From Granite to Sea, by Alex Langstone

From Granite to Sea

by Alex Langstone With photography by the author Illustrated by Paul Atlas-Saunders additional illustrations by Gemma Gary

From Granite to Sea © 2017, 2018 by Alex Langstone. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First North American Edition, 2020 First Printing, 2020 ISBN 978-0-7387-6578-5 Originally published by Troy Books Inc. 2017 ISBN 978-1-909602-29-8 Llewellyn Publications is a registered trademark of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. Cataloging-in-Publication Programme data is on file with the British National Bibliography.

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Dedication For my Mum Barbara Eva June Langstone 1936 - 2016 “Under the soft silver moonlight and eternal starry sky Taken from known realms to new existences Immortal echoes, always forever Burned into our hearts.”

Acknowledgements Grateful thanks to: Paul Atlas-Saunders, Caroline Blick, John Buckingham, Jane Cox, Merv and Alison Davey, Phil Ellery, Joyce Froome, Gemma Gary, Scott Gray, Nikki Hatch, Anne and Terry Knight, Brian Langston, Andy Norfolk, Gillian Nott, Mike O Connor, Steve Patterson, Binky Andrews, Simon Reed, Kathy Rollason, Jane Satchwell, Cheryl Straffon, Kathy Wallis, Craig Weatherhill, and last but not least all the staff at the Cornish Studies Library in Redruth, the Old Guildhall Museum in East Looe, Padstow Museum, Bude Museum, the Cornwall Records Office in Truro, and the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic in Boscastle. Massive thankyou goes out to the various members of the ‘Cornish Folklore – Lien Gwerin a Gernow’ Facebook group, for the swapping of tales and the interesting conversations which often led to new and interesting research. However, all interpretations and potential mistakes are my own.

Every reasonable attempt has been made to contact the copyright holders of certain quotations found within this work. If any person or organisation subsequently contacts myself with information concerning permissions or copyright information, we will gladly make the appropriate acknowledgments and amend future editions of this book.

Contents Introduction

9

January – mis Genver

15

February – mis Hwevrel

27

March – mis Meurth

34

April – mis Ebrel

47

May – mis Me

93

June – mis Metheven

113

July – mis Gortheren

137

August – mis Est

153

September – mis Gwynngala

179

October – mis Hedra

189

November – mis Du

219

December – mis Kevardhu

246

Photoplates

between pages 138 & 139

INTRODUCTION A Land Cloaked in Folklore ‘There are few more beautiful stretches of wild country in Britain than the eastern part of the Cornish highlands between the upper reaches of the Fowey and the Lynher.’ Charles Henderson ODMIN Moor, land of granite. The Cornish highlands. Inhabiting eighty square miles across the centre of eastern Cornwall, this is a landscape that tells a story. From the Neolithic Stripple stones henge monument to the height of nineteenth century copper mining, Bodmin Moor is evocative and poetic, but it can also be dark and menacing, depending on the weather and the season. The moors granite bulk rises to a height of 417 metres (1,368 ft) at the summit of Brown Willy, a corruption of the old Cornish name, Bronn Wennili, meaning ‘hill of swallows’, and a fine place to sit and ponder the history and mystery of the mighty uplands. In the summer, there are still plenty of swallows, swooping and dancing above their fine old hill.

In the late autumn and into winter around the surrounding valleys on this part of the moor, starlings amass in their thousands to form a magical aerial dance, their murmuration is an awesome spectacle, and once seen never forgotten.

The expansive moor-land landscape stretches away in all directions from the high moor beyond Brown Willy. To the North West lies Roughtor, second in stature only to Brown Willy. The terrain on Roughtor (pronounced Rouwter, from Cornish dialect rouw = rough or rocky) is littered with massive granite boulders, many sculptured by the elements over aeons. These giant sculptures give rise to many moor-

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From Granite to Sea land oral tales of piskies and giants often repeated across the district. Giants who play hurling the rocks, piskey folk who make their homes in the small scattered caverns the patterned rocks create. Folk being led astray or ‘mazed by the piskies’ and, at dusk, the eerie baying of the hounds of the ghostly hunt or the long low growl of the elusive beast of Bodmin.

The old name for this upland was Foweymoor, changed forever by the Ordnance Survey in 1813. Named after its principle river, the moor releases its majestic stream at Fenten Fowi (Fowey Well) on the slopes of Brown Willy and pushes its way through deep moor-land ravines, the biggest and most well-known of these is Golitha Falls. This deep woodland gorge offers fantastic walks by the river, and the remains of Wheal Victoria copper mine are scattered throughout the valley. The woodland here is mainly of Beech, and gives us a clue to the river’s name and meaning.

Fowey, from the Cornish Fowi meaning the ‘beech tree river’.

The gorge and the surrounding woods are haunted by King Doniert (Donyarth) who died in 875 AD and was the last Cornish king. He is said to have drowned in the lower falls. His stone monument can be viewed nearby at St Cleer and if that’s not all, hidden in the depths of the woods by the river, if you search carefully at night under the light of the full moon, you may just catch a glimpse of the Pobel Vean, the little people or piskies, who are said to dwell within the hidden parts of the landscape; in the rock crevices, holy wells, caves, remote valleys, rugged hilltops and the old mines of the moor and coast.

The River Fowey continues its journey towards the coast, and at the estuary, the coastline veers to the west towards Gribben Head and its red and white tower, which marks the western boundary of the area featured in this book. The coastline east of the estuary fans out towards the Tamar and Plymouth Sound. Many interesting villages and towns are scattered across this ‘forgotten’ corner of Cornwall. The coast meanders along and around the Fowey estuary on its breath-taking journey to the Rame Peninsula and the dark 10

Introduction flowing waters of the River Tamar. There is an interesting folk tale regarding the Devil and the Tamar claiming that the devil would never dare to cross the river into Cornwall for fear of ending up as a pasty filling. Though unusual landscape features are often named after the devil (e.g. devil’s frying pan and the devil’s jump) it used to be said that the devil never came to Cornwall: he once reached Launceston and immediately noticed that various kinds of pie were customary; he feared that devil pie may be the next, so he returned to Devon. This legend is set to music in the Cornish folk song, Fish and Tin and Copper.

‘Old Nick, as he was wont to do Was wand’ring up and down To see what mischief he could brew, And made for Launceston-town.

Chorus For ‘tis fish and tin and copper, boys, And Tre and Pol and Pen, And one and all we may rejoice That we are Cornishmen.

Across the Tamar he had come, Though you might think it strange, And having left his Devon home Tried Cornwall for a change.

Now when to Launceston he grew near, A-skipping o’er the sod, He spied a rustic cottage there With windows all abroad.

And in the kitchen might be seen A dame with knife in hand, Who cut and slashed and chopped, I ween To make a pasty grand.

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From Granite to Sea “Good Mornin’, Missus, what is that?”

“Of all sorts, is a daub.

‘Tis beef and mutton, pork and fat, Potatoes, leeks, and squab.”

“A Cornish pasty, sure”, says she, “And if thou doesn’t mind, I soon shall start to cut up thee And put ye in, you’ll find!”

In fear he turned and straight did flee Across the Tamar green And since that day in Cornwall He has never more been seen!

Heading north, following Cornwall’s historic river border, towards the source located on Wooley Moor, just 3 miles from the Celtic Sea coast. From the Tamar’s source it is just a few hundred yards to the source of Marsland Water, which continues to define Cornwall’s border until this small waterway empties onto Marsland Mouth beach. Historically, the eastern bank of the Tamar was set as the border between Cornwall and England by King Athelstan in 936 AD, and although the border has fluctuated over the centuries since; the river is very much seen as an important boundary to this day. This beautiful river and its valley virtually make Cornwall an island. From Marsland Mouth, the lofty, rocky sea-cliffs fan out to the north-east towards Hartland in Devon and beyond to Lundy and the Bristol Channel. Westward, the coast passes Morwenstow, and from here the coastline passes through some of the highest cliffs in Cornwall then onwards through the narrow-necked harbour at Boscastle, the Rumps Iron Age cliff castle and Trevose Head, with its lighthouse beaming its perennial warning to passing ships. The renowned folktale collector and children’s story writer, Enys Tregarthen once told a story about Trevose Head, which gathers together some of the lore of the land in these parts – 12

Introduction At Trevose Head in Cornwall six-hundred piskies were said to have gathered dancing and laughing in a circle that had appeared upon the turf until one of their number, named Omfra, lost his laugh. After searching amongst the barrows of the ancient kings of Cornwall on nearby St Breock Downs, he heads to Bodmin Moor and wades through the bottomless Dozmary Pool until his laugh is restored by King Arthur in the form of a Chough.

The prosaically named High Cliff, between St Gennys and Boscastle, is the highest sheer-drop cliff in Cornwall at 223 metres (732 ft). Much of Cornwall’s coast, and all of Bodmin Moor is designated an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and these landscapes are so very rich in folklore and steeped in the very culture of Cornwall, that anyone walking these areas will have the experience greatly enhanced by a little knowledge of the folklore of the area they are exploring.

So the area defined in this book, Trevose Head on the north coast to Gribben Head in the south is a land of much contrast. The northern coast is rocky and wild, as is the high moor that covers the central district. The Tamar valley is lush and green and the south coast with its interesting towns and villages are full of sea-faring tales of smuggling and exploration.

I hope that this book will assist in the re-discovery of the Cornish landscape’s vibrant lore and legend. The folklore of a region is a living force and one that needs attention and perpetuation to allow it to thrive and adapt for future generations. Let’s hope that we all continue to be inspired to protect the rich and vibrant cultural heritage of Cornwall’s folklore for one and all.

Alex Langstone North Cornwall, Winter Solstice 2017 www.alexlangstone.com www.cornishfolklore.co.uk

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From Granite to Sea

A note on the way this book is written Each chapter begins with a narrative by Old Jack Lamplight, a fictional charmer who lives in the Camel Valley, in the shadow of the high tors on the western reaches of Bodmin Moor. It is here, sitting in his isolated farmhouse, that Old Jack weaves his tales of natural history, wonderful customs and eerie folklore as he writes his almanac. Full of his memories of the Cornish customs he has witnessed over the years and the folklore, traditions and myths that he was told as a child and learned as an adult. As a charmer, Jack is often visited by the moor-land farmers and residents seeking cures for all sorts of ailments and conditions and through these meetings he has gained an intimate insight into the folk-life and magic from across East Cornwall. Old Jack is an amalgamation of characters and stories from the region, and I hope his insight will give a broader picture of the subject matter within these pages.

A note about the Cornish Language The sub-headings of each chapter are written in Cornish (Kernewek), the old Celtic language of Cornwall. This language, related to Welsh and Breton is a modern descendant of the ancient language of Britain. Most Cornish place names are still written in the language, and its sounds and forms echo the accents and sayings, the legends, folklore and landscapes of the rugged peninsular.

14

JANUARY mis Genver

he old clock, hidden in the dark corner of the narrow hallway strikes the midnight hour and a new year begins in the middle reaches of the Camel Valley. My slate and granite farmhouse nestles comfortably amongst the familiar gnarled old trees and traditional slate hedges, which often seem as old as the landscape they sit upon. The wind is strong and howls through the trees, the creaking, groaning branches moving violently against a black and menacing sky, there are no stars shining tonight.

I sit staring at the fire, the logs shifting as they burn; releasing a shower of sparks which disappear up the chimney. The smell of seasoned Chestnut fills the room, as the flames dance in the cast iron grate. The talk around these parts tonight is full of the expectancy that a heavy fall of snow can bring, and I check again through the window to see if the prediction has been fulfilled. A neighbour

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From Granite to Sea had been travelling across the moor earlier, and had brought stories of heavy snowfall on the top. From the Camelford road, Roughtor was as white as a ghost and Brown Willy had disappeared into a blizzard. The moor-land gale continues her wistful, mournful song, rushing down the chimney, sending sparks dancing around the grate, (and the poor cat gets her coat singed again). The ghostly wild hunt is abroad tonight in his many guises – Cheney’s hounds, Dando and his dogs, Tregeagle and the Devil’s Dandy Dogs all seem to gather in the roaring, swirling cacophony outside. If snow falls, a blizzard will quickly ensue, and, so the old story goes - the Old Sky Woman will have begun plucking a big fat goose for her dinner, its falling feathers covering the granite tors and gorse clad valleys in a fresh white blanket. A tale often told in these more northern parts of Cornwall. Remembering this tale has reminded me of the great feast I have had over the Christmas festivities, much fresh food was brought to the farm over the last week or so, often left anonymously, from the grateful clientele that I have built up over the years.

The great folk-tale collector of Padstow, Enys Tregarthen recorded many old folktales, forgotten lore and cultural traditions, often disguised as children’s stories. Her greatest folkloric titles include her book North Cornwall Fairies and Legends, from whence the legend of the old sky woman is told -

‘Winter-time is the Sky Goose’s moulting time, and the Old Sky Woman is sweeping out the Sky Goose’s house with her great Sky Broom, and the White Goose’s feathers are flying down to keep the dear little flowers nice and warm till the north wind has gone away from the Cornish Land.’

The Old Sky Woman was said to reside in the beautiful sky meadows behind the clouds, and during the winter months, snow white feathers would periodically fall, turning the landscape below as white as a goose.1 1.North Cornwall Fairies and Legends by Enys Tregarthen

16

January – mis Genver Later today at Padstow, the mummers will be smearing soot and burnt cork on their faces in readiness for parading through the streets to a relentless drumbeat and accordion frenzy, reminding us that midwinter is the traditional time for Cornish Guize dance.

The nineteenth century guise or goosey dancers traditionally danced at Christmas and the New Year period, and they often dressed in a topsy-turvey manner. Cross dressing and animal disguise was common, and in Padstow and across the more eastern reaches of the Duchy, the blackening disguise of burned cork smeared on their faces was widespread.2 Please see Chapter Twelve for a full investigation of these traditions.

Alongside the guize dance traditions of early January were the twelfth night customs, and many people at the beginning of the nineteenth century still kept the old calendar, and held their Christmas day on twelfth night. On the eve of twelfth night it was believed that the cattle in the fields and stalls would never lay down, and at midnight turned their faces to the east and fell on their knees. January 6th was a time of general feasting and merriment. Twelfth day cake was made and into it was placed a wedding-ring, a sixpence and a thimble. It was cut into as many portions as there were guests and the person who found the wedding ring in his (or her) portion would be married before the year was out. The holder of the thimble would never be married, and the one that got the sixpence would die rich. It was, and still is traditional to remove all Christmas decorations before twelfth night and all the Christmas cake should be consumed before this day. In the old days in Liskeard and district, when superstitions were taken note of, it was said that on twelfth day, all the cattle should be fed a double ration of fodder and failing to do so would see the farmer overtaken with very bad luck.3 2. Guizing, Ancient Traditions and Modern Sensitivities by Merv Davey 3. Cornish Feasts and Folklore by Margaret Courtney, p 15

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From Granite to Sea In the week after Christmas day a fair was once held in Launceston called the Giglet Fair. This appears to have been some kind of parody market where the young ladies of Launceston town would parade themselves in front of potential suitors. The entertainment was provided by black faced Guise dancers, who would parade around adding to the chaos of those poor unfortunates whose advances had been soundly rejected. The fair was described by Margaret Courtney in the nineteenth century in her Cornish Feasts and Folklore – ‘In the week after Christmas-day a fair is held at Launceston (and also at Okehampton in Devonshire), called “giglet fair” (a “giglet or giglot” is a giddy young woman). It is principally attended by young people. At this ‘giglet market’, or wife-market, the rustic swain was privileged with self-introduction to any of the nymphs around him, so that he had a good opportunity of choosing a suitable partner if tired of a single life.’ 4 On twelfth night, after dark many games were played around the warming hearth fires. One game played in East Cornwall which was known as ‘Jack’s alive’ was described by Courtney.

‘A piece of stick was set on fire, and whirled rapidly in the hands of the first player, who repeated the words ‘‘Jack’s alive and likely to live, if he die in my hand a pawn I’ll give.’’ In Cornwall forfeits are always called ‘‘pawns’’; they are cried by the holder of them, saying - ‘‘Here’s a pawn and a very pretty pawn! And what shall the owner of this pawn do?’’’ 5 In Bodmin on the twelfth day of Christmas, the Wassail tours the town. This has been recorded as one of the oldest wassails in Britain; and is a visit wassail. A group of men dressed in ‘gentlemen’s hand me downs’ which traditionally 4. Ibid, p 14 5. Ibid, p 16

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January – mis Genver were clothes acquired from the local gentry and handed down from one wassailer to the next. The group visit town dignitaries, homes, offices and businesses to sing the three traditional Bodmin wassail songs. The first known record of the Bodmin Wassail was in the will of long serving mayor of the town, Nicholas Sprey who died in 1624. He bequeathed the sum of 13s 4d for an ‘annual wassail cup’ to promote ‘the continuance of love and neighbourly meetings’ and ‘remember all others to carry a more charitable conscience’.

Sprey was also Town Clerk and the MP for Bodmin during his career and he directed that the wassail cup be taken to the mayor’s house each year on the 6th January, raising funds as it passed through the town. The Wassail custom continues to this day and is a much loved part of Christmas and New Year celebrations in the town. The current Wassail bowl was made by Lostwithiel potter John Webb, and is displayed throughout the year in the entrance lobby of Bodmin’s wonderfully imposing, early Victorian Shire Hall. 6 Around the middle of January each year an orchard wassail is held at Rillaton, where the local community travels to various nearby orchards to wassail the trees. The Apple Wassail was once commonplace on many farms in East Cornwall, and the Rillaton event is now firmly part of the revival of this grand old tradition, which sits so wonderfully alongside the visit wassail traditions of the district. The celebrations at Rillaton culminate with a seasonal mummers play at one of the oldest houses in the village. In times past these orchard wassails would have been more common, and were often rounded off with a glass or two of ‘shenagrum’, which is a mixture of warmed dark beer sweetened with demerara sugar and fortified with dark rum. The drink is finished off with a twist of lemon and cinnamon to taste. St Mabyn has also seen a revival of the apple orchard wassail, and this event is usually held around a week later than the one at Rillaton, and is hosted

by Haywood Cider Farm in their old and very atmospheric 6. www.bodminwassail.uk/about

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From Granite to Sea Cider barn, where there is live music and dancing. A torch lit procession leaves the barn and heads for the oldest apple tree on the land, where the wassail ceremony is enacted by pouring cider around the old gnarled roots of the tree. The Wassail song is then heartily sung, before drums, pans and horns are sounded as loudly as possible to scare away the malevolent spirits. Offerings of toast are then hung on the branches of the tree to attract the good spirits to ensure a bumper crop of apples. Much farm cider is then consumed amid the old cider presses and wooden barrels of the ancient barn.The following is an account by an anonymous writer of a Christmas orchard wassail custom in East Cornwall: ‘In some places the parishioners walk in procession, visiting the principal orchards in the parish. In each orchard one tree is selected, as the representative of the rest; this is saluted with a certain form of words, which have in them the form of an incantation. They then sprinkle the tree with cider, or dash a bowl of cider against it, to ensure its bearing plentifully the ensuing year. In other places the farmers and their servants only assemble on the occasion, and after immersing apples in cider hang them on the apple-trees They then sprinkle the trees with cider; and after uttering a formal incantation, they dance round it (or rather round them), and return to the farmhouse to conclude these solemn rites with copious draughts of cider. In Warleggan, on Christmas-eve, it was customary for some of the household to put in the fire (bank it up), and the rest to take a jar of cider, a bottle, and a gun to the orchard, and put a small bough into the bottle. Then they said: Here’s to thee, old apple-tree! Hats full, packs full, great bushel-bags full! Hurrah! and fire off the gun.’ (Old Farmer, Mid Cornwall, through T. Q. Couch, Sept. 1883, W. Antiquary.)

The words chanted in East Cornwall were: ‘Health to thee, good apple-tree, pocket-fulls, hat-fulls, peckfulls, bushel-bag fulls.’

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January – mis Genver An old proverb about these trees runs as follows: ‘Blossom in March, for fruit you may search, Blossom in April, eat you will.

Blossom in May, eat night and day.’

At one time small sugared cakes were laid on the branches.

This curious custom has been supposed to be a propitiation of some spirit. The Cornish orchard wassail is also described

by Richard Polwhele in the early nineteenth century, ‘The custom of saluting the apple-trees at Christmas, with a view to another year, is still preserved both in Cornwall and Devonshire. In some places the parishioners walk in procession, visiting the principal orchards in the parish; in each orchard single out the principal tree; salute it, with a certain form of words, and sprinkle it with cyder, or dash a bowl of cyder against it. In other places, the farmer and his workmen only, immerse cakes in cyder, and place them on the branches of an apple tree and, in due solemnity, sprinkle the tree.’ 7 Margaret Courtney recalls some of the ancient customs of the East Cornwall visit wassails ‘On New Year’s-eve in the villages of East Cornwall, soon after dusk, parties of men, from four to six in a party, carrying a small bowl in their hands, went from house to house begging money to make a feast. They opened the doors without knocking, called out Warsail, and sang: - “These poor jolly Warsail boys come travelling through the mire.”’

Both Bodmin and Padstow used to celebrate Paul Pitcher night, an odd custom, celebrated each January 24th where groups of boys would parade the towns with broken pitchers 7. History of Cornwall: Civil, Military, Religious, Architectural, Agricultural, Commercial, Biographical, and Miscellaneous by Richard Polwhele, p48

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From Granite to Sea and other earthenware jugs. Brand’s Popular Antiquities of 1870 describes the scene in Bodmin ‘The boys of Bodmin parade the town with broken pitchers, and other earthenware vessels, and into every house, where the door can be opened, or has been inadvertently left so, they hurl a “Paul’s pitcher’ exclaiming, “Paul’s Eve, And here’s a heave.”

According to custom, the first “heave” cannot be objected to; but upon its repetition the offender, if caught, may be punished.’

Bodmin also has its share of ghost stories. Two of the old buildings in Honey Street are reputed to be haunted, one by a first world war soldier and the other by strange footsteps on a staircase. Bodmin Gaol is renowned as a ghost hunter’s paradise, and offers many sad stories for those who may be interested. Nearby at Hellandbridge, one of the old houses is haunted by a young girl who is still looking for her family.

It is reputed that she drowned in the River Camel, and that her spirit haunts the nearby family home that she loved and felt safe in. Her ghost has been seen by a few independent and often surprised visitors whilst staying with friends in this old and privately occupied house on the edge of the Camel Valley. She has often been heard laughing in an unoccupied upstairs bedroom on dark January nights and has been seen at the same bedroom window both at dusk and during daylight hours by several people over the years.8 Nearby on the old A30 high up on the moor close to Jamaica Inn, a ghostly car is sometimes seen. It has been described as an old green car with the roof pulled back.

One of the most famous ghost stories in the area is that of Dorothy Dingley, known as the Botathen ghost.

First recorded by Daniel Defoe in 1720, it was for a long time thought that Defoe had conjured the story from his imagination, however it was a genuine narrative written by the hand of John Ruddle, vicar and ghost layer of Altarnun.

8. Anonymous personal correspondence

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January – mis Genver The tale is set at the start of the 1660s, and begins when Dorothy Dingley used to visit the Bligh family at Botathan, a small farmhouse deep in the heart of the East Cornwall countryside, nestled between the River Inney and South Petherwin. During her visits, Dorothy caught the eye of the eldest son and is thought to have had an affair with him and eventually fell pregnant. It was rumoured that she died during her illegitimate and secretive childbirth. Sometime after the older of the two brothers and father of the child left for a holiday in London, the younger brother, who was still at school in Launceston began to be haunted by a ghost in a field near his home, as he walked home from school.

After several weeks of this troublesome spirit causing immense upset to the youngest son, Mr Bligh began to seek out some help and asked around for a suitably qualified exorcist. In January 1665, Bligh attended a funeral of the son of Edward Elliot of Trebursey House which was held at South Petherwin parish church. It was here that Bligh first met Rev. John Ruddle, and because of Ruddle’s reputation as a ghost layer, Mr Bligh asked him for some much needed help with his troubled son. Ruddle was very busy at the time, but was persuaded to visit the following week. Upon meeting Master Bligh, Ruddle quickly realised that he may have a genuine case and that the boy needed his help as he was very frightened by his spectral experiences in the pasture known as Higher-Broom Quartils, or in some published accounts Higher Broomfield. Ruddle met with the boy and it soon became apparent that the lad’s parents and his older brother, William did not believe him. In desperation he changed his route to school, and instead of cutting across the HigherBroom pasture he detoured along Under Horse Road, however the ghostly woman followed him and she met him in the dark and narrow lane between Quarry park and the Nursery. Ruddle agreed to meet the boy in the haunted field at six-thirty the following morning. Rev. Ruddle describes what happened in his own words –

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From Granite to Sea ‘The field he led me to I guess to be about twenty acres, in an open country and about three furlongs from my house. We went into the field and had not gone above a third part before the spectrum, in the shape of a woman, met us and passed by.’

Following on from this remarkable meeting with the apparition, Ruddle agreed to lay the ghost to rest, and spent the following three weeks researching the best way of doing this. He visited Exeter to gain permission for an exorcism from the Bishop, to research further and to gain advice from colleagues. Then on 27th July1665, John Ruddle departed for the haunted field. He went alone and after walking the length of the path, he returned the same way. As before, the return journey seemed to manifest the ghost of Dorothy, and as before the apparition moved quickly and silently away. He returned to Botathan and spoke to Mr and Mrs Bligh, telling them what he had seen and persuading them all to return with him to investigate further. They reluctantly and nervously agreed and the three of them returned at dawn the following morning. – ‘Thence we all four walked leisurely into the Quartils, and hath passed above half the field before the ghost made an appearance. It then came over the stile just before us, and moved with that swiftness that by the time we had gone six or seven steps, it had passed by. I immediately turned my head and ran after it, with the young man by my side; we saw it pass over the stile by which we entered, but no farther. I stepped upon the hedge at one place, he at another, but could discern nothing; whereas, I dare aver, that the swiftest horse in England could not have conveyed himself out of sight in that short space of time. Two things I observed in this day’s appearance; 1. That a spaniel dog, who followed the company unregarded, did bark and run away as the spectrum passed; when it is easy to conclude that it was not our fear or fancy that made the apparition. 2. That the motion of the spectrum was not 24

January – mis Genver gradation, or by steps, and moving of the feet, but a kind of gliding as children upon ice, or a boat down a swift river.’ 9 This was more than enough for the family and for Ruddle, and they returned home in a state of fear and shock, as Mr and Mrs Bligh had known Dorothy Dingley in her earthly life and had attended her funeral. The fact that they had just witnessed her spirit walking in one of their fields was unbelievable, but they had been first hand witnesses and they were now concerned for their youngest son, who no doubt was relieved that they finally believed his haunting and terrifying adventures of the past few months, and glad that his parents no longer thought him a liar and a fraud.

The following morning, Reverend Ruddle went to the field very early at first light. He took with him a Rowan walking stick for protection and wore a ring marked with the Scutum Davidis. He walked for a while in meditation in the adjoining meadow and said prayers and walked some more. Finally, alone and guarded only by his Rowan stick and magically inscribed ring, he entered the Quartils field. – ‘Soon after five I stepped over the stile into the disturbed field and had not gone above thirty or forty paces before the ghost appeared at the further stile. I spoke to it with a loud voice, in which some such sentences as the way of these matters directed me. Whereupon it approached but slowly and when I came near it moved not. I spake again and it answered in a voice neither very audible nor intelligible. I was not in the least terrified and therefore persisted until it spake again, and gave me satisfaction.’

Ruddle then left the field, and it seems that he had made a bargain with the ghost that he would never reveal what had troubled her in life, nor the sin which had caused her to haunt the field, and in return she would allow him to lay 9. Cornish Characters and Strange Events by Sabine Baring Gould

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From Granite to Sea her ghost to rest for all eternity. Ruddle returned during the evening for the final exorcism, and with the pact of secrecy agreed upon, he gently layed her spirit to eternal rest.

In December 1896 the Reverend P. T. Putman, vicar of South Petherwin wrote to Sabine Baring Gould about this legend – ‘In December 1896, a labourer died here, aged seventy-two. For upwards of forty years he had worked at Botathan. He told me that one of the fields was called Higher Brown Park (he did not know the name Quartells) until the field was ploughed up. He told me there was a little path in it which they called Dorothy Dinglet’s [sic] path, and that they used to frighten the farm apprentices with stories about her, but he had never met her himself. The farm has been sold in recent years. There is a part of the old house left used for a cider cellar. They call it Dorothy Dingley’s chamber.’ 10

10. Ibid, p 72

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Body, Mind & Spirit / Witchcraft

Cornwall is an ancient land steeped in legend and myth. From Granite to Sea explores the folklore of the often-overlooked eastern reaches of the rugged Cornish peninsula, at the heart of which lies the mysterious upland of Bodmin Moor. This beautiful and remote land of granite, which forms the Cornish highlands, inhabits eighty square miles across the central spine of eastern Cornwall. A wild and mysterious landscape, where folklore permeates every hill, rock and river. Inhabited by piskies, giants and conjurors, who in turn control the old trackways, hilltops and weather. It is a land haunted by the wild hunt of the Devil’s Dandy Dogs and the demonic spectre of Tregeagle.

From Granite to Sea is the first ever comprehensive focus on the folklore of eastern Cornwall. Alex Langstone’s ground-breaking study will guide the reader through a myriad of old tales of witches, conjurors and charmers, supernatural encounters, amazing folk traditions and curious customs from the high moors, rugged clifftops, secret coves and lush estuaries across the eastern reaches of the Duchy.

“Evocative and atmospheric.”—Meyn Mamvro Alex Langstone, folklorist, poet and author, has been fascinated by the innumerable legends, myths and folklore of the Cornish landscape for much of his life. He lives in an old slate and granite farmhouse, tucked away in the lush green Camel Valley, North Cornwall.

When not writing, he can be found exploring the hidden valleys, secret coves and haunted byways of the Cornish landscape.

$17.99 US ISBN 978-0-7387-6578-5 51799

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