The Call of the Wildflower Part 6

One other limestone district shall be mentioned; the hills round Castleton. Cave Dale, approached by a narrow gorge close to the village, is well worth the flower-lover's attention; for bleak and bare as it is, its slippery sides harbour some interesting plants, such as the mountain rue (_thalictrum minus_), and the scurvy-gra.s.s (_cochlearia alpina_), both in considerable quant.i.ty. In the Winnatts, too, the steep ravine which overhangs the road from Castleton to Chapel-en-le-Frith, one may find Jacob's-ladder and other rarities on the rocks; and the gorgeous mountain pansy (_viola lutea_) is not far distant on the upland heaths and pastures.

The list is far from being exhausted; but enough has been said to show that there is no lack of entertainment among these limestone dales. To enter one of them, after crossing the moorland from the dreary coal district of east Derbys.h.i.+re, is like stepping from penury to plenty, from wilderness to paradise: there is a change of colouring that instantly attracts the eye. Even in early spring the little s.h.i.+ning crane's-bill decks the walls and lower rocks with its rose-petaled flowers; and at midsummer the more showy stonecrop flings a veritable cloth of gold over the crags and lawns. Few localities present so many charming flowers in so limited a s.p.a.ce.

And now let us turn from the limestone valleys to those of the millstone grit.

The controversy as to which part of Derbys.h.i.+re best deserves the name of "The Peak" has always seemed a vain one, not merely because there is no peak in the county at all, but because no connoisseur can doubt for a moment that the district which alone has the true characteristics of a mountain is the great triangular plateau of gritstone known as Kinderscout. Less beautiful than the limestone dales, with their beetling crags and wealth of flowers, the wilder region surrounding "the Scout" has the advantage of being a real bit of mountain scenery, topped as it is with black "tors" and "towers" that rise out of the heather, and flanked with rocky "edges" from which its steep "cloughs" descend into the valleys below.

Unfortunately, this great rocky tableland has of late years become almost a _terra incognita_ to the nature-lover, as a result of the agreement which was made, after prolonged controversy, between the Peak District Society and the grouse-shooting landlords, inasmuch as, while permitting the traveller to skirt the shoulders of the hill, it excluded him wholly from its summit.

With the exception of the heather, the bilberry, and a few kindred species, the plants of the gritstone hills are spa.r.s.e; but there is one, the cloudberry--so-called, according to Gerarde's rather magniloquent description, because "it groweth naturally upon the tops of high mountains ... where the clouds are lower than the tops of the same all winter long"--which well repays a pilgrimage. It is a prostrate and spineless bramble (_rubus chamaemorus_), highly valued in northern countries for its rich orange-coloured fruit. It grows thickly on the ground, making a dark-green patch in marked contrast to the coa.r.s.e herbage; and towards the end of June one may see a profusion of the large white blossoms and a few early formed berries at the same time.

There is a good-sized plot of it near the summit of the pa.s.s that crosses the shoulder of Kinderscout from Edale Head.

But of the plants that grow on the Scout itself I am unable to speak; for my only visit to it--not reckoning an unsuccessful attempt when I was turned back by a keeper--took place in the depth of a very snowy winter. It was on the afternoon of a frosty January day, when the sun was already low, that in the company of my friend Bertram Lloyd, and armed with a pa.s.sport, in the form of a letter of permission, given us by the courtesy of one of the owners of the shooting, I climbed from Edale, through the region of right-of-way into that of flagrant trespa.s.s. We felt an unusual sense of legality, as we pa.s.sed a weather-beaten notice-board, with a half-obliterated threat that trespa.s.sers would be "--cuted," whether executed, electrocuted, or prosecuted was left to the imagination of the offender; and I think the strangeness of his position was rather embarra.s.sing to my companion, who is such a confirmed trespa.s.ser that he feels as if something must be amiss unless there is a gamekeeper to be reckoned with--like the mountain ram, in Thompson-Seton's story, who was so accustomed to be hunted that he became moody and restless when his pursuer was not in sight.

But, at the time of our visit, no pa.s.sport was demanded; for the keepers, like the grouse themselves, appeared to have deserted the heights for the valleys. Indeed, hardly any life at all was to be seen, with the exception of a grey mountain hare, couched upon a stack of rock, who regarded us with a mild and curious eye as we pa.s.sed some two hundred feet above him, and seemed to be satisfied that we were harmless. Nor was this lack of life surprising, for a more desolate scene could hardly be imagined--a great snow-clad "moss," intersected by deep ruts, which, being choked with snow, had somewhat of the appearance of creva.s.ses, and punctuated here and there with the black masonry of the tors. From the highest point that we reached, marked in the ordnance map as 2,088 feet, there was a wonderful sunset view, though the Manchester district that lies to the west of the Scout was hidden in lurid fog. It is said that Snowdon, a hundred miles distant, has been seen from this point. It was certainly not visible upon the occasion to which I refer.

It is impossible to visit this high mountain plateau, lying as it does at about an equal distance from Manchester and Sheffield, without feeling that what is now a private grouse-moor must, before many years have pa.s.sed, become a nationalized park or "reservation"--a playground for the dwellers in the great Midland cities, and a sanctuary for wild animals and plants.

The time will a.s.suredly come when the sport of the few will have to give way to the health and recreation of the many.

XV

NO THOROUGHFARE!

Trespa.s.sers will be prosecuted.

THE subject of trespa.s.sing mentioned in the preceding chapter, has a very close and personal interest for the adventurous flower-lover; for of all incentives to ignore the familiar notice-board with its hackneyed words of warning, none perhaps is more potent than the possibility that some rare and long-sought wildflower is to be found on the forbidden land. The appeal is one that no explorer can resist. If "stout Cortez"

himself, when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific, had seen that ocean labelled as "strictly private and preserved," could he have desisted from his quest?

There is moreover a good deal to be said in extenuation of trespa.s.sing as a summer recreation; and if landlords go on at their present rate, in closing footpaths and excluding the public from green fields and hedgerows, trespa.s.sing will perhaps establish itself as one of our recognized national diversions. Hitherto, it must be confessed, it has remained to some extent in disrepute; doubtless, through its being so largely indulged in by poachers and other evil-doers, who have given a bad name to a practice which in itself is innocent and blameless enough.

Most people, especially landlords and gamekeepers, have a fixed belief that a trespa.s.ser's purpose must be a lawless and mischievous one. Why so? Is it not possible that some trespa.s.sers may have other objects than to steal pheasants' eggs or snare rabbits? If huntsmen when following the hounds are permitted, not only to trespa.s.s, but to damage crops and fences, why should the naturalist be molested when harmlessly following his own inclinations in choice of a country ramble. Is the pursuit of the fox a surer proof of honest intentions than the pursuit of natural history? It appears that some landowners think so. "Trespa.s.sers will be prosecuted," say the notices that everywhere stare us in the face.

Was there ever such a lying legend? Trespa.s.sers will _not_ be prosecuted, for the sufficient reason that in English law trespa.s.sing is not an offence. Of course, if any injury be done to property, the owner can sue for damages, but a harmless trespa.s.ser can only be requested to depart, though, if he be ill-advised enough to refuse to go, he may be forcibly ejected. We see, therefore, that the threatened "prosecution"

of trespa.s.sers is in reality merely a _brutum fulmen_ launched by landlords at a too credulous public, a pious fraud which has been far more efficacious than such kindred notices as "Beware the dog," or "Beware the bull," though these, too, have done good service in their time. Trespa.s.sers will not be prosecuted, provided that they do no sort of damage, and that if their presence is objected to they politely retire. With these slight precautions and limitations, a trespa.s.ser may go where he will, and enjoy the study of Nature in her most secluded and "strictly private" recesses. He thus himself becomes, in one sense, a lord of the soil; but his domain is far more extensive and unenc.u.mbered than that of any actual landlord. He enjoys all that is best in park, woodland, or mountain; and if he is "warned off" one estate he can afford to smile at the prohibition, since many other regions are open to him, and he can confidently look forward to a visit to fresh woods and pastures new on the morrow.

In the course of these rambles the trespa.s.ser will probably, like Ulysses, have some curious experiences of men and of notice-boards. It is very instructive to observe the various types of the landlord cla.s.s, and their different methods of treating the intruder whom they meet on their fields. There is the indignant landlord, who can scarcely conceal his wrath at the astounding audacity of one who is deliberately crossing his land without having come "on business." There is the despairing landlord, who has been so broken by previous invasions that he is now content with a shrug of the shoulders and a remark that the place is "quite private, you know." There is the courteous landlord, who politely a.s.sumes that you have lost your way, and naively offers to conduct you to the high-road by the shortest cut; and there is the mildly ironical, who, as in a case which I remember on a Surrey hillside, remarks as he pa.s.ses you: "There goes my heather."

I have heard it said that one can sometimes divine the character of a landlord from the wording of his notice-boards, and I believe from my own experiences that there is truth in the idea. Certainly the notice-board is the landlord's favourite method of defending the privacy of his estate, and for obvious reasons; for not only is it the least troublesome and expensive way of conveying the desired warning to would-be trespa.s.sers, but the salutary fiction regarding the "prosecution" of offenders is thus publicly and permanently impressed on the agricultural mind. There is not such entire uniformity in the wording of notice-boards as might be supposed. Of course by far the commonest form is the well-known "No thoroughfare. Trespa.s.sers will be prosecuted as the law directs," in which the unconscious irony contained in the last four words has always struck me as especially delightful. To this is often added the words "and all dogs shot," in which the experienced trespa.s.ser will detect signs of a certain roughness and inhumanity of temperament on the part of the owner. More original forms of expression are by no means uncommon. Sometimes the warning is emphasized by the bold statement, indicating the possession by the landlord of humorous or imaginative faculties, that "the police have orders to watch." Sometimes, but more rarely, the personal element is boldly introduced, as in the a.s.sertion, which might formerly be seen on a notice-board in one of the most beautiful valleys of the Lake District, "This is my land. Trespa.s.sers, etc." In some cases the wording has evidently been left to the care of subordinates, and hence result some curiosities of literary composition. "Private. Beware of dogs," is an instance of this kind, in which the ambiguity of the allusion to dogs, whether those of the landlord or the trespa.s.ser, seems almost oracular. In these and other ways a certain zest is lent to the excursions or rather the _in_cursions, of the trespa.s.ser, which lifts them above the level of ordinary walking exercise.

In the case of wealthy landowners, the duty of warning off the trespa.s.ser devolves on gamekeepers, who, being less emotional than their employers, are a far less interesting study. Stolid and furry, and apparently endowed with only the animal instincts of the victims whom they delight in tracking and trapping, they are by far the least intelligent people whom the trespa.s.ser encounters; they are, in fact, no better than breathing and walking notice-boards, with the disadvantage that they cannot be so absolutely disregarded. It is unwise to argue with them; for reason is at a discount in such encounters and there is the possibility, in some districts, of their having recourse to personal violence, in the knowledge that if the matter should come before local magistrates the keeper's word would be honoured in preference to that of the trespa.s.ser. There is a sanct.i.ty in the word "Preserve."

An experience of this sort actually befell a friend of mine, who himself narrated it in print. A devoted botanist and nature-lover, he was twice in the same day found trespa.s.sing by a gigantic gamekeeper, who, on the second occasion, ended all parley in the manner described in the following "Mystical Ballad," wherein the writer has ventured somewhat to idealize the circ.u.mstances, though the story is based on the facts.

PRESERVED.

A Poet through a haunted wood Roamed fearless and serene, Nor flinched when on his path there stood A Form in Velveteen.

"Gaunt Shape, come you alive or dead, My footsteps shall not swerve."

"You're trespa.s.sing," the Vision said: "This place is a preserve."

"How so? Is some dark secret here Preserved? some tale of shame?"

The Spectre scowled, but answered clear: "What we preserve is Game."

Yet still the Poet's heart was nerved With Phantoms to dispute: "Then tell me, why is Game preserved?"

The Goblin yelled: "To shoot."

"But Game that's shot is Game destroyed, Not Game preserved, I ween."

It seemed such argument annoyed That Form in Velveteen;

For swift It gripped him, as he spake, And, making light the load, Upheaved, and flung him from the brake Into the King's high-road.

And as that Bard, still arguing hard, High o'er the palings flew, He vows he heard this ghostly word: "We're not preserving _you_."

Long time he lay on that highway, Dazed by so weird a fall; Then rose and cried, as home he hied: "The Lord preserve us all!"

I have often thought it was an error on the part of the trespa.s.sing poet not to explain to his a.s.sailant that he was a botanist; for "botanist,"

as I can testify, is a blessed word which has a soothing effect upon many of the most irascible landowners or their satellites. Personally I never presume to call myself botanist, except when I am found trespa.s.sing, on which occasions I have rarely known it to fail. I recall a Sat.u.r.day afternoon when, as I was rambling in a Derbys.h.i.+re dale with Bertram Lloyd, and admiring the flowers, we were accosted by the owner in person, who inquired with a sort of suppressed fury whether we knew that we were on his estate. We said we were botanists, and the effect was magical; in less than a minute we were courteously permitted to go where we would and stay as long as we liked.

For botany is regarded as a scientific study; and even sportsmen do not like to incur the reproach of being enemies to science. Their better feelings may be conveyed in a familiar Virgilian line:

_Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora Poeni._[15]

[Footnote 15: Not so obtuse of heart we Tyrians are.]

XVI

LIMESTONE COASTS AND CLIFFS

Where the most beautiful wildflowers grow, there man's spirit is fed.--Th.o.r.eAU.

A LIMESTONE soil is everywhere rich in flowers--we have seen what the midland dales can produce--but it is especially so in the close neighbourhood of the sea. Two instances suggest themselves; one from a Carnarvons.h.i.+re promontory, the Orme's Head; the other from Arnside Knott, in Westmorland.

Fifty years ago the Great Orme was a wild and picturesque headland, girdled by a footpath which made a circuit of the beetling cliffs, and crossed by a few other tracks leading to the telegraph station at the summit, St. Tudno's Church, and elsewhere; but in most respects still in a primitive and unimpaired condition. I knew almost every yard of it as a boy; and I remember, among other attractions, a hermit who lived in a cave, and better still a wild cat--probably a fugitive from some Llandudno lodging-house--who had her home in a stack of rocks on the western side of the Head. On the western sh.o.r.e of the isthmus there was at that time only one house; it belonged to Dean Liddell, famous as joint author of the Greek dictionary distressfully known to generations of students as _Liddell and Scott._

But now, owing to the "development" of Llandudno, this once beautiful foreland has become a place almost of horror, vulgarized by trams, motor-roads, golf-links, and all the appurtenances of "civilization;"

and were it not for the wildflowers, it might well be shunned by those who knew it in old days. Flowers, however, are very tenacious of their established haunts, and the remark made in Mr. J. E. Griffith's _Flora of Carnarvons.h.i.+re_ still holds good, that "the flora of this district is quite unique, in consequence of the number of species found here, and the rarity of many of them." The luxuriance of the flowers is indeed a sight which can almost make one forget the "improvements" that have ruined the scenery.

Among the plants inhabiting the rocky banks above the sh.o.r.e are the blue vernal squill, the sea stork's-bill, sweet alyssum, hound's-tongue, hemlock, henbane, mullein, and tree-mallow: to these may be added what const.i.tutes a herb-garden readymade--fennel, wormwood, vervain, white h.o.r.ehound, wild sage, succory, and Alexanders. On the higher cliffs are the curious samphire, pink thrift, white scurvy-gra.s.s, and great tufts of sea-cabbage, now rarer and more local than formerly, but here waving its pale yellow pennons in abundance. Most charming of all, the brilliant blood-red crane's-bill, together with two kinds of rock-rose (the h.o.a.ry dwarf species as well as the common one), makes rich splashes of colour on the grey limestone ledges. A little back from the sea, among the bluffs that overhang the town, you may light upon the sleepy-looking catch-fly (_silene nutans_); the tiny Hutchinsia; and in one or two places the shrub cotoneaster, which is said to be native only upon the Great Orme. I have, however, seen it growing apparently wild at Capel Curig, and at a greater distance from houses than in its Llandudno station.