Part 24 (2/2)

A little to the north of Challacombe is the great hill of Chapman Burrows, where stands a 'tall, lean slab of slate, the Longstone.' It is nine feet high, and in the broadest part about two feet eight inches wide. The history of the Longstone is unknown, but the suggestion has been made that it may be an ancient relic, a menhir, and this view is supported by the fact that about a dozen large tumuli lie on the slopes around. One of these is between ten and twelve feet high and three hundred feet round at the base. Burrows are found all over Exmoor. 'The eye of reflection sees stand uninterrupted a number of simple sepulchres of departed souls.... A morsel of earth now damps in silence the eclat of noisy warriors, and the green turf serves as a sufficient shroud for kings.'

By far the greatest part of Exmoor lies in Somerset, so that here one must not wander far amongst great round hills, wide distances, and deep combes. One has heard of strangers who have been disappointed by the first sight of Exmoor, for its heights are not very evident. There are no peaks, no sharply-cut isolated hills, nor any with a very striking outline, except Dunkery; but the whole moor is a tableland, across which the coach road runs at a level from twelve hundred to fourteen hundred feet above the sea: 'A bare rolling waste of moorland stretching away into the eastern distance, like the ocean ”heaving in long swells,”' and large s.p.a.ces of bracken, of bogs fringed with cotton-gra.s.s and rough gra.s.s and whortleberries, among which rise little glittering streams that splash their way down into the valleys beneath.

The sides of the glens leading from the borders of the moor are crowded with endless ma.s.ses of mountain-ashes, and whether the leaves make a background to the flat creamy cl.u.s.ters of sweet, heavily scented flowers or to great bunches of scarlet fruit, the long ranks give a very rich effect.

Mr R. J. King has observed that Exmoor, 'still lonely and uncultivated,'

was probably at one time during the English conquests a boundary or 'mark,' 'always regarded as sacred and placed under the protection of some deity or hero.' Amongst some very interesting remarks, he says that the intermingling in Devons.h.i.+re of the Celtic and Teutonic races 'may be traced in folk-lore, not less distinctly than in dialect or in features.... Sigmund the Waelsing, who among our English ancestors represented Sigfried, the great hero of the Niebelungen-lied, has apparently left his name to the deep pool of Simonsbath ... again, side by side with traditions of King Arthur, to the parish of Simonsward in Cornwall.'

It is difficult to imagine any moorlands dest.i.tute of superst.i.tion, and plenty linger on Exmoor. Mr Page (writing in 1890) gave some instances that have occurred comparatively lately. He speaks of 'overlooking' and of witchcraft, and says that 'not many years since the villagers of Withycombe, by no means an Ultima Thule among hamlets, firmly believed that certain ancient dames had the power of turning themselves into white rabbits.'

'An astonis.h.i.+ng instance of belief in witchcraft' within his own experience was one where an old woman--'as harmless a creature as can be found in the country'--was believed by her neighbours to have not only the evil eye, but also 'the power of turning herself into a black dog, in which form she was met a short time since, during the twilight hour, in a neighbouring lane. For these all-sufficient reasons the poor old soul was, for a while, unable to obtain the services of a nurse during an illness from which she is only now recovering.'

Another story shows the remarkable powers of a wise woman. Mr Page explains that he cannot give the real name of the couple, but calls them Giles. Giles deserted his wife. 'For a while Mrs Giles bore his absence with a fort.i.tude born, perhaps, of no very great love for her partner.

Then she suddenly took it into her head to have him home. She did not telegraph, she did not even write; but one day the errant husband was seen by the astonished villagers hurrying towards his deserted home.

_And his footsteps were marked with blood!_ The witch-wife had compelled his return in such haste that not only the soles of his boots, but those of his _feet_, were worn out.'

Mr Page mentions that 'the old mediaeval custom of touching a corpse still prevails. At an inquest lately held at or near South Molton, each of the coroner's jury, as he filed past the body, laid his fingers on the forehead. This act, it was believed, would free him from dreams of the deceased.

Omens and portents such as mysterious knockings, a particular sound of church-bells, or a bird flying into a room, are very grave warnings, and a story of this character comes from near Taunton. 'A farmer riding home from Taunton Market noticed a white rook among the sable flock settling over a field. When he reached home there were symptoms of uneasiness among his cattle, and that night the dogs barked so vociferously that he had to get up and quiet them. In the morning he was dead.'

Writing of other traditions, 'one of the most beautiful of Easter customs still survives. Young men have not yet ceased on the Resurrection morning to climb the nearest hill-top to see the sun flash over the dark ridge of Quantock, or the more distant line of Mendip.' To see the newly-arisen sun on Easter morning was an augury of good luck.

'Early in the century Dunkery, probably because it is the highest land in Somerset, was favoured above all surrounding hills, and its sides,'

says Miss King, 'were covered with young men, who seemed to come from every quarter of the compa.s.s, and to be pressing up towards the Beacon.'

Exmoor stag-hunting is far-famed, for it is the only corner of England where wild red deer are still to be found. The fas.h.i.+on of coming here to hunt from a distant part of the country is comparatively modern, but Hugh Pollard, Ranger of the Forest, kept a pack of stag-hounds at Simonsbath more than three hundred years ago, and the Rangers who succeeded him continued to keep the hounds.

Even before the Conquest, the moor had been a royal hunting-ground.

Deeds show that in the reign of Edward the Confessor there were at least three Royal Foresters; and William I, says Mr Rawle, 'probably reserved to himself the forest rights, for the Conqueror, according to the Saxon Chronicle, ”loved the tall deer as though he had been their father,” and would scarcely be likely to forgo any privileges concerning the vert and venison.' Various tenures show that later Kings kept Exmoor as a preserve. Walter Aungevin held land in Auri and Hole (near South Molton) under Edward III, 'by sergeantry that whensoever our lord the King should hunt in the forest of Exmoor, he should find for him two barbed arrows.' And Morinus de la Barr, farther to the west, near Braunton, held his land on the same tenure with the addition of finding 'one salmon.'

Nearly thirty years later in the same reign, a very curious tenure is registered. 'Walter Barun held certain lands and tenements in the town of Holicote, of the King in capite, by the service of hanging upon a certain forked piece of wood the red deer that die of the murrain in the King's forest of Exmoor; and also of lodging and entertaining the poor strangers, weakened by infirmities, that came to him, at his own proper costs, for the souls of the ancestors of our Lord King Edward.'

The Forest of Exmoor was part of the jointure of several Queens of England. Henry VIII settled it on Catherine of Aragon, and it was afterwards held by Jane Seymour. James I gave it to his Queen, but Charles I had other views, and announced his intention of drawing 'the unnecessary Forests and Waste Lands' [Dartmoor and Exmoor] 'to improvement.' Needless to say, the scheme died in its early stages, and when Charles II came to the throne, he granted a lease of the forest to the Marquis of Ormonde.

Besides the wild-deer on Exmoor, there are, as everyone knows, creatures almost as wild--herds of Exmoor ponies. Very few now are pure 'Exmoors,'

except those belonging to Sir Thomas Acland. Among these ponies the true breed has been carefully preserved, and there has been no crossing. It seems a little odd to think of Exmoor ponies being mentioned in Domesday, but Mr Chanter quotes an entry referring to the stock in the parishes of Lynton and Countisbury, '72 brood mares, probably the Exmoor ponies running half wild on the moor; in Brendon, 104 wild mares (_equas indomitas_) are mentioned.'

'The average height is 12-1/2 hands, and bays and buffy bays with mealy noses prevail; in fact, are in the majority of three to one.' The older ponies live out all the year round, but stacks of hay and straw are built by the herdsmen against the time when the snow lies deep. 'Still, like honest, hard-working labourers, the ponies never a.s.semble at the wicket till they have exhausted every means of self-support by scratching with their fore-feet in the snow for the remnants of the summer tufts, and drag wearily behind them an ever-lengthening chain of s...o...b..a.l.l.s.'

The moor makes an excellent sheep-walk, but attempts to cultivate it have not prospered. As far as agriculturists are concerned, 'Exmoor is best left alone--the ”peat and heather in hill and dale.”'

There is an old ballad called 'The Farmer's Son of Devons.h.i.+re,' in which the views of one character, 'Brother Jack,' show a distinct resemblance to those of the great John Fry in 'Lorna Doone.' Here are a few verses.

The sub-t.i.tle is a long one, beginning: 'Being the Valiant Coronel's Return from Flanders.' To the tune of 'Mary, live long.'

'WILL. Well met, Brother Jack, I've been in Flanders With valiant Commanders, and am return'd back to England again; Where a while I shall stay, and shall then march away; I'm an Officer now.

Go with me, dear Brother, go with me, dear Brother, And lay by the Plow.

I tell thee, old boy, the son of a farmer, In glittering armour, may kill and destroy A many proud French; As a Squire or Knight, having courage to fight, Then valiantly go, In arms like a Soldier, in arms like a Soldier, To face the proud foe.

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