Part 23

Collebrands, defective and smutty ears, supposed to be blighted by the fine weather lightning, called by the same name.

Pederack and brummal, arish mows. The former is conical in shape, with the ear ends of all the sheaves turned inward and upwards; the latter, which is also called a culver-house mow, is in shape much like an old-fashioned, round, stone-built pigeon-house; having the part which answers to a culver-house roof finished with the sheaves turned, ear end, downwards and outwards. A brummal mow is the best for continued moist weather, because the ears on a mow-top are less liable to sprout when reversed. An ill-shaped, bulging pederack mow is said, in derision, to be “like an old culver-house,” by those who don’t know what the object of their comparison means.

Brummal is so much like a Gallic name for the sort of weather we call slaggy (full of misty rain), that they are, probably, offshoots from the same old root.

Colp, a short rope for carrying sheaves from a mow-hay to the barn; also a blow. Keveran, a strip of hide or leather which unites the two sticks of a “threshal” (flail) here called the “hand staff and slash-staff.” Liners, threshed wheaten sheaves. Kayer, a coarse sieve (probably a modern corruption of Cadar a-Chair, e.g., Cader Michel; St. Michael’s Chair on St. Michael’s Mount). Layer, a winnowing-sheet. To reeve, to separate with a fine sieve, small corn, seeds, &c., from the good grain.

Most West Country folk use many other words connected with husbandry which sound very unlike English, and are unknown in the eastern part of the county, as Colpas, anything which serves as a prop, or an underset, to a crowbar, or other object when used as a lever. Visgey (mutation for Pigol), a large pick, or mattock; tubble is another name for the same. Piggal, a beat-axe. Monger, a straw horse-collar, &c., &c.

GLOSSARY OF LOCAL WORDS.

Aree faa, exclamation: “dear me.”

Bal, a mine. Bannel, a broom, a yellow flowering shrub. Beety, to mend nets. Benen-vat, a good woman. Benkeyl, a living stream. Ben-ma-brea, woman of my heart. Balsh, small rope. Boobun, wick of the “chill.” Bowjowler, a place in the fishing-boat, to keep the foot-line. Breal, mackerel. Breedy, to make nets, by meshing with needle and pin-roller. Broaze, on the point of boiling. Broazen, briskly; the fire burns briskly. Bruz, small furze; remnants. Bucca-boo, a fool; a bogey. Bussa, a salting pot for meat. Bussa-head, a blockhead.

Caboolen, a stone used by seiners. Caboose, portable fishing-boat’s fire-place. Capis, very large meshes in a trammel-net. Cavers, the darnel. Chea, word used in calling swine to feed. Chea-chanter, hold your tongue. Chill, a lamp. Clibby, sticky, like molasses. Clomb, earthenware. Clunk, to swallow. Cobesta, a part of fishing tackle. Codgy or Clidgy, adhesive; gummy. Coits, a pile of rocks; group of stones. Costan, straw and bramble baskets. Cowal, fish basket, with a band for the head, carried by fishwomen. Cowl, fish-bladder. Cowleck, a glutton. Cravel, mantel-beam. Croggan, limpet-shell. Crowse, refreshment, carried to field in hay, corn, and potato harvests. Crum, crooked. Crush, shrunk with age.

Derns, a door-frame. Didgen, a bit; a small portion. Dien, a man. Dowse, to throw on the ground. Dowsing-rod, divining rod, used to discover minerals, water, &c. Drethen, a sand-pot, a sand-area ’neath the sea. Drizzle, small rain. Drizzling-dour, small stream.

Enys, an island.

Flucan-courses, a term in mining; cross-courses. Freathed out, frayed. Friday cum-sennet, next Friday week. Fuggan, a cake; dinner cake. Fun, a small kind of rush. Fusy, good.

Geek, a sly look; a peep. Ging, to fasten a fish hook to line with wire. Gord, a nine-feet rod to measure land. Griglens, remains of a heath broom. Guldize, harvest home. Gurry, a four-handled barrow with enclosed sides. Gwarrah, the farthest, the most distant. Gweean, perry-winkle.

Hayl, a river. Heevil, three-prong fork, a stable implement. Hilla, the nightmare. Hogan, miners’ dinner. Huel, a mine.

Ianken, walking quickly.

Jonic, fair, straightforward. Jsenequick, italian-iron. Jouder, fish overboiled. Jowdy, to walk in water with boots and stockings on.

Kanker, a small crab. Kay-yer, a coarse winnowing machine. Keals (quilles) nine-pins. Keal-alley, a bowling-green. Keddened and Cabageed, booted with mud; dirty. Keg, a dog. Kente-pathen-gy, wooden pins belonging to the stone anchor used in punts. Keygans, small refuse roots. Kibbal, a mine bucket. Kibbin, to steal. Kicker, fishing boats’ small mizen sail. Keggil, a piece of wood used by thread-spinners. Kiskey, a rotten stick. Kist-vaen, stone chest. Ku-lar, to lend.

Laggen, to splash in the water. Laister, yellow iris, or water flag. Lasking, keep near shore, a term used by fishermen. Lenth, shelter, cover from the weather. Ligge, broth; soup. Ludras, a frame for the (Killick).

Meanolas, a fire-place, a square box made of stones and clay, made by fishermen. Midge-go-morrah, hesitation, doubt, excuse. Miggle-cum-par, mixed fuel—a term used in swine feeding; confusion, a mixture. Minch, to play truant—shun school. Moppeneede, hide and go seek, a game. Mowaz, a maid. More, the root. Muryan, an ant, emmet.

Nacken, pocket handkerchief. Nuddick, back part of the neck.

Padger-paw, a lizard. Pag-ae, please. Peacher, a lure, an enticement. Pedna-a-mean, heads and tails, a game of pins. Pedn-borbas, cod’s head. Pigal, a farm implement. Piler, a farm implement, used to pound, or cut the beards from barley in winnowing. Pilles, naked oats (avena nuda). Planchen, wood floor. Podn, mine dust; tailings. Pol, a pool. Polyn, a stick. Punick, a small person; a dwarf. Purvans, shreds of cotton used in wick-making for a “chill.”

Quail, withered. Quilken, a young frog.

Raf, refuse, waste. Riggling, cleaning out the fire-place with the poker. Rût, to rub; friction.

Scabby-gullion, a stew. Scat, to knock; break to pieces. Schecojan, call; invitation. Scraggen, straggling. Scrof, the refuse. Scroggan, a worthless person. Scud, to spill any liquid. Scruff of the nuddick, nape of the neck. Shong, a broken mesh. Shethen, any thing long; a piece of hake used as bait. Skillet, small tin saucepan. Skubmaw, small parts; bits of wreck. Slag, small driving rain (drizzle). Slintrim, an incline; going down an incline. Slotter, a sticky wet mess. Stag’d, booted in mud. Stroath, wild haste. Strop, string; a piece of rope. Swap, a wasp. Sabs, to burn tabs,—grass tufts, raked together into piles for burning, in preparing ground for seed.

Tabs, turf, harrowed fine. Thurl, leary. Timmy-noggy, a notched square piece of wood, used to support the lower end of the Vargord. To garm, to shout in anger; scold. Tolyer-predu, baking-dish. Toust, toiled or rumpled. Towse, noise; tumult. Towser, coarse apron. Trantums, friskiness; wildness. Tre, a farm. Tubbal, double ball-pick. Tubban, a tuft of earth. Tummels, large quantity, applied in agriculture to crops of straw and hay. Tut, hassock.

Vargord, a spar, used as a foresail; bowline in fishing-boats. Vean, little; “child vean,” little child; kerris vean, little kerris; treveneth vean, &c. Vezy, without; distant; away. Vumfra, blow; a heavy slap.

Widden, white. Widdles, nonsense; foolishness; romancing. Whinz, mine-winch.

Zawn, a cavern. Zelli, a conger eel.

SUBSCRIBERS’ NAMES.

Allen, C. B., Kilburn, London. Allsop, Miss, Penzance, 3 copies. Anderson, T., Penzance. Andrews, William, F.R.H.S., Hull.

Barwis, J. C., Penzance. Batten, Joseph Childs, London. Bennett, E. G., Plymouth. Berryman, Alexander, Penzance. Blewett, J. P., Penzance. Boase, Francis, J.P., Penzance, 2 copies. Boase, Geo., Queen Anne’s Gate, Westminster. Boase, Rev. Charles W., Exeter College, Oxford. Bolitho, Mrs. W., Polwithen. Bolitho, William, Jun., J.P., Ponsandine, 3 copies. Borlase, John, Castle Horneck. Borlase, W. C., Larrigan. Borlase, Rev. William M., Zennor, 2 copies. Botheras, R. Gorton, Manchester. Brokenshire, E., Penzance. Brooks, William, Reigate, Surrey. Brune, Charles G. Prideaux, Prideaux Place, Padstow, 2 copies.

Carne, Henry, Penzance. Chevely, J. C., Madron. Chope, Rev. R. R., Wilton House, London. Colenso, Richard, 2 copies. Colenso, W. Commins, Thos. T., 3, St. Paul’s Churchyard. Cornish, Miss, Penzance. Cornish, C. H., Skaton Chapel. Cornish, Henry R., Penzance. Cornish, James M., Penzance. Cornish, Thomas, Penzance, 2 copies. Cornish, Thomas R., Buenos Ayres. Couch, J. Q., M.R.C.S.E., Penzance. Coulson, J. B., Penzance. Courtenay, James, Bristol. Craig, Mrs. S., 11, Parliament Street, Liverpool.

Dent, Mrs., Sudeley Castle, Winchcombe. Dingley, Mrs., Beachfield House, 2 copies. Drake, Rev. W. N., Ruan, 2 copies. Drew, J. E., Penzance.

Fagan, Rev. H. S., St. Just Vicarage. Field, Thomas W., Marazion. Fisher, Edward, Sidmouth.

Geoffroi, H. M., School of Science and Art, Penzance. Gilbert, Hon. Mrs., Trelissick. Green, William, 9, Cullum-street, London, E.C. Grylls, Thos., Penzance.

Harry, R., London. Harvey, Miss, Penzance. Harvey, J. S., Penzance. Hattam, Thomas, St. Anthony. Hosking, Samuel, Bank Buildings, Hull. Hudson, Robert S., Redruth.

James, Arthur H., St. Just. James, John, Rosevean House, 2 copies. James, Stephen H., St. Just. James, Stephen H., B.C.S. Jennings, E., Linares, Spain.

Kevern, J. T., 2 copies.

Lach-Szyrma, Rev. W. S., Newlyn. Lanyon, J. J., Penzance. Lea, Henry Carey, Philadelphia, U.S. Lovell, James, Jun., Chyandour, Penzance.

Mann, Capt. Benjamin P., London. Matthews, Robert, Penzance. Matthews, R., Jun., Tregoose, Helston. Mauleverer, Miss, The Mall, Armagh, Ireland. Menneer, Miss A., 7, Trewartha Terrace, Penzance. Michell, A. O., Marazion. Michell, W. H., Penzance. Millett, George Bown, M.R.C.S., Penzance. Millett, J. N., Lelant. Mitchell, W., “Western” Hotel, Penzance. Montgomery, H. M., 5, Clarence Place, Penzance. Morewood, R. D., Trinity House, London. Müller, Professor Max, Oxford. Nance, Capt. Francis, St. Martin’s, Scilly Isles. Ninnis, Paul C., Linares, Spain. Noy, W. D., London.

Paull, A., M.R.C.S.E., Truro. Paull, Nicholas, Penzance. Pellew, W. H., Penzance. Pentreath, Dr. F. R., Head Master of Winborne School. Pentreath, Capt. Wm., Pentreath Villa, Mousehole. Pentreath, Richard, Australia Villa, Exmouth, Devon. Pentreath, Richard, H.M.C., London, 2 copies. Pentreath, William B., H.M. Customs, London. Peter, Thurstan C., Redruth, 2 copies. Preston, R. H., Penzance, 3 copies. Price, Charles, Birmingham. Prynne, C. M., The Republican, Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.

Ralfs, John, M.R.C.S.E., 2 copies. Rawlings, W. J., Downes, Hayle. Richards, Mrs., Newlyn. Rickarby, James W. B., Brixton, S. W. Rundle, Rev. S., Ladock.

Stewart, Henry, Penzance.

The Penzance Public Library. Thomas, Henry, Clarence place. Trenoweth, Captain James, Jun., London. Trenwith, Charles, Hayle. Trevail, Silvanus, Tywardreath. Trowsdale, T. B., Young People’s Institute, Hull.

Uren, J. C., Penzance. Uren, J. G., Penzance.

Victor, H., Penzance.

Wellington, R., Penzance. White, Miss, Penzance. White, W. N., Covent Garden. White, R., Jun., 6, Cornwall Terrace, Penzance. Wildman, A. C., Penzance. Wildman, Henry E., R.N., Halifax, Nova Scotia. Williams, Henry, Penzance. Williams, J. H., London. Williams, J. H., Higher Penrose Farm, near Helston. Williams, Major, Washington, U.S.A. Williams, T., Trinity House, London.

NOTES

[1] The once general custom of “touching the cravel” for the purpose of averting evils foreshadowed by ill-omens, &c., seems to have almost died out with the disuse of open fire-places for burning furze and turf.

Some fifty years ago the practice must have been known all over the county, and farther off. A “pellar,” called Lutey, then in great repute, enjoined those under his “protection” to perform the rite at stated periods, as a safeguard against witchcraft and bad luck generally. In the spring—as soon as there was twelve hours sun—this wise man was resorted to by people from all parts of the county, and farther away, to have their “protection” renewed. This was always the term used, and its meaning well understood. Great numbers came over from the Scilly Islands, and the captains and crews of Welsh vessels trading to Hayle often sought this conjurer’s aid.

One may hope that the pleasant old Christmas pastime of burning ivy-leaves and rushes was still observed, last Twelfth-night, in some outlying hamlets where the good folks are not yet so “enlightened” as to conceive that they know much more than their grandparents.

Those who have taken part in this old observance for obtaining presages regarding the most important events of life, know that “touching the cravel” must be carefully complied with on leaving the hearth to gather what they require; and the first thing on their return, before any of them may speak, and their more interesting rites commence.

If any of the company happen to speak by the way, the charm is spoiled, and the seeming presages will be unreliable, unless the incautious ones return, touch the cravel, and resume the work.

One may be excused for dwelling so long on these almost forgotten customs, as they may have some significance, interesting to antiquaries at least. It is high time to glean the little that remains of old-world observances; for even in such remote places as the northern parishes, most folks, under middle age, are chary of giving any information about them.

[2] See the Tinner, page 21.

[3] The name usually given to St. Just feast as it is the nearest Sunday to All-Hallows.

[4] Grease which oozes out from the gudgeons of mine machinery.

[5] The herb scrophularia aquatica.

[6] Avena nuda.

[7] At that time the duty on salt was 4d. per pound; and, at the low price for which pork was then sold, it took nearly the value of one side of a carcase to buy enough salt to cure the other side.

[8] Literally corn-feast; the last day of corn carrying, when neighbours usually assist each other, then have a good supper and carouse.

[9] Beacon.

[10] Mean men.

[11] Frogs.

[12] Shell-snails.

[13] Small Lizards.

[14] Patrick Kennedy’s description of an Irish wake, may remind elderly Cornish people of a custom generally observed in West Cornwall, at least, in the last century; that of holding watch-night, with the deceased, for one night, and keeping lighted candles in the room in which the body was laid out, every night until the funeral.

All those friends of the family who intended to follow the body to its grave, as “mourners” were expected to join the watchers. It was customary to have a supper for them (the watchers) about midnight; and a few hours afterwards the watching was concluded.

It was never the custom here, within our remembrance to address the spirit, supposed to be hovering near its body, until the latter was consigned to earth, as the Irish do at this day. In their “croneing” the spirit is mostly spoken to in consoling or flattering words; and often a little blarney is added also. Both in Ireland and here, it was thought a great slight or an insult if friends, who had formal notice of a decease, did not attend at the watch-night or wake. It is evident, however, that these customs are remnants of the same ancient British usage, amongst those of the Celtic race.

A pleasing picture of this ancient observance may be seen in Cymbeline,—Act iv. Scene 2.

[15] He-Goat.

[16] She-Goat.

[17] See page 70.

[18] Mr. W. J. Henwood.

[19] Before this old building was demolished, a few months since, it was photographed by Mr. R. H. Preston.

[20] Wednesday in Feasten week.

[21] Dogs with old tin pans, or the like, tied to their tails.

[22] A century or so ago, the people of Ludgvan were so much celebrated for their dexterity in throwing and catching the silver ball, that they were known far and near as the Ludgvan hurlers, and still hold in remembrance their ancient renown by retaining it to this day as a nickname. Formerly, they were as proud of this name as of their holy well, and of the tradition they firmly believe—that none who have been baptized in its waters ever have been, or ever will be, hanged.

[23] “Malbrook is gone to the wars.” This once popular ditty was a version of the celebrated French song of

“Malbrough s’en va-t-en guerre, Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,”

which was composed after the battle of Malplaquet in 1709, by some French officers; who, after being defeated by the Duke of Marlborough, consoled themselves by making the facetious song in which they imagined

“Monsieur Malbrough is dead.— What’s more—he’s buri-ed,”

many years before he gave up the ghost and ceased to be the object of the soldier’s admiration and terror.

The name of Marlborough having been first corrupted by the French into Malbrough, was further changed by the English into Malbrook. Only a few years since the old song was republished in Paris, in the collection of “Chansons Populaires,” under the title of “Mort et convoi de l’invincible Malbrough.” From the translation of an amusing essay, which precedes the song in this collection, we quote the following. Speaking of Marlborough, the writer says, “Not being able to conquer, the enemy lampooned him, and each of his victories was followed by a new satirical song; such verses being in France then, as in the good times of Cardinal Mazarin, the people’s most ordinary means of taking their revenge.”

The song was preserved only by tradition in some of the provinces, where it had been probably left by the soldiers of Villars and de Bufflers; but in 1781 it resounded, all of a sudden, from one end of the kingdom to the other. It happened that when Marie Antoinette gave to the throne of France an heir, he was nursed by a peasant named (probably nicknamed) Madame Poitrine, who had been chosen, among other qualifications, for her healthy appearance, and good humour. The nurse, while rocking the royal cradle, sung Malbrough, and the dauphin, it is said, opened his eyes at the name of the great general. The name, the simplicity of the words, singularity of the burthen, and the touching melodiousness of the air, interested the queen, and she frequently sang it. Everybody repeated it after her, and even the king condescended to quaver out the words, “Malbrough s’en va-t-en guerre.” Malbrough was sung in the state apartments of Versailles; in the kitchens; in the stables; it became quite the rage: from the Court it was adopted by the tradespeople of Paris, and passed thence from town to town, and country to country; it was wafted across to England, where it soon became as popular as in France. It is said that a French gentleman, wishing, when in London, to be driven to Marlborough Street, had totally forgotten its name, but, on singing the air of Malbrough, the coachman understood him immediately, and drove him to the proper address with no other direction.

Goethe, who travelled in France about the same time, was so teased with the universal concert of Malbrough, that he took a hatred to the duke, who was the innocent cause of the musical epidemic. Malbrough made itself heard, without ceasing. Apropos of everything, and apropos of nothing, it gave its name to the fashions, to silks, head-dresses, carriages, and soups—was reproduced, in short, in all manner of ways and forms, and, nothing short of the Revolution, the fall of the Bastile, and the Marsellaise hymn, were sufficient to smother the sounds of that hitherto never ceasing song. The warlike and melancholy air of the song did not, any more than its hero, originate in France, and we have sought in vain to trace its history back from the time when Napoleon—in spite of his general antipathy to music—roared it out whenever he got into his saddle to start on a fresh campaign. We are not unwilling to believe, with M. de Chateaubriand, that it was the same air which the crusaders of Godefroid de Bouillion sang under the walls of Jerusalem. The Arabs still sing it, and pretend that their ancestors learned it at the battle of Massoura, or else from the brothers-in-arms of De Joinville, who repeated it to the clashing of bucklers while pressing forward to the cry of

“Mountjoy, Saint Denis!”

[24] This old Cornish word Bucca (still in common use) has various significations, and none very clearly defined. It appears to belong to the same family of words as the Irish “Pooka,” and the Welsh “Pwcca.” As above, it is often applied to a poor, half-witted person of a mischievous disposition—one about whom there is anything weird or wisht—to a ghost, or any kind of frightful apparition, and by association of ideas to a scarecrow. By Buccaboo, which is probably a corruption of Buccadhu (black spirit) we mean Old Nick, or one of his near relations. As an example of this, there is a story told of an old lady who lived long ago at Raftra, in St. Levan. The old dame, when more than fourscore, was so fond of card playing that she would walk almost every Winter’s night, in spite of wind or weather, to the village of Trebear, distant a mile or more, that she might enjoy her favourite pastime with a family of congenial tastes who resided there. The old lady’s step-daughter wished to put a stop to what she regarded as rather scandalous vagaries, the old dame seldom arriving home before the small hours of the morning; with this intention the young mistress persuaded the serving-man to array himself in a white sheet, &c., so as to personate a ghost that was accused of wandering about a lonely spot over which old madam would have to pass. The Winter’s night was dark and rainy, when, about midnight, the ghost seated himself on the side of Goon-proynter stile, where he had to wait two or three hours. The dear old lady was in no hurry to leave pleasant company as it was Christmas time. At last the old lady passed Padz-jigga, mounted the stile, and seated herself to draw breath opposite the ghost. Over a while, she said, “Hallo! Bucca gwidden (white spirit) what cheer? And what in the world dost thee do here with Bucca Dhu close behind thee?” This cool address so frightened Bucca-gwidden that he ran off as fast as he could lay feet to ground, the old lady scampering after, clapping her hands and calling “Good boy, Buccadhu; now thee west catch Bucca gwidden and take’n away with thee!” The ghost was so frightened that he fell in a fit and was never right in the head after. Then he was a real bucca in the sense of our Betty’s sweetheart, and the strong minded sociable old lady enjoyed many more years of her favourite pastime with her friends in Trebear.

Another Bucca of the mischievous class lived in St. Just but a short time since, who gave rise to the saying “Between both,” as Bucca said. Being, as usual, loafing about the public-house of a pay day, when there is more than the ordinary good cheer about, Bucca happened to look into a room where Capt. Chynolds and another gentleman were sitting in the window-seat. The captain said to the intruder, “Which art thee, Bucca, a fool or a rogue?” Before making any reply, Bucca placed himself between them, then answered “I’m between both, I believe!” Another day he was idling about a new shaft that two men were engaged in sinking—one filling the kibbal, the other winding up the stuff with a hand winze. The man to grass told Bucca to take hold of the winze and wind up a few kibbals whilst he lighted his pipe. Bucca wound up two or three all right. When the next kibbal full was near the top of the shaft he called out “Hold on there below while I spit on my hands a minute.” Down went the kibbal, winze and all smash, and half killed the man below. Bucca took to his heels crying “Triz-wiz, triz-wiz; whipper-snapper, catch me if thee cust.” (canst).

Another trick of the Bucca was to watch when the women put a nice bit of cake to bake that they might have a comfortable cup of tea before the good man came home from work. They would be sure to go out to coursey (gossip) a bit while the cake was baking. Then Bucca would steal in, carry off the cake, and place a turf under the bake-pan, carefully covered with fire again. When the gossip came to take up the nice bit she might be heard to exclaim “Well I never thought I’d been out so long; my cake is burned to ashes.”