May 8.
“The Furry.”
For the Every-Day Book.
On the eighth of May, at Helston, in Cornwall, is held what is called “the Furry.” The word is supposed by Mr. Polwhele to have been derived from the old Cornish word fer, a fair or jubilee. The morning is ushered in by the music of drums and kettles, and other accompaniments of a song, a great part of which is inserted in Mr. Polwhele’s history, where this circumstance is noticed. So strict is the observance of this day as a general holiday, that should any person be found at work, he is instantly seized, set astride on a pole, and hurried on men’s shoulders to the river, where he is sentenced to leap over a wide place, which he of course fails in attempting, and leaps into the water. A small contribution towards the good cheer of the day easily compounds for the leap. About nine o’clock the revellers appear before the grammar-school, and demand a holiday for the schoolboys. After which they collect contributions from house to house. They then fade into the country, (fade being an old English word for go,) and, about the middle of the day, return with flowers and oak branches in their hats and caps. From this time they dance hand in hand through the streets, to the sound of the fiddle, playing a particular tune, running into every house they pass without opposition. In the afternoon, a select party of the ladies and gentlemen make a progress through the street, and very late in the evening repair to the ball-room. A stranger visiting the town on the eighth of May, would really think the people mad; so apparently wild and thoughtless is the merriment of the day.
There is no doubt of “the Furry” originating from the “Floralia,” anciently observed by the Romans on the fourth of the calends of May.[179]
“Every pot has two handles.” This means “that one story’s good, till another story’s told;” or, “there is no evil without its advantages.”
If it is generally “good” to anticipate festival days in the Every-Day Book, it is an “evil” to be “behind-hand;” and yet “advantages” have sometimes resulted from it. For instance, the day of “the Furry” at Helston, elapsed before this sheet was sent to press; but a correspondent who was present at the festival on that day in the present year, 1826, sends an account of the manner wherein it is conducted at present; and though the former “story’s good,” his particular description of the last Furry, is a lively picture of the pleasant manner, wherein it continues to be celebrated: thus is illustrated the ancient saying, that “every pot has two handles.”
It would be ill acknowledgment of the annexed letter to abridge it, by omitting its brief notice of the origin of the Furry, already adverted to, and therefore the whole is inserted verbatim.
Helston “Furry, or Flora Day.”
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,—Having for several years past resided in Cornwall, (from whence I have lately returned,) I beg to inform you of one of their gayest days of amusement, which is regularly kept up in the borough of Helston on the eighth day of May.
It originated from the Roman custom of paying an early tribute of respect to the goddess Flora; the garlands of flowers worn on the occasion confirms this opinion. This festival commences at an early hour: the morning is enlivened by the sound of “drum and fife;” and music, harmony, and dance are the sports of “high and low”—“from morn to night.” Some of the oldest townsmen chant some ancient ditties—not very comprehensible, “nor is the melody thereof enchanting.”
The hilarity of the day precludes the possibility of doing business; every consideration but mirth, music, and feasting is set at naught. Should any persons be found at work, they are instantly seized, set astride on a pole, and jolted away on men’s shoulders, amidst thousands of huzzas, &c., and at last sentenced to leap over the river, (which by the by is none of the narrowest,) the result which therefore frequently happens is—they jump into it. The payment of a certain fine towards the expenses of the day saves them from this cooling.
At nine in the morning the mob gathers round the various seminaries, and countless voices demand a holiday for all in them, which is acceded to: a collection from the housekeepers is then commenced towards the general fund. While this is going on, the young folks of both sexes go to the gardens of the neighbourhood, and return at twelve with their heads dressed out with gay flowers, oak branches, &c. On entering the town they are joined by a band of music; they dance through the streets to the “Flora Tune.” In their progress they go through every house and garden they please without distinction; all doors are opened, and, in fact, it is thought much of by the householders to be thus favoured.
The older branch of the population dance in the same manner, for it is to be noticed they have select parties, and at different hours; no two sets dance together, or at the same time. Then follows the gentry, which is really a very pleasing sight on a fine day from the noted respectability of this rich borough. In this set the sons and daughters of some of the first and noblest families of Cornwall join. The appearance of the ladies is enchanting. Added to their personal charms, in ball-room attire, each tastefully adorned with beautiful spring flowers, in herself appears to the gazer’s eye a Flora, and leads us to conceive the whole a scene from fairy land. The next set is, the soldiers and their lasses; then come the tradesmen and their wives; journeymen and their sweethearts; and, “though last not least,” the male and female servants in splendid livery; best bibs and tuckers are in request, and many pretty brunettes are to be found in their Sunday finery, with healthy smiling looks, which on such a day as this are sure to make sad havoc with the hearts of the young men.
In the evening a grand ball is always held at the assembly rooms; to which, this year, were added the performance of the “Honey Moon” at the theatre, by Dawson’s company of comedians, Powell’s celebrated troop of horse at the Circus, and Mr. Ingleby’s sleight of hand at the rooms. The borough was thronged with visiters from all parts of the country. It is a pleasing task to conclude by being able to state, that Aurora rose on the ninth without any account of accident or disappointment being experienced by any of its numerous attendants. I have many other anecdotes of Cornwall, which I shall forward you in case you deem them worthy a place in your Every-Day Book, to which I wish the success it really deserves.
I am, Sir,
Your’s truly,
Sam Sam’s Son.
London, May 16, 1826.
⁂ This communication was almost past the time; yet, as we set out with a proverb, we may end with “better late than never;” and, “not to ride a free horse to death,” but merely to “drive the nail that will go,” thanks are offered to “Sam Sam’s Son,” with the hope of early receiving his “future agreeable favours.”