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Magik

By the seventeenth century there was still standing: the downfalls of a castle or treble entrenchment in the midst of which is a hole leading to a vault underground.

"How far it extends no man living now can tell, by reasons of the damps or thick vapours that are in it, for as soon as you go an arrow flight in it or less your candles will go out or extinguish themselves for want of air."

Although known about locally and referred to as 'the fuggo hole', many were afraid to enter it, even by day, as they believed that it was inhabited by evil spirits.

"Women of villages near often threaten their crying babies that they will carry them down to the Fuggo and leave them there for the Bucca-Boo if they don't stop their squalling,' for it was believed to be 'haunted by beings of a fearful nature, whose path it was dangerous to cross."

The site became known as the Grambler Grove:

"well wooded, and the upper part thickly covered with hazel, thorn, and elder, with a tangled undergrowth of briars, brambles and furze. Few persons liked to pass this place, because strange noises were heard and fires often seen within it by night, when noone would venture near the place."

By contrast, the surrounding valley and slopes had, since the thirteenth century, been a charming garden to the old mansion of Trove, with terraced walks, orchards, vines, pavilions, fish ponds, apiaries, herbs, vegetables, sunny banks of flowers, towering ornamental pigeonaries, artificial rabbit warrens, swans and a bowling green. This was the home of the Levellis family who feature in a Cornish version of the Rumplestilstkin story, 'Duffy and the Devil'.

Duffy, procured from the nearby village of St Buryan by Squire Levellis to weave and spin for him, forms a pact with a devil who offers to do her work if she will go away with him. Her only escape is to find out the devil's name. A local witch, Bet of the Mill, offers to help Duffy, and disguising herself as a hare, leads the Squire and his hounds one night to the Grambler Grove, where the devil meets with a coven of witches.

"For miles we chased her - the finest hare that ever was seen, most in the dogs' mouths all the way, yet they couldn't catch her at all. Then we lost all sight and scent of her, till, tearing through brambles and thorns, we found ourselves in the Grambler Grove.

And now I know for certain that what the old folks say is true - how witches meet the Devil there of summers' nights. In winter they assemble in the Fuggo Hole, we all know; because one may often here the devil piping for their dance. And now I believe that what we took for a hare was a witch that we chased into this haunted wood.

Looking through the thickets I spied, on a bare spot, surrounded by withered oaks, a glimmering flame rising through clouds of smoke. The dogs skulked back and stood around me like things scared. Getting nearer, and looking through an opening, I saw scores of women - some old and ugly, others young and passable enough as far as looks go. Most of them were busy gathering withered ferns or dry sticks for the fire. I noted too that other witches, if one might judge by their dress, were constantly arriving - flying in over the trees, some mounted on ragworts, brooms, ladles, furze-pikes, or anything they could get astride of. Others came on through the smoke as comfortable as you please, sitting on three-legged stools and alighted by the fire, with their black cats on their laps. Many came in through the thickets like hares, made a spring through the flame, and came out of it as decent lasses as one might see.

A good large bonfire soon blazed up; then by its light I saw the old witch Bet of the Mill. And by her side a strapping dark-faced fellow that one wouldn't take to be a devil at all but for the company he was with, and the sight of his forked tail that just peeped out from under his coat skirts. The devil got drunk at last and the witches, locked hand in hand, danced round the fire with him in their midst, singing 'By night and day, we will dance and play, with our noble captain, Tarraway ! Tarraway!'

They danced madder and faster, pulled each other right through the fire, and they weren't so much as singed. I wanted to dance with them and called out 'Hurrah ! my merry Devil and witches all!'

In an instant, quick as lightning, the music stopped, out went the fire, a blast of wind swept away the embers and ashes, a cloud of dust and fire came in my eyes and nearly blinded me. When I again looked up they all had vanished."

Another account of the same story told how the squire chased a witch for more than a mile through the fogou, owls and bats flapping around his head, his dogs fleeing terrified, foaming at the mouth. In the bowels of the fogou he saw scores of witches who had come from far and wide, some from as far as Wales astride enormous leeks. The devil and the witches 'blew up' a fire and then danced 'like the wind', the devil dancing in and out of the fire, giving the witches a 'sound kicking'. 'Kicking', here, is a Victorian euphemism for a 'coarser word' an allusion, perhaps, to the fogou's use as a venue for sex magic.

The parish of St Buryan has a rich folklore of witchcraft and tales such as these showed that the site had been a major site for 'black' gatherings.

From "Fogou - A Journey into the Underworld", by Jo May, published by Gothic Image.

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