Allantide – The real Cornish Halloween

Autumn for many of us feels like the shortest of seasons before Winter makes itself at home. Allantide or Hallantide marked the end of autumn and the ushering in of winter. This Cornish celebration happened around the apple and orchard harvests in October and then coincided with the Christian liturgical commemoration of ‘All Hallows Eve’ which became ‘Hallowe’en’. 

In some parts of Cornwall, especially St Just (Penwith) Allantide was brought into the saint’s Feast celebration on or around 1 November. This special time of the year is also marked in British pagan cultures as ‘Samhain’.

Back in the day until the late 19^th century, big markets were held at this time of year called ‘Allan markets’ reminding us that Allantide wasn’t just a day unlike the plastic commercialism of today’s Americanised Halloween, but a turn of the year marked over a period of days if not few weeks, much like Harvest time (Hunt p. 388). 

Penzance was surrounded by fruit producers especially around Newlyn, Paul and Mousehole. If you couldn’t get to the Allan market at Penzance, fruit sellers like William Curnow would go around the surrounding villages selling Allan apples which were then gifted to children by their parents and relatives.

Remembering Allantide

Because of the orchard harvests, and the demand for cider, apples became a central feature of all of these celebrations, past and present. Fruiterers would display Allan apples in their windows. These were described as the largest apples you could lay your hands on. 

Folklore and games emerged from apple traditions such as peeling an apple in one go, throwing it over your shoulder and interpreting the initial of a significant person that might come into your life. People slept with their Allan apples to have auspicious dreams (Hunt p. 388). Various games were played too such as apple bobbing where two planks of wood were nailed together in a cross with candles mounted and lit on top of the cross and apples dangling from the bottom. You had to catch the apples with your mouth and avoid the hot wax! Walnuts and other nuts were thrown into the fire and the result interpreted as a kind of fortune telling. 

In early to mid-19^th century Penzance, about 1830, you might have heard the calls of a certain Dick Rastram who from this time of year until Christmas would peddle horoscopes, “Moor’s almanacks new, Some lies and some true.” This character is recalled by William Bottrell in Stories and Folklore of West Cornwall (p. 48). Dick was a Penzance chemist’s assistant, situated in the warehouses of Back Lane – later Bread Street. 

He becomes a character who gets invited to an Allantide feast by Mary and her husband Jackey. They had come into Penzance from St Just to “get meat and other things” at the market because they didn’t want to kill their pig for the winter before it was fat enough (p. 50). Mary asked Dick to arrive early to attend Church while he helped her heave her huge basket of “marketings” and sack of meat. “The basket is heavy with Hallan apples, the largest I could get, and with other things; the old mare will groan and grunt at some rate, all the way home, as she always do, the creature, when there’s a few pounds more than usual on her back.” (p. 50).

At this time of year an Autumn cleaning of the house took place, turfs were ricked to build the stores of fuel for the winter; doors and woodwork were cleaned with sand from the beach, and decomposed granite, called ‘gard’, from Tinpit Hill in St Levan was also used as a scouring agent. Dick arrived at 10am and greeted with a dram and a big breakfast. Mary had help cooking the feast from a woman from nearby Kelynack, a mantua-maker. They were joined by a couple from Sancreed and some young women from Morvah. 

The Allantide feast was what we’d call an ‘open house’ today. After Church, the feasters returned to the house where a large crock was lifted off the hearth containing boiled rump of beef, poultry, streaky pork, accompanied by turnips, carrots and other vegetables boiled in ‘kipps’ or net bags. The meat and veg were dished up on a large pewter platter and served with melted butter and parsley sauce from a boat. There was also a steamed rabbit pie and a baked figgy (plum) pudding powdered with white sugar. In another pot, steaming under a cloth, were red apply potatoes. “What a dear little crock!” cried Dick (p. 51).

The food was washed down with ale from pewter flagons “which shone like silver and were only used on grand occasions.” Eating carried on through the day and evening. A nip of brandy was passed round to aid digestion, and then jugs of hot toddy were served next to a tray of shag tobacco and long pipes. The fire was built up for the night. While, we’re told, the men stayed downstairs to smoke and gossip, the women went upstairs with a bottle of matured sweet mead, kept specially for this occasion. 

We have a few very old recipes for mead or metheglin from Penzance dating to the 17^th and 18^th century. One is a fortified edition, with added brandy, and those who enjoyed herbal flavours would add thyme rosemary, sweet-briar and heather prior to fermenting, it would then be bottled and preferably kept for a few years before drinking (Recipes, p. 53).

After the feasting, various guests went visiting or contemplated a swim in the sea. Allantide lasted as long as the hosts and food would let it. For tea-time Mary baked more cakes for the revellers, heavy cake, “black with currants, and too rich with cream for any one to eat much of” (p. 55) There were also risen cakes and apple cakes; bread eaten with cream and honey. Feasters returned every evening after work and the whole thing might last from preparations from the Thursday market til the next Wednesday. 

Returning to the story of Dick Rastram, he thought by the weekend he ought to be going home but Mary persuaded him to stay until “servy day” or Feasten Wednesday for some dancing. Mary said to Dick, “if you will, and go with me and Grace to the fiddler, for I can shake my shoes in a three-handed reel yet and shall for years to come, I hope.” Jackey then reminisced about his grandmother who danced of a Feasten Monday until she was 82 (p. 57). Jackey asked Dick to “keep a ‘Mazed Monday’ for once.” The word ‘mazed’ will be more familiar today with the advent of Mazey Day at Midsummer. This consisted of Jackey going to shoot some rabbits. Children and young people taking part in sport and games, once hurling and wrestling – though by the mid-19^th century we’re told it was not common. We might imagine this was a time when the apple-based fortune telling games were played.

So as Allantide drew to a close thoughts and preparations would have already begun for Midwinter…

References

Bottrell, William. 1880. Stories and Folk-Lore of West Cornwall. Third Series.

Hunt, Robert. 1881. Popular Romances of the West of England. Third Series.