The Merry Maidens, or Dawns Myin, and the pipers of Burian

The Merry Maidens, or Dance-Maine, 1804 - By W & G Cooke [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

"In the parish of Burian are the "Dawns Myin" or Mên--the dancing stones--commonly called "The Merry Maidens;" and near them are two granite pillars, named the "Pipers." One Sabbath evening some of the thought. less maidens of the neighbouring village, instead of attending vespers, strayed into the fields, and two evil spirits, assuming the guise of pipers, began to play some dance tunes. The young people yielded to the temptation; and, forgetting the holy day, commenced dancing. The excitement increased with the exercise, and soon the music and the dance became extremely wild; when, lo a flash of lightning from the clear sky transfixed them all, the tempters and the tempted, and there in stone they stand."

Hunt 1903

Map - The Merry Maidens

Proverb about the disires of maids

Our marriage - My wife Lunar Hine, I hasten to add, is nothing like the saying!

"Maids want for nothing but husbands, and when they have them they want everything else." - Somerset

Ray 1768



[Ahh ... That ageless sound of sexism, or 'the battle of the sexes' as some would frame it.] 

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

'Purty Jane' - a ghostly folksong mentioning Chagford

Morris Dancer on a Chagford street - Picture by Lunar Hine, my wife!

'Twuz down by the river I fust met my purty Jane,
Upon a zummer's eveling when the zin wuz on the wane,
Her little veet they twinkled as her trip'd o'er meaders bright,
And my heart 'e whisper'd zoftly, "Bill, did'st ivver zee such zight ?"

Not nivver in my born days did I zee a maid zo fair,
Her made my heart go pity-pat and her riz on end my hair.
And I axed her vur to come back but her ciidden then, her zed,
And on her sped like lightning, across the level mead.

I yerd the birds a-zinging, as I corned up dru the lane,
And I thort they zed " Bill ! Bill ! thee shet have thy purty Jane,"
Ah ! 'twuz music sweeter var, than I ivver yerd avore,
It often gied me comfort digging peat pin tap the moor.

Wan Zummer Zinday morning when the bells wuz ringing sweet,
I meet my love a-coming up old Chagford's pleasant street,
I tiiked courage there and then, and I up and told my love, 

And her zed, " Dear Bill, I'll have thee," and her spoke jist like a dove.

But her nivver lived to do it vur her pined away and died,
Jist on the day, her zed her'd be my bonny little bride.
Now often when I'm walking down in yonder meaders bright,
I zee her right avore me, like an angel in the light.

And I yer her sweet voice zaying "Bill, Bill, be not afeared,
Thee shet zee in heavenly places thy loving little maid,
Oh ! 'tez that which gives me peace as I walks in in field and lane,
Vur if I live a true life, I shall zee my purty Jane.

Elias Tozer, Exeter.'

Hewett, 1900

Map - Chagford

Recipe for making a Dumb Cake

This fireplace is from Dolgoch Youth Hostel in Wales, not Devon!  - If you want to use my images, please do, but I would appreciate it if you attributed this blog

"IN the preparation of a dumb cake, if perfection be desired, it is imperative to observe strict: silence, and to follow these instructions closely.

Let any number of unmarried ladies each take a handful of wheaten flour, and place it on a sheet of white paper, then sprinkle it with as much salt as can be held between the finger and thumb ; then, one must put as much clear spring-water as will make it into dough, which being done, each of the party must roll it up, and spread it thin and broad, and each maid must, at some distance apart, make the first letters of their Christian and surname with a large new pin, towards the end of the cake ; if more christian-names than one, the first letter of each one must be made. Then set the cake before the fire, and each girl must sit down in a chair, as far from the fire as the room will admit, not speaking a word all the time. This must be done between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. Each person in rotation must turn the cake once, and five minutes after midnight the husband of her who is to be wed first will appear and lay his hand upon that part of the cake bearing her initials. From the Norwood Gipsy Fortune-teller.

If the cake be eaten, strict silence must be observed from the moment a slice is cut. The person walks backwards from the room, up the stairs, and after undressing goes into bed, still backwards. Stumbling and giggling are inadmissible. It is presumed that happy dreams of " the loved one" will occupy the hours of slumber."

Hewett 1900

[This recipe seems to be taken from a publication talking about London, but as "Dumb Cake" is used in one of the previous post I thought it was worth posting. The last paragraph could well be referring to a Devon practice - the area covered by Hewetts book.]

The River Severn

The Severen Bore - from http://www.flickr.com/photos/86624586@N00/3273869937/sizes/l/in/photostream/ under license http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/ by http://www.flickr.com/photos/86624586@N00/

"The fourteen daughters of Brecan were turned into as many rivers, which, in all their maiden purity, fall into the Severn."

Hope 1893

Map - The Severn

Wishing Well, Roche

"Roche, north of St. Austell, famous for the Roche rocks, with St. Michael's Chapel built amongst them. Once tenanted by a hermit; then by a leper, whose daughter waited on him, and drew water from a well, said to ebb and flow, called after her. To St. Gundred's, near a group of cottages called Hollywell village, maidens would repair on Holy Thursday, to throw in pins and pebbles, and predict coming events by the sparkling of the bubbles which rise up. Lunatics were also immersed in it."

Hope 1893

Map - Roche

Saint Keyne's Well - part 1

 

"This well is half a mile east of the interesting Decorated and Perpendicular Church of the same name, 2 ½ miles on the road from West Looe. It is a spring of rare virtues in the belief of the country people. It is covered in by masonry, upon the top of which formerly grew five large trees--a Cornish elm, an oak, and three antique ash-trees--on so narrow a space that it is difficult to imagine how the roots could have been accommodated. There now remain only two of these trees--the elm, which is large and fine, and one of the ash-trees. 

According to the legend, St. Keyne, a holy and beautiful virgin, of British royal blood, daughter of Braganus, Prince of Brecknockshire, said to have been the aunt of St. David of Wales, visited this country about 490. She was sought in marriage by  men of distinction. On a pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount, and remaining sometime in Cornwall, she so endeared herself to the people, that she was hardly allowed to depart..." [cont.]

Hope 1893

The Mermaids Vengence - part 14

"..."Come, sit beside me, Walter, and let us talk of love." He sat down without a word, and looked into the maiden's face with a vacant expression of fondness. Presently she placed her hand upon his heart; a shudder passed through his frame; but having passed, he felt no more pain, but a rare intensity of delight. The maiden wreathed her arm around his neck, drew Walter towards her, and then he remembered how often he had acted thus towards Selina. She bent over him and looked into his eyes. In his mind's mirror he saw himself looking thus into the eyes of his betrayed one.

"You loved her once?" said the maiden.

"I did indeed," answered Walter, with a sigh.

"As you loved her, so I love you," said the maiden, with a smile which shot like a poisoned dart through Walter's heart. She lifted the young man's head lovingly between her hands, and bending over him, pressed her lips upon and kissed his forehead, Walter curiously felt that although he was the kissed, yet that he was the kisser.

"Kisses," she said, "are as true at sea as they are false on land. You men kiss the earth-born maidens to betray them. The kiss of a sea-child is the seal of constancy. You are mine till death."

"Death!" almost shrieked Walter.

A full consciousness of his situation now broke upon Walter. He had heard the tales of the gossips respecting the mermaid origin of Selina; but he had laughed at them as an idle fancy. he now felt they were true. For hours Walter was compelled to sit by the side of his beautiful tormentor, every word of assumed love and rapture being a torture of the most exquisite kind to him. He could not escape from the arms which were wound around him. He saw the tide rising rapidly. ..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 11

"...Walter, led by the melancholy song, advanced slowly along the sands. He discovered that the sweet, soft sounds proceeded from the other side of a mass of rocks, which project far out over the sands, and that now, at low-water, there was no difficulty in walking around it. Without hesitation he did so, and he beheld, sitting at the mouth of a cavern, one of the most beautiful women he had ever beheld. She continued her song, looking upwards to the stars, not appearing to notice the intrusion of a stranger. Walter stopped, and gazed on the lovely image before him with admiration and wonder, mingled with something of terror. He dared not speak, but fixed, as if by magic, he stood gazing on. After a few minutes, the maiden, suddenly perceiving that a man was near her, uttered a piercing shriek, and made as if to fly into the cavern. Walter sprang forward and seized her by the arm, exclaiming, "Not yet, my pretty maiden, not yet." She stood still in the position of flight, with her arm behind her, grasped by Walter, and turning round her head, her dark eyes beamed with unnatural lustre upon him. Impressionable he had ever been, but never had he experienced anything so entrancing, and at the same time so painful, as that gaze. It was Selina's face looking lovingly upon him, but it seemed to possess some new power--a might of mind from which he felt it was impossible for him to escape. Walter slackened his hold, and slowly allowed the arm to fall from his hand. The maiden turned fully round upon him. "Go!" she said. He could not move. "Go, man!" she repeated. He was powerless.

"Go to the grave where the sinless one sleepeth!
Bring her cold corpse where her guarding one weepeth;
Look on her, love her again, ay! betray her,
And wreath with false smiles the pale face of her slayer!
Go, go! now, and feel the full force of my sorrow!
For the glut of my vengeance there cometh a morrow."..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 2

"...Penna was too great a favourite with the Squire to be a favourite of the hind's; he was evidently jealous of him, and from not being himself a man of very strict principles, he hated the unobtrusive goodness of his underling, and was constantly on the watch to discover some cause of complaint. It was not, however, often that he was successful in this. Every task committed to the care of Penna,--and he was often purposely overtasked, -- was executed with great care and despatch. With the wife of Penna, however, the case was unfortunately different. Honour Penna was as industrious as her husband, and to him she was in all respects a helpmate. She had, however, naturally a proud spirit, and this had been encouraged in her youth by her parents. 

Honour was very pretty as a girl, and, indeed, she retained much beauty as a woman. The only education she received was the wild one of experience, and this within a very narrow circle. She grew an ignorant girl, amongst ignorant men and women, few of them being able to write their names, and scarcely any of them to read. There was much native grace about her, and she was flattered by the young men, and envied by the young women, of the village,--the envy and the flattery being equally pleasant to her. 

In the same village was born, and brought up, Tom Chenalls, who had, in the course of years, become hind to the Squire. Tom, as a young man, had often expressed himself fond of Honour, but he was always distasteful to the village maiden, and eventually, while yet young, she was married to Pennaluna, who came from the southern coast, bringing with him the recommendation of being a stranger, and an exceedingly hard-working man, who was certain to earn bread, and something more, for his wife and family. In the relations in which these people were now placed towards each other, Chenalls had the opportunity of acting ungenerously towards the Pennas. The man bore this uncomplainingly, but the woman frequently quarrelled with him whom she felt was an enemy, and whom she still regarded but as her equal. Chenalls was a skilled farmer, and hence was of considerable value to the Squire; but although he was endured for his farming knowledge and his business habits, he was never a favourite with his employer. Penna, on the contrary, was an especial favourite, and the evidences of this were so often brought strikingly under the observation of Chenalls, that it increased the irritation of his hate, for it amounted to that. For years things went on thus. There was the tranquil suffering of an oppressed spirit manifested in Penna--the angry words and actions of his wife towards the oppressor, .-- and, at the same time, as she with much fondness studied to make their humble home comfortable for her husband, she reviled him not unfrequently for the meek spirit with which he endured his petty, but still trying, wrongs. The hind dared not venture on any positive act of wrong towards those people, yet he lost no chance of annoying them, knowing that the Squire's partiality for Penna would not allow him to venture beyond certain bounds, even in this direction...." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Belstone and the Nine Maidens

'But one couldn't hurry on without lingering by Belstone Cleave and the sacred circle known as the Nine Maidens, who were turned to stone for dancing on Sunday, their partners also, as would appear, since there are more than nine of them still standing.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

Dosemary Pool - part 3

'...Surrounded with all that is supposed to minister to the enjoyment of a sensual life, time passes on, and "Tregeagle ne'er notyc'd its flyghte." Yet we are told "he marked each day with some damnable deed." In the midst of his vicious career he is returning home through a violent storm, and he is accosted by a damsel on a white horse and a little page by her side, who craves his protection. Tregeagle takes this beautiful maiden to his castle. The page is made to tell the lady's story; she is called Goonhylda, and is the daughter of "Earl Cornwaill," living in Launceston, or, as it was then called, "Dunevyd Castle." Engaged in the pleasures of the hunt, the lady and her page are lost and overtaken by the storm. Tregeagle, as the storm rages savagely, makes them his "guests for the nyghte," promising to send a "quicke messenger" to inform her father of her whereabouts. At the same time --

"If that the countenance speaketh the mynde,
Dark deeds he revolved in hys breaste."

The earl hears nothing of his daughter; and having passed a miserable night, he sets forth in the morning, "wyth hys knyghtes, and esquyers, and serving-men all," in search of his child; and --

"At length to the plaine he emerged from the woode,
For a father, alas, what a syghte!
There lay her fayre garments all drenched in blood,
Her palfreye all torn in the dark crimson floode,
By the ravenous beasts of the nyghte."...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Belstone and the Nine Maidens

[On a guided walk today I was told of the Nine Maidens or Nine Stones on Belston Common.  The guide was from the village and said that as a child the old men had told him they used to go up there on May Day for 'ceremonies'.  When he asked what these consisted of he was told 'don' yu wory abote that, boy' - and laughed.  He took this to mean it was rude - a May Day shag at the circle!  He was in his late 50's early 60's - so these memories probably stretch back about 70 - 100 years.

The circle, of course, has more than nine stones (I think it was 16), but he linked the story to concepts of three times three, e.g. third child of the third generation "she would have to be female, of course".  He also linked it to the moon, saying that came in three phases - waxing, full and waining - presumably new dosent count because you cant see it!

The story I knew of the stones was the maidens turned to stone for dancing on the sabath.]

The Browney

'The Browney.--This spirit was purely of the household. Kindly and good, he devoted his every care to benefit the family with whom he had taken up his abode. The Browney has fled, owing to his being brought into very close contact with the schoolmaster, and he is only summoned now upon the occasion of the swarming of the bees. When this occurs, mistress or maid seizes a bell-metal, or a tin pan, and, beating it, she calls "Browney, Browney!" as loud as she can until the good Browney compels the bees to settle.'

Hunt 1903

On the 'Mistletoe Bough'

'The Legend of the Mistletoe Bough is a ghost story which has been associated with many mansions and stately homes in England. The tale tells how a new bride, playing a game of hide-and-seek during her wedding breakfast, hid in a chest in an attic and was unable to escape. She was not discovered by her family and friends, and suffocated. The body was allegedly found many years later in the locked chest.

Notable claimants for the story's location, some still displaying the chest, include Bramshill House and Marwell Hall in Hampshire, Castle Horneck in Cornwall, Basildon Grotto in Berkshire, Minster Lovell Hall in Oxfordshire, Exton Hall in Rutland, Brockdish Hall in Norfolk and Bawdrip Rectory in Somerset.

The tale first appeared in print in the form of a poem by Samuel Rogers entitled Ginerva, in his book 'Italy' published in 1823. In notes on this work, Rogers states ‘The story is, I believe, founded on fact; though the time and the place are uncertain. Many old houses lay claim to it.’

The popularity of the tale was greatly increased when it appeared as a song in the 1830s entitled 'The Mistletoe Bough' written by T.H. Bayley and Sir Henry Bishop. The song proved very popular. In 1859, its 'solemn chanting' was referred to as a 'national occurrence at Christmas'[2] in English households, and by 1862 the song was referred to as 'one of the most popular songs ever written', 'which must be known by heart by many readers'.[3]

Further works inspired by the song include a play of the same name by Charles A Somerset first produced in 1835. A short story, 'Ginevra or The Old Oak Chest: A Christmas Story' by Susan E Wallace published in 1887 and another short story "The Romance of Certain Old Clothes" by Henry James published in 1868. The song is also played in Thomas Hardy's 'A Laodicean', after the scene involving the capture of George Somerset's handkerchief from the tower.

The story of the Mistletoe Bough is recounted in the 1948 Alfred Hitchcock film Rope, where it is described as being the favorite tale of the main character, Brandon Shaw. Unbeknownst to the story teller, the body of his murdered son had been hidden by Shaw in the chest in front of which they are standing.'

[under a creative commons licence from Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legend_of_the_Mistletoe_Bough]

Bolster Day celebration, 2005

Final edit documenting the days events organised by the people of St.Agnes in Cornwall, UK on May 1st 2005. The locals dress up and perform a staged annual show on the cliffs near the town at Chapel Porth to relay a story about the giant 'Big Bad Bolster'. Legend tells he stalked the area and ate the locals. This footage was originallly filmed for Jeremy Deller and Alan Kane's Folk Archive. This edit was put together by Matt Redman and burnt to DVD for the folk of St.Agnes and organisers of the event for keepsake and thanks. The Bolster story itself is copyright to the St.Agnes Bolster Committee.

[held under a Creative Commons license:Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs - please feel yourselves attributed!]