Traditions And Hearthside Stories Of West Cornwall Part 2

SQUIRE:--"Give up thy courting with Huey Lenine, And I'll dress thee in silks and satins fine."

DUFFY:--"No I'll never have an old man, an old man like you, Though you are Squire Lovell: To my sweetheart I'll be constant and true, Though he work all day with threshal and shovel."

The Devil tickles the Squire behind the ears. He sits nearer and places his arm round her waist.

SQUIRE:--"Thou shalt have a silk gown all broider'd in gold, Jewels and rings, with such other fine things In the old oak chest, as thee did'st never behold."

DUFFY:--"My sweetheart is young, lively, and strong, With cheeks like a red rose; But your time will not be long:-- You have very few teeth, and a blue-topped nose.

So keep your silks and keep your gold, I'll never have a man so feeble and old."

Here the Devil tickles them both. The Squire hugs and kisses Duffy, who makes less and less resistance.

SQUIRE:--"You shan't find me feeble, though I'm near sixty; I'm stronger still than many a man of twenty."

DUFFY:--"Your only son is now far away.

If he came home and found ye wed, What think ye he would say?"

SQUIRE:--"I hope he is already dead, Or'll be kill'd in the wars some day, If alive he shan't enter my door, I'll give thee my land, with all my store, Thou shalt ride to church behind me upon a new pavillion, Smarter than Dame Pendar or Madam Trezillian."

DUFFY:--"Dear master, hold your flattering tongue, Nor think to deceive one so simple and young; For I'm a poor maid, lowly born and bred; With one so humble you could never wed.

Keep your distance, and none of your hugging; You shall kiss me no more till you take me to church.

I'll never cry at Christmas for April fooling Like a poor maid left in the lurch.

Look! the sand is all down and the pie burned black, With the crust too hard for your colt's-teeth to crack: So off to the hall and take your supper."

Duffy rises, takes up from the hearth a pie, which had been baking there, goes out with it, followed by the Squire and Devil dancing. Huey crawls from the oven, saying "Lack a day who can tell, now, what to make of a she-thing?" By the time he gets on his legs Duffy returns, and, a.s.sisted by the devil pushes him to doors, saying,

"Now betake thyself outside the door, Nor show thy black face here any more; Don't think I would wed a poor piljack like thee, When I may have a Squire of high degree."

Duffy and the Devil dance till the Squire returns and joins in a three-handed reel, without seeing the Old One, who capers back into a dark corner at the pa.s.s of the dance, and comes close behind him at the pitch. _Curtain drops.--Thunder and lightning._

The scene changes to Trove Mill, where a long gossip takes place over the new "nine days' wonder" of Squire Lovell having wedded Duffy for the sake of her knitting. Some say she will behave like most beggars put on horseback, and all the women agreed that they would rather be a young man's slave, and work their fingers to stumps, than be doomed to pa.s.s a weary time beside such an old withered stock; they should wish him dead and no help for it.

In the next, Duffy (now Madame Lovell) is beheld walking up and down her garden, or hall, decked out in a gown with a long train, hanging ruffles at her elbows, ruff of monstrous size round her neck, towering head-dress, high-heeled shoes, with bright buckles, earrings, necklace, fan, and all other accessories of old-fas.h.i.+oned finery. The bucca-boo is seen grinning, half-hidden, in the corner; whilst Madam walks she sings:--

"Now I have servants to come at my call, As I walk in grand state through my hall, Decked in silks and satins so fine: But I grieve through the day, And fret the long night away, Thinking of my true-love, young Huey Lenine.

I weep through many a weary long hour, As I sit all alone in my bower, Where I do nothing but pine; Whilst I grieve all the day, And fret the long nights away, In dreaming of my true-love, young Huey Lenine.

Would the devil but come at my call, And take the old Squire--silks, satins, and all, With jewels and rings so fine; Then, merry and gay, I'd work through the day, And cheerily pa.s.s the nights away, Kissing my true-love, young Huey Lenine."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[1] One-eyed Joan's Tale, _p._ 213.

DUFFY AND THE DEVIL.

_Part Second._

"Refinement, too, that smoothens all O'er which it in the world hath pa.s.s'd, Has been extended in its call, And reach'd the devil, too, at last.

That Northern Phantom found no more can be, Horns, tail, and claws, we now no longer see.

But with your like, when we the name can learn, Your nature too we commonly discern."

GOETHE'S _Faust_.

_Filimore's Translation._

In a mill scene, after the Squire's marriage, there is a long dialogue, in rhyme, on "the cruel miseries to be endured" by both husband and wife, "when a young maid is wedded to an old man." This can not be given because much of it would now be regarded as indelicate.

In another scene, the Squire's man Jack, and Huey Lenine, discuss the same subject. This is also inadmissible for the same reason. We are reluctant to dismember this old piece, even by so much as may be deemed necessary by persons of fastidious taste, because students of ancient manners would doubtless prefer an unpruned version.

We shall give the remainder of the story as it may be gathered from the play, without dividing it into scenes. And indeed great part of it, for want of convenience in acting, was often recited by Father Christmas, in his character of Chorus. We also omit the mill scenes, as they afforded a kind of by-play, that had little or nothing to do with the main story.

Whenever time was required for the principle personages to get ready, a bevy of women were brought on to gossip about old times and the past year's events, or they told stories, danced, or sung until their turn came to "serge their flour," (bolt their meal.)

Duffy complaind to the kind old witch that she was very dissatisfied with her aged spouse. The old crone advised her to have patience and well feather her nest, that she might secure a youthful successor to Squire Lovell, who was'nt likely to trouble her long. Notwithstanding Madam's griefs, she kept the Bucca-boo to his work, so that all her chests and presses were filled with stockings, blankets, yarn and home-spun cloth; and her husband was clad, from top to toe, in devil-made garments. Squire Lovell, as was his wont, being away hunting every week-day, from dawn till dark, and the housekeeper and other servants hearing a constant rumbling throughout the house like the noise of a spinning-wheel, only varied by the clicking of cards, thought their mistress busy at work, when she spent great part of her time at the mill.

The stocking that Duffy made out to be knitting, but never finished, had always a st.i.tch down. By that old Betty suspected her of having strange dealings as well as herself.

Though the time seemed long and wearisome to Madam, the term for which the devil engaged to serve her drew near its end: yet she was ignorant as ever of his true name, and gave herself but little concern on that account, thinking it might be just as well to go with a devil, who was so very obliging, as to remain with old Squire Lovell; for all the time this Bucca-boo became, as it were, her slave, he was well-behaved and never gave her the least reason to complain of his conduct.

Yet when she walked through Trove orchards, and saw the apple-trees weighed down with ripe fruit, she had some misgivings, lest her next abode might be less pleasant than Trove, besides, she thought that the devil, like most men, might be very civil in courts.h.i.+p but behave himself quite otherwise when he had her in his power.

Madam being much perplexed made her troubles known to Betty, the witch, who, cunning woman as she was, had'nt found out the particulars of the bargain. She was'nt much surprised, however, when Duffy told her, because she knew that women and devils were capable of doing extraordinary things. Betty was somewhat troubled, but not much; for in old times, white-witches could perform almost incredible feats, by having devils and other spirits under their command. So, after twirling her thumbs a minute, and thinking what to do, she said, "Duffy, my dear, cheer up! I would'nt like for 'e to be taken away before me. Now do what I advise 'e, and it is much to me if we don't find 'e a way to fool this young devil yet, he is but a green one. So, to-morrow evening, soon after sunset, bring me down a black jack of your oldest and strongest beer. But before that, be sure you get the Squire to go hare-hunting.

Fool him with the old story, or any thing else to make him go. Wait up till he comes back, and note well what he may say. Go 'e home now: ask me no questions; but mind and do what I have told 'e!"

Next morning, the Squire noticed that his wife ate no breakfast, and, at dinner, observing that she seemed very sour and sad, and appeared to loath everything on the board, he said,

"My dear wife, how is it that you have been so melancholy of late? What is the matter with 'e? Don't I do as much to comfort 'e as any man can?

If there's anything to be had, for love or money, you shall have it. You don't appear to have much appet.i.te, honey; what would 'e like to eat?"

"I could just pick the head of a hare, if I had it," she replied; "I am longing for hare-pie; but you have been so busy about the harvest that we havn't had one for weeks, and I'm feeling so queer that have one I must or the consequences will be awful to the babe unborn, and to you as well."

"You know dear," said the Squire, "that harvest is late. We have still much corn to get into the mowhay. Besides, it's full time that all should be ready for cider-making. I would do my best to catch a hare if that would please ye," he continued, over a bit; "but dont 'e think that the old story about the child, that according to your fancy has been coming to and again for the last three years, is ever going to fool me to the neglect of corn and apples."

"Hard-hearted, unbelieving wretch," replied she, "you don't deserve to be the father of my child. Know, to your shame, that innocent virgins, when first wedded are often deceived with false hopes. Now would 'e have our cheeld disfigured for the sake of such little good as you are among the harvest people? An old man's bantling," she continued, "is mostly a wisht and wizened-looking object! Would 'e like to see ours with a face like a hare besides an ugly nose, and a mouth from ear to ear? Go, do, like a dear, and stay my longing; but in the evening, after croust (afternoon refreshment), will be time enow for 'e to start, that we may have one for dinner to-morrow."

With coaxing, scolding, and hopes of paternal joys, she, at length prevailed.

Soon after the Squire and his dogs were out of sight, Duffy drew about a gallon of beer, that was many years old, into a strong leather jack, made small at the mouth like a jar, for convenience in carrying, and took it down to the mill. Betty, after trying the liquor, said it would do, and told Duffy to go home, make the devil work till dark, wait up for her husband, and keep her ears open to all he might say. When nearly dark and a few stars glimmered, Betty turned the water from the mill-wheel and closed the flushet. Then, having donned her steeple-crowned hat and red cloak, she fastened the jack of beer to one end of a "giss" (hempen girth), and her "crowd" to the other, slung them across her shoulder, under her cloak, took a black-thorn stick, closed her door, and away she went over the hill. She went up the "Bottom"

(glen) between Trove and Boleigh, till she pa.s.sed the Fuggo Hole, and there, amongst the thickets, she disappeared! All this Bottom was well-wooded, and the upper part thickly covered with hazel, thorn, and elder; and a tangled undergrowth of briars, brambles, and furze, surrounded a wood called the Grambler Grove. Few persons liked to pa.s.s near this place, because strange noises were heard, and fires often seen within it by night, when no one would venture near the place.

Duffy waited up many hours after the servants had gone to bed, in great impatience for her husband's return. Her fears and doubts increasing, she remained seated in the kitchen chimney-corner, attending to a pie on the hearth; that it might be kept hot for the Squire's supper. It came into her head at times, as a kind of forlorn hope, that the crafty old witch might somehow get the Devil to take her husband instead of herself. About midnight, however, her uneasy musings were interrupted by the dogs rus.h.i.+ng in, followed by Squire Lovell, who seemed like one distracted, by the way he capered about and talked in broken sentences, of which his wife could make neither head nor tail. Sometimes he would caper round the kitchen, singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of a strange dancing-tune; then stop, try to recollect the rest, and dance till tired out. At last the Squire sat down and told his wife to bring him a flagon of cider.

After draining it, he became more tranquil, and, when Duffy asked if he had caught a hare, he answered,

"I've seen queer sights to-night, and the d.a.m.n'd hare--as fine a one as ever was chased--most in the dogs' mouths all the while. We coursed her for miles, yet they couldn't catch her at all." Then he burst out singing,