Dolly Pentreath

Dolly Pentreath, the fish-wife of Mousehole, had an unenviable reputation. She belonged to the adjoining parish of Paul, and so there is no statue to her in Mousehole Market-Place. Here she sold fish, smoked her pipe, and drank her flagon of beer with the best, and talked the old Cornish with a real twenty-two carat stamp upon it. This was the real old lingo: hot, sweet and strong, so that those who heard her never forgot. Dolly lived to one hundred and two, and then departed, carrying with her, in her queer old brain, the completest vocabulary of the Cornish language on Earth. This is her legend, to which it may be added that she had the reputation of being a witch. Even now there exists an ancient corner of the village where Dolly would be at home again if she could come back. Dolly Pentreath died poor, and was buried in the parish churchyard of Paul, where people came in shoals to see her monument and read the inscription.

Dolly Pentreath was a fine woman, with a voice you could hear as far away as Newlyn. She had the heart of a lion, and it was said that when a press-gang landed in search of men for the navy, Dolly took up a hatchet and fought them back to their boats, and so cursed them in old Cornish that the crew never ventured back again. She was artful as well as brave, and saved a man, wanted by the law for a hanging, by hiding him in her chimney. Dolly lived in an old house over-looking the quay, the walls of which were thick, and in the chimney was a cavity in which a man could stand upright. It was a convenient hiding-place for many things. So, when a man rushed into Dolly's cottage, saying the officers were after him, and would hang him to the yardarm of the ship out in the bay, from which he had taken French leave the week before, he did not appeal in vain.

There was no time to lose and Dolly rose to the occasion. Up the chimney she popped the man. Then, taking an armful of dried gorse, she made a fire in the wide open grate and filled the crock with water. Into the middle of the kitchen she pulled a tub which she used for washing and, when the naval officer and his men burst into the kitchen, Dolly was sitting on a stool, with her legs bare, and her feet dangling over the tub. "A man, indeed!" quoth Dolly, "and me washing my feet!" She was only waiting for the water to heat and they might all wash their own, if they liked. Search? Of course they might, and be sugared. Would they like to look into the crock, and see if a man was boiling there? Search they did, and found no man; but Dolly found her tongue, and let them have it; and then she found her thick shoes and let them fly. Then she made for the chopper, and that cleared the house. Dolly made the most noise when she heard the poor man cough in his hiding-place. The aromatic smoke from the burning gorse tickled his throat and, though life depended on silence, he could not keep it. Then Dolly gave tongue, and old Cornish - the genuine article - rattled amongst the rafters like notes from brazen trumpets blown by tempests. She threw wide her door and, with bare legs and feet, proclaimed to all the world the mission of the young lieutenant and his men, who now saw anger in all eyes, and made good their retreat whilst their skins were still in one piece. Then Dolly liberated the man from the chimney. In the dark night a fishing lugger stole out of Mousehole with the deserter on board, and made for Guernsey, which, in those days, was a sort of dumping-ground for all who were unable to pay their debts at home, or were wanted for the hangman.

There still exists the very room in the Keigwin Arms in which Dolly was wont to take her pint and her pipe at her ease, and the window out of which she would thrust her hard old face and shout to the fishermen when they came to their landing-place. The old lady was keen on her bargains, and when she had bought her provisions, she trudged into Penzance with her wicker basket on her back, and profited from the gullible, according to the rules of the wily.
Dolly lived to one hundred and two, carrying with her the most complete vocabulary of the Cornish language. She died poor in 1777 and was buried in the parish churchyard of Paul, where people still go to see her monument and read the inscription. The monument is set in the churchyard wall and was erected in 1860 by Louis Lucien Bonaparte, a descendant of the great Napoleon. The monument was allegedly placed over the wrong grave in 1860 and was moved to its current location in 1882. Cut in stone is a transcription of the 5th Commandment, "Honour thy father and thy mother" in old Cornish.

Madgy Figgey

'This old hag lived in a cottage not far from Raftra, and she and all her gang, which appears to have been, a pretty numerous crew, were notorious wreckers. On one occasion, Madgy from her seat of storms lured a Portuguese Indiaman into Perloe Cove, and drowned all the passengers. As they were washed on shore, the bodies were stripped of everything valuable, and buried by Figgy and her husband in the green hollow, which may yet he seen just above Perloe Cove, marking the graves with a rough stone placed at the head of the corpse. The spoils on this occasion must have been large, for all the women were supplied for years with rich dresses, and costly jewels were seen decking the red arms of the girls who laboured in the fields. For a long time gems and gold continued to be found on the sands. Howbeit, amongst the bodies thrown ashore was one of a lady richly dressed, with chains of gold about her. "Rich and rare were the gems she wore," and not only so, but valuable treasure was fastened around her, she evidently hoping, if saved, to secure some of her property. This body, like all the others, was stripped; but Figgy said there was a mark on it which boded them evil, and she would not allow any of the gold or gems to be divided, as it would be sure to bring bad luck if it were separated. A dreadful quarrel ensued, and bloodshed was threatened; but the diabolical old Figgy was more than a match for any of the men, and the power of her impetuous will was superior to them all.

Everything of value, therefore, belonging to this lady was gathered into a heap, and placed in a chest in Madgy Figgy's hut. They buried the Portuguese lady the same evening; and after dark a light was seen to rise from the grave, pass along the cliffs, and seat itself in Madgy's chair at Tol-Pedden. Then, after some hours, it descended, passed back again, and, entering the cottage, rested upon the chest. This curious phenomenon continued for more than three months,--nightly,--much to the alarm of all but Figgy, who said she knew all about it, and it would be all right in time. One day a strange-looking and strangely-attired man arrived at the cottage. Figgy's man (her husband) was at home alone. To him the stranger addressed himself by signs,--he could not speak English, so he does not appear to have spoken at all,--and expressed a wish to be led to the graves. Away they went, but the foreigner did not appear to require a guide. He at once selected the grave of the lady, and sitting down upon it, he gave vent to his pent-up sorrows. He sent Figgy's man away, and remained there till night, when the light arose from the grave more brilliant than ever, and proceeded directly to the hut, resting as usual on the chest, which was now covered up with old sails, and all kinds of fishermen's lumber.

The foreigner swept these things aside, and opened the chest. He selected everything belonging to the lady, refusing to take any of the other valuables. He rewarded the wreckers with costly gifts, and left them--no one knowing from whence he came nor whither he went. Madgy Figgy was now truly triumphant. "One witch knows another witch, dead or living," she would say; "and the African would have been the death of us if we hadn't kept the treasure, whereas now we have good gifts, and no gainsaying 'em." Some do say they have seen the light in Madgy Figgy's chair since those times.'

Old Madge Figgey and the Pig

'Madge Figgey once lived in St Leven, but she removed to Burian Church-town. She had a neighbour, Tom Trenoweth, who had a very fine sow, and the old creature took it into her head to desire this sow. The pig was worth a pound of any man's money, but Madge offered Tom five shillings for it.

"No," says Tom, "I shan't sell the sow to you, nor to anybody else. I am going to put her in the house, and feed her for myself against winter."

"Well," said old Madge, nodding her head, and shaking her finger at Tom, "you will wish you had."

From that time the sow ceased to "goody" (thrive). The more corn the sow ate, the leaner she became. Old Madge came again, "Will ye sell her now, Tom?"

"No ! and be--to you," said Tom.

"Arreah, Tom ! you will wish you had, before another week is ended, I can tell ye."

By next week the sow was gone to skin and bone, yet eating all the time meat enough for three.

At last Tom took the sow out of the house, and prepared to drive her to Penzance market, and sell her for what she would fetch.

The rope was put round her leg, but more for fashion's sake than anything else. The poor pig could scarcely stand on her legs, consequently there was little chance of her running away. Well, Tom and his pig were no sooner on the highroad than the sow set off like a greyhound, and never stopped, racing over hedges and ditches, until she reached Leah Lanes. Tom kept hold of the rope till his arm was almost dragged from his body, and he was fairly "out of breath." He dropped the rope, piggy went on "as quiet as a lamb," but only the way which pleased her best. At last Tom and the sow arrived at Tregenebris Downs. At the corner of the roads, where they divide,--one going to Sancreed, and the other to Penzance,--Tom again laid hold of the rope, and said to himself " I 'll surely get thee to Penzance yet."

The moment they came to the market-road, the sow made a bolt, jerked the rope out of Tom's hand, and ran off at full speed, never stopping until she got in under Tregenebris Bridge. Now that bridge is more 'like a long drain--locally a bolt--than anything else, and is smallest in the middle; so when the sow got half way in, she stuck fast; she couldn't go forward--she wouldn't come back. Tom fired all the stones he could find-- first at the pig's head, and then at her tail--and all he got for his pains was a grunt. There he stopped, watching the sow till near sunset; he had eaten nothing since five in the morning, and was starving. He saw no chance of getting the sow out, so he swore at her, and prepared to go home, when who should come by but old Madge Figgey, with her stick in one hand and basket in the other.

"Why, Tom, is that you ? What in the world are ye doing here at this time 'o' day ?"

"Well," says Tom, " I 'm cussed if I can tell; look under the bridge, if you 're a mind to know."

"Why, I hear the sow grunting, I declare. What will ye sell her for now ?"

"If you can get her out, take her," says Tom; "but hast anything to eat in your basket ?"

Madge gave him a twopenny loaf.

"Thank ye," says Tom. "Now the devil take the both of ye !"

"Cheat ! cheat ! cheat !" says Madge. Out came the sow, and followed her home like a dog.'

Trewa or Trewe - The home of the Witches

'As we walk from Nancledrea Bottoms towards Zennor we pass Trewa (pronounced Truee), which is said to have been the place where at Midsummer all the witches of the west met. Here are the remains of very ancient tin stream works, and these, I was informed, "were the remains of bals which had been worked before the deluge; there was nothing so old anywhere else in Cornwall." Around us, on the hill-sides and up the bottoms~ huge boulders of granite are most fantastically scattered. All these rocks sprang from the ground at the call of the giants. At Embla Green we still see the ruins of the Giant's House, but all we know of this Titan is that he was the king. On one side we have the "Giant's Well," and not far off the "Druid's Well," and a little before us is Zennor coit or cromlech.

From this point the scenery is of the wildest description. The granite cairns are spread around in every direction, and many of those masses are so strangely fashioned by the atmospheric influences ever acting on them, that fancy can readily fashion them into tombs and temples. Rock basins abound on these hills, and of ruined cromlechs there are many. Whatever the local historians may say, local traditions assure us that on Midsummer Eve all the witches in Penwith gathered here, and that they lit fires on every cromlech, and in every rock basin, until the' hills were alive with flame, and renewed their vows to the evil ones from whom they derived their power. Hence, to this day this place is called Burn Downs. Amidst these rock masses there was one pile remarkable amidst all the others for its size, and--being formed of cubical masses-- for its square character. This was known as the Witches' Rock, and here it was said they assembled at midnight to carry on their wicked deeds. This rock has been removed, and with it the witches have died; the last real witch in Zennor having passed away, as I have been told, about thirty years since, and with her, some say, the fairies fled. I have, however, many reasons for believing that our little friends have still a few 'haunts in this locality. There is but one reason why we should regret the disappearance of the Witches' Rock. Any one touching this rock nine times at midnight was insured against bad luck.'

Kenidzhek Witch

'On the tract called the "Gump," near Kenidzhek, is a beautiful well of clear water, not far from which was a miner's Cot, in which dwelt two miners with their sister. They told her never to go to the well after daylight; they would fetch the water for her. However, on one Saturday night she had forgotten to get in a supply for the morrow, so she went off to the well. Passing by a gap in a broken-down hedge (called a gurgo) near the well, she saw an old woman sitting down, wrapped in a red shawl; she asked her what she did there at that time of night, but received no reply; she thought this rather strange, but plunged her pitcher in the well; when she drew it up, though a perfectly sound vessel, it contained no water; she tried again and again, and, though she saw the water rushing in at the mouth of the pitcher, it was sure to be empty when lifted out. She then became rather frightened; spoke again to the old woman, but receiving no answer, hastened away, and came in great alarm to her brothers. They told her that it was on account of this old woman they did not wish her to go to the well at night. What she saw was the ghost of old Moll, a witch who had been a great terror to the people in her lifetime, and had laid many fearful spells on them. They said they saw her sitting in the gap by the wall every night when going to bed.'

Madam Noy and Old Joan

'They say that, a long time since, there lived an old witch down by Alsia Mill, called Joan. Everybody feared to offend the old woman, and gave her everything she looked for, except Madam Noy, who lived in Pendrea.

Madam Noy had some beautiful hens of a new sort, with "cops" on their heads.

One morning early, Joan comes up to Pendrea, so as to catch Madam Noy going out into the farmyard, with her basket of corn to feed her poultry, and to collect the eggs.

Joan comes up nodding and curtsying every step. "Good morrow to your honour; how well you are looking, Madam Noy ! and, oh, what beautiful hens ! I 've got an old hen that I do want to set; will you sell me a dozen of eggs ? Those with the 'cops' I'd like to have best."

Madam turned round half offended, and said, "I have none to sell, neither with the cops nor yet without the cops, whilst I have so many old clucking hens about, and hardly an egg to be found."

"You surely wouldn't send me home empty as I came, madam dear ?"

"You may go home the same way you came, for you aren't wanted here."

"Now," croaked Joan, hoarse with passion, "as true as I tell you so, if you don't sell me some eggs, you will wish your cakes dough."

As the old witch said this, she perched herself on the stile, shaking her finger and "nodling" her head.

Madam Noy was a bit of a virago herself so she took up a stone and flung it at Joan; it hit her in the face, and made her jaws rattle.

As soon as she recovered, she spinned forth

"Madam Noy, you ugly old bitch,

You shall have the gout, the palsy, and itch;

All the eggs your hens lay henceforth shall be addle;

All your hens have the pip, and die with the straddle;

And ere I with the mighty fine madam have done,Of her favourite 'coppice' she shan't possess one."

From that day forward, madam was always afflicted. The doctor from Penzance could do little for her. The fowls' eggs were always bad; the hens died, and madam lost all her "coppies." This is the way it came about--in the place of cops the brains came out--and all by the spells of old Joan.

This forms the subject of one of the old Cornish drolls, which ran in an irregular jingle, such as the above, and was half sung, half said by the droll-teller.'

The Witch of Treva

'Once a time, long ago, there lived at Treva, a hamlet in Zennor, a wonderful old lady deeply skilled in necromancy. Her charms, spells, and dark incantations made her the terror of the neighbourhood. However, this old lady failed to impress her husband with any belief in her supernatural powers, nor did he fail to proclaim his unbelief aloud.

One day this sceptic came home to dinner, and found, being exceedingly hungry, to his bitter disappointment, that not only was there no dinner to eat, but that there was no meat in the house. His rage was great, but all he could get from his wife was, "I couldn't get meat out of the stones, could I ?" It was in vain to give the reins to passion, the old woman told him, and he must know "that hard words buttered no parsnips." Well, at length he resolved to put his wife's powers to the proof, and he quietly but determinedly told her that he would be the death of her if she did not get him some dinner; but if in half an hour she gave him some good cooked meat, he would believe all she had boasted of her power, and be submissive to her for ever. St Ives, the nearest market-town, was five miles off; but nothing doubting, the witch put on her bonnet and cloak, and started. Her husband watched her from their cottage door, down the hill; and at the bottom of the hill, he saw his wife quietly place herself on the ground and disappear. In her place a fine hare ran on at its full speed.

He was not a little startled, but he waited, and within the half-hour in walked his wife with "good flesh and taties all ready for aiting." There was no longer any doubt, and the poor husband lived in fear of the witch of Treva to the day of her death.

This event took place after a few years, and it is said the room was full of evil spirits, and that the old woman's shrieks were awful to hear. Howbeit, peace in the shape of pale-faced death came to her at last, and then a black cloud rested over the house when all the heavens were clear and blue.

She was borne to the grave by six aged men, carried, as is the custom, underhand. When they were about half way between the house and the church, a hare started from the roadside am leaped over the coffin. The terrified bearers let the corpse fall to the ground, and ran away. Another lot of men took up the coffin and proceeded. They had not gone far when puss was suddenly seen seated on the coffin, and again the coffin was abandoned After long consultation, and being persuaded by the parson to carry the old woman very quickly into the churchyard, while he walked before, six others made the attempt, and as the parson never ceased to repeat the Lord's Prayer, all went on quietly. Arrived at the church stile, they rested the corpse, the parson paused to commence the ordinary burial service, and there stood the hare which, as soon as the clergyman began "I am the resurrection and the life," uttered a diabolical howl, changed into a black, un-shapen creature, and disappeared.'

How Mr Lenine gave up courting

'Mr LenineE had been, as was his wont, spending his evening hours with the lady of his love. He was a timid man and always returned to Tregenebris early. Beyond this, as the lady was alone, she deemed it prudent to let the world know that Mr Lenine left her by daylight.

One evening, it was scarcely yet dark, and our lover was re turning home through Leah Lanes. His horse started at an an woman, who had crept under the hedge for shelter from a passing shower. As Mr Lenine saw a figure moving in the shade he was terrified.

"Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho," sang an owl.

"It's only me--Mr Lenine of Tregenebris," said he, putting the spurs to his horse.

Something followed him, fast as he might go, and he force his horse up the hill by Leak vean.

"Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho," sang the owl.

"It 's only me--Aunt Betty Foss," screamed the old woman.

"Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho, ho," sang the owl again.

"Don't ye be afeared, Mr Lenine," shrieked Aunt Betty, almost out of breath.

"Tu-whit, tu-whoo, ho, ho, ho," also shrieked the owl.

"Oh, it 's only John Lenine of Tregenebris," stammered the frightened lover, who had, however, reached home.

He went no more a-courting. He was fully persuaded that either a highwayman and his crew, or the devil and his imps, were upon him. He died a bachelor, and the charming lady became a peevish old maid, and died in solitude; all owing to the hooting owl.

Some do say Betty Foss was a witch, and the owl her familiar.'

The Witch and the Toad

An old woman called Alsey--usually Aunt Alsey--occupied a small cottage in Anthony, one of a row which belonged to a tradesman living in Dock--as Devonport was then designated to distinguish it from Plymouth. The old woman possessed a very violent temper, and this, more than anything else, fixed upon her the character of being a witch. Her landlord had frequently sought his rent, and as frequently he received nothing but abuse. He had, on the special occasion to which our narrative refers, crossed the Tamar and walked to Anthony, with the firm resolve of securing his rent, now long in arrear, and of turning the old termagant out of the cottage. A violent scene ensued, and, the vicious old woman, more than a match for a really kind-hearted and quiet man, remained the mistress of the situation. She seated herself in the door of her cottage and cursed her landlord's wife, "the child she was carrying," and all belonging to him, with so devilish a spite that Mr--owned he was fairly driven away in terror.

On returning home, he, of course, told his wife all the circumstances; and while they were discoursing on the subject,--the whole story being attentively listened to by their daughter, then a young girl, who is my informant,--a woman came into the shop requiring some articles which they sold.

"Sit still, father," 'said Mrs--to her husband; "you must be tired. I will see to the shop."

So she went from the parlour ,into the shop, and, hearing the wants of her customer, proceeded. to supply them; gossiping gaily, as was her wont, to interest the buyer.

Mrs--was weighing one of the articles required, when something falling heavily from the ceiling of the shop, struck the beam out of her hand, and both--the falling body and the scales--came together with much noise on to the counter. At the same instant both women screamed;--the shopkeeper calling also "Father ! father ! "--meaning her husband thereby-- with great energy.

Mr--and his daughter were in the shop instantly, and there, on the counter, they saw an enormous and most ugly toad sprawling amidst the chains of the scales. The first action of the man was to run back to the parlour, seize the tongs, and return to the, shop. He grasped the swollen toad with the tongs, the vicious creature spitting all the tithe, and, without a word, he went back and flung it behind the block of wood which was burning in the grate. The object of terror being removed, the wife, who was shortly to become the mother of another child, though usually a woman who had great command over her feelings, fainted.

This circumstance demanding all their attention, the toad was forgotten. The shock was a severe one; and although Mrs--was restored in a little time to her senses, she again and again became faint. Those fits continuing, her medical attendant, Dr--was sent for, and on his arrival he ordered that his patient should be immediately placed in bed, and the husband was informed that he must be prepared for a premature birth.

The anxiety occasioned by these circumstances, and the desire to afford every relief to his wife, so fully occupied Mr --, that for an hour or two he entirely forgot the cause of all this mischief; or, perhaps satisfying himself that the toad was burnt to ashes, he had no curiosity to look after it. He was, however, suddenly summoned from the bedroom, in which he was with his wife, by his daughter calling to him, in a voice of terror--"O father, the toad, the toad !"

Mr--rushed down-stairs, and he then discovered that the toad, though severely burnt, had escaped destruction. It must have crawled up over the log of wood, and from it have fallen down amongst the ashes. There it was now making useless struggles to escape, by climbing over the fender.

The tongs were again put in requisition, with the intention this time of carrying the reptile out of the house. Before, however, he had time to do so, a man from Anthony came hastily into the shop with the information that Aunt Alsey had fallen into the fire, as the people supposed, in a fit, and that she was nearly burnt to death. This man had been sent off with two commissions--one to fetch the doctor, and the other to bring Mr--with him, as much of the cottage had been injured by fire, communicated to it by the old woman's dress.

In as short a time as possible the parish surgeon and Mr --. were at Anthony, and too truly they found the old woman most severely burnt --so seriously, indeed, there was no chance that one so aged could rally from the shock which her system must have received, however, a litter was carefully prepared, the old woman was placed in it, and carried to the workhouse. Every attention was given to her situation, but she never recovered perfect consciousness, and during the night she died.

The toad, which we left inside the fender in front of a blazing fire, was removed from a position so trying to any cold-blooded animal, by the servant, and thrown, with a "hugh "and a shudder, upon one of the flower-beds in the small garden behind the house.

There it lay the next morning dead, and when examined by Mr --, it was found that all the injuries sustained by the toad corresponded with those received by the poor old wretch, who had no doubt fallen a victim to passion.

As we have only to deal with the mysterious relation which existed between the witch and the toad, it is not necessary that we should attend further to the innocent victim of an old woman's vengeance, than to say that eventually a babe was born--that that babe grew to be a handsome man, was ah officer in the navy, and having married, went to sea, and perished, leaving a widow with an unborn child to lament his loss. Whether this was a result of the witch's curse, those who are more deeply skilled in witchcraft than I am may perhaps tell.'

The Sailor Wizard

'This appears to have been, and it may still be, a very common superstition. I have lately received from Mr T. Q. Couch of Bodmin the story of some sailors, who had reason to suspect that one of their body was a wizard. This was eventually proved to have been the case, by circumstances in every way resembling those of our old witch. There had been a quarrel, and revenge had been talked of. The sailors were all grouped together in the forepart of the ship, except the suspected one, and a toad fell sprawling amongst them. One of the men flung the creature into the fire in the caboose. It struggled for a moment in the fire, and then by a convulsive effort flung itself out. Immediately the toad was caught up by one of the men, and flung into the sea.

In the course of some little time the absent sailor made his appearance dripping wet. In a drunken frolic he had first fallen into the fire at a low beer shop or "Kiddle-e-wink," and subsequently he fell out of the boat into the sea.'

(Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England.)

The Legend of Pengersick Castle

In the parish of Breage are the ruins of Pengersick Castle which in 1890 had only fragments and a portion of the tower standing. Some of the upper rooms were fallen in and in a state of decay. The lower oak panels are curiously carved but time and the elements have almost effaced the designs. One panel remains legible, called Perseverance and contain the following lines:

What thing is harder than the rock?
What softer is than water clear?
Yet wyll the same, with often droppe,
The hard rock perce as doth a spere.
Even so, nothing so hard to attayne,
But may be hadde, with labour and payne.

These ruins stand on the ruins of a much older castle and in it lived, during the dark ages, a very wicked man. This man while fighting in a foreign land forgot his wife at home and courted a king's daughter who is supposed to have given him a magic sword which ensured victory in every battle to its owner. This man deceived and left this woman but she followed him to his home by the Mount with her son in her arms.

She met the man in his home and upbraided him; he, in a fit of rage, threw them both into the sea. The lady drowned but she was turned into a white hare which continually haunted this old lord, but the boy was picked up by a passing ship.

The lord's wife afterwards died and he married again, this time to a very wicked woman reputed to be a witch. She was cruel to her step-son who lived with his father in the castle.

One night a violent storm arose in Mount's Bay and the young man went down to the water to see if any ships were in distress. He found an exhausted sailor on the beach who had been washed in by the waves. He had his servants carry the sailor home and put in his own bed. When the sailor revived and was cleaned up, they were astounded at the resemblance to each other and they became good friends.

Together the two young men went to Marazion (about four miles west of St. Breage) to see if they could find the ship the stranger had fallen from into the sea. The ship was found safe in the harbor. The captain, who the sailor had always thought of as his father, told them for the first time how when he was an infant he was resued from drowning in the same bay as he had nearly drowned the night before. Thus, they discovered they were brothers, the sailor being the son who had been cast into the bay for dead.

A few days later, the two went hunting and came upon a white hare who guided them to discover the miraculous sword that had disappeared with the drowning of the mother. These two brothers sailed away from Cornwall to the land of the of the strange princess mother where the Cornish man studied astrology and other occult sciences under a celebrated master there.

After some time, the old lord of Pengersick met his death while riding his horse one morning when a white hare suddenly appeared in front of the horse, startling him, so that the horse ran madly with its rider into the sea where both were drowned.

The young heir, now married to a learned princess himself, returned when news of the death of his father reached him, leaving his brother behind. The young heir and his wife liverd at the castle of Pengersick happily for several generations because the young man had discovered an elixir of life which, had they so wished, would have kept the couple alive to the present day.

In addition to being well versed in occult lore, young Pengersick's wife was a fine musician who, with her harp, could charm and subdue evil spirits and compel the fish and mermaids in Mount's Bay to come out of the sea. Baring-Gould says of Pengersick castle that it is a very fine remnant of a castle erected in the time of Henry VIII by a man named Millaton, probably of Millaton in Bridestowe, Devon. He had committed murder, and to escape justice he fled his native country and hid himself in the dip of land facing the sea at Pengersick, where he constructed at tower amply provided with means of defence.

Pengersick Castle is listed in the Castellarium Anglicanum as an extant castle as follows: Square 'pele-tower', attached to a modern house, but built for attachment to an original one. Basement looped for guns. Very early 16th century.

Baring-Gould says of Pengersick castle that it is a very fine remnant of a castle erected in the time of Henry VIII by a man named Millaton, probably from Devon. He had committed murder, and to escape justice he fled his native country and hid himself in the dip of land facing the sea at Pengersick, where he constructed at tower amply protected with means of defence. The basement is furnished with loops for firing upon anyone approaching, and above the door is a shoot for melted lead. The entire building is beautifully constructed.

Here Millaton remained until his death, never going out for more than a brief walk. The land had been purchased, not in his name, but his son Job's. Job was made govenor of Saint Michael's Mount and his son, William, was made sheriff of Cornwall in 1565 and married Honor Godolphin, daughter of Sir William Godolphin.

According to local legend, it was William Millaton who lived a cat and dog live with his wife Honor. They hated each other with a deadly hate. At length, each resolved that their unhappy union must end. William Millaton said to his wife, "Honor, we have lived in wretchedness too long. Let us resolve in a reconciliation, forget the past, and begin a new life."
"Most certainly do I agree," said she.
"And," continued William, "as a pledge of our reunion, let us have a feast tonight."
So a banquet was spread in Pengersick Castle for the both alone that night.
And after they had finished their meal, William said, "Let us drink to our reunion."
"I will drink if you will drink," said she.
Then he drained his glass, and after this she drained hers.
With a wicked laugh she said, "William,you have but three minutes to live. Your cup was poisoned."
"And you," he retorted, "have but five, for yours was poisoned also."
"It is well," said Honor; "I am content. I shall have two minutes in which to triumph over your dead carcass, and spurn it with my foot."
The two bodies were found slumped to the floor by the servents the next morning ending the story of this unhappy pair.

(Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England.)

Pengersick Castle features very prominently in Cornish folklore and legends and has long had a reputation as being an evil place; also very badly haunted. When the castle was abandoned and derelict local people would always refrain from walking past it during the hours of darkness for fear of who or what they might meet. The present owners: Mrs Evans and her son Guy have not themselves had any supernatural or paranormal experiences, however other people have. A neighbour of the castle, whose house borders the castle grounds has seen a monk walk through his garden wall. Most summers a German lady has bed and breakfast accommodation at the castle. She sleeps in the bed chamber on the second floor and has seen what she believes is the ghost of Engrina Pengersick standing by her bed and other figures have appeared to her at night.

The National Trust, although not owning the castle has covenants over this ancient and fortified building, part of the once great manor that existed in the 12th Century. The Pengersick family took its name from the place where they built the castle, which is Pengersick (the head of a marshy place). Henry Pengersick who built the place was without a doubt a very violent character. He married Engrina Godolphin who was a member of the family that owned adjoining estates. He seems to have had an extremely stormy relationship with the church of that time, gaining himself Great Excommunication for attacking and wounding the Vicar of Breage and killing a monk from Hailes Abbey in Gloucestershire, when they came to collect the tithes. The present believe that if there are ghosts at Pengersick Castle they could be of Henry Pengersick, later known as Henry Le Fort and his wife Engrina.

Around the year 1500 Pengersick Castle was modernised and converted into a fortified Tudor manor house possibly by John Milliton, he is believed to be one of the ghosts that haunts Pengersick Castle.

There is a story that goes back even further in history, to the time of the Crusades, it tells of an early owner of the castle forgot all about his wife and son in Cornwall and married the daughter of a foreign king. Eventually got tired of her too, even though she had made him a gift of a magic sword. When he returned to England she followed him with their baby son. When he saw them he threw them both into the sea and she was drowned. Although her spirit entered into a white hare, the baby was picked up alive by a passing ship.

After his legal wife died, so the story says, this evil man married a witch who was cruel to his legitimate son. One day a ship was wrecked nearby and the only survivor was a boy who bore a remarkable resemblance to the heir of Pengersick Castle. He was none other than the boy's half brother.

One day the two boys, guided by a remarkable friendly white hare, came upon the magical sword. The wicked baron was thrown from his horse and died as a result when his steed was frightened and shied at the sudden appearance of a huge white hare. The boys, having mastered the occult arts with the help of the friendly white hare are said to have discovered the elixir of life and to have lived in happiness at Pengersick for many generations.

The first John Milliton was succeeded by his son, also called John: he became involved with William Godolphin and an unnamed neighbour in the mysterious looting of the King of Portugal's ship St Anthony, which was wrecked at Gunwalloe in 1526, the rich cargo disappeared without any trace.

The matter was the subject of a Royal Commission's investigation; the cargo was never seen again. It seems that John Milliton's name was cleared, for in 1548 he became High Sherrif of Cornwall. At the time of the Reformation, after the execution of Sir Humphrey Arundel for his part in the rebellion of 1549, Milliton became the Captain of St Michael's Mount.

The present owners believe that ghosts from the wrecked ship St Anthony might well be in Pengersick Castle, because there is a strong evidence that the treasure was, at one time bricked up within the walls at the castle or in secret passages; it is fairly certain that the building was used by smugglers and wreckers in times past.

How Pengersick Became A Sorcerer

The First Pengersick, by whom the castle, which still bears his name, was built, was a proud man and desired to ally himself with some of the best families in cornwall. He wished his son to wed a lady who was very much older than himself, who is said to have been connected with the Godolphin family. This elderly maiden had a violent desire either for the young man or the castle : it is not very clear which. The young Pengersick gave her no return for the manifestations of love which she lavished upon him.

Eventually, finding all her attempts to win the young man's love were abortive, and that all the love potions brewed for her by the witch of Fraddam were of no avail, she married the old lord, mainly, it is said, to be revenged of the son.

The witch had a niece who, though poor, possessed considerable beauty; she was called Bitha. This young girl was frequently employed by her aunt and the lady of Godolphin to aid them in their spells on the young Pengersick, and, as a natural consequence she fell desperately in love with him herself. Bitha ingratiated herself with the lady of Pengersick, now the stepmother of the young man, and was selected as her maid. This gave her many opportunities of seeing and speaking to young Pengersick and her passion increased. The old step dame was still passionately fond of the young man, and never let a chance escape her which she thought likely to lead to the excitement of passion in his heart towards her. In all her attempts she failed. Her love was turned to hate; and having seen her stepson in company with Bitha, this hate was quickened by the more violent jealousy. Every means which her wicked ways could devise were employed to destroy the young man. Bitha learned from her aunt, the Witch of Fraddam, much of her art, and she devoted herself to counteract the spells of her mistress.

The stepmother, failing to accomplish her ends, resolved to ruin young Pengersick with his father. She persuaded the old man that his son really entertained a violent passion for her, and that she was compelled to confine herself to her tower in fear. The aged woman prevailed on Lord Pengersick to hire a gang of outlandish sailors to carry his son away and sell him for a slave, giving him to believe that she should herself in a short time present him with an heir.

The young Pengersick escaped all their plots, and at his own good time he disappeared from the castle, and for a long period was never hear of. The mistress and maid plotted and counter-plotted to secure the old Pengersick's wealth, and when he was on his deathbed, Bitha informed him of the vile practices of his wife and consoled him with information that he was dying from the effects of poison given him by her.
The young lord, after long years, returned from some Eastern lands with a princess for his wife, learned in all the magic sciences of those enchanted lands. He found his stepmother shut up in her chamber, with her skin covered in scales like a serpent, from the effects of the poisons which she had so often been distilling for the old lord and his son. She refused to be seen, and eventually cast herself into the sea, to the relief of all parties. Bitha feared not much better. She lived on the downs in St Hilary, and from the poisonous fumes she inhaled and from her dealings with the devil, her skin became of the colour of that of a toad!

The Lord of Pengersick, an Enchanter

The Lord of Pengersick came from some Eastern clime, bringing with his a foreign lady of great beauty. She was considered by all an outlandish woman, and by many declared to be a Saracen. No one, beyond the selected servants, was ever allowed within the walls of Pengersick Castle, and they, it is said, were bound by magic spells. No one dared tell of anything transacted within the walls; consequently all was conjecture amongst the neighbouring peasantry, miners and fishermen. Certain it was, they said, that Pengersick 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, Pengersick 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, the spirits replying like the roar of thunder. 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 sometimes happened that the spirits were too powerful for the enchanter. He was, however, constantly, 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 the Lands End, moaning like the soughing of a departed storm. The lights would then be extinguished in the enchanters tower, and all would be peace; the servants would return to their apartments with feeling of perfect confidence. They feared their master, but their mistress inspired them with love. Lady Pengersick was never seen beyond the grounds surrounding the castle. She sat all day in lonely state and pride in her tower, lattice-window of her apartment being high on the seaward side. Her voice accompanying the music of her harp was rarely heard but when she warbled the soft love strains of her Eastern land. Often at the 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 strange spirits of the waters, would come near Pengersick Cove, drawn by the same influence. On moonlit 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 Pengersick sang. Long did this strange pair inhabit this lonely castle, and though the Lord of Pengersick frequently rode abroad on a most magnificent horse , which had the reputation of being of satanic origin, it was at once so docile to his master and so wild to any other person,, 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, owning it was said to the grief and want of food.

Where Lord Pengersick came from, no one knew, he with his lady, with two attendants, who never spoke in any but an Eastern tongue, which was understood by none around them, made their appearance one winter's day, mounted on beautiful horses, evidently from Arabia or some distant land. They soon 'having gold in abundance' got possession of a cottage, and in a marvellously short time the castle, which bears his name, was rebuilt by this lord. Many affirm that the lord by the force of his enchantment, 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, or which but one tower now remains.

Their coming was sudden and mysterious, their going was still more so. Years rolled on and the people around were familiarised with those strange neighbours, from whom also they derived large profits, since they were paid whatsoever price was demanded for any article which they required. One day a stranger was seen in market-Jew, whose face was bronzed by long exposure to an Eastern sun. No one knew him; and he eluded the anxious inquiries of numerous gossips, who it was surmised by everyone, must have some connection with Pengersick or his lady; yet no one could assign any reason for such supposition. Week after week passed away, and the stranger remained in the town, giving no sign. Wonder was on every woman's lips and expressed in every old man's eyes; but they had to wonder 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 , spent them, it was thought, on the sea shore and some fishermen said they had seen him seated on the rock at the entrance of the valley of Pengersick. 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, singular for its gloom , when even the ordinary light which on the darkest night is evident to the traveller I the open country, did not exist , appears to have brought things to their climax. There was a sudden alarm in Market-Jew, a red glare in the eastern sky, and presently a burst of flames above the hill, and St Michael's Mount was illuminated in a remarkable manner. Pengersick Castle was on fire. The servants fled in terror, but neither the lord nor his 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 strange to tell, from that night the bronzed stranger was never seen again. The inhabitants of Market-Jew naturally crowded to the fire, and when all was over they returned to their homes, speculating on the strange occurrences of the night. Two of the oldest people declared that when the flames were at their highest, they saw two men and a lady floating in the midst of the fire, and that they ascended from amidst the falling walls, passed through the air like lightening and disappeared.

The Witch of Fraddam and The Enchanter of Pengersick

Again and again had the Lord of Pengersick reversed the spell of the witch of Fraddam, who was reported to be the most powerful weird woman in the west country. She had been thwarted so many times by this white witch, that she resolved to destroy him by some magic more potent than anything yet heard of. It is said that she betook herself to Kynance Cove, and that she pledged her soul to him in return for the aid he promised. The enchanter's famous mare was to be seduced to drink from a tub of poisoned water placed by the roadside, the effect of which was to render it in the highest degree restive, and cause it to fling its rider. The wounded Lord Pengersick was, in his agony, to be drenched by the old witch with some hell-broth, brewed in the blackest night under the most evil aspects of the stars; by this he would be in her power forever, and she might torment him as she pleased. The devil felt certain of securing the soul of the Witch of Fraddam, but he was less certain of securing that of the enchanter. They say, indeed, that the sorcery which Pengersick learned in the East was so potent that the devil feared him.

However, as the proverb is, he held with the hounds and ran with the hare. The witch collected with the utmost care all the deadly things that she could obtain, with which to brew her famous drink. In the darkest night, in the midst of the wildest storms, amidst the flashing of lightening and bellowing of thunder, the witch was seen riding on her black ram-cat over the moors and mountains in search of her poisons. At length all was complete , the horse drink was boiled, the hell-broth was brewed. It was in March, about the time of the equinox; the night was dark, and the King of Storms was abroad. The witch planted her tub of drink in a dark lane, through which she knew the Lord of Pengersick must pass, and near to it she sat, crooning over her crock of broth. The witch-woman had not long to wait; amidst the hurrying winds was heard the heavy tramp of the enchanter's mare, and soon she perceived the outline of a man and horse defined sharply against the line of the lurid light which stretched along the western horizon. On they came; the witch was scarcely able to contain herself; her joy and her fears, struggling one with the other, almost overpowered her. On came the horse and his rider; they neared the tub of drink; the mare snorted loudly, and her eyes flashed fire as she looked at the black tub by the road-side.

Pengersick bent over the horse's neck and whispered into her ear; she turns round and flinging out her heels, with one kick she scattered all to the wild winds. The tub flew before the blow; it rushed against the crock, which it overturned, and striking against the legs of the old Witch of Fraddam, she fell along with tub, which assumed the shape of a coffin. Her terror was extreme; she who thought to have unhorsed the conjuror, found herself in a carriage for which she did not bargain. The enchanter raised his voice and gave utterance to some wild words in an unknown tongue, at which even his terrible mare trembled. A whirlwind arose, and the devil was in a midst of it. He took the coffin in which lay the terrified witch high in the air and the crock followed them. The derisive laughter of Pengersick, and the savage neighing of the horse, were heard above the roar of the winds. At length, with a satisfied tone, he exclaimed, "she is settled till the day of doom?", gave the mare the spurs and rode rapidly home.

The Witch of Fraddam still floats up and down, over the seas, around the coast, in her coffin, followed by the crock, which seems like a punt in attendance on a jolly-boat. She still works mischief stirring up the sea with her ladle and broom till the waves swell into the mountains, which heave off from their crests, so much mist and foam, that these wild wanderers of the winds can scarcely be seen through. Woe to the mariner who sees the witch.

The Lord of Pengersick alone had the power over her. He had but to stand on his tower, and blow three blasts on his trumpet, to summon her to the shore, and compel her to peace.

And more ...

Though relatively little known, Pengersick Castle, has of recent years been the scene of some dramatic paranormal events during overnight vigils. Robert Snow was part of groups at Pengersick Castle in May and August 1997 and in the bedchamber witnessed moving lights and shimmering, full-figure apparitions. Under a spectral bed cover was seen a lady, obviously in great pain: a second and older female spectre walked through a wall and table and appeared to be tending the first phantom. Other group members were able to provide descriptions of the clothing worn so detailed that it can be clearly dated to the 14th Century.

Piecing together the story of the events witnessed during these vigils, it seems that a monk, armed with a dagger, attempted to rape the lady of the castle in the grounds and wounded her badly in the attempt. A tall knight figure, we presume her husband, killed the attacker with a long dagger and carried the lady to the bedchamber in the castle. He then summoned a lady, seen in a black coat, presumably someone with medical knowledge, who attended to the lady's wounds without success as she then passed away.

Most of these scenes were combined with various kinds of 'ghost lights' being seen. During an overnight vigil on the 5th April 1997 at 12.40 am, a video camera was set up in the bedchamber and left to run without anyone being present whilst the group were elsewhere. This resulted in a tape of some twenty minutes of strange lights, some 'like a round halo with a crescent upturned moon in the bottom quadrant'. Many lights were seen crossing the frame at about waist height. Some ran diagonally and others rose into the picture area and then disappeared into the bed coverings. Twelve minutes into the recording a very large round object passed across the scene.

On this vigil, as is the custom on such occasions, control objects were positioned in the room under investigation to see if any movement might be detected and on this occasion there was also a slate and chalk left with them. At about two o'clock that morning the group found on the slate a curious chalked seven inch circle inside of which were what they describe as 'a number of occult symbols, like an unfinished pentacle'...