Part 19 (1/2)
It may be remarked that, until the roof fell into St. Levan's Well, and it became choked up, the s.e.xton always kept it clean and fetched water thence for the baptismal office.
We don't know what state ”Johanna's Garden” is now in, but some thirty years ago it always bore more weeds than pot-herbs.
These simple traditions--thus handed down and kept alive by St. Levan people, who believed them to be literally true--mark a lingering veneration for the holy fisherman who, in this secluded place, led his tranquil life.
THE ST. LEVAN STONE.
In St. Levan Churchyard is a cloven rock called St. Levan's stone. For some reason, now unknown, this must have been a venerated object when the church was built, or it would have been used in the building. The common notion, however, is that long before St. Levan's time this rock was regarded as sacred, because Merlin prophecied--
”When, with panniers astride, A pack-horse one can ride Through St. Levan stone, The world will be done.”
It is stated that Merlin came here with King Arthur, when he slaughtered the Danes at the battle of Velan-druchar. The separation of this prophetic stone is so slow that there appears to be no danger of the world's ending just yet.
PARCHAPEL WELL.
To find the Saint's Well one should take a pathway bearing westward, from a little below the church, and which leads over Roskestal cliff to Pargwarra (we spell all names as the inhabitants p.r.o.nounce them). After crossing the brook and mounting a hedge keep straight towards the sea, and on a pretty level spot the ruined walls of St. Levan's baptistry will be found, as also some traces of rude steps on a pathway that connected this holy fount with an ancient chapel and burying-ground which stood on ground so near the precipice that little, if any, of its site now remains. We have heard old folks of St. Levan (who were born there more than a century ago) say that in their younger days Parchapel Well, as they always called it, was, twice a year, regularly cleaned out and repaired, and the ground, for a good s.p.a.ce around, as well as the steps, cleared of weeds, swept, and sanded. The first week of May being a time of general well-dressing, Parchapel Well was never neglected then, and it was also cleaned up against the feasten tide, when many christenings usually took place.
Old folks also spoke of another time-honoured observance in which the Saint's Well was shown due respect. Until within half a century or so, it was a custom on Christmas-eve for carol singers belonging to the higher side hamlets to a.s.semble in Sowah town-place round a large flat table-like rock called the Garrack Zans (holy rock). Here they would commence singing, and proceed to Roskestal, where at another Garrack Zans in that town-place they would be joined by others, and all would thence go singing down to Parchapel Well, where they would meet with many singers from Treen and other lower-side places. At the Well many an old carol would be chanted. One was never forgotten, in which, according to our West Country version, Holy Mary says to her dear child:--
”Go thee wayst out, child Jesus; Go thee wayst out to play Down by G.o.d's holy well.
I see three pretty chelderen As ever tongue can tell.”
This, for its sweet simplicity, is still a favourite in the west.
The rude steps, which may yet be traced (though almost overgrown by rushes and other water-plants) will be regarded with interest, as we learn from St. Levan traditions that great sinners did penance by crawling over these rough stones on their bare knees, and that the devout who desired or aspired to acquire extraordinary grace, or indulgence, scrambled up all the way on bare knees from chapel-door to holy fount.
A LEGEND OF PARGWARRA.
My William's love was heaven on earth, Without it earth is h.e.l.l.
SCOTT.
Proceeding westward from St. Levan's Well we pa.s.s the next inlet, called Parleddan (Wide Cove), and arrive at Pargwarra or Pargwartha (Higher Cove), which is one of the most secluded and picturesque nooks that may anywhere be found.
Old folks also called this place the Sweethearts' Cove, from a tradition of its having been the scene of a tragical love-story, which is best known to me from fragments of a quaint old 'copy of verses,' ent.i.tled--
THE TRAGEDY OF SWEET WILLIAM AND FAIR NANCY.
This composition of a forgotten western bard related that, far back in old times, the son of a fisherman, who dwelt at Pargwarra, lived many years--off and on from a boy--in service with a rich farmer in Roskestal, and courted his master's only daughter, who, almost from her childhood, loved the young serving-man with a strength of affection beyond her control.
The youngster, being of a roving turn, often went to sea for many months in summer, and although he was then most wanted on the farm, his master always took him back again when sailors were paid off and merchant s.h.i.+ps laid up during the stormy winter season. It was his old master's and Nancy's great delight of winter's nights, to be seated with neighbours around the fire and hear w.i.l.l.y tell of strange things he had beheld on the ocean and in foreign lands; they wondered at what he related of waterspouts, icebergs, and northern lights, of whales, seals, and Laplanders. And they listened with awe and surprise to what he told them of burning-mountains, where he said he had seen, from a distance, the very mouths of h.e.l.l vomiting clouds of sulphurous smoke, flames, and rivers of fire. And when sailing as near these dreadful regions as anyone dared venture for the heat, and for fear of having their vessel drawn ash.o.r.e, where all the nails would be pulled from her planks by the load-stone rocks that bordered these lands; of nights, he had heard high over-head, devils shouting, ”the time is come but such and such a one isn't come;” soon after, one would hear doleful cries and behold black clouds of doomed spirits driven to the burning-mountains by troops of demons. He had seen the wreck of Pharaoh's chariots on the beach of the Red Sea, which, he a.s.sured them, had retained the hue from which it took its name ever since the Egyptian hosts were slain and overwhelmed, where their bones are still bleaching on the sands.
But all that was easily believed by his simple hearers, and mere nothing to the marvels he related from s.h.i.+pmates' stories when he told them of those bold mariners who had been farther east and seen the Dead Sea across which no bird could fly--how they had plucked from trees that bordered its black waters apples full of ashes that were tempting to the eye; they had touched Lot's wife turned to salt, and brought home some of her fingers; that was often done, he said, for with the next tide's flow they sprouted out again.
The neighbours liked above all to hear him tell about the dusky men and strange women of Levantine lands, and how the latter would shoot loving glances at British tars through peepholes cut in their thick black cloth veils.
Now William himself was a wonder of perfection, past compare in Nancy's eyes. She admired him for his stalwart form, for his strange adventures on sea and land, and for the rare presents he brought her home. The farmer, too, liked him just as if he had been his own son, yet it never entered his head that his daughter and only child would ever think of the das.h.i.+ng and careless young seaman as her lover.