Until the year 1853, a slab before the Communion Table in Amesbury
Church bore the following inscription
In memory of the Revd. Thomas Holland, who was for half a century
Minister of this Parish, a small living yet he never solicited for a
greater
nor improved to his own advantage his marvellous talents in applying the
powers of nature to the useful purposes of life, the most curious and
complete
engine which the world now enjoys _for raising water_ being invented by
him.
He departed the 11th day of May in the year of our Lord 1730,
Aged 84 years.
During his term of office the register was kept in a very careful
manner
and excellent handwriting, a contrast to later efforts by his
successors.
[Illustration: OLD SARUM: THE MAIN GATE OF THE CASTLE FROM WITHIN.]
The evening was now coming on, and we had yet to walk eight miles into
Salisbury by what was called the "Upper Road," which crossed a tract of
bleak and rather uninteresting downs; but the road was well defined and
the daylight, such as it was, remained with us longer than if we had
gone by the more picturesque road along the tree-lined banks of the
River Avon. Amesbury was but a small place, and the only industry that
we could hear of that ever existed there was the manufacture of tobacco
pipes branded with a gauntlet, the name of the maker. We had a lonely
walk, and about two miles from Salisbury saw to the right the outline of
a small hill which turned out to be Old Sarum, a name that figured on
the mileposts for many miles round Salisbury, being the ancient and
Roman name for that city. Old cities tend to be on hills, for defence,
but modern equivalents occur in the valley below, representative of
peace conditions and easy travelling for commercial purposes. It was
now, however, only a lofty grass mound, conical in shape and about a
hundred feet high. It was of great antiquity, for round about it stood
at one time one of the most important cities in the south of England,
after the prehistoric age the Sorbiodunum of the Romans, and the
Sarisberie of the Domesday Book. Cynric captured it by a victory over
the Britons in 552, and in 960 Edgar held a Council there. Sweyn and the
Danes pillaged and burnt it in 1003, and afterwards Editha, the Queen of
Edward the Confessor, established a convent of nuns there. It was made
an Episcopal See in 1072, and twenty years afterwards Bishop Osmond, a
kinsman of William the Conqueror, completed the building of the
cathedral. It was in 1076 that William, as the closing act of his
Conquest, reviewed his victorious army in the plain below; and in 1086,
a year before his death, he assembled there all the chief landowners in
the realm to swear that "whose men soever they were they would be
faithful to him against all other men," by which "England was ever
afterwards an individual kingdom." In course of time the population
increased to such an extent round the old mound that they were short of
room, and the soldiers and the priests began to quarrel, or, as an old
writer described it, "the souldiers of the Castell and chanons of Old
Sarum fell at odds, inasmuch that often after brawles they fell at last
to sadde blowes and the Cleargie feared any more to gang their boundes.
Hereupon the people missing their belly-chere, for they were wont to
have banketing at every station, a thing practised by the religious in
old tyme, they conceived forthwith a deadly hatred against the
Castellans." The quarrel ended in the removal of the cathedral to the
plain below, where Salisbury now stands, and the glory of Old Sarum
departed. As far back as the time of Henry VIII the place became utterly
desolate, and it was interesting to read what visitors in after times
had written about it.
[Illustration: OLD SARUM: BASE OF THE LOOK-OUT TOWER.]
John Leland, who was born in 1506 and was chaplain to Henry VIII, made a
tour of the kingdom, and wrote in his well-known _Itinerary_, "Their is
not one house, neither within or without Old Saresbyri inhabited. Much
notable minus building of the Castell yet remayneth. The diche that
envirined the old town was a very deepe and strong thynge." Samuel
Pepys, who was born in 1632, and who was secretary to the Admiralty
during the reigns of Charles II and James II, describes in his famous
_Diary_ many interesting incidents in the life of that period. He wrote
of Old Sarum: "I saw a great fortification and there light, and to it
and in it, and find it so prodigious as to frighten one to be in it at
all alone at that time of night." It would probably be at an earlier
hour of a lighter night when Mr. Pepys visited it, than when we passed
it on this occasion, for the hill now was enveloped in black darkness
"deserted and drear," and we should scarcely have been able to find the
entrance "to it and in it," and, moreover, we might not have been able
to get out again, for since his time an underground passage had been
opened, and who knows what or who might have been lurking there! Dr.
Adam Clark visited Old Sarum in 1806, and wrote: "We found here the
remains of a very ancient city and fortress, surrounded by a deep
trench, which still bears a most noble appearance. On the top of the
hill the castle or citadel stood, and several remains of a very thick
wall built all of flint stone, cemented together with a kind of
everlasting mortar. What is remarkable is that these ruins are still
considered in the British constitution as an inhabited city, and send
two members to Parliament. Within the breadth of a field from this noble
hill there is a small public-house, the only dwelling within a very
great space, and containing a very few persons, who, excepting the
crows, hens, and magpies, are the only beings which the worthy members
have to represent in the British Senate."
We were glad when we reached Salisbury and found a comfortable refuge
for the night in one of the old inns in the town. It was astonishing how
cosy the low rooms in these old-fashioned inns appeared, now that the
"back end" of the year was upon us and the nights becoming longer,
darker, and colder. The blazing fire, the ingle nook, the pleasant
company, such as it was, the great interest taken in our long walk--for
people knew what heavy walking meant in those days--all tended to make
us feel comfortable and at home. True, we did not care much for the
dialect in these southern counties, and should much have preferred "a
bit o' gradely Lankyshur," so as a rule we listened rather than joined
in the conversation; but we were greatly interested in the story of the
Wiltshire Moonrakers, which, as we were strangers, was apparently given
for our benefit by one of the older members of the rather jovial
company. It carried us back to the time when smuggling was prevalent,
and an occasion when the landlord of a country inn near the sea-coast
sent two men with a pony and trap to bring back from the smugglers' den
two kegs of brandy, on which, of course, duty had not been paid, with
strict orders to keep a sharp look-out on their return for the
exciseman, who must be avoided at all costs. The road on the return
journey was lonely, for most people had gone to bed, but as the moon was
full and shining brightly, all went well until the pony suddenly took
fright at a shadow on the road, and bolted. The men, taken by surprise,
lost control of the reins, which fell down on the pony and made matters
worse, for he fairly flew along the road until he reached a point where
it turned over a canal bridge. Here the trap came in contact with the
battlement of the bridge, causing the pony to fall down, and the two
men fell on top of him. Fortunately this saved them from being seriously
injured, but the pony was bruised, and one of the shafts of the trap
broken, while the kegs rolled down the embankment into the canal. With
some difficulty they managed to get the pony and broken trap into a farm
building near the bridge, but when they went to look for the kegs they
saw them floating in the middle of the canal where they could not reach
them. They went back to the farm building, and found two hay-rakes, and
were just trying to reach the kegs, the tops of which they could plainly
see in the light of the full moon, when a horseman rode up, whom, to
their horror, they recognised as the exciseman himself. When he asked
"What's the matter?" the men pretended to be drunk, and one of them said
in a tipsy tone of voice, "Can't you see, guv'nor? We're trying to get
that cheese out o' th' water!" The exciseman couldn't see any cheese,
but he could see the image of the full moon on the surface of the canal,
and, bursting into a roar of laughter at the silliness of the men, he
rode off on his way home. But it was now the rustics' turn to laugh as
they hauled the kegs out of the canal and carried them away in triumph
on their shoulders. The gentleman who told the story fairly "brought
down the house" when he added, "So you see, gentlemen, they were not so
silly after all."
[Illustration: HIGH STREET GATE, SALISBURY.]
One of the company asked my brother if he had heard that story before,
and when he said "No, but I have heard one something like it in
Yorkshire," he at once stood up and called for "Silence," announcing
that there was a gentleman present who could tell a story about the
Yorkshire Moonrakers. My brother was rather taken aback, but he could
always rise to the occasion when necessary, so he began in his usual
manner. "Once upon a time" there were two men living in a village in
Yorkshire, who went out one day to work in the fields amongst the hay,
taking their rakes with them. They were good workers, but as the day
turned out to be rather hot they paid too much attention to the large
bottle of beer in the harvest field, with the consequence that before
night came on the bottle was empty; so they went to the inn, and stayed
there drinking until it was nearly "closing time." By that time they
were quite merry, and decided to go home by the nearest way, leading
along the towing-path of one of the canals, which in the north are wider
and deeper than those farther south. As it was almost as light as day,
the moon being at its full, they got along all right until one of them
suddenly startled his mate by telling him that the moon had fallen into
the canal! They both stood still for a moment, thinking what an awful
thing had happened, but there seemed to be no doubt about it, whatever,
for there was the moon lying in the middle of the canal. It would never
do to leave it there, but what could they do to get it out? Their first
thought was the rakes they were carrying home on their shoulders, and
they decided to rake the moon to the side of the canal, where they would
reach it with their hands. They set to work--but although their rakes
were of the largest size, and their arms long and strong, the canal was
too wide to enable them to reach the moon. They were, however, agreed
that they must get it out some way or other, for it would be a pity if
it got drowned. At last they decided that they would both get into the
canal, and fetch the moon out themselves. They pulled off their coats,
therefore, and, laying them on the path, got into the water, only to
find it much deeper than they had expected; their feet sank into the mud
at the bottom, and the water came nearly up to their necks at once, and
as it was deeper towards the middle, they found it impossible to carry
out their task. But the worst feature was that neither of the men could
swim, and, being too deeply immersed in the water to reach high enough
on the canal bank to pull themselves out again, they were in great
danger of drowning. Fortunately, however, a boat was coming along the
canal, and when the man who was driving the horses attached to the boat
heard their cries, he ran forward, and, stopping where he found the
coats on the towing-path, was horrified to see the two men holding on to
the stones that lined the canal. They were fast losing consciousness,
but with the assistance of the other men on the boat he got them out on
the bank, and when they had recovered a little, assisted them home, for
they both had drunk too much beer. The incident created a great
sensation at the time, but as "all's well that ends well," it was
afterwards looked upon as a great joke--though the two men were ever
afterwards known as the Moonrakers, a nickname that was eventually
applied to all the inhabitants of that village.
The story was well received, but not quite so loudly applauded as that
which preceded it, until one gentleman in the company rose and asked my
brother if he could name the village in Yorkshire where the incident
occurred. "Certainly, sir," he replied; "the place was called Sloyit."
"Sloyit! Sloyit!" murmured the gentleman; and then he said, "How do you
spell it?" and, taking out his notebook and adjusting his gold-rimmed
spectacles, he prepared to record the name of the place as my brother
gave out each letter. And then followed one of the most extraordinary
scenes we had witnessed on our journey, for just at that moment some one
in the rear made a witty remark which apparently was aimed at the
searcher after knowledge, who was now on his feet, and which caused
general laughter amongst those who heard it. The gentleman was evidently
a man of some importance in the city, and his notebook was apparently
known to the company almost as well as himself, but perhaps not looked
upon as favourably, for its production under the present circumstances
seemed to have caused this unwonted amusement.
[Illustration: ST. ANN'S GATE, SALISBURY.]
My brother could not proceed until he could make himself heard, and it
was difficult to restore order at that late hour of the evening; but
when the laughter had subsided, he called to the gentleman in a loud
voice, "Are you ready, sir?" and when he said "I am, sir!" he proceeded
to call out each letter slowly and distinctly, so that all the company
could hear, the gentleman as he entered them in his book repeating the
letters in a minor key which sounded exactly like the echo.
"S," shouted my brother, "s," echoed the gentleman; "L," said my
brother, "L" softly responded the gentleman slowly; and then followed
A, a letter which the gentleman did not expect, as he said, "Did you say
'A,' sir?" "I did, sir," he replied, repeating the letter, which was
repeated doubtfully as the listener entered it in his book. The next
letters were "I" and "T," which were followed by the letter "H." These
were inserted without comment, beyond the usual repetition in a subdued
tone, but when my brother followed with "W," it became evident that the
gentleman thought that there was "something wrong somewhere," and that
he had a strong suspicion that he was being led astray. When my brother
assured him it was quite correct, he rather reluctantly entered it in
his book; but now there was a slight pause, as the space originally
allotted for the name had been fully occupied, and the remainder of the
word had to be continued on another page, much to the annoyance of the
writer.
The company had by this time become greatly interested in the
proceedings; but the fact was that the name of the place was not sounded
as it was spelled, and it was amusing to watch the expressions on their
faces as my brother proceeded to call out the remainder of the letters.
I could see they were enjoying the discomfiture of the old gentleman,
and that a suspicion was gaining ground that all the other letters of
the alphabet might yet be included! When the gentleman had selected the
corner in his note-book to record the remaining letters, and my brother
began with the letter "A," he remonstrated that he had given him that
letter previously, and a strong assurance from my brother was necessary
in order to ensure the entry of the letter in the notebook; but when it
was followed by "I" and "T" and including the "A" in exactly the same
order as he had recorded them before, his patience was quite exhausted,
and his previous suspicions confirmed that he was being hoaxed. The
remainder of the party amidst their hardly suppressed laughter insisted
upon their being entered, and when my brother called out the final
letter "E," and repeated the whole of the letters