A Cornish lass’s response to Charles Causley’s poetry on Cornwall

Cornwall is a land steeped in history, myth, and tradition – qualities which when combined with the wildness of the Cornish landscape, bring magic to life. At least, that was how it felt as a child growing up in Cornwall; and in my group of friends I was always the story-teller. The consumer, speaker, and sharer of said magic. There has always seemed to be a certain uniqueness to storytelling in Cornwall – it is often deeply rooted in place. From the piskies up on Brown Willy, to St Michael’s Mount built by the giant Cormoran, the Beast haunting Bodmin moors, and the mermaids of Zennor. For a story-loving child (or adult) with an over-active imagination, Cornwall has a lot to love.

And yet, for me, as it does for many Cornish teenagers and young-adults the allure of Cornwall began to diminish as the mundanity of the work-life struggle took over and the time for magic is forgotten. That is why I feel that art like the poetry of Charles Causley is so important. Causley’s poetry reminds us of the magic that is inherently held in place across Cornwall – hidden in every quoit, cave, and mine, found at the crest of the carn, in the middle of the moors, and blowing in with every fresh breath from the sea.

Getting to know Causley’s Cornwall has been a nostalgic and enchanting journey. I immediately felt at home on hearing the familiar opening lines to ‘My Young Man’s a Cornishman’ – the allusion to ‘Going up Camborne Hill Coming Down’ as clear as my grandfather’s voice every time he sang it with Hayle Men’s Choir. I can envision the Cornish Maid’s dream to be married at “Trura Church” – not far from where my own parents were married. And I can taste the starry-gazey pie from the last time I attended the Mousehole festivities.

As well as reminding me of my love for my childhood home in the Penwith, I have also looked through Causley’s eyes at my new home in North Cornwall. I recently took a trip to Causley’s home of Launceston with my book of poetry in hand and followed the reading route set out by the Charles Causley Trust. How pleasant it was to share in the secret wishes made on the back of ‘Mary, Mary Magdalene’ and to learn the ‘True Ballad of Sir Henry Trecarell’ in the place that he built. I felt like a young child listening to the story-tellers of St Michael’s Mount for the first time tell me of the giant Cormoran and finding his stone heart on the path to the castle. Once again, every inch of the granite coast of Cornwall is imbued with magic if you only know where to look.

I hope that the unique histories and shared cultural experiences of Cornwall can continue to be enjoyed by many generations to come, and I look forward to the magic that will be cultivated and added to by those after me. For now, I think I am going to go back and reread my favourite tale as a child: the mermaid of Zennor – did you know that Charles Causley published a version? I can’t wait to experience it.

By Cara Fairhead