Cornish Feasts and Folk-lore

by M. A. Courtney

And what will grammer do,

Cock-a-doodle-doo.”

Moles in this county are known as “wants,” and once in the Land’s End district I overtook an old man and asked him what had made so many hillocks in a field through which we were passing. His answer was, “What you rich people never have in your houses, ‘wants.’ ”

To this day in Cornwall, when anything unforeseen happens to our small farmers, or they have the misfortune to lose by sickness some of their stock, they still think that they are “ill-wished,” and start off (often on long journeys) to consult a “pellar,” or wise man, sometimes called “a white witch” (which term is here used indiscriminately for persons of both sexes). The following I had from a dairy-man I know, who about twelve years ago quarrelled with a domestic servant, a woman living in a neighbouring house. Soon after, from some reason, two or three of his cows died; he was quite sure, he told me, that she had “overlooked” and “ill-wished” him. To ease his mind he had consulted a “pellar” about the matter, who had described her accurately to him, and, for payment, removed the “spell” (I do not know what rites were used), telling him to look at his watch and note the hour, as he would find, when he returned home, that a cow he had left sick would have begun at that moment to recover (which he says it did). The “pellar” also added, “The woman who has ‘ill-wished’ you will be swaddled in fire and lapped in water;” and by a strange coincidence she emigrated soon after, and was lost in the ill-fated Cospatrick, that was burnt at sea.

Water from a font is often stolen to sprinkle “ill-wished” persons or things.

The two next examples were communicated to me by a friend: “Some twenty-six years ago a farmer in a neighbouring village (West Cornwall) sustained during one season continual losses from his cows dying of indigestion, known as ‘loss of cud,’ ‘hoven-blown,’ etc. After consulting an old farrier called Armstrong he was induced to go to a ‘pellar’ in Exeter. His orders were to go home, and, on nearing his farm, he would see an old woman in a field hoeing turnips, and that she was the party who had cast the ‘evil eye’ on him. When he saw her he was to lay hold of her and accuse her of the crime, then tear off some of her dress, take it to his farm, and burn it with some of the hair from the tails of his surviving stock. These directions were fully carried out, and his bad health (caused by worry) improved, and he lost no more cows. A spotted clover that grew luxuriantly that summer was no doubt the cause of the swelling.” “Another farmer in the same village eighteen years since lost all his feeding cattle from pleuro-pneumonia; believing them to be ‘ill-wished’ by a woman, he also consulted the Exeter ‘pellar.’ He brought home some bottles of elixir, potent against magic, and made an image of dough, pierced it from the nape of the neck downward, in the line of the spine, with a very large blanket-pin. In order to make the agonies of the woman with the ‘evil eye’ excruciating in the last degree, dough and pin were then burnt in a fire of hazel and ash. The cure failed, as anyone acquainted with the disease might have forecast.”

Besides those remedies already mentioned for curing cattle, you may employ these:—“Take some blood from the sick animal by wounding him; let the blood fall on some straw carefully held to the place—not a drop must be lost; burn the straw; when the ill-wisher will be irresistibly drawn to the spot; then by violence you can compel him to take off the spell.” Or, “Bleed one animal to death to save the whole herd.”

A local newspaper, in 1883 (Cornishman), gives the following:—“Superstitions die hard.—A horse died the other day on a farm in the neighbourhood of St. Ives. Its carcase was dragged on a Sunday away up to the granite rock basins and weather-worn bosses of Trecoben hill, and there burnt, in order to drive away the evil spell, or ill-wishing, which afflicted the farm where the animal belonged.” I, a few years since, saw a dying cat taken out of a house on a mat, by two servants, that it might not die inside and bring ill-luck. “In 1865 a farmer in Portreath sacrificed a calf, by burning, for the purpose of removing a disease which had long followed his horses and cows.” And in another case a farmer burnt a living lamb, to save, as he said, “his flock from spells which had been cast on them.”—Robert Hunt.

The Cornishman, in another paragraph, says:—“Our Summercourt (East Cornwall) correspondent witnessed an amusing affair on Thursday morning (April, 1883). Seeing a crowd in the street, he asked the reason, and found that a young lady was about to perform the feat of throwing a pig’s nose over a house for good luck! This is how it was done. The lady took the nose of a pig, that was killed the day before, in her right hand, stood with her back to the house, and threw the nose over her head, and over the house, into the back garden. Had she failed in the attempt her luck was supposed to be bad.” “Whet your knife on Sunday, you’ll skin on Monday,” is a very old Perranuthnoe and St. Hilary (West Cornwall) superstition, so that, however blunt your knife may be, you must use it as it is, lest by sharpening it you bring ill-luck on the farmer, and he lose a sheep or bullock. Mr. T. Q. Couch, W. Antiquary, 1883, says of one, “He is an old-fashioned man, and, amongst his other ‘whiddles’ (whims), keeps a goat amongst his cattle for the sake of keeping his cows from slipping their calves.” Branches of care (mountain ash) were, in the east of the county, hung over the cattle in their stalls to prevent their being “ill-wished,” also carried in the pocket as a cure and prevention of rheumatism. “Rheumatism will attack the man who carries a walking stick made of holly.”—Cornubiana, Rev. S. Rundle.

The belief in witchcraft in West Cornwall is much more general than most people imagine. Several cases have lately come under my own notice; one, that of a man-servant in our employ who broke a blood-vessel, and for a long time was so ill that his life was despaired of. He was most carefully attended by a Penzance physician, who came to see him three times a day. But directly that his strength began to return he asked permission to go to Redruth to consult a “pellar,” as he was quite sure that he had been “overlooked” and “ill-wished.” An old Penzance man, afflicted with rheumatism, who gained his living by selling fruit in the streets, fancied himself ill-wished. He went to Helston to see a “wiseman” residing there, to whom he paid seven-and-sixpence, with a further promise of five pounds on the removal of the “spell.” As he was too poor to pay this himself a brother agreed to do it for him, but somehow failed to perform his contract. Now the poor old man thinks that the pellar’s ill-wishes are added to his former pains.