THE HOOTING CARN
One of the grimmest yet most fascinating tracts of moorland in the West is that wild, boulder-strewn district behind St. Just in Penwith, near the Land"s End. Here, amid a scene of savage beauty, wind-swept by the great gales from the Atlantic, is a stretch of treeless moor the richest in all Cornwall in remains of prehistoric man.
There is something eerie about this furthest west corner of England and around it cl.u.s.ter legends galore. One of the queerest is that of the Hooting Carn, a bleak hill between St. Just and Morvah.
Cam Kenidzhek is its real name, but they are taking now to spelling it as it is p.r.o.nounced--Carn Kenidjack. From it weird moaning sounds arise at night, and the strangely named Gump, a level track just below the summit, was, they say, the scene of a grim midnight struggle in the very old days.
It happened that one moonless night two miners, walking back to their homes from Morvah, pa.s.sed by the base of the Hooting Carn. They knew its ill repute and hurried along in silence, their fears not allayed by the fact that on this night the moaning of the Carn was more persistent than usual, and that an unearthly light seemed to illuminate the rocks on its summit. Presently, to their great alarm, there sounded behind them the thunder of galloping hoofs. Turning in fear, they saw a dark-robed figure, with a hood covering his face, approaching. As he dashed past, he signed to them to follow, and, as they explained later, some irresistible force made them obey. Without knowing how they did so, they were able to keep pace with the galloping steed and arrived swiftly near the top of the hill.
There the dark horseman dismounted, and the miners, terrified, found that they had been brought into the midst of a wild company of men of huge size, with long, unkempt hair and beards, their faces daubed with bright colours, and all engaged at the moment in singing a reckless chorus which concluded in an uncanny hooting sound. But the arrival of the dark rider brought the demoniac singing to an end. A circle was quickly formed, and two men, more huge and more terrible than any present, were brought forward to contest in a wrestling match.
The horseman, squatting on the ground, gave the signal to begin, but after a few preliminary moves the wrestlers complained that the light was insufficient. Then the squatting demon--for such he proved to be--flashed from his eyes two great beams of fire that lit the whole ring.
The struggle then proceeded, amid the wild yells of the onlookers. At last one of the wrestlers lifted his opponent clear off his feet, and hurled him to the ground with stupendous force. There was a sound like thunder as he fell, and he lay as one dead. At once the whole ring broke into confusion and crowded round the victor. This seemed to the miners grossly unfair play, and they went over to the fallen man to give him what aid they could.
They found him in a terrible state, and, since no aid was available, one of them started to offer up a prayer for the dying man"s soul.
With his first words the utmost consternation fell upon the company.
A great clap of thunder shook the rocks, a pitchy darkness covered the scene, and a fierce wind swept the hill. Then, looking upward, the miners saw the whole company--the dying man with them--disappearing northward in a dense black cloud, the two blazing eyes of the demon who had led them to the Carn being clearly distinguishable for some time.
Paralysed with fear, the miners remained where they were, until returning daylight broke the evil spell and permitted them to proceed to their homes and explain to their neighbours the secret of the Hooting Carn.
Carn Kenidjack you may reach by a glorious tramp across the moors from St. Just, to which a Great Western motor-coach goes many times daily from Penzance. From the higher ground you will get magnificent coast views, embracing, on a clear day, the distant land of the Scillies.
All about the moor you will find the strange relics of a former race: stone circles, barrows, cromlechs, and prehistoric dwellings mingling with the fern and heather and stunted gra.s.s of the hillside, and you breathe in tonic air that has come to you across two thousand miles of ocean.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Hooting Carn_]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
PADSTOW AND ITS MAY DAY SONGS
May Day in Padstow, on the north Cornish coast, is celebrated by an ancient custom of peculiar interest. The whole town is _en fete_, the ships in the harbour decked with flags, the people adorned with flowers.
The feature of the day"s celebrations is the Hobby Horse Dance, or procession, to two very old tunes. Until comparatively recent times the Maypole was still erected each year in the town.
Padstow"s two old May songs date from the Middle Ages, but they have suffered much corruption in the course of time. Words and music have been altered, but the version given here is from an old source, and, owing to the irregularity of the metre of the lines, as in all traditional songs, a considerable amount of ingenuity is called for on the part of the singer to fit the words of the second and subsequent verses--particularly of the Day Song--to the tune. But it can be done.
The May Morning Song has eighteen or more verses--each followed by the chorus--all of which obviously cannot be printed here. There are a dozen that begin "Rise up...," the name of the person before whose house it is being sung being inserted.
The reference to "Un Ursula Bird" in the second verse of the Day Song has a traditional reference to an old dame who, it is said, led a party of Cornish women in red cloaks, headed by the Hobby Horse, in procession round the cliffs in days gone by and so frightened away a hostile French ship, whose captain mistook the women for soldiers. A similar story is told of Fishguard in South Wales in Legend Land Leaflet No. 11.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MAY MORNING SONG (Sheet Music Page 1)]
THE MAY MORNING SONG
Unite! All unite! It"s now all unite, For Summer is a-come in today; And whither we are going it"s all now unite, In the merry morning of May!
With the merry singing and the joyful spring, For summer is a-come in to-day, How happy are those little birds that merrily doth sing In the merry morning of May!
_Chorus: Unite! all unite! &c, after each verse._
Young men and maidens, I warn you every one, For summer is a-come in to-day, To go unto the green woods and bring the may home In the merry morning of May!
Rise up, Mr ----, with your sword by your side, For summer is a-come in to-day, Your steed is in the stable and waiting for to ride In the merry morning of May!
Rise up, Mr ----, and gold be your ring, For summer is a-come in to-day, And send us out a cup of ale, and better we shall sing, In the merry morning of May!
Rise up, Mrs ----, all in your gown of green, For summer is a-come in to-day; You are so fair a lady as waits upon the queen, In the merry morning of May!
Rise up, Mr ----, I know you well a fine, For summer is a-come in to-day; You have a shilling in your purse, but I wish it was in mine, In the merry morning of May!
Rise up, Miss ----, and strew all your flowers, For summer is a-come in to-day; It is but a while ago since we have strewed ours, In the merry morning of May!
Rise up, Miss ----, and reach to me your hand For summer is a-come in to-day; You are so fair a damsel as any in the land, In the merry morning of May!
Rise up Master ----, and reach to me your hand, For summer is a-come in to day; And you shall have a lively la.s.s, and a thousand pounds in hand, In the merry morning of May!
Where are the maidens that here now should sing?
For summer is a-come in to day, Oh, they are in the meadows the flowers gathering, In the merry morning of May!
The young maids of Padstow, they might if they would-- For summer is a-come in to day-- They might have a garland, and decked it all in gold, In the merry morning of May!
Where are the young men that here now should dance?
For summer is a-come in to day; Oh some they are in England, and some they are in France, In the merry morning of May!
The young men of Padstow, they might if they would-- For summer is a-come in to-day-- They might have built a ship, and gilt her all in gold, In the merry morning of May!
Now fare ye well, we bid you all good cheer, For summer is a-come in to-day, We"ll call once more unto your house before another year, In the merry morning of May!
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DAY SONG (Sheet Music Page 1)]
THE DAY SONG
All now for to fetch home, The Summer and the May, O!
For Summer is a-come, O!