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Widecombe-in-the-Moor
Widecombe Things New and Old
This is the fifteenth item from Robert Dymond's book: "Things New and Old Concerning the Parish of Widecombe-in-the-Moor and its Neighbourhood" (1876)
AN AULD WIFE’S STORY.
DEAR MR. EDITOR, There are certain phrases current amongst you “ up-country folk,” which have little application to us who dwell within this region of Granite Tors. I allude to such as these: “spread of knowledge,” “ advancement of the age,” “superstitions of the past,” “enlightenment of 19th century,” &c., &c., expressions which indicate that you have reached a somewhat monotonous, dreary period, a sort of nil admirari one, wherein you know a cause for everything, or can anatomise with perfect calm anything that looks mysterious, and eliminate from it whatever property it might possess of stirring up awe, or exciting fear in minds of lower cul- ture. It may interest you to learn that there are yet green spots in this our England-one not far away from your own “ ever-faithful” city —oases for those to whom the odd belief and quaint delusion come with a sensation of relief and flavour of refreshment amid the dull, dead level of that unwondering wisdom which smiles at the mysterious as the delusion of a bygone day. Have you ever heard of the legend, current on “ the Dartmoors,” which explains the origin of the famous storm which in A.D. 1638 played such havoc in our church? Of course you, with your 19th century enlightenment, will smile at it (’tisn’t every old woman or young one either will do so, I can tell you, though we have our infidels, doubtless). In your eyes this fearful storm was a fearful storm resulting from natural causes, and nothing more. The true explanation, however, I learnt from a MS. which I lighted upon by accident a. few years ago, in a dreary old farm-house, where everything seemed as “ whisht” as “whisht” could be, and which I read there and then to my only auditor, an ancient dame, who would have fallen upon evil days had her lot thrown her in the full glare of 19th century enlightenment :— she evidently belonged to “ the ages of faith.” It seemed that on a certain Sunday in October, 1638, A.D., about the hour of afternoon prayer, a horseman rode up to the door of the inn at Poundsgate, (the old woman nodded her head approvingly, as much as to say there could be no mistake about the matter -“ she knew that old inn well, that she did ”- I dare say she did. I began to fancy she must have been contemporary with the landlady of the era). The un- known horseman called for drink - he had been riding desperately, and was very dry, and had a ride to take yet further, which would make him thirstier still. The ready hostess brought the brimming cup Without delay, which was as readily tossed off by the excited rider :—but, lo ! a wonderful phenomenon ! The liquor hissed as it coursed down the throat of the dark rider, as water hisses when poured on a plate of red-hot iron ! The mystery was out. No need to ask the rider’s name ;—the cloven hoof betrayed itself. Nothing is said of the tail, nor whether the dark potentate had grace enough to pay the reckoning before he dashed furiously away to Widecombe, which place he reached in a jiffey, doubtless, or, at all events, soon after the sermon had begun. The devil is wise in his generation; he of the cloven hoof is not often caught napping. He had (it seems) a compact with a person of the place, and by the terms thereof, that person, if he should be found slumbering where he ought not, would thenceforth become one of the devil’s own. Here one injudicious act does the MS. record of the probably over-excited demon (the Poundsgate draught was potent, or his annoyance at discovery intoler- able). Entering the churchyard, he kicked into an open grave several children whom he found playing pranks there. The uproar of this proceeding might have roused his sleeping victim, but sermon-sleeps (perhaps experience had taught him) are as sound as those of opium. Hurrying into the church, he saw his victim fast asleep ; it was but a moment’s work to seize him by the hair of his head, and dash up with him through the tower, a route which he chose, probably, be- cause he had tied his horse to one of the four pinnacles, which he threw down in his struggles to get him loose, and then vanished amid thunder and lightning, falling stones and timber, and a horribly-scared and mazed people. Such is the sum and substance of the veracious history of the great storm’s origin.
The old lady—she of “ the ages of faith ”—believed it. You don’t. Ah ! you lose an exciting view of it, you “ up-country " folk, with your spread of knowledge: I laughed at it (being somewhat bitten with that same knowledge myself), though I had read it solemnly. But what would you have said to the old lady’s reproof? “You laugh because you won’t allow the devil to have been at the bottom of it. Read Job i. 19, and say what was the cause of that great smiting wind from the wilderness?” Well, think over it. Your knowledge, O enlightened 19th century, may not be all perfect, may stand in need of a little touching up, bye and bye. A good deal of it, possibly, is of that kind which shall vanish away. What will the residuum be, and which, I wonder, will be found nighest to the truth, when that which is in part shall be done away ? Ours or yours?
Mr. Editor, I could tell you more, and some of it more to the purpose than this, in proof that what you call superstitions and delusions of a bygone day are not things of the past with us; but not only does my time fail and post wait, but your space and patience, I am afraid, too.
Ever yours,
Widecombe. * * *
The information on this page was last modified on July 08 2017 18:17:03.