“In some of our farmhouses the Good Friday bun may be seen hanging to a string from the bacon-rack, slowly diminishing until the return of the season replaces it by a fresh one. It is of sovereign good in all manners of diseases afflicting the family or cattle. I have more than once seen a little of this cake grated into a warm mash for a sick cow.”—(T. Q. Couch, Polperro.) There is a superstition that bread made on this day never gets mouldy.
Many amateur gardeners sow their seeds on Good Friday; superstition says then they will all grow. “There is a widely known belief in West Cornwall, that young ravens are always hatched on Good Friday.”—(T. Cornish, W. Antiquary, October, 1887.)
On Easter Monday, at Penzance, it was the custom within the last twenty years to bring out in the lower part of the town, before the doors, tables, on which were placed thick gingerbread cakes with raisins in them, cups and saucers, etc., to be raffled for with cups and dice, called here “Lilly-bangers.” Fifty years since a man, nicknamed Harry Martillo, with his wife, the “lovelee,” always kept one of these “lilly-banger stalls” at Penzance on market day. He would call attention to his gaming-table by shouting—
“I’ve been in Europe, Ayshee, Afrikee, and Amerikee,
And come back and married the lovelee.”
I have heard that both used tobacco in three ways, and indulged freely in rum, also “tom-trot” (hardbake), strongly flavoured with peppermint. Of course a lively market would influence the dose, and as for “lovelee,” it must have been in Harry’s partial eyes.—(H.R.C.)
“Upon little Easter Sunday, the freeholders of the towne and mannour of Lostwithiel, by themselves or their deputies, did there assemble, amongst whom one (as it fell to his lot by turne), bravely apparelled, gallantly mounted, with a crowne on his head, a scepter in his hand, a sword borne before him, and dutifully attended by all the rest also on horseback, ride thorow the principal streete to the Church; there the Curate in his best ‘beseene’ solemne receiud him at the Church-yard stile, and conducted him to heare diuine seruice; after which he repaired with the same pompe to a house fore-prouided for that purpose, made a feast to his attendants, kept the table’s end himselfe, and was serued with kneeling, assay, and all other rites due to the estate of a Prince; with which dinner the ceremony ended, and every man returned home again.”—(Carew.)
The ancient custom of choosing a mock mayor was observed at Lostwithiel, on 10th October, 1884, by torchlight, in the presence of nearly a thousand people. The origin of both these customs is now quite forgotten. “A custom still existing at St. John’s, Helston, and also at Buryan. The last mayor of the Quay, Penzance, was Mr. Robinson, a noted authority on sea fishing, etc. He died about ten years ago.”—(H.R.C.)
April 1st. The universal attempts at fooling on this day are carried on in Cornwall as elsewhere, and children are sent by their schoolfellows for penn’orths of pigeon’s milk, memory powder, strap-oil, etc., or with a note telling the receiver “to send the fool farther.” When one boy succeeds in taking in another, he shouts after him, Fool! fool! the “guckaw” (cuckoo).
Towednack’s (a village near St. Ives) “Cuckoo” or “Crowder” feast is on the nearest Sunday to the 28th April. Tradition accounts for the first name by the story of a man who there gave a feast on an inclement day in the end of April. To warm his guests he threw some faggots on the fire (or some furze-bushes), when a cuckoo flew out of them, calling “Cuckoo! cuckoo!” It was caught and kept, and he resolved every year to invite his friends to celebrate the event. This, too, is said to be the origin of the feast.