It flowers from July to September.
Another heath found there and near Truro is the Erica ciliaris, with bright purple flowers of oblong form; it is by far the most beautiful of our English heaths. The flowers are half an inch in length, growing down the upper part of the stem, and the leaves are delicately fringed with hairs. It has a somewhat glutinous feel. It is rare except in Cornwall.
A rare plant, and pretty withal, is the strapwort (Corrigiola littoralis), trailing among the shingle on the bar of Loe Pool. It has minute white flowers and glaucous leaves. The plant has a curious habit of shifting its quarters almost every year from one part of the shore to another.
"Sometimes, for instance, it abounds on the slaty beach at Penrose, but scarcely a single specimen is to be found on the opposite side of the lake. Next year, perhaps, it grows in profusion on the eastern beaches, but has disappeared from its former station." (Johns.)
The strapwort grows nowhere else in Britain but here and in two places in Devonshire.
On the cliffs may be seen the sky-blue vernal squill in May and June, but by midsummer it has disappeared to make room for the autumnal squill, a much less beautiful species.
In marshy spots may be found the pale pinguicula and the buckbean. Four kinds of genistas are to be seen in flower, bright and yellow.
The purple allium, or chive garlic, may be found where water has stood during the winter.
The common asparagus grows in great abundance in the clefts of the rocks. In ravines flourishes the blood-red crane's-bill, and the common harebell, so desiderated on the granite formation, but not found there, may here be met with.
Mr. Johns says: -
"A sloping bank on the right hand of Caerthillian valley, about a hundred yards from the sea, produces, I think, more botanical rarities than any other spot of equal dimensions in Great Britain. Here are crowded together in so small a space that I actually covered with my hat growing specimens all together of Lotus hispidus, Trifolium Bocconi, T. Molinerii, and T. Strictum. The first of these is far from common, the others grow nowhere else in Great Britain."
The cross-leaved heath, found elsewhere pretty generally, with its little cluster of pale waxlike bells at the head of the stalk, does not affect the Lizard.
The woad, wherewith our British ancestors dyed themselves, flourishes abundantly in the Meneage peninsula. It has bright yellow flowers in panicles growing on an upright stem, some two or three feet high, and appears in June and July.
The woad (Isatis tinctoria) yields true indigo, but it contains only about one-thirtieth of the quantity found on the indigo tinctoria cultivated in India. The leaves are ground to a paste in a mill, and then allowed to ferment during eight or twelve days. After that they are formed into balls and dried.
In ancient times this pasty mess was directly used in dyeing by those who carried on all kinds of domestic works at home. During the putrefactive fermentation of the woad ammonia is formed and hydrogen evolved. The latter, while in the nascent state, reduces the blue indigo to the state of white indigo, which, being soluble, can penetrate the wool to be dyed, where it is deposited in the insoluble state as blue indigo, on exposure to the oxygen of the air.
There is an incident in the life of S. Piran, or Kieran, who founded a church, S. Keverne, in the Lizard district, which is connected with dyeing with woad.
His mother was one day engaged in preparing the dye, called by the Irish glasin. Kieran, then a child, was present; and as it was deemed unlucky for a male person to witness the preparation of the dye, she bundled him out of the cabin, whereon he uttered a curse, "May there be a dark stripe in the wool," and the cloth in dyeing actually did exhibit a dark grey stripe in it. The glasin was again prepared, and again Kieran was turned out of the house, whereon he again cursed the process that the material to be dyed might be whiter than bone, and again it was as he had said. The woad was prepared a third time, and Kieran's mother asked him not to spoil it, but, on the contrary, to bless it. This he did with such effect that there was not made before or after a glasin that was its equal, for what remained in the vat served not only to colour all the cloth of the tribe, but made the cats and dogs that touched it blue as well. The explanation of the miracle is very simple. The two failures were due to imperfect fermentation in one case and over-fermentation in the other, accidents to which woad was always liable, especially when prepared, as it was in ancient times, from the fresh leaves, in different stages of growth, and at one period of the year, when the weather was warm and changeable.[24 - Sullivan, Introduction to O'Curry's Lectures on the Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish, 1873, i. p. cliv.]
We can see in this story how a fable of a miracle grew up. The circumstance certainly may have happened, and it was afterwards attributed to the saintly boy being turned out of doors, and ill-wishing the dye-vat.
Before the introduction of indigo, woad was specially cultivated in Europe, but after the former was brought in, the woad was no longer raised. At first, indeed, indigo and woad were employed together in dyeing; then came the plan of using certain chemicals in place of woad, which injured the wool and destroyed the quality of cloths; so that in Thuringia orders were issued by the Government prohibiting the employment of indigo.
There is plenty of material for dyeing to be found in Meneage. The moss Hypnum cupressiformum is still employed in the county of Mayo for the purpose of giving wool for stockings a reddish brown colour mottled with white. The white woollen yarn to be dyed is made into skeins; these are tied at intervals by very tight ligatures of linen thread, and then put into the dye vat. The binds prevent the dye from penetrating into that portion of the wool compressed by them, and these portions remain pure white, whereas the rest comes out a rich orange-brown colour. When this thread is knitted into stockings it produces a pretty mottled pattern-the heather, as it is now called. And in all probability the speckled garments to which old King Brychan owed his name were thus produced.
Bed-straw and madder again yield yellow and red, and alder and bogbean a fine black. So the Lizard, when other trades fail, can go in for dyeing.
There is a single windmill in the district.
The story goes that at one time it was rumoured that a second was about to be constructed. The miller was concerned. He went to see the man who entertained the scheme.
"I say, mate, be you goin' to set up another windmill?"
"I reckon I be; you don't object? There's room for more nor one."
"Oh, room, room enough! But there mayn't be wind enough to sarve us both."
An old chap named Peter Odger lived near Mullion. He was somewhat given to the bottle. One day he went with a cart and horse along the road, and took a keg of cider with him. The day was hot, the cider got into his head, and he fell asleep. Some boys found the horse standing in the road feeding. They took the brute out and drove it away.
An hour later Peter awoke, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. "Well, if iver!" said he. "Be I Peter Odger or be I not? 'Tes contrary any way. If I be Peter Odger, I've lost an 'orse; if I bain't, why I've gained a cart."
Peter and his wife did not get on very "suant" together. At last Peter could endure domestic broils no longer; so one day he took every penny he had, and started for the United States. He shipped from Liverpool.
As the vessel neared the Newfoundland coast it got into the cold current setting down from the north, and an iceberg hove in sight. This was too much for Peter. "I likes warmth," said he, "and the only warmth I don't like is when my wife gives it me. I reckon I'll go home." So he covenanted to work his passage back, and by some means or other he did not surrender his ticket for the passage across.
Without landing in America, Peter returned in the vessel in which he had gone out, and with his ticket in his pocket. He walked quietly into his cottage, and put the ticket up on the mantel-shelf.
"Thear, old woman," said he, "I've been and got your ticket for the other world. It cost a sight o' money, but I don't grudge it."
Mrs. Odger in the meanwhile had been hard put to it, with no money in the house, and had led a hand-to-mouth existence, mainly on charity. She did not like it. She was glad to see Peter back.
"You've been a long time away," she said.
"Ees, I reckon. I just tripped over to see that all were ready for you in the other world. They'm expectin' of you, and here's your ticket."
It is said that Mrs. Odger was amiable after that. The ticket was ever held in terror over her head.
At Mullion, once a quiet, lost corner of the world, are now three monster hotels with electric light; their windows look out seaward across the great bay towards Penzance and the granitic headlands of Penwith. From the Lizard the only prominent hill visible is Tregonning, which was held by the Irish colony in the beginning of the sixth century against the Cornish King Tewdrig, and is still crowned with their stone camp.
One of the Irish who settled in Meneage was S. Ruan, or Rumon. How long he remained there we do not know, but he not only founded two churches in the Lizard district and blessed there a holy well, but he also planted an establishment at Ruan Lanihorne, near Tregony, and a chapel at the mouth of the Fal; his bones were translated to Tavistock Abbey in 960. He was a convert of S. Patrick, but left his native island early for Britain, where he was ordained. On leaving Cornwall he visited Brittany, and got into trouble there, for the people took it into their heads that he was a magician, who every night went about in the form of a wolf and devoured their sheep and carried off their children. One woman even denounced him to the prince, Gradlo, for having eaten her daughter. The prince, or duke, could not directly oppose the superstition of his people, so he announced that he would expose Ruan to his wolf-dogs, and if they smelt anything of the wild beast about him they would tear him to pieces. This was a satisfactory decision; it promised sport. But, in the meantime, Gradlo suffered his hounds to be with Ruan, and to be fed from his hand. Accordingly, when the old Irish monk was produced before his accusers and the hounds let in on him, they licked his hands. The people were quite satisfied, and Ruan doubtless then had a hint to make tracks for Cornwall once more, where there were no wolves-at least, in the Lizard district.
Mullion Church is perhaps dedicated to S. Melyan, a prince of Cornwall, who was treacherously murdered by his brother-in-law, Riwhal, at a conference. I have already told the story. But it is also possible that the patron saint may be a Brittany bishop.
Landewednack and Gunwalloe are foundations of S. Winwaloe, related to the Cornish royal family, but chiefly known as a founder in Brittany.
His great foundation there was Landewennec; but that he visited Britain to see what was the rule observed in British monasteries is what we are expressly told in his Life. However, he clearly came to Britain to make foundations as well, and he not only established the Cornish Landewednack and Gunwalloe in the Lizard district, but churches near Launceston, and Portlemouth on the estuary of the Kingsbridge creek in Devon.
His mother is called Gwen the Three-breasted, and she is actually represented with three breasts on a monument in Brittany. She was niece of Constantine I. of Cornwall and Devon, and cousin of Geraint. Gwen had been married before, and had become the mother of S. Cadfan. She and her husband had a rough time of it when they landed in Brittany, at Brehat, at the mouth of the Gouet, as the region was almost void of population, and given up to wilderness and wood. Winwaloe was sent into the little islet of Brehat to S. Budoc, who lived there and received and taught disciples. It is interesting to know that the circular huts, or foundations of the huts, of his monastery still exist there as well as the cemetery, and the abbot's beehive habitation is kept in repair as a landmark for fishermen.
When Winwaloe came to man's estate he resolved on founding a monastery of his own. He gathered together a certain number of disciples, thirteen in all, and they settled on a bleak island off the western coast, and remained there for three years.
On this islet was a rocky hill, whereon S. Winwaloe sat and taught; and far away to the east, as he taught, he saw the green forests and the smiling pastures of the mainland golden with buttercups, and there rose the smoke from the hearths of the inhabitants.
Now when the three years were ended, one day there came an extraordinary ebb-tide. And when the saint saw that there was a way dry, or almost dry, to the land, "Arise," said he; "in God's name let us go over;" and he bade his disciples follow him. "But," said he, "let none go alone; let one hold my hand, and with his other hand hold his brother's, and so let us advance in chain, and we shall peradventure be able to reach the land before the tide turns and overwhelms all. Let us hold together, that the strong may support the weak, and that if one falls the others may lift him up."
Now when Winwaloe said this, he spoke like a true Cornishman, and it shows that the great Cornish principle of One and All was seated in his heart all those centuries ago; in fact, in the sixth century.
An old miner from Australia said to me the other day, "Never saw such fellows as those Cornishmen; they hold together like bees. When I was out in Australia there was a Cornishman with me, my pal. One day someone said to us, 'There is a Cornishman from Penzance just landed at Melbourne.' 'Where's his diggings?' asked my pal. 'Oh, he is gone up country to – ' I forget the name of the mine. Will you believe it, off went my pal walking, I can't tell you how far, and was away several days from his work-gone off, to see that newly-arrived chap; didn't know his name even, but he was a Cornishman, and that was enough to draw him."
Sir Redvers Buller told me a story. He was on his way with a regiment of soldiers to Canada. Off the entrance to the S. Lawrence the vessel was enveloped in fogs and delayed, so that provisions ran short. Now there was a station on an islet there for shipwrecked mariners, where were supplies. So Sir Redvers went ashore in a boat to visit the store and ask for assistance.
When he applied, he found a woman only in charge.
"No," said she; "the supplies are for those who be shipwrecked, not for such as you."