The Lost Land of Lyonesse, or Lethowsow - Part 3

The Scillonian ferry regularly crosses the waters above the legendary Lyonesse.  If you wish to use my photo please attribute this blog!

[cont.] "...Solinus (cap 22) applies Siluria to the country lying west of the Land's End. His words are, "Siluram quoque insulam ab ora quam gens Britanna Dunmonii tenent, terbidumn fretum distinguit."

"There is a tradition that there formerly existed a large track of land between the Land's End and the Scilly Islands, called the Lioness, which was destroyed by an inundation of the sea. One of the family of Trevilian now residing in Somerset, but originally Cornish, saved himself by the assistance of his horse at the time of this inundation; and it is reported that the arms of this family were taken from his fortunate escape, to commemorate his providential preservation. "--Drew and Hitchin's Cornwall.

"A cave is pointed out in Perranuthnoe, where the ancestor of the Trevelyans is said to have been borne on shore, by the strength of his horse, from the destruction of the Lionesse country west of the Land's End. The Trevelyan family are too old, too honourable, and now too much distinguished by science, for them to covet any addition of honour through the medium of fabulous history.

"It is recorded in the Saxon Chronicle that, in the year 1099, there was so very high a tide, and the damage so great in consequence, that men remembered not the like to have ever happened before, and the same day was the first of the new moon. Stow, who wrote his History of England about the year 1580, notices the great tide of 1099, when he says, 'The sea brake in over the banks of the Thames and other ryvers, drowning many towns and much people, with innumerable numbers of oxen and sheepe; at which time the lands in Kent, that sometime belonged to Duke Gociwyne, Earle of Kent, were covered with sandes and drowned, which are to this day called Godwyne Sandes.' On the slender foundation of these alluvial, catastrophes, Florence of Worcester either invented, or, with more than monkish credulity, received the tale of a whole district being engulfed, not at some remote geological period, but in what may be considered as the recent times of authentic history, after the existence of systematic registers and records; a district covered, as he states, by a city and by a hundred and forty churches, with their accompanying villages, farms, &c., an event that must have shaken the whole of Europe;..."  [cont.]

Hunt 1903










 Map - Perranuthnoe

Map - Land's End

Map - Isles of Scilly

Robert Hunt on the lost lands of Cornwall and West Devon

Sand and mermaid - Some rights reserved by zakwitnij

"The notion of cities and extensive tracts of cultivated country being under the waters of the ocean and of lakes appears to have existed from all time. In the "Arabian Nights," we have constant references to lands under the sea; and in the traditionary stories of all Celtic people the same idea presents itself in some form or other. Mr Campbell appears to confound stories of mermaids with those traditions which have their origin in actual physical changes. They appear to me to have little relation to each other. (See West Highland Tales, by J. F. Campbell. Vol. iii. p. 410. )

In addition to the traditions given of large tracts of land which have been lost in the sea, I have given those which relate to cities, or towns, or churches which have been buried in the sands. These traditions are of the same general character.

This subject deserves a much more careful investigation than it has yet received. I hope simply to draw attention to the subject, and to show that those dim traditions point to some buried truth. They are like the buried lights which are supposed to indicate the resting-places of the dead."

Hunt

The Wild Sepherds Curse

A Wild Shepherd! - A Little Pretty Pocket-book Isaiah Thomas 1767

"There is another Cornish traditionary story of Sir John Arundell, who dwelt on the north coast of Cornwall, at a place called Efford, on the coast near Stratton. He was a very honourable, excellent man, and a just magistrate. One day a wild shepherd, who professed to possess supernatural powers and to be a seer, was brought before him for having in some way broken the law; this man also possessed a dangerous influence over the people, and Sir John committed him to prison for a short time. On his release, at the expiration of his term, he repeatedly waylaid the knight, and looking threateningly at him, muttered,-

"Thou shalt die by human hand
Upon the yellow sand."

Arundell was not above the superstitions of the age. He also believed that the seer might fulfil his own prophecy by murdering him. He therefore removed from Efford, which was close to the sands, and went to Trerice, where he lived for some years, and saw nothing of his old enemy.

But Richard de Vere, Earl of Oxford, seized St. Michael's Mount. Sir John Arundell was at the time sheriff of Cornwall, and he at once gathered together his own retainers and a large body of volunteers, and attacked the Lancastrians. The retainers of Arundell were encamped on the sands by Alarazion. The followers of the Earl of Oxford one day made a sally from the castle, rushed on the sheriff's men, and in the fight Arundell received his death-wound. " Although he had left Efford to counteract the will of fate, the prophecy was fulfilled; and in his dying moments, it is said, his old enemy appeared, singing joyously:-

'When upon the yellow sand,
Thou shalt die by human hand.'"

For the above incidents, and for some other legendary stories, we are indebted to Mr. Hunt, who collected and published them in his " Popular Romances of the West of England.""

Valentine (undated)

Map - Efford
Map - Trerice
Map - Alarazion

[The places are guesses based on internet searches and story context - Efford and Alarazion in particular are a bit tenuous.]

Ghostly boat of the Bottoms - Part 1

Barque from helicopter, Cook Strait, New Zealand 1988 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5/

"This valley [from Porthcurno] (called the Bottoms) is a very weird, melancholy-looking place, with much marshy ground in it; and few people care to cross it at night, it is so lonely and dreary; it also bears the reputation of being haunted, as Croft Pasco Pool is, by a ghostly vessel, and till quite of late years the tale was believed by the fisher folk.

The apparition appeared on the sea about nightfall, when mists were rising from the marshes in the Bottoms. It sailed through the breakers that foam over the dangerous rocks that fringe the shore glided over the sands, and sailed on a long way up the valley to Bodelan, or Bodellen, where St. Levan formerly dwelt; it then directed its course to Chygwiden, and there utterly vanished. It was a black, squarerigged, single-masted barque, and had usually, but not always, a boat with it. No crew were ever seen; it is supposed they were down below. It is said to be an ill omen to see this ghostly vessel, and that the sight of it forebodes misfortune.

The reason of its appearance is, according to tradition, that a stranger, many a long year ago, returned from sea and took up his abode at Chygwiden. He had with him a foreign servant, dark and evil looking, who never spoke to any one but his master, being probably unable to speak English. It was whispered that the pair had been Pirates or buccaneers.... [cont.]

Valentine (undated)

The Thieving Gentry of Woody Bay - Part 2

Please link to this website if you want to use this picture - Thanks!

"...The wizard advised him to have six parsons instead of one, and the yeoman returned home and followed his advice. Six parsons actually assembled at the spot where the ghost was wont to appear, and repeated together some powerful exorcisms, by which the spirit was banished, "until it had drawn a truss of sand by a rope of sand to the top of High Veer Point." The farm has never been visited since by the squire, who cannot succeed in his appointed task, and whose howls of rage when his sand ropes break are heard mingling ofttimes with the roar of the storm."

Valentine (undated)

Map - Woody Bay
Map - Exeter
Map - High Veer Point

Ambroses Well, Cranstock

"Gilbert mentions this well at the west of Cranstock, near the ruins of a college, buried by the blown sand from Grannel Creek."

Hope 1893

Map - Crantock

Dozmare Pool - part 2

Dozmary Pool -   © Copyright Steve G and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

"...Occasionally, too, it is said this miserable monster is hunted by the devil round and about the tarn, when he flies to the Roche Rocks, some 15 miles distant, and, by thrusting his head in at the chapel window, finds a respite from his torments. Other versions of the legend place Tregeagle on the coast near Padstow, where he is condemned to make trusses of sand and ropes of sand to bind them; or at the mouth of the estuary at Helston, across which he was condemned to carry sacks of sand until the beach should be clean of the rocks. 

The story of Tregeagle, however, with his endless labour, has been connected in Cornwall with a real person, the dishonest steward of Lord Robartes at Lanhydrock (where a room in the house is still called Tregeagle's), who maltreated the tenants under his charge, and amassed money sufficient to purchase the estate of Trevorder, in St. Breock, where he distinguished himself as a harsh and arbitrary magistrate."

Hope 1893


Map - Dozmary Pool
Map - Padstow
Map - Helston Estuary
Map - Lanhydrock
Map - Saint Breock

The Mermaids Vengence - part 13

"...He could not entirely dissuade himself but that he heard this repeated by many voices; but he put the thought aside, referring it, as well he might, to the numerous echoes from the cavernous openings in the cliffs.

He reached the eastern side of the dark mass of rocks, from the point of which the tide was slowly subsiding. The song had ceased, and a low moaning sound - the soughing of the wind--passed along the shore. Walter trembled with fear, and was on the point of returning, when a most flute-like murmur rose from the other side of the rocky barrier, which was presently moulded into words

"From your couch of glistering pearl,
Slowly, softly, come away;
Our sweet earth-child, lovely girl,
Died this day,--died this day."

Memory told Walter that truly was it the anniversary of Selina Pennaluna's death, and to him every gentle wave falling on the shore sang, or murmured --

"Died this day,--died this day."

The sand was left dry around the point of the rocks, and Walter impelled by a power which he could not control, walked onward. The moment he appeared on the western side of the rock, a wild laugh burst into the air, as if from the deep cavern before him, at the entrance of which sat the same beautiful being whom he had formerly met. There was now an expression of rare joy on her face, her eyes glistened with delight, and she extended her arms as if to welcome him.

"Was it ever your wont to move so slowly towards your loved one?"

Walter heard it was Selina's voice. He saw it was Selina's features; but he was conscious it was not Selina's form..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 12

"...Walter was statue-like, and he awoke from this trance-like state only when the waves washed his feet, and he became aware that even now it was only by wading through the waters that he could return around the point of rocks. He was alone. He called; no one answered. He sought wildly, as far as he now dared, amidst the rocks, but the lovely woman was nowhere to be discovered.

There was no real danger on such a night as this; therefore Walter walked fearlessly through the gentle waves, and recovered the pathway up from the sands. More than once he thought he heard a rejoicing laugh, which was echoed in the rocks, but no one was to be seen. Walter reached his home and bed, but he found no sleep; and in the morning he arose with a sense of wretchedness which was entirely new to him. He feared to make any one of his rough companions a confidant, although he felt this would have relieved his heart. He therefore nursed the wound which he now felt, until a bitter remorse clouded his existence. After some days, he was impelled to visit the grave - of the lost one, and in the fullness of the most selfish sorrow, he sat on the sands and shed tears. The priest of the Oratory observed him, and knowing Walter Trewoofe, hesitated not to inquire into his cause of sorrow. His heart was opened to the holy man, and the strange tale was told--the only result being, that the priest felt satisfied it was but a vivid dream, which had resulted from a brain over-excited by drink. He, however, counselled the young man, giving him some religious instruction, and dismissed him with his blessing. There was relief in this. For some days Walter did not venture to visit his old haunt, the cottage of Chenalls. Since he could not be lost to his companions without greatly curtailing their vicious enjoyments, he was hunted up by Chenalls, and again enticed within the circle. His absence was explained on the plea of illness. Walter was, however, an altered man; there was not the same boisterous hilarity as formerly. He no longer abandoned himself without restraint to the enjoyments of the time. If he ever, led on by his thoughtless and rough-natured friends, assumed for a moment his usual mirth, it was checked by some invisible power. On such occasions he would turn deadly pale, look anxiously around, and fail back, as if ready to faint, on the nearest seat. Under these influences, he lost health. His uncle, who was really attached to his nephew, although he regretted his dissolute conduct, became now seriously alarmed. Physicians were consulted in vain; the young man pined, and the old gossips came to the conclusion that Walter Trewoofe was ill-wished, and there was a general feeling that Penna or his wife was at the bottom of it. Walter, living really on one idea, and that one the beautiful face which was, and yet was not, that of Selina, resolved again to explore the spot on which he had met this strange being, of whom nothing could be learned by any of the covert inquiries he made. He lingered long ere he could resolve on the task; but wearied, worn by the oppression of one undefined idea, in which an intensity of love was mixed with a shuddering fear, he at last gathered sufficient courage to seize an opportunity for again going to the cavern. On this occasion, there being no moon, the night was dark, but the stars shone brightly from a sky, cloudless, save a dark mist which hung heavily over the western horizon. Every spot of ground being familiar to him, who, boy and man, had traced it over many times, the partial darkness presented no difficulty. Walter had scarcely reached the level sands, which were left hard by the retiring tide, than he heard again the same magical voice as before. But now the song was a joyous one, the burthen of it being --

"Join all hands--
Might and main,
Weave the sands,
Form a chain,
He, my lover,
Comes again!"..."

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 10

"..."The stars are beautiful, when bright
They are mirror'd in the sea;
But they are pale beside that light
Which was so beautiful to me.
My angel child, my earth-born girl,
From all your kindred riven,
By the base deeds of a selfish churl,
And to a sand-grave driven!
How shall I win thee back to ocean?
How canst thou quit thy grave,
To share again the sweet emotion
Of gliding through the wave?"..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 9

"...One midnight, Walter, who had been dancing and drinking for some hours, left the cottage wearied with his excesses, and although not drunk, he was much excited with- wine. His pathway lay along the edge of the cliffs, amidst bushes of furze and heath, and through several irregular, zigzag ways. There were lateral paths striking off from one side of the main path, and leading down to the sea-shore. Although it was moonlight, without being actually aware of the error, Walter wandered into one of those; and before he was awake to his mistake, he found himself on the sands. He cursed his stupidity, and, uttering a blasphemous oath, he turned to retrace his steps.

The most exquisite music which ever flowed from human ups fell on his ear; he paused to listen, and collecting his unbalanced thoughts, he discovered that it was the voice of a woman singing a melancholy dirge..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 4

"...The mother, as may well be supposed, suffered a momentary agony of terror; but presently the babe swam up to the surface of the water, its little face more bright and beautiful than it had ever been before. Great was the mother's joy, and also--as the gossips say -- great her surprise at the sudden change in the appearance of her offspring. The mother knew no difference in the child whom she pressed lovingly to her bosom, but all the aged crones in the parish declared it to be a changeling. This tale lived its day; but, as the girl grew on to womanhood, and showed none of the special qualifications belonging either to fairies or mermaids, it was almost forgotten. The uncomplaining father had solace for all his sufferings in wandering over the beautiful sands with his daughter. Whether it was when the summer seas fell in musical undulations on the shore, or when, stirred by the winter tempests, the great Atlantic waves came up in grandeur, and lashed the resisting sands in giant rage, those two enjoyed the solitude. Hour after hour, from the setting sun time, until the clear cold moon flooded the ocean with her smiles of light, would the father and child walk these sands. They seemed never to weary of them and the ocean.

Almost every morning, throughout the milder seasons, Selina was in the habit of bathing, and wild tales were told of the frantic joy with which she would play with the breaking billows. Sometimes floating over, and almost dancing on the crests of the waves, at other times rushing under them, and allowing the breaking waters to beat her to the sands, as though they were loving arms, endeavouring to encircle her form. Certain it is, that Selina greatly enjoyed her bath, but all the rest must be regarded as the creations of the imagination. The most eager to give a construction unfavourable to the simple mortality of the maiden was, however, compelled to acknowledge that there was no evidence in her general conduct to support their surmises. Selina, as an only child, fared the fate of others who are unfortunately so placed, and was, as the phrase is, spoiled. She certainly was allowed to follow her own inclinations without any check. Still her inclinations were bounded to working in the garden, and to leading her father to the sea-shore. Honour Penna, sometimes, it is true, did complain that Selina could not be trusted with the most ordinary domestic duty..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Old Man of Cury - part 2

"...Summoning courage, at last the old man addressed her, "Don't 'e be afraid, my dear. You needn't mind me. I wouldn't do ye any harm. I 'm an old man, and wouldn't hurt ye any more than your grandfather."

After he had talked in this soothing strain for some time, the young lady took courage, and raised her head above the water. She was crying bitterly, and, as soon as she could speak, she begged the old man to go away.

"I must know, my dearie, something about ye, now I have caught ye. It is not every day that an old man catches a merry-maid, and I have heard some strange tales of you water-ladies. Now, my dear, don't 'e be afraid, I would not hurt a single hair of that beautiful head. How came ye here?" 

After some further coaxing she told the old man the following story:-- She and her husband and little ones had been busy at sea all the morning, and they were very tired with swimming in the hot sun; so the merman proposed that they should retire to a cavern, which they were in the habit of visiting in Kynance Cove. Away they all swam, and entered the cavern at mid-tide. As there was some nice soft weed, and the cave was deliciously cool, the merman was disposed to sleep, and told them not to wake him until the rise of the tide. He was soon fast asleep, snoring most lustily. The children crept out and were playing on the lovely sands; so the mermaid thought she should like to look at the world a little. She looked with delight on the children rolling to and fro in the shallow waves, and she laughed heartily at the crabs fighting in their own funny way. "

The scent from the flowers came down over the cliffs so sweetly," said she, "that I longed to get nearer the lovely things which yielded those rich odours, and I floated on from rock to rock until I came to this one; and finding that I could not proceed any further, I thought I would seize the opportunity of dressing my hair." She passed her fingers through those beautiful locks, and shook out a number of small crabs, and much broken sea-weed. She went on to say that she had sat on the rock amusing herself until the voice of a mortal terrified her, and until then she had no idea that the sea was so far out, and a long dry bar of sand between her and it. 

"What shall I do? what shall I do? Oh! I'd give the world to get out to sea! Oh ! oh! what shall I do?"..." [cont...]

Hunt 1903

Padstow Mermaid

"THE port of Padstow has a good natural harbour, so far as rocky area goes, but it is so choked up with drifting sands as to be nearly useless. A peasant recently thus explained the cause. He told how "it was once deep water for the largest vessel, and under the care of a merry-maid--as he called her; but one day, as she was sporting on the surface, a fellow with a gun shot at her. "She dived for a moment; but re-appearing, raised her right arm, and vowed that henceforth the harbour should be desolate." "And," added the old man, "it always will be so. We have had commissions, and I know not what, about converting this place into a harbour of refuge. A harbour of refuge would be a great blessing, but not all the Goyernment commissions in the world could keep the sand out, or make the harbour deep enough to swim a frigate, unless the parsons can find out the way to take up the merry-maid's curse."

Another tale refers the choking up of this harbour to the bad spirit Tregeagle. --"

Hunt 1903

The Legend of John Trinnaman's Pool - part 4

...Some say that each time John Trinnaman filled the bag with wet sand, the bottom of the bag split open and the sand went back into the river. He then looked up to heaven and called for ‘more rope’ to tie the bottom of the bag. As he did so, a rope came down from the branches of the oak tree, wound itself round the butler’s neck and hanged him. The bag of sand, they say, turned into one big solid stone.

If you care to look closely around on the river bank in the Trinnaman Pool area in Long Timber Woods in Ivybridge, you will see a large oak tree at the base of which is an unusual granite stone. Cut in the stone is a large basin round indentation. Some people say that this was where John Trinnaman placed handfuls of sand as he gathered it from the river.

This is the John Trinnaman legend.

[Collected from Tom of Ivybridge, who first heard it from his teacher during World War One, whilst picking blackberries for the war effort. Sadly Tom passed away in the mid 1990's.]

The Legend of John Trinnaman's Pool - part 3

...The dead body was washed away by the fast flowing river. When the master of Stowford House missed the pantry boy, he enquired of the butler as to the boy’s disappearance. John Trinnaman then told the master that he had chastised the boy and last saw him running off towards the river. Servants were sent to search the river and eventually found the dead boy caught in reeds further downstream. In the meantime, the lady of Stowford House discovered the butler frantically trying to clean the blood stains off the kitchen wall and his terrible deed was revealed.
When John Trinnaman confessed the crime to his master, who was lord of the manor of Ivybridge and chief magistrate, he decreed the the butler should go down to the river Erme and fetch a bag of sand to scour off the blood stains from the kitchen walls.

John Trinnaman collected the sand and desperately tried to remove the bloodstains but however hard he worked the stains would not go. Consequently, the master of Stowford House thrashed him with a horse whip, gave him a bag and a piece of rope to tie the top of the bag and chased him from the kitchen to get more clean sand.

When he went down to the river this time, the river was in full flood and as the bruised and battered butler struggled up the river bank with his bag of wet sand, he fell backwards exhausted into the river and drowned... [cont.]

The burried city under Braunton Burrows

Reproduced courtesy of Francis Frith.


'Beyond it [Croyde Bay] stretch for 3 miles or so the Saunton Sands, which become Braunton Burrows, that end only above Bideford Bar. This wide labyrinth of sandhills and burrows, said to cover the ruins of an ancient city, has been opened up by road, and a hotel built there (Saunton Sands), which is reached from Braunton station.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Morthoe and the murder of Becket

   
       
       
Reproduced courtesy of Francis Frith.
   
'The Morthoe Hotel is down below on the beach; and there is an inn, the Chichester Arms, in the vilage, near the little Norman church, containing the tomb thought to be that of William de Tracey, one of Becket's murders, who said to have lived in dreary exile here, "when wind and weather turned against him." The legend also has has a common feature in Cornwall: the murderer's doom is eternally to make bundles and wisps of sand.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Dosemary Pool - part 2

'..There is a ballad," Tregeagle; or, Dozmaré Pool: an Anciente Cornishe Legende, in two parts," by John Penwame. He has given a somewhat different version of the legend from any I have heard, and in the ballad very considerable liberties have been taken. It must, however, be admitted, that nearly all the incidents introduced in the poem are to be found in some of the many stories current amongst the peasantry.

Speaking of Dozmaré Pool, Mr Penwarne says:--

"There is a popular story attached to this lake, ridiculous enough, as most of those tales are. It is, that a person of the name of Tregeagle, who had been a rich and powerful man, but very wicked, guilty of murder and other heinous crimes, lived near this place; and that, after his death, his spirit haunted the neighbourhood, but was at length exorcised and laid to rest in Dozmaré Pool. But having in his lifetime, in order to enjoy the good things of this world, disposed of his soul and body to the devil, his infernal majesty takes great pleasure in tormenting him, by imposing on him difficult tasks; such as spinning a rope of sand, dipping out the pool with a limpet-shell, &c., and at times amuses himself with hunting him over the moors with his hell-hounds, at which time Tregeagle is heard to roar and howl in a most dreadful manner, so that 'roaring or howling like Tregeagle,' is a common expression amongst the vulgar in Cornwall. Such is the foundation on which is built the following tale. The author has given it an ancient dress, as best suited to the subject."...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Tregeagle haunting - part 2

'...When the parson came into the room with the spirit and the man, the first thing the parson did was to draw a circle and place the man to stand within it; the spirit took the form of a black bull, and (roared as you may still hear Tregagle roar in Genvor Cove before a northerly storm) did all he could to get at the man with his horns and hoofs. The parson continued reading all the time. At first the reading seemed to make him more furious, but little by little he became as gentle as a lamb, and allowed the parson to do what he would with him, and consented at last to go to Genvor Cove (in Escols Cliff), and make a truss of sand, which he was to carry above a certain rock in Escols Cliff. He was many years trying, without being able to accomplish this piece of work, until it came to a very cold winter, when Tregagle, by taking water from the stream near by, and pouring oyer the sand, caused it to freeze together, so that he finished the task, came back 'to the man, and would have torn him in pieces, but the man happened to have a child in his arms, so the spirit couldn't harm him. The man sent for the parson without delay; Parson Corker couldn't manage him alone, this time; had to get some more parsons to help,--very difficult job;--bound Tregagle at last to the same task, and not to go near the fresh water. He is still there, making his truss of sand and spinning sand ropes to bind it. What some people take to be the "calling of the northern cleves" (cliffs) is the roaring of Tregagle because there is a storm coming from the north to scatter his sand. [f] W. B...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903