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Young, 'The Supernatural Warriors of Castle-an-Dinas, Cornwall'

Four sources, two from the nineteenth and two from the early twentieth century, have supernatural soldiers fighting or parading on the Cornish hill-fort Castle-an-Dinas. Are these phantom warriors linked to one another and, if so, to what tradition do they belong: Arthurian, fairy-, or ghost-lore?

THE SUPERNATURAL WARRIORS OF CASTLE-AN-DINAS, CORNWALL Simon Young ABSTRACT. Four sources, two from the nineteenth and two from the early twentieth century, have supernatural soldiers fighting or parading on the Cornish hill-fort Castle-an-Dinas. Are these phantom warriors linked to one another and, if so, to what tradition do they belong: Arthurian, fairy-, or ghost-lore? (i) Introduction Castle-an-Dinas on Goss Moor, Cornwall, is an Iron Age hill-fort, protected by four giant ramparts and covering about six acres. In as much as the site and the nearby moors have appeared in folklore collections it has been in the context of Arthurian legend (Hunt 1881, p. 307; Courtney 1890, p. 58). In 1478, in apparently the first written reference to the hill-fort, William Worcestre noted: C[astrum] Dynas super altum montem dirutum et fons in medio castri vbi Cador dux Cornubie maritus Arthuri fuit occisus iuxta villam sancti Columpne. Castle-an-Dinas is ruined; it lies on a high hill, and a spring rises in the midst of the castle. There Cador Duke of Cornwall, husband of the mother of Arthur was slain, near the town of St Columb [Major]. (Harvey 1969, pp. 20–1) Oliver Padel suspects that this account is a ‘garbled local version (doubtless with some literary influence)’ of Arthur’s birth legend from Geoffrey of Monmouth, set partly at Dimilioc, the modern Domellick below the hill-fort of St Dennis, across Goss Moor from Castle-an-Dinas (Padel 1994, p. 28). Hals, in the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century, made the claim that Arthur had hunted on Goss Moor. He describes a large stone with the impress of ‘four horseshoes’: ‘tradition tells us they were made by King Arthur’s horse’s feet, when he resided at Castle Denis, and hunted in the Goss Moor’ (Davies 1838, I, 220). Hals also explains the nearby village of Tre-kyning (now Trekenning) as ‘the king’s, prince, or ruler’s town’ (Davies 1838, I, 219, using Cornish for the first syllable and ‘Saxon’ for the second). Hals’s etymology is worthless, of course, but was he perhaps reflecting early modern traditions in the area? The purpose of this note is to focus, instead, on four substantial nineteenth- and twentieth-century folklore references to Castle-an-Dinas involving, possibly in connection with Arthur’s hunt, supernatural warriors. They are interesting, first, because one of the four (an Arthurian account) is rarely and the others never referenced; and, second, because they give a glimpse of the malleability of folklore traditions from the late eighteenth to the early twentieth century. Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, 2017, pp. 95–104 96 Simon Young Fig. 1. Castle-an-Dinas (St Columb Major) om 2001, looking eastwards; part of Goss Moor appears in the top right corner of the picture. © Historic Environment Record, Cornwall Council F55_ 35, 2001 (ii) The Sources The first of these references appears in The History of Cornwall from the earliest records to the present time (1824). The authors of this book are described on the title page as Fortescue Hitchins and Samuel Drew: but, in fact, Hitchins, who had proposed the book, died before the process of composition had begun (Jacob Drew 1861, p. 50). The book is entirely, then, the work of Samuel Drew (died 1833), the ‘Cornish metaphysician’: a St Austell man who spent most of his writing career on Christian tracts and Christian polemic (Baring-Gould 1909, pp. 347–63). Drew does not mention Castle-an-Dinas in the following passage. However, the episode took place on Goss Moor and Castle-an-Dinas was presumably included among ‘the eminences’ where the locals gathered. Note that the muddled syntax is Drew’s. Among the inhabitants of this parish [Roche]; the remembrance of some extraordinary tales is still cherished with peculiar veneration. Many who are now alive most positively attest, that about twenty-six years since [= c. 1798] they actually saw and that during several days successively, both morning and evenings armies of beings resembling the inhabitants of Lilliput drawn up in battle array, and noticed their marches, countermarches, and apparent encounters. These phenomena were, so conscious [sic], that vast numbers of men dropped their labour, and mounted on such eminences as they could reach on various parts of the Goss moor, to watch the movements of these hostile shadows. These spectators had no intercourse with each other, but were called from their labour by the singularity of the phenomena which appeared. The facts themselves they solemnly attest, and most firmly believe; and the particulars which they give in detail, The Supernatural Warriors of Castle-an-Dinas 97 plainly prove that the tales which they relate are not of their own invention. To account for appearances so extraordinary they make no pretensions; they only presume to state facts, without attempting to develop either causes or consequences. These they leave for the investigations of philosophy, which may smile at their credulity, without having the power to rob them of those ideas which they are positively assured that mere imagination could not possibly have suggested. (Hitchins and Drew 1824, II, 587–8) Drew’s History records several supernatural episodes in the style of this quotation. He is usually dismissive of folklore beliefs in his writing (e.g. Hitchins and Drew 1824, I, 87–9; II, 90, 693), but he did have an interest in spirits and even claimed that he had met, in his late teens, a phantom ‘bear’ (Jacob Drew 1861, pp. 33–5; Young 2016). The event itself seems to be a sky battle of which many were recorded in Britain from the times of the Civil War onwards (Shirley 1915, p. 52; Sider 2006, passim); though note that Drew’s description would perhaps also allow for a conflict on the ground. The second source comes from the pen of Henry Jenner. Jenner was a Cornish scholar and, indeed, a Cornish patriot who dedicated much of the second half of his life to awakening a sense of Cornish identity, and who wrote on every aspect of Cornish life (Williams 2004). His interest in Castle-an-Dinas was twofold. First, he had a sentimental connection: he had grown up at St. Columb Major; his father had been vicar there (Williams 2004, pp. 71–3). Second, he became obsessed with the idea that Arthur, had, as Jenner, been born in the parish of St Columb Major; Arthur at Castle-an-Dinas. In a long essay, originally read on the top of the hill-fort to members of the Royal Cornwall Polytechnic Society, he set out the Arthurian credentials of his own parish (Jenner 1917, p. 101). He ended his essay on a light note, with reference to an old man, whom Jenner had spoken to many years before, an old man who believed he had seen Arthur’s soldiers on the fort. These lines are today the most quoted part of Jenner’s essay, because they represent a rare piece of traditional folklore from, if Jenner’s memories can be trusted, the mid-nineteenth century: whereas Jenner’s Arthurian arguments have been superseded. There have always been floating legends that King Arthur used Castle-an-Dinas as a hunting-seat, when he chased the deer on Gossmoor. More than 50 years ago an old man at Quoit told me that the ghosts of King Arthur’s soldiers had often been seen drilling on the slopes of the hill. I think I understood him to say that he had seen them himself, and knew that they were soldiers because he had seen ‘the moonbeams glancing on their muskets’. (Jenner 1917, pp. 100–1) Note that there is an aside in Stephen Jenkin’s The Undiscovered Country (1977), to a spectral Arthurian army at Castle-an-Dinas: this came apparently from an unpublished work by Barbara Spooner in the Library of the Royal Institute of Cornwall (Jenkin 1977, pp. 99–101). I have been unable to check this reference but Jason Semmens, who is presently working on Spooner, tells me it that it is to Samuel Drew.1 The third source appears in a work of Enys Tregarthen. Enys Tregarthen was a nomde-plume for Nellie Sloggett, a bed-ridden Padstow woman, known by neighbours as ‘the little cripple’ (Yates 1940, p. 6; Young 2017). She wrote eighteen books from the age of thirty-five to her death at seventy-two and among these there were three important works on Cornish folklore (Tregarthen 1905, 1906, 1911). She also left, at her death, a number of manuscripts that were later collected and published by the American writer Elizabeth Yates in three volumes, the most important concerning pixy-lore (Tregarthen 1940, 1944, 1949). It is in the first posthumous volume that Tregarthen’s story about Castle1 Personal communication from Jason Semmens, 8 June 2015: ‘Barbara Spooner does indeed refer to the spectral battle in her MS at the Courtney Library, but it was taken from Drew, not from Jenner. The relevant passage is on pp. 100, 101 of the MS.’ 98 Simon Young an-Dinas, ‘the Piskey Warriors’, appears (Tregarthen 1940, pp. 67–75). The date of the story is unknown but it was necessarily written before Sloggett’s death in 1923 and has stylistic similarities to a series of stories published in 1911 (Tregarthen 1911). Tregarthen had good contacts with the Castle-an-Dinas area. In fact, of her forty-two Cornish folk stories, three come from the Goss moors where the fort stands (Tregarthen 1907, pp. 73– 98; 1940, pp. 67–75 and 105–16): only her home at Padstow was more frequently used as a setting (nine stories). Her connection may have come through her maternal grandmother Maria Carter (eleven stories) who was born in nearby St Mawgan, and who lived next door or in the same house as Sloggett for many years in Padstow.2 The narrator of the Piskey Warriors was ‘Emlyn Moyle’, who we learn ‘was never happier than when telling tales of the Piskeys’ (Tregarthen 1940, p. 68). Emlyn goes out to the moor and gets caught in fog and, pixy-led, finds herself at the foot of Castle-anDinas as the pixies are fighting on the ramparts. She watches reluctantly, worried that, should she move away, then the pixies will notice her: piskeys, of course, as many fairies, resent any disturbance on the part of mortals (Briggs 1977, p. 233). Emlyn also states that the piskeys were re-enacting, according to local tradition, a battle of long ago in a ‘mimic fight’ (Tregarthen 1940, p. 73). The conflict, in the end, seems to be theatre, something underlined by the sudden disappearance of all the piskeys and the absence of any blood or weapons on the ground: after the fog had cleared ‘she saw nothing but sleeping flowers’ (p. 74). Tregarthen’s account is strangely reminiscent of a memorate in Elliott O’ Donnell’s Ghostly Phenomena, published in 1910. One of my informants, Miss White, who lives in West Cornwall, tells me that on one occasion, when she was crossing some very lonely fields, almost within sight of Castleon-Dinas [sic], she suddenly saw a number of little people rise from among the boulders of granite on the top of a hill facing her; they were all armed with spears and engaged in a kind of mimic battle, but, on Miss White approaching them, they instantly vanished, nor did she ever see them again. (O’Donnell 1910, pp. 76–7) This passage fits well with Tregarthen’s account, particularly the detail about a ‘mimic battle’. The difficulty is that O’Donnell is referring to the other Castle-an-Dinas in Penwith on the other side of Cornwall! Note that O’Donnell had ‘a reputation’: M. R. James admitted ‘I do not know whether to class [his books] as narratives of fact or exercises in fiction’ (James 2011, p. 415). The general consensus has been for the latter, with Neil Wilson calling them, charitably, ‘factional’ works (Wilson 2000, p. 8). Perhaps the most economical explanation here is that O’Donnell had heard rumours of the mimic battle and sited it, dishonestly or confusedly, in a part of Cornwall he knew well (O’Donnell 1910, p. 77; and Anon., ‘Cornwall a Much Haunted County’ 1928). A fourth reference, meanwhile, is to a ‘Norse’ Ghost and appeared in 1932 in the Cornishman in an account of the London Cornishmen’s visit to Castle-an-Dinas (Anon., ‘London-Cornishmen’ 1932). At the foot of Castle-an-Dinas hill, the party were able to overlook the grounds and ruins of the house, which was built by Mr. Stephens (who was American consul at Plymouth), and was burnt down some years ago. Here Mr. H. S. Burgess, the son of the owner, related the remarkable story of the ghost who is said to haunt the locality, Mr. Burgess, jun., asserted that during the 12 years they had lived there his father had several times seen the ghost which usually appeared at St. John’s Eve, or Twelfth Night, about midnight. The 2 In the 1851 census Maria was based at ‘21’ Duke Street, Padstow, when Ellen was next door; in the 1861 census at ‘51’ Duke Street with Ellen again next door; in the 1871 census they lived together at ‘175’ North Quay. Note that numbers in the census do not correspond to actual street numbers. The Supernatural Warriors of Castle-an-Dinas 99 Fig. 2. Castle-an-Dinas as illustrated by John Norden in his map of Pydar Hundred (c. 1610); St Dennis church stands opposite the hill-fort across Goss Moor, with the hundredal boundary also running between them. John Norden, Speculi Britanniæ Pars: a Topographicall and Historical Description of Cornwall (London, 1728) apparition was that of a Norseman or Viking, about 6ft. 5in. high, with leather jerkin and brass helmet, and carrying a spiked club over the left arm. The figure appeared at the top of the lane on the Castle-an-Dinas side of the main road, and went down the drive to the house, or the lane at the back of the house. It had never been seen stationary, but always marching, and had taken no notice whatever when challenged. It would be interesting to know why the ghost was reckoned to be a Viking: did the brass helmet perhaps have horns, as faux Vikings from this period are usually shown to have? (e.g. Wawn 2000, pp. 123–7.) The most likely explanation is a mistaken idea about the fort’s origin. From the early modern period to the nineteenth century there had been a debate about the ethnic origins of the builders of the fort. Some had asserted that the builders had been Danish (Gilbert 1817, I, 204–5) and one nineteenth-century poet intoned magnificently (with a doubtful rhyme) ‘Castle-an-Dinas o’er the landscape broods | Grim as the Dane first left his pines and frozen floods’ (Stokes 1836, p. 5). There were various proofs put forward for this, as we now know, impossible claim, but the key was the correspondence between the word Danes and the word Dinas: note that the word Dinas means simply ‘fort’ in the Brittonic languages; compare, say, Dinas Emrys in Wales (Padel 1985, p. 85). This misguided scholarly notion may have filtered down to the popular level; or it may have surged up from popular lore, infecting scholarly writing. By 1865, Hunt testifies, in any case, that there were legends throughout Cornwall about Danes (Hunt 1881, pp. 307–8). The ghost, then, was very possibly a Viking because ‘the Dines’, as they might be called, had long ago, according to locals, dwelt there. 100 Simon Young (iii) Discussion The references from Drew, from Jenner, from Tregarthen and from H. S. Burgess coalesce. The first point to note is that all involve warriors: Lilliputian soldiers, Arthur’s warband (armed with muskets), pisky swords-men and, of course, a Viking with a club. The second point is that we are not speaking, with the important exception of Drew, about a one-off memorate. (It is a nice question whether Drew’s episode is the beginning of this series or just another episode in it.) We are dealing with traditions. So Jenner’s old man said that the soldiers were ‘often’ seen. Tregarthen writes that locals hearing noises in the fog ‘would whisper to each other, “The little bits of men are fighting that great battle again”’ (Tregarthen 1940, p. 69). Then, the journalist reporting the Viking ghost wrote that ‘it was said to haunt’ the area. These two points are straightforward. However, there is a third point which needs to be teased out. Drew’s warriors were ‘drawn up in battle array’ and ‘their marches, countermarches, and apparent encounters’ were observed. The old man’s musketeers and the Viking were marching: Tregarthen’s pixies, too, were engaged in a ‘mimic’ battle. In all four cases we have supernatural troops, to borrow Jenner’s word, ‘drilling’. There should be no surprise that martial Castle-an-Dinas has inspired phantasmal troops. But it is strange that there are four different kinds of spectral warriors all drilling in the same general area. There is, however, a simple way of reducing this number, namely asking whether we have not here a problem of labels. Jenner’s old man says ‘Arthur’, Emlyn Moslyn says ‘piskeys’, and H. S. Burgess says ‘Viking’: you say ‘tomahto’ I say ‘tomayto’? Perhaps this is no more than a simple problem of different terms used for the same thing, the local phantom host? If we needed to bring the four different references together the easiest thing, remembering Drew’s reference to Lilliput, would be to assimilate Arthur and the ghost Dane with fairy-lore. After all, Arthur was frequently associated with the fairy folk in tradition and, appears to have been a kind of fairy in pre-Galfridian Brittonic myth (Padel 1994). Even later medieval Latin writers put Arthur together with the fairies after his death and at his second coming (Day 2005, pp. 47–54). If Arthur’s host here were fairy folks, might this explain the bizarre detail about ‘the moonbeams glancing on their muskets’: perhaps these were ‘pixy-lights’, that is lights seen on the moor, usually understood as ignes fatui (Bray 1836, I, 175; Laycock 1920, pp. 86–7; St Leger-Gordon 1972, p. 22; Thornbury 1870, p. 169)? Then, Danes, too, in British and particularly in Irish tradition are described as if they were fairies: for example, they are associated with certain prehistoric monuments or ancient coins are termed ‘Dane’s money’, when dug up, both associations typical of fairies (e.g. Ó Giolláin 1987; Westwood and Simpson 2005, pp. 530–1). Note, too, that the Viking was said to appear on Midsummer Night’s Eve (Anon., ‘London-Cornishmen’ 1932). These different military units — the solitary Dane, the Pixies, Arthur’s warband, etc. — may belong to the same fairy army. British and Irish fairies, of course, had battles, a subject that badly needs an articlelength study; and one that would benefit from a wider European perspective (Green 2017, pp. 175–7). The most famous examples come from Ireland including a pitched sky battle in Co. Mayo where the fairies arrived as huge swarms of flies (Evans-Wentz 1911, p. 39); there was also a fairy battle recorded in Kilkenny in 1800 when ‘hawthorns on the fences were broken, as if crushed beneath the feet of [fairy] infantry and cavalry’ (Martin 1901, II, 21–2); and in Ulster tradition about a battle between the fairies of Ireland and the fairies of Scotland (Foster 1951, pp. 80–1). There are fewer such traditions from Britain but they include, to the best of my knowledge, four fairy battles from the south-west (including the pixies of Castle-an-Dinas). A battle was fought, according to Bray, between The Supernatural Warriors of Castle-an-Dinas 101 Fig. 3. Plan of Castle-an-Dinas and St Dennis, illustrating an article by Henry McLauchlan, ‘Notes on Castle Kernick, and other Castles’, Thirty-First Annual Report of the Royal Institution of Cornwall (1849), pp. 19–31 102 Simon Young the fairies and pixies to decide the border between their realms (Bray 1854, pp. 11–12).3 There is a legend that an old entrenchment at Simonsbath (western Somerset) was used by the pixies ‘as a defence against the mine spirits’ (Whitcombe 1874, p. 114). There is also a fascinating seventeenth-century phantom hurling match witnessed near Tintagel in Cornwall: one that recalls fairy-lore (Young 2015). Fairy hurling matches followed the same patterns as fairy battles in Ireland, and are best classed together. We must remember, too, that traditional fairies were often described as soldiers and, to use Jenner’s word again, were seen ‘drilling’. A few of many possible instances. A ‘[horse] car driver’ in the west of Ireland saw fairies ‘walking like soldiers through [a] hollow’ (Gregory 1920, II, 168). ‘In the year 1797, a great number of fairies were observed at midday marching in military array across a bog between Maryborough and Stradbally’ (Martin 1901, II, 22). On Man a witness ‘saw come in twos and threes a great crowd of little beings smaller than Tom Thumb and his wife. All of them, who appeared like soldiers, were dressed in red. They moved back and forth amid the circle of light, as they formed into order like troops drilling’ (Evans-Wentz 1911, p. 133; my italics). In the early to mid eighteenth century phantom armies were seen three times on Soutra Fell in Cumbria: I have argued elsewhere that these should be understood in terms of fairy lore (Young forthcoming), as they were seen, each time, on Midsummer Night’s Eve. A nineteenth-century account has the detail that ‘On other occasions the fairies [of Mellor Moor in Lancashire] are supposed to exhibit themselves in military array on the mountain sides; their evolutions conforming in every respect to the movements of modern troops’ (Young 2014, p. 20). In the late 1800s a boy used to witness fairies in his bedroom: ‘I saw column after column of tiny soldiers marching up from the right of my bed over my eiderdown …’ (Johnson 2014, p. 170). (iv) Conclusion Castle-an-Dinas has previously been associated with Arthurian legend. However, this brief note shows that there is also a recurring tradition, in the eighteenth, nineteenth and early twentieth century, of phantom warriors on or near the fort. Showing that this tradition exists is one thing: explaining it is, of course, quite another. We have here suggested that we might be dealing with the same tradition filtered through different individuals, who use different terms: pixies, Lilliputians, Danes, Arthurian warriors … As to why fairies here and elsewhere are so often seen ‘drilling’ we have no satisfactory answer. Again, it is far easier to prove that the tendency exists in our collections than to actually explain why fairies should be seen to be acting in this way. Soldiers were perhaps the one institution in traditional European societies (excluding the monastic orders) where everyone was dressed, as fairies, in uniform fashion. But why should fairies so often be described marching in battle order? Just possibly the answer is to be sought in neurology and psychiatry. Oliver Sacks (2012, p. 22), for example, identifies the following features as being common in Charles Bonnet Syndrome (and, we might wonder, in other related conditions?). ‘There are strong tendencies to repetition and multiplication [in hallucinations], so that one may see rows or phalanxes of people, all dressed similarly and making similar motions … And there is a strong tendency to elaboration: hallucinatory 3 This is a peculiar reference because it appears in Bray’s introduction to her volume of children’s stories (1854), but not in her Description (1836): it is the only bit of pixy-lore in that introduction not also found in her earlier adult work. A similar tradition is attested by Tongue 1965 (p. 112), but can we trust the author? ‘The Fairies no longer inhabit Somerset, for they were defeated in a pitched battle with the Pixies, and everywhere west of the River Parrett is now Pixyland.’ She ascribes it to a conversation with the Somerset writer Herbert W. Kille, who had died in 1962, three years before publication of her book. The Supernatural Warriors of Castle-an-Dinas 103 figures often seem to be wearing “exotic dress”, rich robes, and strange headgear.’ Though this, of course, hardly explains collective sightings. Acknowledgements A very early draft of this article was read to the Ninth Legendary Weekend of the Folklore Society: I am grateful to Umbra Institute for funding my visit to Chatham, Kent, where the Weekend took place and for feedback from the folklorists gathered there. Thanks too to Ron James, Oliver Padel and Jason Semmens for discussion. Bibliography Anon., ‘Cornwall a much haunted county’. Cornishman, 6 December 1928, p. 4 Anon., ‘London-Cornishmen’. Cornishman, 8 September 1932, p. 2 Baring-Gould, Sabine. Cornish Characters and Strange Events (London, 1909) Bray, Anna Eliza. 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