Popular Romances of the West of England (Part Two)

Voices from the sea, druidical sacrifice and the incredible story of the enchanter  of Pengerswick! Its time for part two of Popular Romances of the West of England by Robert Hunt, published by John Camden Hotton of London in 1865.

'On moonlight nights the air has often seemed to be full of sound, and yet the lady's voice was seldom louder than that of a warbling bird. On these occasions, men have seen thousands of spirits gliding up and down the moonbeams, and floating idly on the silvered waves, listening to, and sometimes softly echoing, the words which Lady Pengerswick sang.'

Tales From Antiquaria is a podcast dedicated to exploring the legacy of work published regarding folklore and local history during the golden age of antiquarian writing in the nineteenth century.

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Episode written, produced and presented by Eli Lewis-Lycett. All source material taken directly from the stated publication. Main theme music by Humanoid Media. Incidental music from Restum-Anoush. 

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Transcript

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Voices from the sea and duilical sacrifice. My name is Eli and this is Taleshraman Aquaria, Popular Romances of the West of England, Part II. Part two tonight of Robert Hunt's Popular Romances of the West of England, published in 1865. Before we jump in, there's a section in tonight's episode at the start that deals with the issue of animal sacrifice, which for obvious reasons I'm well aware some listeners might find a bit uncomfortable. I mean it's fascinating, but I get it may not be for you. After that though, we're on to more familiar fare with mermaids and ghosts, so fear not. Let's begin. There can be no doubt that a belief prevailed until very recently amongst the small farmers in the districts remote from the towns in Cornwall that a living sacrifice appeased the wrath of God. This sacrifice must be by fire. And I have heard it argued that the Bible gave them warranty for this belief. The accompanying notes from Hone's Everyday Book and from Drew and Kitchen's Cornwall proved the prevalence, at least by the commencement of this century, of this idea. I've lately been informed that within the last few years a calf has been thus sacrificed by a farmer in a district where churches, chapels and schools abound. The burning of blood drawn from a deceased animal has been a very common mode of appeasing the spirits of disease. There are too many obvious traces of the fact to doubt its truth. That the making of bonfires and the leaping through of them are vestiges of the ancient worship of the heathen god Baal, and it is therefore a probable remnant of pagan superstition in this country. An ignorant old farmer in Cornwall, having met with some severe loss in his cattle about the year 1800, was much afflicted with his misfortunes. Still continuing an old remedies failing, he thought it necessary to have recourse with some extraordinary measure. Accordingly, on consulting with some of his neighbours, equally ignorant with himself, and evidently no less barbarous, they recalled to their recollections a tale which tradition had handed down from remote antiquity, that the calamity would not cease until he had actually burned a live, fine calf. The old farmer, influenced by this counsel, resolved immediately on reducing it to practice, and that by making the detestable experiment he might secure an advantage which the whispers of tradition and the advice of his neighbours conspired to assure him would follow. He accordingly called several of his friends together on an appointed day, and having lighted a large fire, brought forth his best calf, and without ceremony or remorse pushed it into the flames. The innocent victim, on feeling the intorrible heat, endeavoured to escape, but this was in vain. The barbarians that surrounded the fire were armed with pitchforks or pikes, as in Cornwall they are generally called, and as the burning victim endeavoured to escape from death, with these instruments of cruelty, the wretches pushed back the tortured animal into the flames. In this state, amidst the wounds of pitchforks, the shouts of unfeeling ignorance and cruelty, and the corrosion of flames, the dying victim poured out its expiring groan and was consumed to ashes. It's scarcely possible to reflect on this instance of superstitious barbarity without tracing a kind of resemblance between it and the ancient sacrifices of the druids. This calf was sacrificed to fortune or good luck to avert impending calamity and to ensure future prosperity, and was selected by the farmer as the finest amongst this herd. Jago's demon. The vicar of Wendron, who bore the name of Jago, appears to have had strange intercourse with the invisible world. Or rather, the primitive people of this district believe him to have possessed supernatural powers. Anyone visiting the parish of Wendron will be struck with many distinguishing features as to its inhabitants. It would appear as if a strange people had settled down amidst the races already inhabiting the spot, and that they had studiously avoided any intimate connection with their neighbours. The dialect of the Wendron people is unlike any other in Cornwall, and there are found many customs existing amongst them which are not found in any other part of the county. Until of late years, the inhabitants of Wendrum were quite uneducated, hence the readiness with which they associate ancient superstitions with comparatively modern individuals. The Reverend Mr Jago was no doubt a man who impressed this people with the powers of his knowledge. Hence we are told that no spirit walking the earth could resist the spells laid upon him by Jago. By his prayers or powers, many a night wanderer has been put back into his grave, and so confined there that the poor ghost could never let loose again. To the evil disposed Mr Jago as a terror. All Wendrum believed that every act was visible to the parson at the moment it was done day or night it mattered not. He's been known to pick a thief at once out of a crowd, and criminal men or women could not endure the glance of his eye. Many a person has at once confessed to the guilty deeds of which they have been suspected the moment they had been brought before Mr Jago. We're told that he had spirits continually waiting upon him, though invisible until he desired them to appear. The parson rode far and wide over the moorland of his parish. He never took a groom with him, for the moment that he alighted from his horse he had only to strike the earth with his whip, and up came a demon groom to take charge of the steed. A flying spirit. About the year 1761, a pinnacle was thrown down by lightning from the tower of the church at Ludgen. The effect was then universally inputted to the vengeance of a perturbed spirit exercised from Tresow and passing eastward towards the usual place of banishment, the Red Sea. A man who has resided at several places on the south coast was known by this name. He is said to be in possession of no end of charms and to possess powers of no common order over this and the other world. The pala will tame the devils, usually sending spirits to some very remote region and chaining them down under granite rocks. An old woman had long suffered from dubility, but she and her friends were satisfied that she had been ill wished. So she went to the pala. He told her to buy a bullock's heart and to get a packet of pound pins. She was to stick the heart full of pins, and the body that ill wished her felt every pin run into the bullock's heart same as if they had been running to her. The spell was taken off, and the old woman grew strong. An old man living on Lady Downs had a lot of money stolen from his house. He too went to the palace. In this case, the magician performed the spells and the man was told the money would be returned. After a few days it was so. The money during the night was tied to the handle of the door and found there by the owner in the morning. The Lord of Pengerswick, an enchanter. The Lord of Pengerswick came from some eastern climb, bringing with him a foreign lady of great beauty. She was considered by all an outlandish woman, and by many she was declared to be a Saracen. No one beyond the selected servants was ever allowed within the walls of Pengerswick Castle. No one dared talk or tell of anything transacting within the walls. Consequently all was conjecture amongst the neighbouring peasantry, miners and fishermen. Certain it was, they said, that Pengerswick would shut himself up for days together in his chamber, burning strange things which sent their strong odours not only to every part of the castle, but for miles around the country. Often at night and especially in stormy weather, Pengerswick was heard for hours together calling up the spirits by reading from his books in some unknown tongue. On those occasions his voice would roll through the halls louder than the surging waves which beat against the neighbouring rocks. Then would all the servants rush in fright from the building, and remain crowded together even in the most tempestuous night in one of the open courts. Fearful indeed would be the strife between the man and the demons, and it would sometimes happen that the spirits were too powerful for the enchanter. He was, however, constantly and carefully watched by his wife. And whenever the strife became too serious, her harp was heard making the softest, sweetest music. At this the spirits fled, and they were heard passing through the air towards land's end. The lights would then be extinguished in the Enchanter's Tower, and all would be peace. Lady Pengerswick was never seen beyond the grounds surrounding the castle. She sat all day in a lonely state of pride in her tower, the lattice window of her apartment being high on the seaward side. Her voice accompanying the music of a harp was rarely heard, but when she warbled the soft love strains of her eastern land, often at early dawn the very fishes of the neighbouring bay would raise their heads above the surface of the waters, enchanted by the music and the voice. And it said that the mermaids from the lizard and many of the strange spirits of the waters would come near to Pengerswick Cove, drawn by the same influence. On moonlit nights the air is often seen to be full of sound, and yet the lady's voice was seldom louder than that of a warbling bird. On these occasions men have seen thousands of spirits gliding up and down the moon beams and floating idly on the silvery waves. They would listen to and sometimes softly echo the words which Lady Pengerswick sang. Long did this strange pair inhabit the lonely castle. And although the Lord of Pengerswick frequently rode abroad on a most magnificent horse which had the reputation of being of satanic origin, yet he made no acquaintance with any of the neighbouring gentry. He was feared by all, and yet they respected him for many of the good deeds performed by him. He completely enthralled the giants of the mount. And before he disappeared from Cornwall, they died, owing it was said, to grief and want of food. Where the Lord of Pengerswit came from, no one knew. He, with his lady, made their appearance one winter's day, mounted on beautiful horses, evidently from Arabia or some distant land. Many affirmed that the Lord by the force of his enchantments, and the lady by the spell of her voice, compelled the spirits of the earth and air to work for them, and that three nights were sufficient to rear an enormous pile, of which but one tower now remains. Their coming was sudden and mysterious, their going still more so. Years had rolled on, and the people around were familiarized with those strange neighbours from whom they derived large profits, since they paid whatsoever price was demanded for any article which they required. One day a stranger was seen in the market, whose face was bronzed by long exposure to an eastern sun. No one knew him, and he eluded the anxious inquiries of the numerous gossips who were especially anxious to learn something of this man. It was surmised by everyone that he must have some connection with Pengerswick or his lady. Week after week passed away, and the stranger remained in the town, but giving no sign. Wonder was on every old woman's lips and expressed in every old man's eyes, but they simply had to wander on. One thing it was said had been noticed, and this seemed to confirm the suspicions of the people. The stranger wandered out on dark nights and spent them, it was thought, on the seashore. And some fishermen said they had seen him seated on the rock at the entrance of the valley of Pengerswick. It was thought that the Lord kept more at home than usual, and of late no one had heard his incantation songs and sounds, neither had they heard the harp of the lady. A very tempestuous night arrived, singular for its gloom, and there was a sudden alarm in the market, a red glare in the eastern sky, and presently a burst of flames above the hill, and Saint Michael's Mount was illuminated in a remarkable manner. Pengerswick Castle was on fire. The servants fled in terror, but neither the Lord nor the lady could be found. From that day to the present they were lost to all. The interior of the castle was entirely destroyed. Not a vestige of furniture, books, or anything belonging to the enchanter could be found. He and everything belonging to him had vanished. And from that night on the bronze stranger was never seen again. Two of the oldest people in the market always declared that when the flames were at the highest, they saw two men and a lady floating in the mist of the fire, and that they ascended from amist the falling walls, passed through the air like lightning, and disappeared. That story. Hope you've enjoyed this trip down to Cornwall. Again, apologies for any of my pronunciation during these last two episodes. But I'm up here in the northwest, and the cornish lingo isn't something I'm too familiar with. But we try. So we'll be back soon for the next episodes, and until then, take care, and may you go with you. You can find out more about the show and about my other projects at the local mythstorian.com.