were engaged in the smuggling business. First came\nthe \u201cfreighter\u201d--the man who entered on the business as a commercial\nspeculation. He engaged a vessel and purchased the cargo, and made all\nthe requisite arrangements for the landing. Then came the \u201crunners,\u201d\nwho transported the goods on shore from the vessels. And lastly the\n\u201ctub-carriers,\u201d who conveyed the kegs on their backs, slung across\ntheir shoulders, up the cliff to their destination.\n\nThe tub-carriers were usually agricultural labourers in the employment\nof farmers near the coast.\n\nThese farmers were in understanding with the smugglers, and on a hint\ngiven, supplied them with their workmen, and were repaid with a keg of\nspirits.\n\nThe entire English coast was subjected to blockade by the Government to\nprevent the introduction into the country of goods that had not paid\nduty, and the utmost ingenuity and skill had to be exercised to run the\nblockade. But after that was done the smuggler still ran great risk,\nfor the coast was patrolled.\n\nSmuggling methods were infinitely varied, depending on a great variety\nof circumstances. Much daring, skill, and cleverness were required. The\nsmuggler and the preventive man were engaged in a game in which each\nused all his faculties to overreach the other.\n\nOne means employed where the coast was well watched was for the kegs to\nbe sunk. A whole \u201ccrop,\u201d as it was called, was attached to a rope, that\nwas weighted with stones and fastened at both ends by an anchor. When\na smuggling vessel saw no chance of landing its cargo, it sank it and\nfixed it with the anchors, and the bearings of the sunken \u201ccrop\u201d were\ntaken and communicated to the aiders and abettors on land, who waited\ntheir opportunity to fish it up.\n\nBut the revenue officers were well aware of this dodge, and one of\ntheir duties was to grope along the coast with hooks--\u201ccreeping\u201d was\nthe technical term--for such deposits. A crop that had been sunk in\na hurry, and not in very deep water, was likely to suffer. The ropes\nchafed and broke, or a floating keg, or one washed ashore, was a\ncertain betrayal of the presence of a crop not far off.\n\nAs a rule the contents of the sunken kegs suffered no deterioration\nfrom being under water for some time; but if submerged too long the\nspirits turned bad. Such deteriorated spirits were known amongst\ncoastguardsmen as \u201cstinkibus.\u201d\n\nEvery barrel of liquor as provided by the merchants at Roscoff and\nelsewhere was furnished with a pair of sling ropes ready for attachment\nto the cord in the event of sinking, and for carrying by the tub-men\nwhen safely worked on shore.\n\nVery often when a rowboat, towing a line of kegs after it, was pursued,\nthe smugglers were forced to let go the casks. Then the coastguard\nsecured them, but found the magistrates loath to convict, because\nthey could not swear that the kegs picked up were identical with those\nlet go by the smugglers. Accordingly they were ordered, whenever such\nan event happened, to mark the line of kegs by casting to them a\npeculiarly painted buoy.\n\nIn order to have information relative to the smugglers, so as to be on\nthe alert to \u201cnab\u201d them, the Government had paid spies in the foreign\nports, and also in the English ports.\n\nWoe betide a spy if he were caught! No mercy was shown him. There is\nhere and there on the coast a pit, surrounded on all sides but one by\nthe sea, that goes by the name of \u201cDead Man\u2019s Pool,\u201d in which tradition\nsays that spies have been dropped.\n\nMr. Hawker, who has already been quoted, had as his man-of-all-work\nan ex-smuggler named Pentire, from whom he got many stories. One day\nPentire asked Mr. Hawker:--\n\n\u201cCan you tell me the reason, sir, that no grass will ever grow on the\ngrave of a man that\u2019s hanged unjustly?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! How came that about?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you see, they got poor Will down to Bodmin, all among strangers;\nand there was bribery and false swearing, and so they agreed together\nand hanged poor Will. But his friends begged the body and brought the\ncorpse home here to his own parish, and they turfed the grave, and they\nsowed the grass twenty times over, but \u2019twas all of no use, nothing\nwould grow; he was hanged unjustly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, but, Pentire, what was he accused of? What had Will Pooly done?\u201d\n\n\u201cDone, your honour? Oh, nothing at all--only killed an exciseman.\u201d\n\nThere are around the coast a great number of what are locally called\nVougghas, or Fogous (_Welsh_ Ogofau), caves that were artificially\nconstructed for the stowing away of \u201crun\u201d goods.\n\nThere is one at Stoke Fleming, near Dartmouth. All along both south and\nnorth coasts they are fairly common. On Dartmoor there are also some,\nbut these were for the preparation of spirits, most likely, and the\nstowing away of what was locally \u201cburnt.\u201d They are now employed for\nturnip cellars.\n\nAt one of the wildest and most rugged points of a singularly wild and\nrugged coast, that of the north of Cornwall, are two tiny bays, Porth\nCothan and Porth Mear, in the parishes of S. Merryn and S. Eval, at\nno great distance from Bedruthan, which has the credit of being the\nfinest piece of cliff scenery on this coast. Here the cliffs tower up\na hundred to a hundred and fifty feet above the sea; the raging surf\nfoams over chains of islets formed by the waves, which burrow among the\nslaty, quartzose rocks, form caves, work further, insulate crags, and\nfinally convert into islands these nodes of more durable rock. At Porth\nCothan the cliffs fall away and form a lap of shore, into which flows a\nlittle stream, that loses itself in the shifting sands. A manor-house,\na mill, a farmhouse or two are all the dwellings near Porth Cothan,\nand of highways there is none for many miles, the nearest being that\nfrom Wadebridge to S. Columb. About a mile up the glen that forms the\nchannel through which the stream flows into Porth Cothan, is a tiny\nlateral combe, the steep sides covered with heather and dense clumps\nand patches of furze.\n\nRather more than half-way down the steep slope of the hill is a hole\njust large enough to admit of a man entering in a stooping posture. To\nbe strictly accurate, the height is 3 ft. 6 in. and the width 3 ft.\nBut once within, the cave is found to be loftier, and runs for 50 feet\ndue west, the height varying from 7 ft. 6 in. to 8 ft. 6 in., and the\nwidth expanding to 8 ft. 3 in. Immediately within the entrance may be\nobserved notches cut in the rock, into which a beam might be thrust to\nclose the mouth of the cave, which was then filled in with earth and\nbramble bushes drawn over it, when it would require a very experienced\neye to discover it. As it was, though the mouth was open, my guide was\nin fault and unable to find it, and it was by accident only that I lit\nupon it.\n\nAt 7 feet from the entrance a lateral gallery branches off to the\nright, extending at present but 17 feet, and of that a portion of the\nroof has fallen in. This gallery was much lower than the main one,\nnot being higher than 3 feet, but probably in a portion now choked it\nrose, at all events in places, to a greater height. This side gallery\nnever served for the storage of smuggled goods. It was a passage that\noriginally was carried as far as the little cluster of cottages at\nTrevethan, whence, so it is said, another passage communicated with the\nsands of Porth Mear. The opening of the underground way is said to have\nbeen in a well at Trevethan. But the whole is now choked up. The tunnel\nwas not carried in a straight line. It branched out of the trunk at an\nacute angle, and was carried in a sweep through the rocks with holes\nat intervals for the admission of light and air. The total length must\nhave been nearly 3500 feet. The passage can in places be just traced by\nthe falling in of the ground above, but it cannot be pursued within. At\nthe beginning of this century this smugglers\u2019 cave was in use.\n\nThere is still living an old woman who can give information relative to\nthe use of this cave.\n\n\u201cWell, Genefer, did you ever see smugglers who employed the Vouggha?\u201d\n\nVouggha, as already stated, is the old Cornish word for cave.\n\n\u201cWell, no, sir. I can\u2019t say that; but my father did. He minded well the\ntime when the Vouggha was filled wi\u2019 casks of spirits right chuck-full.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how were they got there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was easy enough. The boats ran their loads into Porth Cothan,\nor, if the preventive men were on the watch, into Porth Mear, which is\nhidden by the Island of Trescore, drawn like a screen in front. They\nthen rolled the kegs, or carried \u2019em, to the mouth of the Vouggha or\nto Trevemedar, it did not matter which, and they rolled \u2019em into the\nbig cave, and then stopped the mouth up. They could go and get a keg\nwhenever they liked by the little passage that has its mouth in the\ngarden.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid the preventive men never find out this place?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, sir, never. How could they? Who\u2019d be that wicked as to tell\nthem? and they wasn\u2019t clever enough to find it themselves. Besides, it\nwould take a deal of cleverness to find the mouth of the Vouggha when\nclosed with clats of turf and drawn over with brambles; and that in the\ngarden could be covered in five minutes--easy.\u201d After a pause the old\nwoman said, \u201cAh! it\u2019s a pity I be so old and feeble, or I could show\nyou another as I knows of, and, I reckon, no one else. But my father he\nhad the secret. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what is the world coming to--for\neducation and all kinds o\u2019 wickedness? Sure, there\u2019s no smuggling now,\nand poor folks ha\u2019n\u2019t got the means o\u2019 bettering themselves like proper\nChristians.\u201d\n\nThere are other of these smugglers\u2019 resorts extant in Cornwall, usually\nbuilt up underground--one such at Marsland, in Morwenstow; another at\nHelliger, near Penzance. The Penrose cave is, however, cut out of the\nsolid rock, and the pickmarks are distinctly traceable throughout. At\nthe end, someone has cut his initials in the rock, with the date 1747.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVIII.\n\n PENZANCE\n\n Penzance, the Holy Headland--Madron--A disciple of S. Piran--\n Madron Well--The Feast--Climate--The Irish Colonisation--\n Penwith--S. Breage--Tregonning Hill--Pencaer--Movements\n of S. Breage--Cross of coagulated blood--Frescoes--Former\n extent of Breage--Sithney--Germoe Church and Chair--Germoe\u2019s\n story--Pengersick Castle--The Millatons--The Giant\u2019s throw--\n Godolphin Hall--Skewis and Henry Rogers--Clowance--The\n Irish invaders--Gwinear--Ludgvan--The flower farms--S.\n Hilary--S. Michael\u2019s Mount--Submerged forest--Castel-an-Dinas--\n Chysauster huts--The \u201cRounds\u201d--Newlyn--The Breton Newlyna.\n\n\nPenzance, the most western market town in Cornwall, is of comparatively\nmodern growth. Formerly it was but a fishing village, occupying\na promontory now distinguished as the quay, where stood a chapel\ndedicated to S. Anthony. The name signifies the Holy Head, or Headland,\nand there was probably a chapel on the projecting finger of land long\nbefore the time of S. Anthony of Padua (1231), whose cult was fostered\nby the Franciscan Order. It is not improbable that on this headland\nthere may have been a camp, in which case the dedication is merely a\nmisconception of An-Dinas. The town arms are S. John the Baptist\u2019s head\non a charger, also through misconception, the Holy Head being supposed\nto be his.\n\nOn the east side of the town near the shore was Lis-Cadock, or the\nCourt of Cadock. At one time the entrenchments were very distinct,\nbut they have now disappeared. This Cadock is probably Cado, Duke of\nCornwall, cousin of King Arthur, and famous as a warrior in Geoffrey of\nMonmouth\u2019s lying history. The termination _oc_ is a diminutive.\n\nPenzance is in the parish of Madron, the founder of which, S. Maternus,\nas he is called in Latin, is the Irish Medrhan, a disciple of S.\nKieran, or Piran. His brother Odran was closely attached to S. Senan.\nMadron and Odran were but lads of from ten to fourteen when they first\nvisited S. Piran to ask his advice about going a pilgrimage. He very\nsensibly recommended them to go to school first, and he retained them\nwith himself, instructing them in letters. The Irish have no tradition\nthat he was buried in the Emerald Isle, so that in all probability he\nlaid his bones in Cornwall.\n\nThere was a famous well at Madron, but it has lost its repute of late\nyears, and has fallen into ruin.\n\nChildren were formerly taken to the well on the first three Sunday\nmornings in May to be dipped in the water, that they might be cured of\nthe rickets, or any other disorder with which they were troubled. They\nwere plunged thrice into the water by the parent or nurse, who stood\nfacing the east, and then they were clothed and laid on S. Madron\u2019s\nbed; should they go to sleep after the immersion, or should the water\nin the well bubble, it was considered a good omen. Strict silence was\nobserved during the performance. At the present time the people go\nin crowds to the well on the first Sunday in May, when the Wesleyans\nhold a service there and a sermon is preached; after which the people\nthrow two pins or pebbles in, or lay small crosses made of pieces of\nrush-pith united by a pin in the middle, in the water and draw auguries\ntherefrom.\n\nMiss Couch in her book on the Cornish holy wells says:--\n\n \u201cAbout thirty years ago I visited it, and it was then\n in a ruined state. There was nothing of the shapely and\n sculptured form of many of our eastern wells about it. It\n was merely an oblong space enclosed by rough old walling,\n in which were, in the south-west corner, a dilapidated\n well, with an inlet and outlet for water, a raised row of\n stones in front of this, and the remains of stone benches.\u201d\n\nA plan exists drawn by Mr. Blight before the well was as ruined as at\npresent. It is a crying scandal that it should be allowed to remain\nunrestored. The altar-stone remains with a square depression in the\nmiddle to receive the portable altar placed there on such occasions as\nthe chapel was used for mass.\n\nPenzance, on the glorious Mount\u2019s Bay, enjoys a warm and balmy climate,\nand scarlet geraniums scramble up the house-fronts, camellias bloom in\nthe open air, and greenhouse rhododendrons flourish unprotected from\nfrosts that never fall.\n\nIt is a relaxing place, and the visitor, till he is acclimatised, feels\nlimp and lifeless. For this reason many now resort to St. Ives, on\nthe north coast, which is open to the Atlantic breezes straight from\nLabrador, and Penzance is declining in favour.\n\nBut it is a pleasant, it is a most pleasant town, well furnished with\nall that can make a winter sojourn delightful; it has in addition to\nlibraries and concert-halls and clubs, that may be found in any seaside\nplace, an unrivalled neighbourhood, and with the warm climate it enjoys\na winter may be spent delightfully in making excursions to the many\nsurrounding objects of interest.\n\nIn my next chapter I shall treat of the Land\u2019s End district, and in\nthis I shall attempt to give some idea of what is to be seen to the\neast.\n\nAs already intimated, the whole of this part of Cornwall was occupied\nat the end of the fifth and the first years of the sixth century by the\nIrish from the south, mainly from Ossory. An invasion from Munster into\nthat kingdom had led to the cutting of the throats of most of the royal\nfamily and its subjugation under the invaders, who maintained their\nsovereignty there from 470, when the invasion took place, to the death\nof Scanlan, the descendant of the invader, in 642. It was probably in\nconsequence of this invasion that a large number of Ossorians crossed\nover to Cornwall and established themselves in Penwith--the Welsh spell\nit Pengwaeth, the bloody headland; the name tells a story of resistance\nand butchery. Unhappily we have the most scanty references to this\noccupation; records we have none.\n\nBut a single legend remains that treats of it at some length; and\nwith regard to the legends of the other settlers we have the meagre\nextracts made by Leland, the antiquary of Henry VIII., whose heart, so\nit is said, broke at the dispersion of the monastic libraries, and the\ndestruction of historical records of supreme value. As far as we know,\nthe great body of settlers all landed at Hayle. One large contingent,\nwith S. Breaca at its head, made at the outstart a rush for Tregonning\nHill, and established itself in the strong stone fort of Pencaer, or\nCaer Conan, on the summit.\n\nTregonning Hill is not very high, it rises not six hundred feet above\nthe sea; but from the sea and from the country round it looks bold and\nlofty, because standing alone, or almost so, having but the inferior\nGodolphin Hill near it.\n\nThe fortress consists of at least two concentric rings of stone and\nearth. The interior has been disturbed by miners searching for tin, and\nthe wall has also been ruined by them, but especially by roadmakers,\nwho have quite recently destroyed nearly all one side.\n\nHere the Irish remained till they were able to move further. S. Breaca\nwent on to Talmeneth (the end of the mountain), where she established\nherself and erected a chapel.\n\nAnother of her chapels was further down the hill at Chynoweth, and a\ntradition of its existence remains there. Finally she went to Penbro.\nThe church was, however, at a later period moved from that place to\nwhere it now stands. The local legend is that she saw the good people\nbuilding this church, and she promised to throw all her bracelets and\nrings into the bell-metal if they would call it after her name.\n\nShe was a favourite disciple of S. Bridget, and this latter saint\ncommissioned her to visit the great institution of the White House,\nnear S. David\u2019s Head in Wales--to obtain thence rules by which her\ncommunity might be directed. She was, it appears, the sister of S.\nBrendan the navigator, and it was in his sister\u2019s arms that the saint\ndied. Brendan was a disciple of S. Erc, of Erth, on the Hayle river,\nand as Erc was one of the party, it is probable that Brendan made one\nas well.\n\nErc had been much trusted by S. Patrick, who appointed him as judge\nin all cases brought to him for decision, regarding him as a man of\ninviolable integrity and great calmness of judgment.\n\nThe church of Breage is large and fine. In the churchyard is an early\ncross of reddish conglomerate. The local story goes that there was a\ngreat fight, between Godolphin Hill and Tregonning Hill, fought by the\nnatives with the Danes, and so much blood was shed that it compacted\nthe granitic sand there into hard rock, and out of this rock Breaca\u2019s\ncross was cut. The fight was, of course, not with Danes, but was\nbetween the Cornish and the Irish. The cross is rude, with the Celtic\ninterlaced work on it. The pedestal was also thus ornamented, but this\nis so worn that it can only be distinguished in certain lights.\n\nIn the church have been discovered several frescoes--S. Christopher,\ngigantic, of course; an equally gigantic figure of Christ covered with\nbleeding wounds; full-length representations of SS. Samson, Germoe,\nGiles, Corentine, etc. The church has been much decorated rather than\nrestored. The modern woodwork screen and bench-ends are indifferent in\ndesign and mechanical in execution. Some Belgian carved work of the\nAdoration of the Magi blocks the east window, which was filled with\npeculiarly vulgar glass, and this is a possible excuse for completely\nobscuring it.\n\nThe sacred tribe under S. Breaca must have occupied a very extensive\ntract, for four parish churches are affiliated to it--S. Germoe,\nGodolphin, Cury, and Gunwalloe. This leads one to suspect that her\nterritory stretched originally along the coast a good way past Loe\nPool. She had as neighbours S. Crewena, another Irishwoman, and\nSithney, or Setna, a disciple and companion of S. Senan, of Land\u2019s End.\nHis mother was an aunt of S. David.\n\nSithney was asked:--\n\n \u201cTell me, O Setna,\n Tidings of the World\u2019s end.\n How will the folk fare\n That follow not the Truth?\u201d\n\nHe answered in a poem that has been preserved. Prophecy is a dangerous\ngame to play at, even for a saint, and Sithney made a very bad shot.\nHe foretold that the Saxons would hold dominion in Ireland till 1350,\nafter which the Irish natives would expel them.\n\nSithney almost certainly accompanied Kieran or Piran, and he succeeded\nhim as abbot in his great monastery at Saighir.\n\nThe little church of Germoe is curious. It has a very early font, and a\nlater Norman font lying broken outside the church. There is a curious\nstructure, called Germoe\u2019s Chair, in the churchyard, that looks much\nlike a summer-house manufactured out of old pillars turned upside-down.\nBut it was in existence in the time of Henry VIII., for Leland mentions\nit. A new east window, quite out of character with the church, has been\ninserted, but the modern glass is good. A bust of S. Germoe is over the\nporch. He is represented as crowned, as he is supposed to have been an\nIrish king.\n\nThis is not quite correct. He was a bard, and perhaps of royal race,\nbut we do not know his pedigree. He was a disciple of S. Kieran, and\nwas the father of the first writer of the lives of the saints in\nIreland. He composed a poem in honour of S. Finnan of Moville, and\nhe had the honour of having under him, for a short while, the great\nColumba of Iona. He had several brothers, who passed into France, and\nare mentioned by Flodoard, the historian of the Franks. The date of his\ndeath was about 530. I have elsewhere told a story about him tubbing\nwith S. Kieran, and catching a fish in the tub.\n\nNear Germoe, but nearer the sea, is the very fine remnant of a castle,\nPengersick. It was erected in the reign of Henry VIII. by a certain man\nof the name of Millaton, probably of Millaton in Bridestowe, Devon.\nHe had committed a murder, and to escape justice he fled his native\ncounty and concealed himself in the dip of the land facing the sea at\nPengersick, where he constructed a tower amply provided with means\nof defence. The basement is furnished with loopholes for firing upon\nanyone approaching, and above the door is a shoot for melted lead. The\nwhole building is beautifully constructed.\n\nHere Millaton remained in concealment till he died, never leaving his\ntower for more than a brief stroll. The land had not been purchased in\nhis own name, but in that of his son Job, who, after his death, was\nmade Governor of S. Michael\u2019s Mount. Job had a son, William, who was\nmade Sheriff of Cornwall in 1565, and he married Honor, daughter of Sir\nWilliam Godolphin of Godolphin.\n\nAccording to a local legend, William Millaton and his wife Honor lived\na cat-and-dog life. They hated each other with a deadly hate, and at\nlength each severally resolved that this incompatible union must come\nto an end.\n\nWilliam Millaton said to his wife, \u201cHonor, we have lived in\nwretchedness too long. Let us resolve on a reconciliation, forget the\npast, and begin a new life.\u201d\n\n\u201cMost certainly do I agree thereto,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d continued William, \u201cas a pledge of our reunion, let us have a\nfeast together to-night.\u201d\n\nSo a banquet was spread in Pengersick Castle for them twain and none\nothers.\n\nAnd when they had well eaten, then William Millaton said, \u201cLet us drink\nto our reunion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will drink if you will drink,\u201d said she.\n\nThen he drained his glass, and after that, she drained hers.\n\nWith a bitter laugh she said, \u201cWilliam, you have but three minutes to\nlive. Your cup was poisoned.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you,\u201d retorted he, \u201chave but five, for yours is poisoned.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is well,\u201d said Honor; \u201cI am content. I shall have two minutes in\nwhich to triumph over your dead carcass, and to spurn it with my foot.\u201d\n\nOn the death of this William, the estate passed to his six sisters,\nwho married into the families of Erisy, Lanyon, Trefusis, Arundell,\nBonython, and Abbot of Hartland.\n\nOn the road from Breage, before the turn to Pengersick is reached, a\nstone lies by the roadside. It is one of those cast by the Giant of\nGodolphin Hill after his wife, of whom he was jealous, and who was wont\nto visit the Giant of Pengersick. The stone has often been removed, but\nsuch disaster has ensued to the man who has removed it, that it has\nalways been brought back again. Godolphin Hill has been esteemed since\nthe days of Elizabeth as one of the richest of ore deposits, and it was\ndue to the urgency of Sir Francis Godolphin that miners were induced\nto come to Cornwall from the Erz Gebirge, in Saxony, to introduce new\nmethods and machinery in the tin mines.\n\nGodolphin Hall is an interesting old mansion, partly dating from\nthe time of Henry VII. and partly belonging to the period of the\nRestoration. Some remains from a ruined church or chapel have been\nworked into one of the gateways. The old house has its stewponds and a\nfew fine trees about it.\n\nOn the Marazion road, west of Millpool, in the hedge, are the impress\nof the devil\u2019s knees. One day, feeling the discomfort and forlornness\nof his position, his majesty resolved on praying to have it changed; so\nhe knelt on a slab of granite, but his knees burned their way into the\nstone. Then he jumped up, saying that praying superinduced rheumatics,\nand he would have no more of it. The holes are not tin-moulds, for the\nlatter are angular and oblong, but are very similar to the cup-markings\nfound in many places in connection with prehistoric monuments. Some\nprecisely similar are at Dumnakilty in Fermanagh.[26]\n\nA strange circumstance occurred in 1734 at Skewis, close to the line\nfrom Gwinear Road Station to Helston.\n\nSkewis had been for many generations the freehold patrimony of a\nyeoman family of the name of Rogers. There were two brothers. The\nelder married and lived on the farm, but without a family. The younger\nbrother, Henry Rogers, was married and had several children. He carried\non for several years in Helston the trade of a pewterer, then of\nconsiderable importance in Cornwall, although it is now at an end. A\nlarge portion of the tin raised was mixed with lead and exported in\nthe form of pewter made into dishes, plates, etc., now superseded by\nearthenware. At the first introduction of earthenware, called cloam,\nin the West of England, a strong prejudice existed against it as liable\nto damage the tin trade, and it was a popular cry to destroy all cloam,\nso as to bring back the use of pewter.\n\nThe elder Rogers died, and bequeathed the house of Skewis and the\nfarm and everything thereon to his wife Anne. Henry was indignant. He\nbelieved in the inalienability of \u201cheir land.\u201d He was suspicious that\nAnne Rogers would make over Skewis to her own relatives, of the name\nof Millett. Henry waited his opportunity, when his sister-in-law was\nout of the house, to enter it and bring in his wife and children and\nservants. He turned out the domestics of Anne, and occupied the whole\nhouse.\n\nThe widow appealed to law, but the voice of the whole county was\nagainst her, and the general opinion was that the will had been\nextorted from her husband. Even Sir John S. Aubyn, living at Clowance,\nhard by, favoured him, and had Henry Rogers acted in a reasonable\nmanner would have backed him up. But Rogers took the law into his own\nhands, and when a judgment was given against him, he still refused to\nsurrender.\n\nThe Sheriff of Cornwall accordingly was directed to eject him by force.\nRogers, however, barricaded the house, and prepared to defend it. He\nsupplied himself with gunpowder and slugs, and cut loopholes in his\ndoors and shutters from which to fire at the assailants.\n\nOn June 18th, 1734, the Under-Sheriff and a _posse_ went to Skewis and\ndemanded the surrender of the house. From two to three hundred people\nattended, for the most part sympathisers with Rogers, but not willing\nto render him effectual assistance.\n\nAs the Under-Sheriff, Stephen Tillie, persisted in his demands, and\nthreatened to break into the house, Rogers fired. The bullet passed\nthrough Tillie\u2019s wig, singed it, and greatly frightened him, especially\nas with the next discharge one of his officers fell at his side, shot\nthrough the head.\n\nSeveral guns were fired, and then the Under-Sheriff deemed it advisable\nto withdraw and send for soldiers.\n\nOn the arrival of a captain with some regulars, Tillie again\napproached, when Rogers continued firing, and killed a bailiff and\nshot a soldier in the groin. Two more men were wounded, and then the\nmilitary fired at the windows, but did no harm. Mrs. Rogers stood by\nher husband, loading and handing him his gun.\n\nThe whole attacking party now considering that discretion constituted\nthe best part of valour, withdrew, and Rogers was allowed to remain\nin possession till March in the following year, that is to say, for\nnine months. Then he was again blockaded by soldiers, and the siege\ncontinued for several days, with the loss of two more men, when at last\ncannon were brought from Pendennis Castle.\n\nMany years after, one of Rogers\u2019 sons gave the following account of\nhis reminiscences of the siege:--\u201cHe recollected that his father was\nfired at, and had a snuff-box and powder-horn broken in his pocket by\na ball. He recollected that whilst he himself (then a child) was in\nthe bed several balls came in through the window of the room, and\nafter striking against the wall rolled about on the floor. One brother\nand sister who were in the house went out to inquire what was wanted\nof their father, and they were not permitted to return. On the last\nnight no one remained in the house but his father, himself, and the\nservant-maid. In the middle of the night they all went out, and got\nsome distance from the house. In crossing a field, however, they were\nmet by two soldiers, who asked them their business. The maid answered\nthat they were looking for a cow, when they were permitted to proceed.\nThe soldiers had their arms, and his father had his gun. The maid and\nhimself were left at a farmhouse in the neighbourhood.\u201d\n\nHenry Rogers, whom the soldiers had not recognised in the darkness,\nmanaged to escape, and pushed on in the direction of London, resolving\nto lay his grievances before the king. He was dressed in a whitish\nfustian frock, with imitation pearl buttons, and a blue riding-coat\nover it.\n\nAs soon as it was discovered that he had decamped, a reward of \u00a3350\nwas offered for his apprehension. He had already shot and killed\nfive men, and had wounded seven. He was not, however, taken till he\nreached Salisbury Plain, where he hailed a postboy, who was returning\nwith an empty chaise, and asked for a lift. He was still carrying his\ngun. The boy drove him to the inn, where he procured a bed; but the\ncircumstances, and the description, had excited suspicion; he was\nsecured in his sleep, and was removed to Cornwall, to be tried for\nmurder at Launceston along with his serving-man, John Street.\n\nHis trial took place on August 1st, 1735, before Lord Chief Justice\nHardwicke. Rogers was arraigned upon five indictments, and Street upon\ntwo. Both received sentence of death, and were executed on August 6th.\n\nThe house at Skewis has been recently in part rebuilt, when a bag of\nthe slugs used by poor Rogers was found.\n\nIt is in Crowan parish.\n\nThe church of S. Crewenna stands on a hill, and has a good tower. It\ncontains numerous monuments of the S. Aubyn family, and some brasses\nonly recently restored to the church, after having lain for many years\nlost or forgotten in a cupboard at Clowance.\n\nIt is hard to say whether the fulsome memorial of Sir John S. Aubyn,\nwho died in 1839, is more painful or amusing reading to such as know\nhis story.\n\nThe church has been \u201crestored\u201d in a cold and unsympathetic fashion.\n\nClowance, the seat of the Molesworth S. Aubyn family, has noble trees,\nand is an oasis in the midst of the refuse-heaps of mines. There are\nsome early crosses in the grounds.\n\nBut to return to the Irish invasion.\n\nA second party of the colonists was under Fingar or Gwinear, son of\nOlilt, or Ailill, probably one of the Hy Bairrche family, which was\nexpelled their country about 480. He brought over with him his sister\nKiara, whose name has become Piala of Phillack in Cornish, according\nto a phonetic and constant rule. According to the legend he had over\nseven hundred emigrants with him. He and his party made their way from\nHayle to Connerton, where they spent the night, and then pushed south\nto where now stands Gwinear. Here Fingar left his party to go ahead\nand explore. He reached Tregotha, where is a fine spring of water, and\nthere paused to refresh himself, when, hearing cries from behind, he\nhurried back, and found that Tewdrig, the Cornish king or prince, who\nlived at Riviere, on a creek of the Hayle river, had hastened after the\nparty of colonists, and had fallen on them and massacred them. When\nFingar came up Tewdrig killed him also. Piala, the sister, does not\nseem to have been harmed; and as in the long-run the Irish succeeded\nin establishing themselves firmly in the district, she settled near\nRiviere and founded the church of Phillack.\n\nLudgvan has a fine tower and some old crosses, the font also is early,\nof polyphant stone; but the church has been badly churchwardenised\nand meanly restored. It was founded by Lithgean, or Lidgean, an Irish\nsaint, son of Bronfinn or Gwendron. There is a representation of the\nmother in the rectory garden wall, where she is figured holding what is\napparently a tree in one hand and in the other a fleur-de-lis.\n\nHereabouts the whole country is devoted to early potatoes and spring\nflowers. In March the fields are white with narcissus or golden with\ndaffodil, or rich brown with the Harbinger wallflower. It is a curious\nfact that yellow wallflowers meet with no sale; consequently one kind\nonly, and that dark, is grown.\n\nThe kinds of narcissus mostly grown are the Scilly White; of daffodils\nthe Soleil d\u2019Or, Grand Monarch, Emperor and Empress, Sir Watkin, and\nPrinceps. These flowers are packed in baskets or boxes in bunches, a\ndozen blossoms in each bunch, and four dozen bunches in each basket.\nWomen are employed to pick in the morning and to tie in bunches in the\nafternoon.\n\nA special train takes up the flowers daily to London. The rate charged\nis \u00a34 10_s._ per ton, but for fish \u00a32 10_s._, as they take less room.\nThe flower harvest lasts from February to June, and is followed by one\nof tomatoes.\n\nBetween Ludgvan and Perran-uthnoe intervenes the parish of S. Hilary.\nThe church is devoid of interest, but there are inscribed stones in the\nchurchyard. On the village inn may be read the invitation:--\n\n\u201cTHE JOLLY TINNERS.\n\n \u201cCome, all true Cornish boys, walk in,\n Here\u2019s Brandy, Beer, Rum, Shrub, and Gin.\n You cannot do less than drink success\n To Copper, Fish, and Tin.\u201d\n\nA local riddle asked is:--\n\n \u201cAs I went down by Hilary\u2019s steeple\n I met three people.\n They were not men, nor women, nor children.\n Who were they then?\u201d\n\nThe answer, of course, is one man, one woman, and a single child.\n\nS. Michael\u2019s Mount is a grand upshoot of granite from the sea. As a\nrock it is far finer than its corelative in Brittany, but the buildings\ncrowning the Cornish mount are vastly inferior to the magnificent pile\non Mont Saint Michel. Nevertheless, those that now form the residence\nof Lord S. Levan are by no means insignificant or unworthy of their\nposition. The masses of granite crag, especially to the west, are\nsingularly bold, and if some of the modern work be poor in design, it\nmight have been much worse.\n\nWithin there is not much to be seen--a chapel of no great interest,\nand a dining-hall with good plaster-work representation of a hare hunt\nrunning round it. The drawing-room is new and spacious, and contains\nsome really noble portraits.\n\nAt the foot of the rock is a draw-well, and a little way up is a tank\ncalled the Giant\u2019s Well. S. Michael\u2019s Mount was the habitation of the\nfamous giant with whom Tom Thumb tried conclusions.\n\nIn or about 710, according to William of Worcester, an apparition of S.\nMichael the archangel was seen on the _Tumba_ in Cornwall. This Tumba\nwas also called Hore-rock in the Wood, \u201cand there was formerly grove\nand field and tilled land between the Mount and the Scilly Isles, and\nthere were a hundred and forty churches of parishes between the said\nMount and Scilly that were submerged.... The district was enclosed by a\nmost vast forest stretching for six miles in from the sea, affording a\nmost suitable refuge for wild beasts, and in this were formerly found\nmonks serving the Lord.\u201d\n\nIt is quite true that there is a submerged forest in Mount\u2019s Bay, and\nthat the marshy snipe-ground near Marazion Road Station covers large\ntimber, a portion of this great forest, but the submergence cannot have\ntaken place in historic times. That there was, however, an encroachment\nof the sea in the middle of the sixth century, we learn from the _Life\nof S. Paul_, Bishop of Leon. He came to the bay to visit his sister,\nWulvella, of Gulval, when she complained to him that she was losing\nmuch of her best land by the advance of the sea; and he, who had been\nbrought up in the Wentloog levels, and taught by his master, S. Iltyd,\nhow to keep up the dykes against the tides in the Severn, banked out\nthe sea for her.\n\nThis was precisely the time when the district of Gwaelod was\nsubmerged in the Bay of Cardigan. The king of the district was\nGwyddno Longshanks. It was the duty of the warden of the dykes to\nride along the embankments, that had probably been thrown up by the\nRoman legionaries, and see that they were in order. Seithenyn was the\nDyke-grave at the time.\n\nOne night Gwyddno and his court were keeping high revel, and the\ndyke-master was very drunk. There was a concurrence of a spring-tide\nand a strong westerly wind, and the waves overwhelmed the banks. The\nking escaped with difficulty before the inrolling stormy sea. A poem\nby the king, who thus lost his kingdom, has been preserved.\n\nIn Brittany about the same time there was a similar catastrophe.\n\nIn Mount\u2019s Bay, however, an extraordinary tide may have done damage,\nbut certainly did not cause such a submergence as was supposed by\nWilliam of Worcester.\n\nIt has been supposed that the Mount is the Ictis of the ancients, which\nwas the site of the great mart for tin, but this is more than unlikely.\nWhat would have been the advantage of making a market on this conical\nrock? It is much more likely that the great tin mart was in one of the\nlow-lying islands of Kent.\n\nCastel-an-Dinas commands an extensive view; it stands 763 feet above\nthe sea, and is within sight and signalling distance of the two other\nsimilar castles on Trencrom and Tregonning. It is more perfect than\neither, and is very interesting, as it has got its wall with the face\nshowing through the greater portion of the circuit. There were at\nleast two concentric rings of fortifications and numerous hut circles\nwithin the area, but these have been much pulled about when an absurd\nimitation ruinous tower was erected on the summit. Within the camp is a\nwell, and outside it on the west side is one cut in the rock, to which\na descent is made by about twenty steps.\n\nOn the side of the hill is the very interesting and indeed wonderful\ngroup of clustered huts called Chysauster. Of these there remain four\ndistinct groups, two of which have been dug out. They consist of an\nopen space in the midst, with numerous beehive huts and galleries\nrunning out of it.\n\nThe period to which they pertain is very uncertain. They ought to be\ninvestigated by such as are experienced and trained in excavation of\nsuch objects, and not be meddled with by amateurs. The tenant has begun\n(1899) to destroy one of the groups. In the centre of one of the huts\nmay be seen neatly cut the socket-hole of the pole which sustained the\nroof, and in another the lower stone of the quern in which grain was\npounded. There are other collections of a similar character, but none\nso perfect.\n\nIn the neighbourhood of Penzance are some of the \u201cRounds,\u201d formerly\nemployed for the representation of sacred dramas. They are, in fact,\nopen-air amphitheatres. The well-known Gwennap Pit, in which John\nWesley preached, has been mistaken for one of these, but was actually a\ndisused mine-hole.\n\nIn these pits the miracle-plays in the old Cornish tongue were\nperformed. Of these plays we have a few preserved, that have been\nprinted by Professor Whitley Stokes. But the Cornish language ceased\nto be spoken, and after the Reformation religious plays ceased to\nbe required. The people were learning the art of reading, and the\npress gave them the Bible, then these miracle-plays were replaced\nby low comedies, often very coarse in their humour, and spiced\nwith many local allusions and personal jokes. This continued till\nWesleyanism denounced stage-plays, and then these pits were devoted to\nrevival-meetings and displays of hysterical religion. There were two\nRounds near Penzance, Tolcarre, and one at Castle Horneck.\n\nAdjoining Penzance to the south is Newlyn, a fishing village formerly,\nnow both a fishing village and a settlement of artists; for the\nadvantage of the latter a good place of exhibition for their pictures\nhas been provided by that generous-hearted son of Cornwall, who has\ndone so much for his native county, Mr. Passmore Edwards.\n\nNewlyn takes its name probably from S. Newlyna, whose church, founded\non her own land, is near Crantock and Newquay. The name means the White\nCloud. She migrated to Brittany, embarking, it may be supposed, at this\nport in Guavas Bay. She is a Breton replica of S. Winefred, for she had\nher head cut off by an admiring chieftain, whose affection was changed\ninto anger at her resistance. In Brittany she has a fine church at\nPontivy Noyala.\n\nA cantique is sung there by the children, the first verse of which runs\nthus:--\n\n \u201cDeit, Cr\u00e9ch\u00e9nion, de gleuet\n Buh\u00e9 ca\u00ebr Santes Noaluen,\n Ha disguet guet-he miret\n Hag hou f\u00e9 hag non l\u00e9zen,\u201d\n\nwhich means, \u201cCome, ye Christians, hearken all, and hear the tale of S.\nNoewlyn. From her example learn to keep your faith and your innocence.\u201d\n\nS. Paul\u2019s takes its name from a founder who was born in Glamorganshire,\nand was educated by S. Iltyd. He was schoolfellow with S. David, S.\nSamson, and Gildas. He is said to have gone to a King Mark, but whether\nthis were the Mark, King of Cornwall of the romancers, the husband of\nthe fair and frail Ysseult, we cannot be sure. He quarrelled with the\nking, and left him, because he was refused a bell in Mark\u2019s possession,\nwhich he admired and asked for. He settled in Brittany, in Leon.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: LAND\u2019S END]\n\n\n CHAPTER XIX.\n\n THE LAND\u2019S END\n\n The Irish settlers in Penwith--Difference between Irish and\n Cornish languages--The Irish saints of Penwith--Other\n saints--Penzance--S. Ives--Restored brass--Wreck of\n Algerine pirates in 1760--Description of Penwith--The\n pilchard fishery--Song--Churches of the Land\u2019s\n End--S. Burian--S. Paul\u2019s and Dolly Pentreath--The\n Cornish language--Cornish dialect--Old churches and\n chapels--Madron--Prehistoric antiquities.\n\n\nThe Land\u2019s End is properly Penwith, either Pen-gwaed, the Bloody\nHeadland, or Pen-gwaedd, the Headland of Shouting. Probably it is the\nformer, for it was the last place of refuge of the Ibernian population,\nand in the first years of the sixth century, even perhaps earlier, it\nwas occupied by Irish settlers, and that there was fighting is clearly\nshown us in the legend of SS. Fingar and Piala. It must have been to\nthe original people of the peninsula what Mona was to the Welsh.\n\nAll we _know_ about this invasion is what is told us in the legend just\nmentioned, and that states that Fingar, son of an Irish king, came to\nHayle, landed there with his party, and was fallen upon by Tewdrig, the\nCornish duke or king, who massacred some of the party. But the names of\nthe parishes tell us more than that. They show us that the Irish were\nnot defeated, that they made good their landing, and that they spread\nand occupied the whole of Penwith and Carnmarth, that is to say, the\nentire district of West Cornwall up to Camborne and the Lizard district.\n\nThe colonists cannot have been few, and they must have purposed\nsettling, for they brought women along with them; and that they were\nsuccessful is assured by the fact that those killed by Tewdrig are\nrecognised as martyrs. Had the Irish been driven away they would have\nbeen regarded as pirates who had met their deserts.\n\nNow this inroad of saints was but one out of a succession of\nincursions, and the resistance of Tewdrig marks the revolt against\nIrish domination which took place after the death of Dathi in 428, the\nlast Irish monarch who was able to exact tribute from Britain; though\nOiliol Molt may have attempted it, he was too much hampered by internal\nwars to make Irish authority felt in Britain. Oiliol fell in 483.\n\nThe Irish saints came across in detachments. Senan, Erc (Erth), Setna\n(Sithney), Brig (Breage), Just were some of the earliest. There was\ntrouble when Brig arrived, and she and her party fled from Tewdrig\nand fortified themselves on Tregonning Hill, where their camp still\nremains. But Kieran and his pupils, Medran (Madron) and Bruinech\n(Buriena), were unmolested; so also was S. Ruan.\n\nOne thing they could not do, and that was impress on the people the\nScottish or Irish pronunciation. They were few among many, and they\nnot only could not make the natives pronounce a hard _c_, but they\nwere themselves obliged to suffer their own names to be softened, and\nthe _c_ in them to be turned into _p_, and the _f_ into _gw_. Thus\nKieran became Piran, and Fingar became Gwinear. The Irish _c_ is always\nsounded like _k_, and the Cornish disliked this sound. When S. Kiera\nsettled in Cornwall she had to accustom herself to be called Piala; and\nEoghain was melted down into Euny, and Erc softened into Erth.\n\nJust one advantage to Cornwall did this invasion afford; by it we know\nthe histories of the founders of churches in West Cornwall; because the\nIrish had the wit to preserve their records and biographies, whereas\nof the home-grown saints, princes of blood royal, the Cornish have not\nkept a single history. Consequently, if we desire to know about the\nearly kings and saints of the peninsula, we have to ask the Irish, the\nWelsh, and even go hat in hand to the Bretons. It is a sorry truth, but\ntruth it is.\n\nHow thoroughly occupied by the Irish this district was may be judged\nwhen we come to look at who the saints were.\n\nLet us take them in order from Newquay.\n\nFirst we have Carantock, the fellow-worker with S. Patrick, who\nassisted him on the commission to draw up the laws of Ireland. Then we\nhave Perranzabuloe, the settlement of Kieran of Saighir. Across the\nridge, four miles off, is Ladock, where he planted his nurse as head\nof a community of women. Some of Kieran\u2019s young pupils found it not\ntoo far to trip across and flirt with the girls at Ladock, and there\nwas a pretty to-do when this was discovered. He was wont, when he had\nploughed his own lands, to send over his oxen to plough the fields of\nhis nurse. At Redruth was S. Euny, whom the Irish called Eoghain, and\nwho later was Bishop of Ardstraw. He was brother of S. Erc of Erth, as\nit was said in later times, but earlier writers frankly call Erc his\nfather.\n\nIllogan was son of Cormac, King of Leinster. Piety ran in the family.\nCormac abdicated and assumed the monk\u2019s cowl in 535. The sisters of\nIllogan were Derwe and Ethnea, who accompanied him to Cornwall, and\nare numbered with its saints. He was father of S. Credan of Sancreed.\nPhillack is S. Piala, the sister of Gwynear (Fingar). S. Elwyn is but\nanother form of the name Illogan. Erth, as already said, was father of\nS. Euny; he was a disciple of S. Brendan, the voyager, and was nursed\nby S. Itha, who was a woman almost as famous in Ireland as S. Bridget,\nand who has churches in Cornwall and Devon. S. Ives is really S. Hia,\nan Irishwoman. Zennor is, perhaps, dedicated to a disciple of S. Sennen\nof Land\u2019s End, the very woman about whom Tom Moore wrote his song of\n\u201cThe Saint and the Lady.\u201d S. Just was the deacon of S. Patrick, and he\nwas S. Kieran\u2019s tutor. Sennen is Senan of Inscathy, in the Shannon.\nS. Levan was metal-worker for S. Patrick, but in holy orders also. S.\nBurian was the female disciple of S. Kieran. Germoe was a bard, and an\nintimate friend of Kieran, and so we see him planted near his friend,\nwho was at Perran-uthnoe. Breage was a disciple of S. Bridget and a\nfriend of S. Kieran. Crewenna was another Irishwoman. Sithney is Setna,\na disciple of S. Senan. S. Ruan, in the Lizard district, and S. Kea, on\nthe Fal--Irishmen as well--I have spoken of them elsewhere.\n\nBut along the south coast are some settlements of a different kind.\nPaul is Paul of Leon, a Briton, who came there to visit his sister,\nWulvella, at Gulval before he crossed into Brittany; and Towednack is\nnot an Irish foundation.\n\nSenan and Kieran, or Piran, were such allies that the former was\nwont to call the latter \u201chis inseparable friend and comrade.\u201d It\nis therefore no wonder that we find settlements of the two in West\nCornwall together.\n\nSenan and Kieran probably came to Cornwall some years later than Hia\nand Breaca, Fingar and Piala. Senan was very much attached to S. David,\nand both are said to have died on the same day in the same year.\n\nAs Sithney\u2019s mother was a sister of Non, the mother of S. David, it\nis possible that David may have induced his cousin to study with his\nfriend Senan, and that when Senan came to Cornwall he hoped that\nSithney would be able to smooth his way, as an aunt of his was queen\nthere. This I have already pointed out.\n\nIt is noteworthy that Sithney parish is close to that of his first\ncousin Constantine.\n\nThe key to the Land\u2019s End district is Penzance. This is a comparatively\nmodern town, and it was but a village in the parish of S. Madron, with\na little chapel of S. Anthony on a spit of land running into the bay,\ntill incorporated by James I.\n\nThat bay is singularly fine, and, facing the south, the climate is\nwarm. Out of it stands up S. Michael\u2019s Mount crowned with a castle,\nformerly a monastery, now the residence of Lord S. Levan, and connected\nby a causeway with Marazion, or Market Jew. The name has nothing to\ndo with \u201cBitter Waters of Zion,\u201d or with Israelites. Marazion is the\nCornish for Thursday Market, and Market Jew is a corruption for _Jeudi_\n(Thursday) Market.\n\nFrom Penzance a visit should be paid to S. Ives and to Hayle. The Hayle\nriver flows in a natural furrow from near Germoe, and the whole of the\ndistrict west is, as it were, cut off from the rest of the peninsula.\nIt needed to have been but a little more depressed, and it would have\nbeen converted almost into an island, linked to the mainland only by\nthe ridge between S. Hilary and Godolphin.\n\nThe great S. Ives Bay is conspicuous through its white hills of blown\nsand that form what are locally called Towans.\n\nThe church of S. Ives is interesting, and is, like most others in\nCornwall, Perpendicular. It is of granite, and contains some fine oak\ncarving in bench-ends and waggon-roof, and a portion of the screen\npresented, it is supposed, by Ralph Clies, a master smith; also a brass\nto Otho Trenwith and his wife. The latter is represented kneeling\nto and invoking the archangel Michael. The head of S. Michael has a\ncomical effect. \u201cSome perplexity may be felt at the appearance of\nSaint Michael\u2019s head, which looks like nothing so much as a Dutch\ncheese. The fact is, that when this brass lay on the floor, the feet of\npassers-by had gradually erased the features of the archangel, leaving\nonly the circular nimbus or glory round his head. Some well-meaning\nbut misguided restorer of later days has evidently taken the nimbus to\nbe the outline of the head, and has roughly filled in eyes, nose, and\nmouth to correspond.\u201d[27]\n\nAn event occurred at Penzance in 1760 that was curious.\n\nA large vessel was driven ashore on the beach. Numbers of persons\ncrowded to the wreck to get from it what they could, when they were\nstartled to see it manned by swarthy mariners with scimitars and\nturbans. At once a panic seized on those who had come out of interested\nmotives to the wreck, and they scuttled off as hard as their legs would\ntake them. Presently a company of volunteers was called out to roll of\ndrum, and marched down to surround the 172 men who had disembarked from\nthe wreck. These were gallantly captured and driven like sheep into a\nspacious barn, and left there under guard through the night.\n\nNext morning it was ascertained from the men who had come ashore (some\nof whom could speak broken French), by means of some English officers\nwho could understand a little French, especially when broken, that the\nvessel was an Algerine corsair, carrying twenty-four guns, and that\nthe captain, finding his ship making water rapidly, had run her ashore\nin Mount\u2019s Bay, fully believing he was about the latitude of Cadiz.\nThe instant it was known that the sailors were Algerines, a deadly\npanic fell on the neighbourhood, for now the plague was feared. The\nvolunteers could hardly be kept at their posts, where they quaked, and\nfelt internal qualms. Intelligence was conveyed to the Government, and\norders were issued for troops to march from Plymouth. Happily, however,\nthe panic rapidly abated; the local authorities convinced themselves\nthat there was no plague among the strangers, and, slowly and\ncautiously, people approached to look and gape at the dark-moustached\nand bearded men with dusky skin, bare legs, and turbans. The pirates\nwere on the whole kindly treated, and after some delay were sent back\nto Algiers.\n\nThe whole country is wind-blown, and everything looks small: the trees\nare stunted; the hills rise to no great heights, the very highest point\nreached is 827 feet; and Tregonning, which does not mount above 600\nfeet, assumes the airs of a mountain. The coast is fine, but by no\nmeans as fine as that of the Lizard. The rocks are of granite, and not\nof serpentine. But, on the other hand, the surface is less level than\nthat of Meneage. It is crowded with prehistoric antiquities, cromlechs,\ncamps, and stone circles. And the Land\u2019s End district has this great\nadvantage, that if you are overdone with the soft and relaxing air\non the south coast, you have but to ascend a hill and inhale the\ninvigorating breath that comes from the Atlantic on the north.\n\nNewlyn and Hayle are great fishing stations, and in the Land\u2019s End\ndistrict as in the Lizard chances arise for watching the pilchard\nfishery.\n\nSo many seans, or nets, about 220 fathoms long and about 15 fathoms\ndeep, belong to each fishing station, and three boats go to each sean.\nThe first boat, which is also the largest, is called the sean-boat,\nas it carries the net and seven men; the next is termed the vollier,\nprobably a corruption for \u201cfollower,\u201d and carries another sean, called\nthe tuck-sean, which is about 100 fathoms long and 18 deep, this boat\nalso carries seven men; the third boat is called the lurker, and\ncontains but three or four men, and in this boat is the master, or\ncommander.\n\nPilchards are migratory and gregarious fish, rather smaller than\nherrings, which they much resemble, but are cased in larger scales.\nThey begin to appear at the end of June, but they are then at a great\ndistance from the coast, and the boats have to go out far to sea before\nthey encounter the shoals. It is a pretty sight to see a flight of\nfishing-smacks, with their white wings spread, issuing from one of the\nharbours, and all making for the spot where the fish are ascertained or\nsupposed to be.\n\nAt nightfall the nets are set either across or parallel to the drift of\nthe tide, and are suffered to be carried along by the current. About\nmidnight the nets are hauled, and the fish having become entangled by\ntheir gills, are taken into the boats, and the nets are again set. It\nis only by night that fish can be caught in this way, as they are\nkeen-sighted. This is drift-net fishing.\n\nIn the morning the boats return with the spoil, and the port, or\nharbour, is alive with women and children; these latter on such\noccasions can by no persuasion be induced to attend school. A string of\ncarts is drawn up on the beach, each containing several \u201cmaunds,\u201d or\npanniers, to receive the silver load.\n\nAs the season advances the shool, or shoal, comes nearer the shore.\n\nA saying is that\n\n \u201cWhen the corn is in the shock,\n Then the fish are at the rock.\u201d\n\nAnd now the time for drift-net fishing is over, and that of sean, or\nseine, fishing begins.\n\nPilchards swim in dense hosts, so that the sea seems to be in a state\nof effervescence.\n\nOn the cliffs men and boys are to be seen all day long lying about\nsmoking, apparently doing nothing. But their keen eyes are on the sea.\nThey are watching for the coming of the pilchards. It is not possible\nto see from the boat so as to surround a shoal; that is why a watch\nis maintained from the cliffs by \u201chuers\u201d (French _huer_, to shout).\nThe moment their experienced eyes see by a change in the colour of\nthe water that the shoal is approaching, by preconcerted signals the\ncrew are informed as to the place where it is, and the direction it is\ntaking.\n\nThe fish playing on the surface are called skimmers. The colour of the\nwater, as seen from above where the fish are dense, is almost red; it\nis always darker than the water around.\n\nAnother token of the presence of a shoal is the sea birds hovering\nabout, expecting their prey.\n\nThe boats are all in readiness.\n\nThe shoal is also known by the _stoiting_, or jumping, of the fish.\nWhen fish are observed stoiting a signal is given, whereupon the\nsean-boat and vollier get on the spot, and the crew of the foremost\nboat pass a warp, that is, throw a rope, which is fixed to the end\nof the sean on board the vollier, and then shoot the net overboard,\nwhich, having leaden weights at bottom, sinks, and the top is buoyed\nup with corks. The sean-boat is rowed in a circular course round where\nthe fish are stoiting, and when they have reached the vollier the fish\nare enclosed. They then hem the two ends of the sean together with a\ncord to prevent the fish from breaking out, and whilst this is being\ndone a man is engaged in frightening the fish away from the still open\nend by means of a stone fastened to a rope. This is termed throwing\nthe minnies (_maen_ stone, pi. _meini_). When the two ends of the net\nare laced together, grapes, _i.e._ grapnels, are let down to keep the\nnet expanded and steady till the fish have been taken up. This latter\nprocess is called tucking the sean. The boat with the tuck-sean on\nboard passes the warp of that sean to one of the other boats and then\nshoots this tuck-sean within the stop-sean, and next draws up the same\nto the edge of the water, when it is seen to be one quivering mass\nof silver. The fish are now taken or dipped out with baskets into the\nboats. When the boats are filled, if more fish remain in the large\nsean, it is left in the water, till by successive tuckings all the fish\nhave been removed.\n\nThe fish that have been caught and brought on shore are taken to the\ncellars. Fish cellars are usually dug out of the rock, and in them the\npilchards are deposited in heaps, to be cured by the women, who work\nat this night and day. The cellar floor is covered with a layer of\nsalt for the distance of five or six feet from the walls, and on this\nis laid a row of fish with their tails touching the wall; then next\nto these is laid another row, and so on in concentric rings, till a\nsufficient space is paved with fish. On this foundation is laid more\nsalt, and then more fish, and this process is continued till the pile\nis complete and the cellar is stacked with fish. They are now said to\nbe \u201cin bulk,\u201d and so are suffered to remain for some weeks, during\nwhich time boards are placed on them with stones, so as to squeeze\nout of them all superfluous water and oil. The process of salting\ncompleted, the fish are packed in barrels, and are sent away to market.\n\nAfter July or August the pilchards leave the coast, and do not reappear\nuntil the end of October or the beginning of November. They now appear\nin the Bristol Channel, and come down towards Land\u2019s End, which they\nturn and follow the south coast of Cornwall, and then disappear.\n\nFormerly pilchards were smoked, and went by the name of _fumadoes_. The\nname clung to them after the smoking was abandoned, and _fumadoes_ is\nnow corrupted into \u201cfair maids.\u201d\n\nThere is a song of the pilchard fishery which is sung by the boatmen. I\nknow of it but three verses, and I doubt if there be more.\n\n \u201cThe cry is, \u2018All up! Let us all haste away!\n And like hearty good fellows we\u2019ll row through the bay.\n\n Haul away, my young men!\n Pull away, my old blades!\n For the county gives bounty\n For the pilchard trades.\u2019\n\n \u201c\u2019T is the silver \u2018fair maids\u2019 that cause such a strife\n \u2019Twixt the master-seiner and his drunken wife.\n\n Haul away, etc.\n\n \u201cShe throwed away her fiddles (?) and burnt all her thread,\n And she turn\u2019d him out o\u2019 doors for the good of the trade.\n\n Haul away,\u201d etc.\n\nThe churches of the Land\u2019s End district are not remarkably fine. They\nare not, however, without interest.\n\nThe finest is that of S. Burian, about whom first of all a word or two.\n\nBuriena was an Irish damsel, noted for being both slender and\nbeautiful. In fact, her willowy form obtained for her the nickname of\nCaol, or \u201cthe Slim.\u201d She was a daughter of one Crimthan, \u201cthe Fox,\u201d a\nMunster chieftain, a granddaughter of Aengus, King of Munster, who was\nbaptised by S. Patrick, on which occasion the apostle ran the spike at\nthe end of the pastoral staff into the foot of the king. Afterwards,\nwhen S. Patrick saw the wound and the blood, he was shocked, and said,\n\u201cWhy the dickens did you not tell me of it?\u201d \u201cI thought it was part of\nthe ceremony,\u201d replied Aengus.\n\nHowever, to return to Buriena, his granddaughter. She was so pretty and\nso graceful, that although she was at school with Liadhain, the mother\nof S. Piran, as her spiritual child, a chieftain named Dimma carried\nher off to his own castle. Liadhain came in a fume to S. Piran and\ntold him of the outrage. At once the old man seized his staff and went\nafter Dimma, who was head of the clan Hy Fiachta. It was midwinter,\nand the snow was on the ground. When Piran arrived at the gates of the\ncashel he was refused admittance. He would not return, but maintained\nhis place, and next morning there he was still. He had stood there all\nnight in the snow, waiting to insist on the restoration of the girl.\nDimma now was alarmed. He saw that the saint was determined to \u201cfast\nagainst him,\u201d a legal process, as has been described already, and he\nreturned the damsel.\n\nHowever, some days afterwards, feeling his passion still strong, he\nwent at the head of a body of men to reclaim her. Buriena fainted\nwhen she saw his approach; but Piran had time to call out all his\necclesiastical tribe, and they surrounded the place where Liadhain\nand Buriena were, and he had sent a detachment to make a circuit and\nset fire to Dimma\u2019s cashel, so that the chief was compelled to beat a\nprecipitate retreat. It was probably in consequence of this that Piran\nleft Ireland and came to Cornwall.\n\nS. Burian Church does not stand on the site of the old settlement\nof Buriena; that is about a mile south-east, at Bosliven, where the\n\u201csanctuary\u201d remains about some mounds and ruins. It was destroyed by\nShrubsall, one of Cromwell\u2019s miserable instruments of sacrilege. When\nAthelstan traversed Cornwall from east to west he made a vow that if\nhe reached the Scilly Isles and returned in safety he would endow a\ncollegiate church where was the oratory in which he made the vow. This\nhe did, and the date of the foundation is supposed to have been 936.\n\nThe church had a superb screen, probably the finest in Cornwall, but\nit was taken down and destroyed in 1814. Some fragments have been\npreserved sufficient to admit of its complete reconstruction at some\nfuture day. Many of the bench-ends remain, and are fine. The church\nhas been illtreated in that fashion which is in bitter mockery called\n\u201crestoration.\u201d The new woodwork is a fair example of what woodwork\nnever should be. It is treated like cheese.\n\nS. Levan has fine old bench-ends and exquisitely bad modern woodwork,\nand in the neighbourhood is the Logan Rock and some of the finest coast\nscenery of the Land\u2019s End. S. Levan was priest and metal-worker in S.\nPatrick\u2019s company, and some of his bells and book-covers remained long\npreserved as treasures in Ireland.\n\nS. Senan has been gutted by the restorer, and has in it no longer\nanything of interest except a mutilated statue of the Virgin and Child.\n\nMadron has not much of interest, except the oft-quoted epitaph on\nGeorge Daniel:--\n\n \u201cBelgia me Birth, Britain me Breeding gave,\n Cornwall a Wife, ten children and a grave.\u201d\n\nPaul\u2019s, dedicated to S. Paul of Leon, brother of S. Wulvella of Gulval,\nhas a good tower, and several points of interest. Here was buried,\n1778, Dolly Pentreath, the last person able to converse in the old\nCornish language. Pentreath was her maiden name. She was married to a\nman of the name of Jeffery. It is still the custom in the villages of\nMousehole and Newlyn for women to be called by their maiden names after\nmarriage; indeed, there are some instances in which the husband goes by\nthe maiden name of his wife, when his individuality disappears under\nher more pronounced personality. Such would doubtless be the case in\nthe following instance I quote from the _Cornish Magazine_:--\n\n_Girl_ (selling papers): \u201cIf you please, sir, do you want a _\u2019Ome\nCompanion_?\u201d\n\n_Householder_ (at door): \u201cNo, thank\u2019ee, my dear. I got wan.\u201d\n\n_Girl_: \u201c_\u2019Ome Chat_, sir?\u201d\n\n_Householder_: \u201c_\u2019Ome Chat!_\u201d (throws open the door). \u201cHere, just come\nfore and listen for yourself. Hark to her a bellerin\u2019 in the back\nkitchen.\u201d\n\nOr in such a case as this.\n\nPasco Polglaze was henpecked. He opened his heart to Uncle Zackie at\nthe \u201cDog and Pheasant.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, look here,\u201d said Uncle Zackie, \u201cyou be a man and show yourself\nmaister in your own \u2019ouse, You go \u2019ome and snap your vingers in the\nmissus\u2019 vaice, and sit down on the table. I\u2019ll come in two minutes\nafter and see your triumph--you maister and all.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight,\u201d said Pasco, and went home.\n\nBut when he had snapped his fingers under the nose of his wife she took\nthe poker at him, and he took refuge under the table.\n\nTap! tap! at the door.\n\n\u201cCome out from under there,\u201d said Susan, his wife.\n\nThen Pasco lifted up his voice and sang out as loud as thunder, \u201cNo,\nSue! no, I want come out from under the table. I\u2019ll stick where I be;\nfor all you say, I\u2019ll show Uncle Zackie as I\u2019ll be maister in my own\nhouse.\u201d\n\nIn 1768 the Hon. Daines Barrington visited Cornwall to ascertain\nwhether the Cornish language had entirely died out or not, and in a\nletter written to John Lloyd a few years after he gives the result of\nhis journey, and in it refers to Dolly Pentreath:--\n\n \u201cI set out from Penzance with the landlord of the principal\n inn for my guide towards Sennen, and when I approached the\n village I said there must probably be some remains of the\n language in those parts, if anywhere. My guide, however,\n told me that I should be disappointed; but that if I would\n ride about ten miles about in my return to Penzance, he\n would conduct me to a village called Mousehole, where was\n an old woman who could speak Cornish fluently. While\n we were travelling together I enquired how he knew that\n this woman spoke Cornish, when he informed me that he\n frequently went to Mousehole to buy fish which were sold by\n her, and that when he did not offer her a price that was\n satisfactory she grumbled to some other old woman in an\n unknown tongue, which he concluded to be Cornish.\n\n \u201cWhen we reached Mousehole I desired to be introduced as\n a person who had laid a wager that there was not one who\n could converse in Cornish, upon which Dolly Pentreath spoke\n in an angry tone for two or three minutes in a language\n which sounded very much like Welsh. The hut in which she\n lived was in a very narrow lane, opposite to two rather\n better houses, at the doors of which two other women stood,\n who were advanced in years, and who, I observed, were\n laughing at what Dolly said to me.\n\n \u201cUpon this I asked them whether she had not been abusing\n me, to which they answered, \u2018Very heartily,\u2019 and because I\n had supposed she could not speak Cornish.\n\n \u201cI then said that they must be able to talk the language,\n to which they answered that they could not speak it\n readily, but that they understood it, being only ten or\n twelve years younger than Dolly Pentreath.\n\n \u201cI had scarcely said or thought anything more about this\n matter till last summer (1772), having mentioned it to\n some Cornish people, I found that they could not credit\n that any person had existed within these few years who\n could speak their native language; and therefore, though I\n imagined there was but a small chance of Dolly Pentreath\n continuing to live, yet I wrote to the President (of the\n Society of Antiquaries), then in Devonshire, to desire\n that he would make some inquiry with regard to her, and\n he was so obliging as to procure me information from a\n gentleman whose house was within three miles of Mousehole,\n a considerable part of whose letter I shall subjoin:--\n\n \u201c\u2018Dolly Pentreath is short of figure and bends very much\n with old age, being in her eighty-seventh year; so lusty,\n however, as to walk hither to Castle Horneck, about three\n miles, in bad weather in the morning and back again.\n She is somewhat deaf, but her intellect seemingly not\n impaired.... She does indeed talk Cornish as readily as\n others do English, being bred up from a child to know no\n other language, nor could she talk a word of English before\n she was past twenty years of age, as, her father being a\n fisherman, she was sent with fish to Penzance at twelve\n years old, and sold them in the Cornish language, which\n the inhabitants in general, even the gentry, did then\n well understand. She is positive, however, that there is\n neither in Mousehole, nor in any other part of the county,\n any other person who knows anything of it, or at least\n can converse in it. She is poor, and maintained partly by\n the parish, and partly by fortune-telling and gabbling\n Cornish.\u2019\u201d\n\nA monument has been erected to her memory by Prince Lucien Bonaparte.\nShe died on December 26th, 1777, and was buried in January, 1778. The\nfollowing epitaph was written for her:--\n\n_Cornish._\n\n \u201cCoth Doll Pentreath caus ha deau;\n Marow ha kledyz ed Paul pl\u00eaa:--\n Na ed an egloz, gan pobel br\u00e2s,\n Bes ed egloz-hay coth Dolly es.\u201d\n\n_English._\n\n \u201cOld Doll Pentreath, one hundred aged and two,\n Deceased, and buried in Paul parish too:--\n Not in the church, with people great and high,\n But in the church-yard doth old Dolly lie.\u201d\n\nA word may here be added relative to the Cornish tongue. The Celtic\nlanguage is divided into two branches, one represented by the Irish and\nGaelic of North Scotland, and this is called the Goidhelic, or Gaelic;\nthe other by the Welsh, old Cornish, and Breton, and this is called the\nBrythonic.\n\nThe main distinction between them consists in the Gaelic employing _k_\nor the hard _c_ where the Welsh and Cornish would use _p_. Thus _pen_\nis used in the latter, and _ken_ in the former. When the Irish adopted\nthe word _purpur_, purple, they changed it into _corcair_; and when\nthey took the low Latin _premter_ for presbyter into their language\nthey twisted it into _crumthir_. The Cornish was identical with old\nWelsh, and the Breton was originally identical with the Cornish; but in\ncourse of time some changes grew up differentiating the tongues, and\nforming dialects derived from the same mother tongue, that is all.\n\nIn or about 1540 Dr. Moreman, vicar of Menheniot, in the east of the\ncounty, was the first to teach the people the Creed, the Lord\u2019s Prayer,\nand the Commandments in English.\n\nCarew, however, in his _Survey of Cornwall_ in 1602 says, \u201cMost of\nthe inhabitants can speak no word of Cornish, but few are ignorant\nof English, and yet some so affect their own as to a stranger they\nwill not speak it, for if meeting them by chance you inquire the way,\nyour answer will be, \u2018_Meeg nauidna cowzasawzneck_\u2019--I can speak no\nSaxonage.\u201d\n\nCarew\u2019s _Survey_ was soon followed by that of Norden, who says that\nthe tongue was chiefly confined to Penwith and Kirrier, and yet \u201cthough\nthe husband and wife, parents and children, master and servants, do\nnaturally communicate in their native language, yet there is none of\nthem in a manner but is able to converse with a stranger in the English\ntongue, unless it be some obscure people who seldom confer with the\nbetter sort.\u201d\n\nThe Cornish was so well spoken in the parish of Feock till about the\nyear 1640 \u201cthat Mr. William Jackman, the then vicar, ... was forced for\ndivers years to administer the Sacrament to the communicants in the\nCornish tongue, because the aged people did not well understand the\nEnglish, as he himself often told me\u201d (Hals).\n\nSo late as 1650 the Cornish language was currently spoken in the\nparishes of Paul and S. Just; and in 1678 the rector of Landewednack\n\u201cpreached a sermon to his parishioners in the Cornish language only.\u201d\n\nIt may seem paradoxical, but I contend that for intellectual culture\nit is a great loss to the Cornish to have abandoned their native\ntongue. To be bi-lingual is educative to the intellect in a very\nmarked degree. In their determination not to abandon their tongue, the\nWelsh show great prudence. I have no hesitation in saying that a Welsh\npeasant is much ahead, intellectually, of the English peasant of the\nsame social position, and I attribute this mainly to the fact of the\ngreater agility given to his brain in having to think and speak in two\nlanguages. When he gives up one of these tongues he abandons mental\ngymnastics as well as the exercise of the vocal organs in two different\nmodes of speech.\n\nWhat we do with infinite labour in the upper and middle classes is to\nteach our children to acquire French and German as well as English, and\nthis is not only because these tongues open to them literary treasures,\nbut for educative purpose to the mind, teaching to acquire other words,\nforms of grammar, and modulation of sounds than those the children have\nat home.\n\nBy God\u2019s mercy the Welsh child is so situated that from infancy it has\nto acquire simultaneously two tongues, and that in the lowest class of\nlife; and this I contend is an advantage of a very high order, which is\nnot enjoyed by children of even a class above it in England.\n\nThe West Cornish dialect is a growth of comparatively recent times. It\nis on the outside not more than four hundred years old. Whence was it\nderived? That is a problem that has yet to be studied.\n\nMr. Jago says:--\n\n \u201cWe have in the provincial dialect a singular mixture of\n old Cornish and old English words, which gives so strong\n an individuality to the Cornish speech. As, in speaking\n English, a Frenchman or a German uses more or less of the\n accent peculiar to each, so it is very probable that the\n accent with which the Cornish speak is one transferred\n from their ancient Cornish language. The _sing-song_, as\n strangers call it, in the Cornish speech is not so evident\n to Cornishmen when they listen to their own dialect.\u201d[28]\n\n[Illustration: CHUN QUOIT]\n\nSancreed screen, which must have been almost as fine as that of Burian,\nhas disappeared all but a magnificent fragment. The church is dedicated\nto S. Credan, disciple of S. Petrock, an Irishman, who returned to the\nEmerald Isle. He was the son of S. Illogan, and he had two aunts in\nCornwall--one at Camborne and the other at Stythians.\n\nS. Just Church is late; it has rather handsomely carved capitals of the\npiers, with angels bearing shields, on which are figured the arms of\nthe principal families connected with the parish. S. Just, as I have\nsaid, was deacon to S. Patrick, and was the tutor to S. Piran.\n\nIn Gwythian parish may be seen the early eighth-century chapel of the\nsaint, which was for long buried under the sands, but was revealed by a\ndrift in 1808.\n\nAt Porth Curnew, near S. Levan\u2019s, are the ruins of another of these\nearly oratories.\n\nMadron was founded by S. Medran, brother of Odran; they went as boys\nunder fourteen to S. Piran, to consult him about making a pilgrimage.\nBut Medran wished to stay with the old abbot, whereas Odran was for\ntravelling. Odran said to S. Piran, \u201cDo not part my brother from me.\nWe agreed to stick together.\u201d \u201cThe Lord judge between you both,\u201d said\nthe abbot. \u201cLet Medran hold this lantern and blow on the smouldering\nwick. If it flames, then he stays. If not, he goes.\u201d Medran succeeded\nin producing a flame, and thenceforth he became an attached follower of\nS. Piran. Odran went his way.\n\nIt is chiefly for prehistoric antiquities that the Land\u2019s End district\nis remarkable. It possesses cliff-castles, and also some fine examples\nof the stone cashel. Such is Ch\u00fbn; also beehive huts, as at Bosprennis,\nand a curious cluster of habitations at Chysauster already referred to.\n\nThere are cromlechs, sacred circles, and menh\u00eers. These are so numerous\nand so interesting, that a visitor should take Mr. Lach-Szyrma\u2019s guide\nand examine them in detail.\n\n\nNOTE.--Books to be consulted:--\n\nBLIGHT (J. T.), _A Week at the Land\u2019s End_. 1861. _List of Antiquities\nin Kirrier and Penwith._ Truro, 1862. _Churches of West Cornwall._\nOxford: Parker, 1885 (second edition).\n\nLACH-SZYRMA (W. S.), _Two Hundred and Twenty-two Antiquities in and\nabout Penzance_. Plymouth: Luke. _n.d._\n\nMATTHEWS (J. H.), _A History of the Parishes of St. Ives, Lelant, etc._\nLondon: Stock, 1892.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE PULPIT ROCK, SCILLY]\n\n\n CHAPTER XX.\n\n THE SCILLY ISLES\n\n _Armorel of Lyoness_--A refuge for the Celtic saints--\n Lighthouses--The name of Scilly--Olaf Trygvason at Scilly--\n Mr. Augustus Smith--The flower trade--Flowers not allowed\n to blossom in the fields--Traces of tin-streaming--Contrast\n between the east coast and the west of England--Variety in\n Scilly--Sir Cloudesley Shovel.\n\n\nFor a guide to what is to be seen in this cluster there is no better\nbook than Sir W. Besant\u2019s _Armorel of Lyoness_, to my mind one of\nthe most delightful works of fiction I have ever read; I refer, of\ncourse, to the first part, that concerns Scilly. Let a visitor take\nthat book, and go over the ground and be happy. Nothing can be added,\nbut one word in caution. The whole is a _little_ over-coloured. Scilly\npresents scenes of great interest, but the cliffs are by no means so\nfine as those of Land\u2019s End, and far inferior to those of the Lizard.\nNevertheless, island clusters have a charm of their own distinct from\nthe scenery of the fringe of the mainland, and a cluster Scilly is,\nintricate, and presenting great variety. There are one hundred and\nforty-five islets, large and small, forty miles due west from Lizard\nPoint, and twenty-eight west-by-south from Land\u2019s End.\n\nThe views of the islands change remarkably, according to the state of\nthe tide. At high-water the islands are separated by wide stretches of\nsea, while at the ebb extensive flats are uncovered, and some of the\nislands are apparently joined. The Crow Channel between S. Mary\u2019s and\nS. Martin\u2019s Isles has been forded on horseback, and a man is reported\nto have ridden from S. Mary\u2019s to Tresco, fording the arms of the sea at\nlow spring-tide.\n\nS. Martin\u2019s Island is difficult of approach at low tide from S. Mary\u2019s\nby boat on account of the distance to which the sands run out.\n\nSuch an archipelago was exactly suited to the requirements of the\nCeltic saints, who, if they spent most of their time in superintendence\nof their monasteries, retired for Lent to solitary places, and as they\ngrew old resigned their pastoral staves to their coarbs (successors),\nand retreated to islets, there to prepare for the great change. The\nwest coast of Ireland is studded with islets that still retain the\ncells of these solitaries. Wales had its Bardsey and Anglesea, and\nCaldey and Ramsey. And what these were to Irish and Welsh the Scilly\ngroup was to the saints of Cornwall. Thus we find there S. Elid, the\nWelsh S. Illog, S. Teon, who is the Euny of Lelant, S. Samson, and S.\nWarna.\n\nI do not know that any of the remains of their venerable oratories have\nbeen found, but then they have not been looked for.\n\nThere are now churches on four of the isles.\n\nThere are three lighthouses--that of S. Agnes, a revolving light; that\non an outlying rock, the Bishop, fixed; and that on Round Island, with\na red light.\n\nThe heights in Scilly are not great; the highest point attained is one\nhundred and twenty-eight feet. There are some small fresh-water tarns.\n\nThe islands take their name from the old Silurian inhabitants, to\nwhom they served as a last refuge where they could maintain their\nindependence, just as the Arran Isles answered the same purpose to\ntheir kindred, the Firbolgs, in Ireland. But the general notion is\nthat they take their designation from the conger eels, locally called\n_selli_. It is remarkable that they must at one time have contained a\nmuch larger population than at present, as the remains of hedges and\nhouses in ruins indicate.\n\nIn 993 Olaf Trygvason, of Norway, with Sweyn Forkbeard, of Denmark,\ntogether with a fleet of ninety-three ships, came a-harrying the\ncoasts of England. They sailed up the Thames and attacked London, but\nthe citizens behaved with great valour, and beat them off. Then they\nravaged the east coast of England, took and burnt Sandwich and Ipswich;\nnext they entered the Blackwater and attacked Maldon. There a great\nfight ensued. The Saxons were under the command of the eorlderman\nBritnoth. The Norsemen gained the day, and Britnoth was slain. It is\nwith this battle that one of the earliest remains of Anglo-Saxon poetry\ndeals. It is, unhappily, but a fragment. After recording the fall of\nthe eorlderman, the poet concludes:--\n\n \u201cI am old of age, hence will I not stir;\n I will sit by the side of my dead master;\n I think to lay me down and die by him I loved.\u201d\n\nOn the doors of some of the churches in the East of England were\nformerly \u201cDanes\u2019 skins,\u201d and the remains of these still exist. When the\nAnglo-Saxons did succeed in killing a Norseman they flayed him, and\nnailed his tanned skin against the church door.\n\nOlaf stormed the Castle of Bamborough, then harried the Scottish coast,\nthe Western Isles and the Isle of Man, then Ireland, where \u201che burned\nfar and wide, wherever inhabited.\u201d\n\nNot yet content with blood and flame, he crossed to Wales and ravaged\nthere, then sailed to France to do there what mischief he could. After\na while he turned back, and sighted the Scilly Isles, and then ran\nhis fleet into the harbour of S. Mary\u2019s, the largest of the isles.\nHere Olaf heard tell of a hermit who lived in a cell among the granite\ncrags, and who was believed to have the gift of prophecy.\n\n\u201cI will test his powers,\u201d said Olaf.\n\nThen he dressed up one of his men in his armour, gave him his spear and\nred-cross shield, and sent him to consult the old man.\n\nBut no sooner did the hermit see the fellow than he said, \u201cThou art not\nKing Olaf, thou art a servant. Beware that thou be not false to him,\nthat is my rede to thee.\u201d No more would he say.\n\nThen the party returned to the ship and told Olaf. He was highly\npleased, and went ashore in a boat with a small following, that he\nmight consult the anchorite as to the prospect of his being able to\nrecover the kingdom of his ancestors.\n\nThe hermit was undoubtedly a Cornish Briton, and Olaf was obliged to\nhold communication with him through an interpreter from Ireland or\nWales.\n\nThe old man said to him, \u201cThere is a great future in store for thee,\nOlaf. Thou wilt have to pass through much conflict, but in the end\nwilt reign in thine own land; and when that comes to pass remember to\nadvance the faith, and to use every opportunity to turn men from their\nidols.\u201d\n\nNow the interpreter knew that there was discontent simmering among the\nfollowers of the prince. They wanted to return to their homes with the\nplunder they had acquired, but Olaf set his face against this.\n\nThe interpreter, knowing that the men were mutinous, said a few words\nin Welsh or Irish to the hermit. He was afraid of himself giving\nwarning to Olaf, lest the mutineers should wreak their resentment on\nhim. So the anchorite told the king that there were those amongst his\nfollowers who plotted, and purposed seizing the opportunity of his\nbeing on land to execute their design of revolt.\n\nOlaf precipitately returned to his ships, and found that the mutineers\nwere making off with some of the ships. He hurried on board, gave\nchase, and a fight ensued. Finally the mutiny was quelled, but not\nwithout Olaf being wounded. His vessel then put into Tresco harbour,\nwhere were monks to whom Athelstan had granted land in 936. He was\ncarried into the monastery, carefully tended, and was induced to\nreceive baptism. Hitherto, though convinced that Christianity was the\ntrue religion, Olaf had never formally been enrolled in the Church.\nUnhappily, Olaf could not speak Cornish, and the abbot was ignorant\nof the Norse tongue, so that all communication had to go on through\nthe interpreter, and Olaf did not receive much religious instruction.\nNevertheless, as far as his lights went, he was sincere.\n\nThen he returned to Norway to proclaim his right to the throne.\n\n \u201cTo avenge his fathers slain,\n And reconquer realm and reign,\n Came the youthful Olaf home,\n Through the midnight sailing, sailing,\n Listening to the wild wind\u2019s wailing,\n And the dashing of the foam.\n\n \u201cTo his thoughts the sacred name\n Of his mother, Astrid, came;\n And the tale she oft had told\n Of her flight by secret passes,\n Through the mountains and morasses,\n To the home of Hakon old.\n\n \u201cThen his cruisings o\u2019er the seas,\n Westward to the Hebrides,\n And to Scilly\u2019s rocky shore,\n And the hermit\u2019s cavern dismal,\n Christ\u2019s great name and rites baptismal,\n In the ocean\u2019s rush and roar.\u201d\n\nS. Marys is the largest of the islands, and it has a population of over\n1600 people; Tresco is the second; then S. Agnes, pronounced S. Anne\u2019s;\nthen S. Martin\u2019s; next Bryher; after this comes S. Sampson, no longer\ninhabited; and the remainder are very small. The original population\nwas doubtless Silurian or Ivernian; the traces, however, of this early\nrace are few. The population now is less pure than on the mainland. Not\nonly were there Irish colonists, but it is said that in the Civil Wars\na Bedfordshire regiment was sent there--and forgotten; so the soldiers\nlooked about for comely Scilly maids, married, and were content to be\nno more remembered in the adjacent island of Great Britain. In 1649\nSir John Grenville employed Scilly as a great nursery for privateers,\nand so swept the seas that the Channel trade was seriously injured.\nParliament at length fitted out and despatched an expedition under\nBlake, and in June, 1651, compelled Sir John Grenville to surrender.\n\nThe islands belong to the Duchy of Cornwall, and thereby leased to\nthe late Mr. Augustus Smith, who, firmly imbued with the notion that\nmen must be manufactured by education rather than allowed to bring\nthemselves up in independence, transported the population from the\nsmaller islands and planted them about the schools. No doubt that the\nnative originality, freshness, and force will be drilled out of the new\ngeneration, and they will all spell and think, and write and act alike.\nIt is, however, sad to notice on islands now deserted the ruins of\nancient farms.\n\nThe Scilly Isles are a great seat of the flower trade; previously early\npotatoes were grown there, but now these are imported.\n\nOf flowers, narcissi and anemones are chiefly grown, and in the open,\nthough large numbers of flowers are now under glass. As soon as the\nblooms show colour they are picked, and placed in water under cover.\nOne may see in the interior of a cottage all the furniture stacked in\na corner of the room, and the entire floor covered with pots and jars\nof water full of flower buds. If the blossoms need forcing to make them\nexpand, they are put in warm water.\n\nIt is rare to see a field of flowers in full bloom. The damage caused\nby rain and wind is so great, that rather than run the risk they are\npicked when in bud.\n\nOne feature of the flower fields is that they are hedged about with\nescalonia, with its pretty shining leaves and pink flower. This shrub\ndelights in wind, and it also serves to shelter the crop from the\ngales, as it stands clipping and grows vigorously.\n\nFishing is not much carried on, but anyone with a steam launch will be\nable to find good shelter in case of rough weather, and he can manage\nto catch as many fish as he desires. One prolific ground is round the\nSeven Stones Lightship, north-east of the isles.\n\nIt is a curious fact that little flotsam and jetsam comes up on the\nisles. The Atlantic tides divide and run up on each side of the tides\nthat course along the shores of the islands.\n\nFormerly Scilly was a favourite breeding-place for birds, but now they\nno longer employ it for this purpose, or do so to a very minor degree.\n\nThere are traces of streaming for tin in some of the isles, but no\nmineral veins are now known to run through the Scilly granite. Ferns\nabound, but the islands are a little disappointing to the botanist,\nthough to a florist they are a paradise.\n\nTo give a true idea of Scilly I must quote from _Armorel_, for such as\nhave not the book:--\n\n \u201cThe visitor who comes by one boat and goes away by the\n next thinks he has seen this archipelago. As well stand\n inside a cathedral for half an hour and then go away\n thinking you have seen all. It takes many days to see these\n fragments of Lyonesse and to get a true sense of the place.\u201d\n\nBy the way, the idea that Scilly represents the peaks of a submerged\nrealm of Lyonesse is altogether baseless. Lyonesse is the realm of Leon\nin Brittany, so-called because founded by colonists from Caerleon, who\nfled from the swords of the Saxons. It remained a little independent\nprincipality till at the close of the sixth century it became\nincorporated with the principality of Domnonia, in Brittany.\n\n \u201cEverywhere in Scilly there are the same features: here a\n hill strewn with boulders; there a little down with fern\n and gorse and heath; here a bay in which the water, on such\n days as it can be approached, peacefully laps a smooth\n white beach; here dark caves and holes in which the water\n always, even in the calmest days of summer, grumbles and\n groans, and, when the least sea rises, begins to roar and\n bellow--in time of storm it shrieks and howls.... All round\n the rocks at low tide hangs the long seaweed, undisturbed\n since the days when they manufactured kelp, like the rank\n growth of a tropical creeper: at high tide it stands up\n erect, rocking to and fro in the wash and sway of the water\n like the tree-tops of the forest in the breeze. Everywhere,\n except in the rare places where men come and go, the\n wild sea-birds make their nests; the shags stand on the\n ledges of the highest rocks in silent rows gazing upon the\n water below; the sea-gulls fly, shrieking in sea-gullic\n rapture--there is surely no life quite so joyous as the\n sea-gull\u2019s; the curlews call; the herons sail across the\n sky; and in spring millions of puffins swim and dive and\n fly about the rocks and lay their eggs in the hollow places\n of these wild and lonely islands.\u201d\n\nIs not that beautiful writing? But it is not fanciful; it is beautiful\nbecause true, absolutely true. Go and see if it be not so.\n\nHave you ever made acquaintance with the horrors of Lowestoft, a\nflat insipid shore, where the sea is always charged with mud and no\nbreakers thunder, where the land scene is as dull and insipid as is the\nsea-scape? I was there last summer. It was a dismal place, made the\nmore dismal by being invaded and pervaded, spread out, exposed, devoted\nto the \u201ctripper.\u201d And I fled to the west coast to see the Atlantic,\nwith the water crystal clear, through which you look down into\ninfinity, and to the glorious cliffs about which that transparent water\ntosses, shakes its silver mane, curls its waves blue and iridescent as\na peacock\u2019s neck, and I wondered that any should ever visit the east\ncoast of England.\n\n \u201cAll the islands, except the bare rocks, are covered\n with down and moorland, bounded in every direction by\n rocky headlands and slopes covered with granite boulders.\n And always, day after day, they came continually upon\n unexpected places: strange places, beautiful places:\n beaches of dazzling white; wildly-heaped earns; here a\n cromlech, a logan stone, a barrow; a new view of sea and\n sky and white-footed rock. I believe that there does not\n live any single man who has actually explored all the\n isles of Scilly, stood upon every rock, climbed every\n hill, and searched on every island for its treasures of\n ancient barrows, plants, birds, cairns, and headlands. Once\n there was a worthy person who came here as chaplain to S.\n Martin\u2019s. He started with the excellent intention of seeing\n everything. Alas! he never saw a single island properly: he\n never walked round one exhaustively. He wrote a book about\n them, to be sure; but he saw only half.\u201d\n\nThere are numerous cairns, barrows, kistvaens, and circles of stones\nin the islands, and Giant\u2019s Castle, in S. Mary\u2019s, is a good example of\na cliff-camp of the Irish Firbolg type. A local guide attributes it to\nthe Danes, but that is nonsense.\n\nIn Porth Hellick Bay Sir Cloudesley Shovel was washed ashore and buried.\n\nIn 1707 Sir Cloudesley in the _Association_, Captain Hancock in the\n_Eagle_, Sir George Byng in the _Royal Anne_, Captain Coney in the\n_Romney_, Lord Dudley in the _St. George_, Captain Piercy in the\n_Firebrand_, and a captured fireship, the _Ph\u0153nix_, were returning\nfrom Toulon after the capture of Gibraltar. On the morning of the 22nd\nOctober, the weather being thick and dirty, they came into soundings of\nnineteen fathoms. There is a tradition that a seaman on the admiral\u2019s\nship warned the officer of the watch that unless the ship\u2019s course were\naltered they would soon be on the rocks of Scilly. This was reported\nto Sir Cloudesley, who was very angry. He had the man brought before\nhim, and attempted to browbeat him, but the man stuck to his opinion.\nThe admiral lost his temper, as he considered it a breach of decorum\nfor a common mariner to dictate the course of the vessel to a superior\nofficer, and he ordered the man to be hanged at the yard-arm. One\nrequest was granted to the sailor--that he should be allowed to read\naloud a psalm to the assembled crew. This was permitted, and he read\nout Psalm cix.:--\n\n \u201cHold not Thy tongue, O God of my praise: for the mouth of\n the ungodly, yea, the mouth of the deceitful, is opened\n upon us.\u201d\n\nThat night the ship was lost. At six in the evening the admiral, who\nhad brought the fleet to during the afternoon, made sail again, and\nstood away under canvas. Directly after he made signals of distress,\nwhich were returned by several of the fleet. Sir George Byng in the\n_Royal Anne_, who was a mile to windward of him, saw the breakers, and\nsaved his vessel with difficulty.\n\nThe _Association_, Sir Cloudesley\u2019s vessel, had struck at eight\no\u2019clock upon the Gilstones, a cluster of rocks of what are called the\nWestern Isles, and in about two minutes went down with all on board\nsave one. He clung to a piece of the wreck, and was swept on to the\nHellweathers, where he remained for some time till rescued. The _Eagle_\nand the _Romney_ were also lost with all hands. The _Firebrand_ was\nlost as well, but the captain and some of the crew were rescued. The\n_Ph\u0153nix_ ran ashore, but was got off again. The _Royal Anne_ was\nsaved. So was the _S. George_ by the merest accident. She struck the\nsame rock as the _Association_ and about the same time, but the wave\nwhich sank the admiral\u2019s ship floated the _S. George_ from the rocks.\n\nThe body of Sir Cloudesley Shovel was picked up at Porth Hellick by a\nsoldier and his wife, who gave it decent burial in the sand. It was\nafterwards conveyed at Lady Shovel\u2019s desire to Westminster Abbey and\nlaid there. She rewarded the soldier with a pension for life, and with\nthe diamond ring from the finger of her husband.\n\nFinally, with its amount of sunshine, with its equable temperature, and\nits air charged with ozone, I believe Scilly will be the sanatorium of\nthe future.\n\n\nNOTE.--Book to be consulted:--\n\nTONKIN (J. C. and R. W.), _Guide to the Isles of Scilly_. Penzance,\n_n.d._ A capital little book.\n\n\n\n\n PLYMOUTH\n WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON\n PRINTERS\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n [1] _Irish Nennius_, ed. Todd and Herbert (Dublin, 1848),\n p. 237.\n\n [2] Misses Couch were misled when they visited S. Mawes,\n and they give a photograph of a well which is _not_\n the holy well. The latter is among the houses opposite\n the post office, and had an arched entrance, now\n walled up.\n\n [3] MATTHEWS, _History of the Parishes of S. Ives, Lelant,\n Towednack, and Zennor_ (London, 1892), p. 40.\n\n [4] _Arch\u00e6ologia Cambrensis_, January, 1899. See also\n A. J. Langdon, \u201cThe Ornament of the Early Crosses\n of Cornwall,\u201d _Journal of the Royal Institution of\n Cornwall_, vol. x. (1890-1).\n\n [5] Not to be confounded with S. Clether of Clodock, in\n Herefordshire, son of Gwynnar, and from whom the poet\n Taliesin was descended. The invasion of Carmarthen by\n Dyfnwal from the north had much to do with Clether\u2019s\n departure.\n\n [6] Tremendous confusion has been made of his life, as he\n has been confounded with a S. Paternus, who was Bishop\n of Vannes in 462 or 465; and the Cornish Venedotia has\n been construed as Venettia, Vannes. Nearly a century\n intervened between the two saints.\n\n [7] _The Cornish Magazine_, 1899.\n\n [8] GUEST, _Mabinogion_, p. 227.\n\n [9] _Celtic Scotland._ Edinburgh, 1876-80.\n\n [10] \u201cCornish Choughs,\u201d in the _Journals of the Roy. Inst.\n of Cornwall_, x. (1890-1).\n\n [11] New Edition, 1893, vol. i. p. 136.\n\n [12] \u201cThe earthwork, of which a great part is still in\n existence, does not command the steep part of the\n slope on the other three sides, though the guns would\n be available against an enemy after he had once\n established himself on the plateau.\u201d\n\n [13] Lord Tenterden in the summing up of Rowe _v._ Brenton,\n 1830.\n\n [14] After the Armada the Corporation of Saltash raised\n the harbour due to seven shillings for a Spanish\n ship. This sum is still paid by Trinity House, which,\n however, exacts two shillings only from the Spaniards,\n the same as from a French or German vessel.\n\n [15] I have given them in my _Garland of Country Song_.\n Methuen, 1895.\n\n [16] There are two rivers Lew in West Devon and two in\n Wales. There is a Loue that flows into the V\u00e9z\u00e8re.\n There is also Loe Pool by Helston; the root enters\n into lough or loch.\n\n [17] A new edition was published by Longmans in 1845.\n\n [18] Madoc and Madan are the same name; _oc_ and _an_\n are diminutives. The real name was Aed. It became\n Mo-aedoc. _Mo_ is a term of endearment--\u201cmy\u201d--given to\n many Irish and Welsh saints.\n\n [19] I must caution the visitor against the blunders that\n crowd the pages of a little local guide to Golant.\n Amongst other misstatements is this, that the capitals\n are Norman and the arches of Moorish design. The\n four-centred arch is quite common in all third-pointed\n work.\n\n [20] Reprinted in Preb. HINGESTON-RANDOLPH\u2019S _Registers of\n Bishop Grandisson_. Exeter, 1897, p. 608.\n\n [21] The arch over door and window is decisive against\n sixth-century work. All the earliest Irish churches\n have a stone slab thrown across from the jambs, and no\n arch with key.\n\n [22] The church without, as outside of the camp.\n\n [23] Not Witherne in Galway, nor Ty Gwyn \u00e2r Daf. See Mrs.\n DAWSON\u2019S article in _Arch\u00e6ol. Cambr._, 1898.\n\n [24] SULLIVAN, Introduction to O\u2019Curry\u2019s _Lectures on the\n Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish_, 1873, i. p.\n cliv.\n\n [25] Quite the best monograph on the colonisation of\n Brittany is by DOM PLAINE, _La Colonisation de\n l\u2019Armorique par les Bretons insulaires_. Paris:\n Picard, 1899. See also LOTH (M. J.), _Emigration\n Bretonne en Armorique_. Rennes, 1883.\n\n [26] Figured in WOOD-MARTIN, _The Rude Stone Monuments of\n Ireland_, 1888, p. 154.\n\n [27] MATTHEWS, _A History of St. Ives_. London, 1892.\n\n [28] JAGO (Mr.), _Glossary of the Cornish Dialect_. Truro,\n 1882.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Note:\n\nWords may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation\nin the text. These were left unchanged. Dialect, jargon, obsolete\nand alternative spellings were left unchanged.\n\nWords and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like\nthis_. The book has both notes and footnotes. The notes were retained\nat the end of chapters; footnotes were renumbered sequentially and\nmoved to the end of the book.\n\nObvious printing errors, such as backwards or partially printed letters\nand punctuation, were corrected. Final stops missing at the end of\nsentences and abbreviations were added.","title":"A book of the west. Volume 2, Cornwall : $b being an introduction to Devon and Cornwall","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":90009}