Kitabı oku: «Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall, Second Series», sayfa 28

Midsummer Bonfires

Our bonfires, torches, and tar-barrels, with the peculiar hand-in-hand dance around the blazing piles, remind us of ancient times when similar customs were regarded as sacred rites by our forefathers; and it would seem as if some vestiges of these time-honoured religious notions were still connected with Midsummer bonfires in the minds of old-fashioned people, living in remote and primitive districts, where they still believe that dancing in a ring over the embers, around a bonfire, or leaping (singly) through its flames, is calculated to insure good luck to the performers and to serve as a protection from witchcraft and other malign influences during the ensuing year.

Many years ago, on Midsummer's eve, when it became dusk, very old people in the West Country would hobble away to some high ground, whence they obtained a view of the most prominent hills, such as Bartinney, Chapel Carn-brea, Sancras Bickan, Castle-an-Dinas, Carn Galver, St. Agnes Bickan, and many other beacon hills far away to north and east, which vied with each other in their Midsummer's blaze. They counted the fires and drew a presage from the number of them. There are now but few bonfires to be seen on the western heights; yet we have observed that Tregonan, Godolphin, and Carn Marth hills, with others away towards Redruth, still retain their Baal fires. We would gladly go many miles to see the weird-looking, yet picturesque, dancers around the flames on a carn, or high hill top, as we have seen them some forty years ago.

We are sorry to find that another pleasing Midsummer's observance, which also appears to be ancient, has almost died out. Yet within the memory of many, who would not like to be called old or even aged, on a Midsummer's eve, long before sunset, groups of girls – both gentle and simple – of from ten to twenty years of age, neatly dressed and decked with garlands, wreaths, or chaplets of flowers, would be seen dancing in the streets.

One favourite mode of adornment was to sew, or pin, on the skirt of a white dress, rows of laurel-leaves, often spangled with gold leaf. Before Midsummer small wooden hoops were in great demand to be wreathed with green boughs and flowers for garlands, to be worn over one shoulder and under the opposite arm. Towards sunset groups of graceful damsels, joined by their brothers, friends, or lovers, would be seen "threading-the-needle," playing at "kiss-in-the-ring," or simply dancing along every here and there from Chyandour to Alverton, from the Quay to Caunsehead, as the upper part of the town used then to be called, perhaps with more propriety than Causewayhead.

The Mermaid of Zennor

Zennor folks tell the following story, which, according to them, accounts for a singular carving on a bench-end in their Church.

Hundreds of years ago a very beautiful and richly attired lady attended service in Zennor Church occasionally – now and then she went to Morvah also; – her visits were by no means regular, – often long intervals would elapse between them.

Yet whenever she came the people were enchanted with her good looks and sweet singing. Although Zennor folks were remarkable for their fine psalmody, she excelled them all; and they wondered how, after the scores of years that they had seen her, she continued to look so young and fair. No one knew whence she came nor whither she went; yet many watched her as far as they could see from Tregarthen Hill.

She took some notice of a fine young man, called Mathey Trewella, who was the best singer in the parish. He once followed her, but he never returned; after that she was never more seen in Zennor Church, and it might not have been known to this day who or what she was but for the merest accident.

One Sunday morning a vessel cast anchor about a mile from Pendower Cove; soon after a mermaid came close alongside and hailed the ship. Rising out of the water as far as her waist, with her yellow hair floating around her, she told the captain that she was returning from church, and requested him to trip his anchor just for a minute, as the fluke of it rested on the door of her dwelling, and she was anxious to get in to her children.

Others say that while she was out on the ocean a-fishing of a Sunday morning, the anchor was dropped on the trap-door which gave access to her submarine abode. Finding, on her return, how she was hindered from opening her door, she begged the captain to have the anchor raised that she might enter her dwelling to dress her children and be ready in time for church.

However it may be, her polite request had a magical effect upon the sailors, for they immediately "worked with a will," hove anchor and set sail, not wishing to remain a moment longer than they could help near her habitation. Sea-faring men, who understood most about mermaids, regarded their appearance as a token that bad luck was near at hand. It was believed they could take such shapes as suited their purpose, and that they had often allured men to live with them.

When Zennor folks learnt that a mermaid dwelt near Pendower, and what she had told the captain, they concluded it was this sea-lady who had visited their church, and enticed Trewella to her abode. To commemorate these somewhat unusual events they had the figure she bore – when in her ocean-home – carved in holy-oak, which may still be seen.

Glossary of Local Words

A or Ah, he or it; e. g. a es, it is.

After-winding, waste corn.

An', aunt, an expression of regard applied to aged women.

Arreah! (Maria?) an exclamation of angry surprise.

Arish, stubble.

Bal, a mine.

Bannal, broom plant.

Bowjey, sheepfold, &c., on cliff or downs.

Brave, much, very well, &c.

Bruyans, crumbs.

Bucca, a spirit.

Bucca-boo (-dhu), a black spirit.

Bulhorn, a large shell-snail.

Bussa, an earthen crock.

Busy (to be), to require; e. g. it is busy all, it requires all.

Caunse, pavement.

Cayer, a coarse sieve for winnowing.

Chee-ah! word used for calling swine.

Cheeld-vean (little child), a term of endearment.

Chill, an iron lamp.

Cliff, all the ground between the shore and cultivated land. The cliff proper, or precipice, is called the edge of the cliff; the cleeves, or the carns.

Clunk, to swallow.

Costan, a basket made of straw and brambles.

Courant, romping play.

Coursey, to linger gossiping.

Cowal, a large fish-basket.

Cravel, mantel-stone.

Crellas, the ruins of ancient bee-hive huts; an excavation in a bank, roofed over to serve for an out-house, &c.

Croggan, a limpet shell.

Cronack, a toad.

Croud, the rind of a sieve covered with sheepskin, used for taking up corn, &c.; also an old fiddle.

Crum, crooked.

Croust, afternoons' refreshment of bread and beer in harvest time.

Crow, a small out-house.

Didjan, a little bit.

Dijey, a very small homestead.

Dower, water.

Druckshar, a small solid wheel.

Duffan, a nickname for one much given to self laudation; usually bestowed on a bouncing religionist who is powerful in speech, and strong in faith, but no better than ordinary mortals in works.

Duffy, a forthright, blunt happy-go-lucky person.

Dumbledore, large black-beetle.

'E, ye or you.

Faix! faith.

Flushet, a flood-gate.

Fuggan, a small unleavened cake.

Fuggo, an artificial cave.

Gadge-vraws, the ox-eye daisy.

Gard, soil used for scouring.

Garrack, a rock.

Glows, dried cow-dung used for fuel.

Grambler, a stony place.

Griglans, heath.

Gruit, fine soil.

Guare, play, called out by boys when they throw quoits cast a ball, &c.

Guise-dance, Christmas mummery.

Gulthise (in Scilly niclethies), harvest-home feast.

Gurgoes, the ruins of ancient fences found on waste land.

Gweean, a periwinkle.

Hilla, the night-mare.

Hoggan, a "fuggan" with meat baked on it; the fruit of hawthorns.

Keggas, rank wild plants, such as water-hemlock, elecampane, &c.

Kibbal, a bucket used at a draw-well or mine shaft.

Kiskeys, the dried-up stalks of "keggas."

Knackers (knockers), spirits in the mines.

Keuney, moss, lichen, &c.

Laister, the yellow water-iris.

Lew, sheltered from wind.

Lewth, shelter.

Mabyer, a young hen.

Miryon, an ant.

Moar, the root; to produce roots.

Moor-work, tin-streaming.

Morabs, land near the sea.

Nackan, a kerchief.

Oar-weed, sea-weed.

Organ, pennyroyal.

Padzepaw, a newt.

Par, cove; the word porth is never used by the natives of West Cornwall, nor does it ever occur in family names.

Peeth, a draw-well.

Piggal, a kind of large hoe used for cutting turf, &c.

Pilf, woolly dust.

Piljack, a poor scurvy fellow.

Piskey, a mischievous fairy that delights to lead people astray; also a greenish bug, found on blackberries.

Pitch-to, to set to work with good heart.

Plum, soft, light.

Porvan, a rush lamp wick.

Pruit! a word used for calling cows.

Pul, mire, mud.

Pulan, a small pool, such as is left by ebb tide.

Pul-cronack, a small toad-like fish, found in "pulans."

Qualk, a heavy fall.

Quilkan, a frog.

Quillet, a small field.

Reen, a steep hill side.

Rose, low lying level ground, moorland, &c.

Rulls, rolls of carded wool.

Sew (gone to), dried up.

Skaw, the elder tree.

Skaw-dower, fig wort.

Skedgewith, privet.

Small-people, fairies.

Soas, sose, forsooth.

Spanish Dumbledore, the cock-chaffer.

Spriggan, sprite, fairy.

Sprowl, life, energy.

Stroath, more haste than good speed.

Stroll, an untidy mess.

Talfat, a boarded floor, for a bed-place, over one end of a cottage.

Threshal, a flail.

Towsar, a large apron or wrapper.

Tubban, a clod of earth.

Tubble, a mattock.

Tummals, quantity.

Tungtavus, a tattling fool.

Tuntry, the pole by which oxen draw a wain, cart, &c.

Turn, a spinning wheel.

Uncle, a term of regard given to an old man.

Vean, little.

Vined, mouldy.

Visgey, a pick-axe.

Visnan, the sand launce.

Vow, a cavern or "fuggo."

Vug, a cavity in a lode or rock.

Widden, small.

Widdens, small fields.

Wisht, sad, like a person or thing ill-wisht.

Zawn (pro Sown), a cavern in a cliff.

A short time ago, two gentlemen of Penzance walked over to Chysauster, the higher side of Gulval, on a Sunday morning, to inspect the hut-circles, caves, and other remains of what are supposed to have been ancient British habitations. After a fruitless search, the gentlemen returned towards Chysauster to see if they could meet with anyone to inform them where the objects they were in quest of might be found. In the lane they overtook a woman and asked her if she knew of any caves thereabout? "Caaves! no, I don't – not fit for butchers," she replied, "but if you want any for rearan I think I can tell 'e where there es some to be found; now I look at 'e agen you don't seem much like butchers nether, nor you arn't none of our farmers about here ether! Where are 'e coman from at all? Looking for caaves of a Sunday mornan! You are very much in want of them I s'pose." The gentlemen explained that they neither wanted calves for rearing nor killing, but to find the ancient ruins. "Oh Lord," said she, "you're lookan for the old crellas, and things up in the hill! Why dedn't 'e say so than, that one might know what you meant, instead of givan such outlandish names to things. But come 'e along with me, and I'll show 'e," continued she in turning back and leading the way.