[Illustration: MINEHEAD.]
[Illustration: VILLAGE AND CASTLE OF DUNSTER.]
Exmoor is a broad strip of almost mountainous moorland extending through
the northern borders of Somerset and Devon and down to the coast of
Bristol Channel. Its hills descend precipitously to the sea, so that
only small brooks flow northward from them, excepting the Lyn, which
manages to attain the dignity of a river by flowing for some distance
among the hills parallel to the coast. It was but recently that good
roads were constructed across this lonely moor, and on its northern
edge, where the craggy headland of Greenaleigh is thrust out into the
sea, is the harbor of Minehead, with a little fishing-village skirting
its shores. A short distance inland, and seated at the bases of the
steep Brendon Hills, which rise in sharp wooded slopes above its houses,
is the little market-town of Dunster. On an outlying hill, projecting
from the mass, the original lord of Dunster built his castle, perching
it upon a rocky crag that Nature herself designed for a fortress. The
Saxons called it their "Hill-tower." Its picturesque mass of buildings
is of various dates, but much more modern than their early day, most of
the present structure having been built in Queen Elizabeth's reign. The
castle was held for King Charles in the Civil War, and besieged by the
Parliamentary troops, whose commander sent this bloodthirsty message to
its governor: "If you will deliver up the castle, you shall have fair
quarter: if not, expect no mercy: your mother shall be in front to
receive the first fury of your cannon." The governor promptly and
bravely replied, "If you do what you threaten, you do the most barbarous
and villainous act that was ever done. My mother I honor, but the cause
I fight for and the masters I serve are God and the king.--Mother, do
you forgive me, and give me your blessing, and let the rebels answer for
spilling that blood of yours, which I would save with the loss of mine
own if I had enough for both my master and yourself." The mother also
without hesitation answered him: "Son, I forgive thee, and pray God to
bless thee, for this brave resolution. If I live I shall love thee the
better for it: God's will be done!" Whether the atrocious threat would
have been put into execution was never decided, for a strong Royalist
force soon appeared, routing the besiegers, capturing a thousand of
them, and releasing the lady. But the castle was soon afterwards taken
for the Parliament by Colonel Blake, subsequently the admiral. It was
then demolished, and now the summit of the flat-topped hill, where
formerly was the keep, is devoted to the peaceful amusement of a
bowling-green, from which there are exquisite views of the Brendon Hills
and far away over the Bristol Channel to the distant coast of Wales. It
was at Dunster Castle that William Prynne was shut up a prisoner by
Cromwell. Prynne had been pilloried, shorn of his ears, and imprisoned
by King Charles I. for his denunciations of the court, and then
indulging in the same criticism of the Protector, he was confined at
Dunster. It is now the head-quarters for those who love the exciting
pleasures of stag-hunting on Exmoor.
[Illustration: ON PORLOCK MOOR--THE ROAD TO OARE.]
[Illustration: THE DOONE VALLEY.]
Journeying westward over the hills from Minehead, which is just now
endeavoring, though with only partial success, to convert itself into a
fashionable watering-place, Dunkery Beacon is seen raising its head
inland--a brown, heathy moorland elevated seventeen hundred feet above
the sea. There is a grand panorama disclosed from its summit, though it
is a toilsome ascent to get up there and overlook the fifteen counties
it can display. Far below is the level shore of Porlock Bay, with the
little village set in at the base of the cliffs. Here Southey was
sheltered at its inn, and wrote a sonnet while he was "by the unwelcome
summer rain detained;" and here the village has slept ever since the
Danes harried and Harold burned it. Then the road climbs laboriously up
the hill again to Porlock Moor, and as the top is reached, far away is
seen a little grassy basin running like a streak off towards the
north-west, and enclosed by steep hills, in which it is ultimately lost.
This is the valley of the Lyn, and joining it is another little glen,
with a hamlet of white cottages at the junction: this is the Oare
valley, the centre of some of the most stirring traditions of Exmoor,
embodied in Blackmore's novel of _Lorna Doone_. Two centuries ago a
lawless clan established themselves in this lonely glen, from which
issues the Bagworthy Water not far away from the little village of Oare.
Here was Jan Ridd's farm, and near it the cataract of the Bagworthy
Water-slide, while above this cataract, in the recesses of Doone Glen,
was the robbers' home, whence they issued to plunder the neighboring
country. The novel tells how Jan Ridd, who was of herculean strength,
was standing with his bride Lorna at the altar of the little church in
Oare when a bullet wounded her. Out rushed Jan from the presence of his
wife, dead as he thought, to pursue the murderer. He was unarmed, and
rode after him over the moorland, tearing from an oak a mighty bough as
he passed under it. To this day the rent in "Jan Ridd's tree" is shown.
Then came the struggle, and an Exmoor bog swallowed up the murderer, who
was the last of the robber chieftains; and afterwards the bride
recovered and the happy pair were united. Exmoor is the only place
remaining in the kingdom where the wild stag is still hunted with
hounds, the season being in the early autumn, when all the inns are
crowded, and on the day of a "meet" all the country seems alive.
[Illustration: BAGWORTHY WATER.]
[Illustration: JAN RIDD'S TREE.]