Whitsuntide in Yatton

Yatton church - Saint Mary's - By NotFromUtrecht (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Collinson, in his History of Somersetshire, vol. iii. p. 620, speaking of Yatton, says, that " John Lane of this parish, gent, left half an acre of ground, called the Groves, to the poor for ever, reserving a quantity of the grass for strewing the church on Whitsunday.""

Brand 1813

Map - Yatton

Barnstaple Fair - a song (part 2)

Fairground ride - By Iantresman (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

[cont.] "...OH, Devonshire's a noble county, full of lovely views, Miss!

And full of gallant gentlemen for you to pick and choose, Miss !

But search the towns all round about there's nothing can compare, Miss !

In measurement of merriment with Barnstaple Fair, Miss!

Then sing of Barum's merry town, and Barum's merry Mayor, too,

I know no place in all the world, old Barum to compare to !

There's nothing happens in the year but happens at our fair, Sir !

'Tis then that everything abounds that's either new or rare, Sir !

The Misses make their start in life its gaieties to share, Sir !

And ladies look for beaux and balls to Barnstaple fair, Sir!

Then sing of Barum's merry town, and Barum's worthy Mayor, too,

I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to !

The little boys and girls at school their nicest clothes prepare, Ma'am !

To walk the streets and buy sweetmeats and gingerbread so rare, Ma'am !

Their prime delights, to see the sights that ornament our Square, Ma'am !

When Powell brings his spangled troop to Barnstaple Fair, Ma'am !

Then sing of Barum's merry town, and our indulgent Mayor, too,

I know no place in all the world old Barum to compare to !

If milk be scarce though grass be plenty, don't complain too soon, Dame !

For that will very often happen in the month of June, Dame !

Though cows run dry while grass runs high, you never need despair, Dame !

The cows will calve and milk you'll have to Barnstaple Fair, Dame !

Then sing of Barum's wealthy town and its productive fair, too,

And drink the Corporation, and the head of it the Mayor, too !..."  [cont...]

Hewett 1900

True signs of rain from an old almanac - part 3

Morning mist over Chagford, Devon - If you wish to use my photos please attribute this blog

[cont.] "...The leech disturbed is newly risen,
Quite to the summit of his prison ;
The whirling winds the dust obeys,
And in the rapid eddies plays.

My dog, so altered is his taste,
Quits mutton bones, on grass to feast ;
And see yon rooks, how odd their flight,
They imitate the gliding kite,

Or seem precipitate to fall,
As if they felt the piercing ball.
'Twill surely rain ! I see with sorrow,
Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.

From an Almanac published 1844.

Hewet 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #13 April (part 2)

Mattiscombe Bay, Devon, in April - By Own Herby talk thyme (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Fogs in April foretell a failure of the wheat crop for next year.

One should look for grass in April on the top of an oak, because grass seldom springs well before the oak puts forth its leaves.

Fine warm weather from Easter to Whitsuntide produces much grass and cheap butter.

As the weather is on Ascension Day, so will it be the entire autumn.

If it rains on Good Friday and Easter Day,
There'll be plenty of grass and a little good hay.

April and May between them make bread for all the year.

April rains for men : May for beasts."

Hewett 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #10 - March (part 1)

Wild Daffodils in March, Steps Bridge, Devon -  by Derek Harper [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"If March comes in like a lion, it goes out like a lamb, and vice versa.

March winds and April showers,
Bring forth May flowers.

Dust in March brings leaves and grass.

A peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom.

As many mists in March so many frosts in May.

On the first of March
The crows begin to search.

The black army (fleas) arrives on March 1st.

Much March dust, and a shower in May,
Makes the corn green and the fields gay.

Hewett 1900

Devon / Westcountry weather lore #6

"If the grass grow in January, it grows the worse for it all the year. Lock your grain in the granary."

Hewett 1900

Chagford Pixies

Me in Chagford! - if you wish to use my photos please attribute this blog - thanks!

"As a gentleman, late at night, was driving across the moor to Chagford, a village in mid-Devon, he was startled by the merry tinkle of tiny bells. Lights appeared in the meadows close at hand as of thousands of glow-worms shedding their luminous rays on every leaflet, while an innumerable company of small people tripped joyously to the sportive music. Every movement of this assemblage of fairies was distinctly seen by him. He reined in his horse, and watched for a considerable time their merry antics. He sat motionless, the better to catch the spirit of the sportive scene. The sward was crowded with myriads of sprites, some waving garlands of tiny wild flowers, roses and blue bells, others joining in the dance, while not a few bestrode the slender stalks of tall grasses, which scarcely bent beneath their feathery weight. All went merrily till the shrill crow of chanticleer rang out on the midnight air, when suddenly darkness fell and the gorgeous scene with its fantastically attired crowd vanished from the wayfarer's sight.

The villagers assert that on peaceful nights they often hear the echoes of delightful music and the tripping patter of tiny feet issuing from the meadows and hill sides.

By wells and rills, in meadows green
We nightly dance our heyday guise,
And to our fairy king and queen
We chant our moonlight minstrelsies,
When larks 'gin sing,
Away we fling,
And babes new-born steal as we go ;
And elf in bed,
We leave instead,
And wend us laughing, ho! ho! ho!"

Hewett 1900

Map - Chagford (exact location uncertain)

Dream divination on Saint Mark's Eve in Devon

Landscape with a Graveyard by Night by Matthias Withoos (1627-1703)

"Repair to the nearest churchyard as the clock strikes twelve, and take from a grave on the south side of the church three tufts of grass, and on going to bed place them under your pillow, repeating earnestly three several times,

The eve of St. Mark by prediction is blest,
Set therefore my hopes and my fears all to rest :
Let me know my fate, whether weal or woe ;
Whether my rank's to be high or low ;
Whether to live single or to be a bride, 

And the destiny my star doth provide. 

Should you have no dream that night, you will be single and miserable all your life. If you dream of thunder and lightning, your life will be one of great difficulty and sorrow."

Hewett 1900

[This bit of lore in Hewett 1900, and another I have not included on this blog, are found verbatim in  Memoirs of extraordinary popular delusions, Volumes 1-2 By Charles Mackay who copies them from Mother Bridget's "Dream and Omen" book - no source can be found for this so it may well be these things never appeared in Devonshire before the publication of Hewett's book...]

Saint Levan's Curse

Saint Levan's Church - By Jim Champion (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC-BY-SA-2.5-2.0-1.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5-2.0-1.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"Pursuing the same course as the phantom ship, and finally ascending some stone steps, we reach the church of St. Levan, at the head of the green valley, standing on the same spot as that where the saint had his cell. By his power the dreary valley became, during his lifetime, a garden; for where his footsteps fell, grass and flowers sprang up. He used to go fishing daily at the headland of Pedn-men-an-mere, to which a footpath through the fields leads from the church. There is a legend that one Sunday morning St. Levan was passing over the stile to get some fish for dinner, when a woman named Johana, who was in her garden by the pathway gathering potherbs, reproached him for fishing on Sunday. The saint replied that mass was said, and that there was no more harm in his getting his dinner from the sea than there was in her gathering potherbs for her own. In fact, the saint never caught more than one fish, which sufficed for his frugal meal.

He called her "foolish Johana," and said that if another of her name were ever baptized in his well, she should be still more silly than Johana. On this account no child of that name was ever christened at St. Levan's, but those who wished to thus name their daughters took them to Sennen for baptism."

Valentine (undated)

Map - Saint Levan Church

Map - Pedn-men-am-mere

Map - Sennan

Lady Howard - Okehampton Castle

"While the antiquary studies the shattered walls [of Okehampton Castle], the folk-lorist will be rejoicing in the legend of Lady Howard of notorious memory.  She was the daughter of Sir John Fitz, of Fitzford, Tavistock (not the Elizabethan astrologer, whose name we shall presently see, but a later knight of the same name), and has a reputation of having been very wicked, but if we read her history we shall perhaps feel she was more sinned against than sinning. Four husbands had she (but was twice a widow before she was sixteen!).  She always chose to be called by the title of her third husband, Sir Charles Howard, son of the Duke of Suffolk; her fourth was Sir Richard Granville, the most detestable of all the governors of Lydford Castle.

In the Civil War Lady Howard chose to espouse the Parliamentary cause, which doubtless aggravated her crimes in the opinion of loyal west-countrymen. Mrs Bray says that she had heard a vague tradition that Lady Howard died in a state of mental misery and agony in a house near Okehampton, and to this day expiates her wickedness by running nightly to Fitzford, Tavistock, to Okehampton Park, in the form of a black dog, to bring away a blade of grass. When all the grass is plucked the day of judgment will come, and her penance will be ended. Sometimes the dog is described as accompanying the coach of bones, in which tradition says she used to drive towards the moor. Mr. Baring Gould preserves the story among Songs of the West in a ballad, gruesome both in words and tune :-

My Ladye hath a sable coach,

With horses two and four;

My Ladye hath a gaunt bloodhound,

That goeth before:

My Ladye's coach hath nodding plumes,

The driver hath no head,

My Ladye is an ashen white,

As one that long is dead.

It is needless to add that misfortune is sure to follow the luckless individual who meets "My Ladye" in her weird journey across the moor."

Cresswel 1921

Map - Okehampton
Map - Lydford Castle
Map - Fitzeford House Gatehouse, Tavistock

Men-an-tol

Men-an-Tol, image from Wikipedia © Tom Corser 2009 Creative Commons license

"Beyond the village of Lanyon, on a "furzy down," stands the Mên-an-tol, or the "holed stone." For some purpose--it is in vain to speculate on it now--the bardic priesthood employed this stone, and probably the superstition which attaches to it may indicate its ancient uses.

If scrofulous children are passed naked through the Men-an-tol three times, and then drawn on the grass three times against the sun, it is felt by the faithful that much has been done towards insuring a speedy cure. Even men and women who have been afflicted with spinal diseases, or who have suffered from scrofulous taint, have been drawn through this magic stone, which all declare still retains its ancient virtues.

If two brass pins are carefully laid across each other on the top edge of this stone, any question put to the rock will be answered, by the pins acquiring, through some unknown agency, a peculiar motion."

Hunt 1903

Map - Men-an-tol

The adventurs of Chery of Zennor - part 12

'...Well, next morning the child was washed, his eyes anointed, and the cow milked; she sent the boy to gather her some flowers in the garden, and taking a "crum" of ointment, she put it into her eye. Oh, her eye would be burned out of her head! Cherry ran to the pool beneath the rock to wash her burning eye; when lo! she saw at the bottom of the water, hundreds of little people, mostly ladies, playing,--and there was her master, as small as the others, playing with them. Everything now looked different about the place. Small people were everywhere, hiding in the flowers sparkling with diamonds, swinging in the trees, and running and leaping under and over the blades of grass. The master never showed himself above the water all day; but at night he rode up to the house like the handsome gentleman she had seen before. He went to the enchanted chamber and Cherry soon heard the most beautiful music.

In the morning, her master was off, dressed as if to follow the hounds. He returned at night, left Cherry to herself and proceeded at once to his private apartments. Thus it was day after day, until Cherry could stand it no longer. So she peeped through the keyhole, and saw her master with lots of ladies, singing; while one dressed like a queen was playing on the coffin...'

Hunt 1903

St Levan Fairies

'YEARS since--the time is past now--the green outside the gate at the end of Trezidder Lane was a favourite place with the Small Folks on which to hold their fairs. One might often see the rings in the grass which they made in dancing, where they footed it. Mr Trezillian was returning late one night from Penzance; when he came near the gate, he saw a number of little creatures spinning round and round. The sight made him light-headed, but he could not resist the desire to be amongst them, so he got off his horse. In a moment they were all over him like a swarm of bees, and he felt as if they were sticking needles and pins into him. His horse ran ofl and he didn't know what to do, till, by good luck, he thought of what he had often heard, so he turned his glove inside out, threw it amongst the Small Folk, and ere the glove reached the ground they were all gone. Mr Trezillian had now to find his horse, and the Small Folk, still determining to lead him a dance, bewildered him. He was piskie-led, and he could not find out where he was until broad daylight. Then he saw he was not a hundred yards from the place at which he had left his horse. On looking round the spot where he had seen the Small Folk dancing, be found a pair of very small silver knee-buckles of a most ancient shape, which, no doubt, some little gentleman must have lost when he was punishing the farmer. Those who knew the families will well remember the little silver buckles, which were kept for some time at Trezidder and some time at Raftra.'

Hunt 1903

Betty Stogs and Jan the Monster - part 6

'...While yet full of fear and trembling to meet her husband, Jan came home from Bal. He was, of course, told that his "croom of a chield was lost." He didn't believe a word of what Betty told him, but he went about and called up all the neighbours, who joined him in the search. They spent the night in examining every spot around the house and in the village--all in vain.

After daybreak they were all assembled in deep and earnest consultation, when the cat came running into the house, with her tail on end, and mewing anxiously. She ran forth and back round a brake of furze, constantly crying, as if she wished the people to follow her. After a long time some one thought of going after the cat, and in the middle of the furze-brake, on a beautiful green, soft spot of mossy grass, was the baby sleeping, "as sweet as a little nut," wrapped carefully up in some old dry gowns, and all its clothes clean and dry. When they unwrapped the child, they found he was covered over with bright flowers, as we place them round a babe in the coffin. He had a bunch of violets in his dear little hands, and there were wallflowers and primroses, and balm and mint spread over his body. The furze was high all around, so that no cold wind could reach the infant. Every one declared that the child never looked so handsome before. It was plain enough, said the old women, that the Small People had taken the child and washed it from top to toe; that their task of cleansing the babe was a long one, and that the sun arose before they could finish it; that they had placed the child where it was found, intending to take it away the next night.

They were never known to come for the babe, but every one said that this affair worked a great change in Betty Stogs and in Jan the Mounster. The cottage was kept tidy, the child clean; and its father and mother drank less, and lived happier, for ever afterwards.'

Hunt 1903

Fairy Revels on the Gump, St Just - Part 2

'...Every blade of grass was hung with lamps, and every furze bush was illuminated with stars Out from the opening in the hill marched a host of spriggans, as if to clear the road. Then came an immense number of musicians playing on every kind of instrument. These were followed by troop after troop of soldiers, each troop bearing aloft their banner, which appeared to spread itself, to display its blazonry, without the assistance of any breeze. All these arranged themselves in order over the ground, some here and some there. One thing was not at all to our friend's liking; several hundreds of the most grotesque of the spriggans placed themselves so as to enclose the spot on which he was standing. Yet, as they were none of them higher than his shoe-tie, he thought he could "squash" them easily with his foot if they were up to any mischief and so he consoled himself. This vast array having disposed of themselves, first came a crowd of servants bearing vessels of silver and vessels of gold, goblets cut out of diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. There were others laden, almost to overflowing, with the richest meats, pastry, preserves, and fruits. Presently the ground was covered with tables and everything was arranged in the most systematic order,--each party failing back as they disposed of their burdens...' {cont.]

Hunt 1903