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I have a fairy godmother. At least, I feel I will always have her, even though she passed away a few years ago at the ripe old age of ninety-five.
She was indeed my and my sister’s godmother as appointed at our christening, but she was far more than that. Her warmth and wisdom and light had me crowning her ‘fairy’ at an early age. She truly was a magical person, and she was always there for us.
Before she passed away, it was her request to be buried with her mother and father in an enchanting churchyard (visit here), a beautiful place where sand meets sea, where cedars shelter wildflowers growing in abundance over the graves of beloved.
It is a place frequented by the fair folk. A place befitting a fairy godmother of high renown. The perfect place for her rest.
Two stories take place here, as detailed in Hunt’s Complete Cornish Folklore. Both feature a curious man known only as Richard. A man who had a penchant for seeing what others could not…
The Fairy Funeral
The parish church of Lelant is curiously situated amidst hills of blown sand, near the entrance of the creek of Hayle. The sandy waste around the church is called the Towen, and this place was long the scene of the midnight gambols of the Small People. In the adjoining village—or as it is called in Cornwall, the “Churchtown”—lived an old woman who had been, according to her own statement, a frequent witness to the use made by the fairies of the Towen. Her husband, also, had seen some extraordinary scenes on the same spot. From her—to me, oft-repeated description—I get the following tale:
It was the fishing season, and Richard had been to St Ives for some fish. He was returning laden with pilchards on a beautiful moonlight night, and as he ascended the hill from St Ives, he thought he heard the bell of Lelant Church tolling. Upon a nearer approach, he saw lights in the church, and most distinctly did the bell toll—not with its usual clear sound, but dull and heavy, as if it had been muffled, scarcely awakening any echo.
Richard walked towards the church, and cautiously but not without fear, approaching one of the windows, looked in. At first he could not perceive any one within, nor discover whence the light came by which everything was so distinctly illuminated. At length he saw, moving along the centre aisle, a funeral procession.
The little people who crowded the aisle, although they all looked very sorrowful, were not dressed in any mourning gamients—so far from it, they wore wreaths of little roses, and carried branches of the blossoming myrtle. Richard beheld the bier borne between six—whether men or women he could not tell—but he saw that the face of the corpse was that of a beautiful female, smaller than the smallest child’s doll. It was, Richard said “As if it were a dead seraph”, so very lovely did it appear to him.
The body was covered with white flowers, and its hair, like gold threads, was tangled amongst the blossoms. The body was placed within the altar, and then a large party of men with picks and spades began to dig a little hole close by the sacramental table. Their task being completed, others with great care removed the body and placed it in the hole. The entire company crowded around, eager to catch a parting glimpse of that beautiful corpse, ere yet it was placed in the earth.
As it was lowered into the ground, they began to tear off their flowers and break their branches of myrtle, crying, “Our queen is dead! Our queen is dead!”
At length one of the men who had dug the grave threw a shovelful of earth upon the body, and the shriek of the fairy host so alarmed Richard, that he involuntarily joined in it. In a moment, all the lights were extinguished, and the fairies were heard flying in great consternation in every direction. Many of them brushed past the terrified man, and shrieking, pierced him with sharp instruments. He was compelled to save his life by the most rapid flight.
The Fairy Revel
Richard also once witnessed a fairy revel in the Towen—upon which tables were spread, with the utmost profusion of gold and silver ornaments and fruits and flowers. Richard, however, according to the statement of “Aunt Alcey” (the name by which his wife was familiarly called), very foolishly interrupted the feast by some exclamation of surprise; whereas, had he but touched the end of a table with his finger, it would have been impossible for the fairy host to have removed an article, as that which has been touched by mortal fingers becomes to them accursed. As it was, the lovely vision faded before the eyes of the astonished labourer.
Extracts from Hunt’s Complete Cornish Folklore, Robert Hunt.
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Fascinating! I love that you are resurrecting these tales... and the book is going to be quite magical!