'Giants of St Michael's Mount' Cornish Folk Tale on Gandolf dot Com

Cornish Giants

How Giants Built St. Michael's Mount

Robert Hunt's Popular Romances of the West of England published in 1865 describes how Mount St. Michael was built by giants, as follows:

The History of the redoubtable Jack proves that St. Michael's Mount was the abode of the giant Cormelian, or, as the name is sometimes given, Cormorant. We are told how Jack destroyed the giant, and the story ends. Now, the interesting part, which has been forgotten in the narrative, is not only that Cormoran lived on, but that he built the Mount, his dwelling place. St. Michael's Mount, as is tolerably well known, is an island at each rise in the tide-the distance between it and the mainland being a little more than a quarter of a mile. In the days of giants, however, it was some six miles from the sea, and was known as the White Rock in the Wood, or in Cornish, "Carreg luz en kuz." Of the evidences in favor of this, more will be said when the traditions connected with physical phenomena are dealt with. In this wood the giant desired to build his home, and to rear it above the trees, that he might from the top keep watch over the neighboring country. Any person carefully observing the structure of the granite rocks will notice their tendency to a cubical form. These stones were carefully selected by the giant from the granite of the neighboring hills, and he was for a long period employed in carrying and piling those huge masses, one on the other, in which labor he compelled his wife to aid him. It has been suggested, with much show of probability, that the confusion of the two names alluded to has arisen from the fact that the giant was called Cormoran, and that the name of his wife was Cormelian; at all events, there is no harm in adopting this hypothesis. The toil of lifting those gigantic masses from their primitive beds, and carrying them through the forest, was excessive. It would seem that the heaviest burdens were imposed upon Cormelian, and that she was in the habit of carrying those rocky masses in her apron. At a short distance from the "White Rock," which was now approaching completion, there exists large masses of greenstone rock. Cormelian saw no reason why one description of stone would not do as well as another; and one day, when the giant Cormoran was sleeping, she broke off a vast greenstone rock, and taking it in her apron, hastened towards the artificial hill with it, hoping to place it without being observed by Cormoran. When, however, Cormelian was within a short distance from the "White Rock," the giant awoke, and presently perceived that his wife was, contrary to his wishes, carrying a green stone instead of a white one.. In great wrath he arose, followed her, and, with a dreadful imprecation, gave her a kick. Her apron-string broke, and the stone fell to the sand. There it has ever since remained, no human power being sufficient to remove it. The giantess died, and the mass of greenstone, resting, as it does, on clay slate rocks, became her monument. In more recent days, when the light of Christianity was dawning on the land, this famous rock was still rendered sacred: "a lytle chapel" (Leland) having been built on it; and to this day it is usually known as the "The Chapel Rock."

(Robert Hunt, Popular Romances of the West of England, pages 46-47.)

Giant's Well at Mount Saint Michael

The Giant's Well, which may allude to Jack's pit and tomb of the Mount's giant, is a landmark described by Baring-Gould:

At the foot of the rock on Mount Saint Michael is a draw well, and a little way up the rock is a tank called Giant's well. Saint Michael's Mount is the habitation of the famous giant with whom Tom Thumb tried conclusions.

(Baring-Gould , A Book of Cornwall, page 298.)

The Giant of St. Michael's Mount Loses His Wife

The giant on the Mount and the giant on Trecrobben Hill were very friendly. They had only one cobbling hammer between them, which they would throw from one to the other, as either required it. One day the giant on the Mount wanted the hammer in a great hurry, so he shouted, " Holloa, up there! Trecroben, throw us down the hammer, woost a'?"

"To be sure," sings out Trecrobben; " here! look out, and catch'm."

Now, nothing would do but the giant's wife, who was very nearsighted, must run out of her cave to see Trecrobben throw the hammer. She had no hat on; and coming at once out into the light, she could not distinguish objects. Consequently, she did not see the hammer coming through the air, and received it between her eyes. The force with which it was flung was so great that the massive bone of the forehead of the giantess was crushed, and she fell dead at the giant's feet. You may be sure there was a great todo between the two giants. They sat wailing over the dead body, and with their sighs they produced a tempest. These were unavailing to restore the old lady, and all they had to do was to bury her. Some say they lifted the Chapel Rock and put her under it, others, that she is buried beneath the castle court, while doubt the giants' detractors-declare that they rolled into the sea, and took no more heed of it.

Robert Hunt , Popular Romances of the West of England, page 55.)

The Key of the Giant's Castle

The giant's castle at Treryn, remarkable as a grand example of truly British Cyclopean architecture, was built by the power of enchantment. The giant to whom all the rest of his race were indebted for this stronghold was in every way a remarkable mortal. He was stronger than any other giant, and he was a mighty necromancer. He sat on the promontory of Treryn, and by the power of his will he compelled the castle to rise out of the sea. It is only kept in its present position by virtue of a magic key. This key the giant placed in a holed rock, known as the Giant's lock, and whenever this key, a large round stone, can be taken out of the lock, the promontory of Treryn and its castle will disappear beneath the waters. There are not many people who obtain even a sight of this wonderful key. You must pass at low tide along a granite ledge, scarcely wide enough for a goat to stand on. If you happen to make a false step, you must be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Well, having got over safely, you come to a pointed rock with a hole in it; this is the castle lock. Put your hand deep in the hole, and you will find at the bottom a large egg-shapped stone, which can be easily moved in any direction. You will feel certain that you can take it out,--but try! Try as you may, you will find that it will not pass through the hole; yet no one can doubt that it once went in.>

Lieutentant Goldsmith dissolved one bit of superstition by foolishly throwing the fatal Logan Stone from its bearing; but no one has ever yet succeeded in removing the key of the giant's castle from the hole in which the necromancer is said to have placed it when he was dying.

(Robert Hunt , Popular Romances of the West of England, pages 47-48.)

Giant's Stone Near Breage

O>n the road from Breage, before the turn to Pengersick is reached, lies a stone by the roadside. It is one of those cast by the Giant of Godolphin Hill after his wife, of whom he was jealous, and who often made off to visit the Giant of Pengersick. Many have moved this stone, but each time disaster has struck the one who moved it so that each time it has been returned.

(Baring-Gould , A Book of Cornwall, page 291.)

The Giant that was Caught

All this happened before Jack the Giant-Killer came to Cornwall.

There once lived, you know, a mighty race of Giants among the Cornish rocks and caves. The biggest of these Giants were like towers. One of them could stand with one foot on a mountain-top and place his other foot on a mountain six miles off. When the Giants played ball, they hurled great fragments of rock at one another.

There were fierce Giants who ate boys for dinner, and also kind and friendly ones. There were Gogmagog the Giant Captain, twelve cubits high; Blunderbuss and Thunderbore; Cormelian and Cormoran; the enormous Bolster; and Trebiggan, vast with long snake-like arms.

Now one of the Cornish Giants, a horrid monster, had but a single eye and that in the middle of his huge forehead. But he could see far with it, and as he liked veal and parsley pies better than pies made of boys, he kept a sharp watch-out with that one eye for calves.

He lived on an island, and no sooner did he spy a calf frisking along the shore opposite, than he waded through the deep sea, slung the calf over his shoulder, and strode back through the sea to his island. Then what a luscious veal and parsley pie he had for supper!

It happened one day while the hungry Giant was chasing a calf, an Enchanter looked out from his tower. He saw that the calf was his, and he did not intend to have it made into a pie. He began to work spells.

Instantly the Giant found himself stuck fast to a rock, with the calf on his shoulder. He twisted this way and that, he pulled and struggled, it was of no use. There he stuck and there he had to stay all night with the calf bleating in his ears.

The next morning the Enchanter set him free, and flogged him till he dropped the calf. The Enchanter kept on flogging him, till the Giant with a howl leaped into the sea and bellowing madly waded back to his island.

He was starving, and there was no veal and parsley pie that night. Day after day he stayed in his cave and was afraid to venture out to look for food. And he would have starved to death, if a good-natured young Giant, who lived nearby, had not brought him food and sold it to him for much gold. The horrible monster, you see, had his cave stuffed with gold and silver treasures, and he had to pay them all to the young Giant.

This happened before the days of Jack the Giant Killer. And since his time there have been no Giants in Cornwall. But, you know, there are the Spriggans. Funny impish little Fairies are they!

You may see them on a summer night along the cliffs, thousands and thousands, whole swarms of Spriggans. They have charge of the Giants' buried treasures. And some old Grannies say, that when the Giants left their bodies they became Spriggans.

Watch out for the Spriggans!

(Frances Jenkins Olcott , Wonder Tales from the Fairy Isles, pages 64-66)

Remember: If you like what you see here, you may take home Celtic jewelry or a gift of the Celtic spirit by visiting our sister website:

Celtic Jewelry and Gifts at Celtic Metaphysical Jewelry dot Com

We sell many items imported from Cornwall.