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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-01 10:33:47 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-01 10:33:47 -0800 |
| commit | 274f7d7854d3711bbbf6b762e91288b063fa9530 (patch) | |
| tree | 4d5cd208e587f2b4e84c384e991505fdce7e5456 /45712-h | |
| parent | 321551b56bf7892e6311b24e9eb282d87406d5d3 (diff) | |
Add 45712 from ibiblio
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+ left: 94%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; + text-align: center;} + +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45712 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Leisurely Tour in England, by James John +Hissey</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="https://archive.org/details/leisurelytourine00hiss"> + https://archive.org/details/leisurelytourine00hiss</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="body"> +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="350" height="431" alt="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="break"> + +<p class="pn center p2 giant">A LEISURELY<br /> + +TOUR<br /> + +<span class="small">IN</span><br /> + +ENGLAND</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-001a.jpg" width="200" height="39" + alt="" + title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="pn center xlarge">HISSEY</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-001b.jpg" width="200" height="138" + alt="" + title="" /> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + +</div> + +<div class="break"> + +<div class="adv p4"> + +<p class="pn center mid"><b>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</b></p> + + +<p class="pa1 p2">THE CHARM OF THE ROAD.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>England and Wales.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">AN ENGLISH HOLIDAY.</p> + +<p class="pa1">UNTRAVELLED ENGLAND.</p> + +<p class="pa1">OVER FEN AND WOLD.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>London to Lincolnshire and Back.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">ON SOUTHERN ENGLISH ROADS.</p> + +<p class="pa1">THROUGH TEN ENGLISH COUNTIES.</p> + +<p class="pa1">ACROSS ENGLAND IN A DOG-CART.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>London to St. Davids and Back.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">A TOUR IN A PHAETON.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>Through the Eastern Counties.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">A HOLIDAY ON THE ROAD.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>Kent, Sussex, and Surrey.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">ON THE BOX SEAT.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>London to Land's End and Back.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.</p> +<p class="pa2"><i>London to Scotland and Back.</i></p> + +<p class="pa1">AN OLD-FASHIONED JOURNEY.</p> + +<p class="pa2 p1">With T. HUSON, R.I., R.P.E.</p> + +<p class="pa1">ROUND ABOUT SNOWDON.</p> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pn center p0 large">A LEISURELY TOUR IN ENGLAND</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-008.jpg" width="200" height="55" + alt="" + title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="pn center reduct"> +MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span><br /> +<span class="reduct">LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA<br /> +MELBOURNE</span><br /> +<br /> +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> +<span class="reduct">NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO<br /> +DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO</span><br /> +<br /> +THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> +<span class="reduct">TORONTO</span><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-010.jpg" width="400" height="231" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pc4"><i>See page <a href="#Page_312">312.</a></i></p> +</div></div> + +<p class="pn center">A MOATED MANOR-HOUSE.</p> + +<p class="pc1"> +"The place is silent and aware;<br /> +It has had its scenes, its joys and crimes,<br /> +But that is its own affair."<br /> +</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> + +</div> + +<div class="break"> + +<h1 class="p4"> +A LEISURELY TOUR<br /> +IN ENGLAND</h1> + +<p class="pn center p4">BY</p> + +<p class="pn center p1 elarge">JAMES JOHN HISSEY</p> + +<p class="pn center p1 reduct">AUTHOR OF<br /> +'THE CHARM OF THE ROAD,' 'ON THE BOX SEAT,'<br /> +'AN ENGLISH HOLIDAY,' 'OVER FEN AND WOLD,' ETC.</p> + +<p class="pn center p4">WITH THIRTY FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS (AND FOUR SMALLER +ONES) FROM DRAWINGS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR +ALSO A MAP</p> + +<p class="pn center p4 large">MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br /> +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON<br /> +1913 +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="pn center p4 reduct">COPYRIGHT</p> + +<p class="pn center p4"> +<span class="reduct">TO</span><br /> +MY DAUGHTER<br /> +MRS. HERBERT MALPAS<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="p4">PREFACE</h2> + +<p class="pn p2">Stevenson once took a journey with a donkey, +which animal gave him much trouble. I took my +journey in a reliable little motor-car that happily +gave me none. Though I went by car I went +leisurely, stopping often by the way, for full well I +realise the reward of loitering, and, as all wise +wanderers can testify, there is such a thing as +profitably loitering, and a joy in it. Had they been +of his day Carlyle would probably have declared +that motor-cars "are mostly employed for the +transport of fools best left at home," at least he +said so of railways. With a car, however, you can +control the pace, and can stop at your pleasure; +it is an excellent servant, though in truth a bad +master.</p> + +<p>I went "in search of the picturesque" and I +found it, also of the unfamiliar in a familiar land. +If I came to an interesting place, or happened upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> +some curious character steeped in the traditions of +the countryside, whose speech was perchance racy +of the soil, the matter of time did not trouble me. +Why should it? The day was mine and the +promise of it, my object was not to cover so many +miles and make them meaningless by undue haste, +but to linger long enough in pleasant places, the +more remote the more to my mind, so that they +could make their appeal to me and I could gather +something of the spirit of them—a something +beyond what the eye merely sees.</p> + +<p>"Wise men," says Kingsley, "go a-fishing"; they +also go a-travelling, and I can imagine no touring +ground—I write this having wandered far and wide +in foreign lands—more delightful than rural England, +away from the ugliness of modern cities and all that +has to do with them. By not confining myself to +the high-road but by seeking the byway and the +lane I got right into the heart of the real, unspoilt +country, where pleasant pastoral scenery, time-honoured +homes, quiet farmsteads, old coaching +inns (I hope I have not talked too much of them), +peaceful villages, each with their ancient churches, +quaint little market-towns picturesquely unprogressive, +and here and there a ruined abbey or crumbling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> +castle, grey with years, gladden the eye of the +pilgrim. Places and scenes to be remembered.</p> + +<p>Neither speed, by which we miss much, nor +reliance on guide-books formed any part of my +programme, for, as Sir Arthur Helps says, "in +travel it is remarkable how much more pleasure we +obtain from unexpected incidents than from deliberate +sightseeing." I set forth for Anywhere by any +roads, trusting to fortune for what I might see, +content to know that I should arrive at a good +many places.</p> + +<p>One confession, perhaps, I may make. My +book was mainly written at odd times and in +varying moods during the journey, when the +impressions of people I came across, of places and +scenes, were fresh upon me. It is a first-hand, +unvarnished record of experiences, but little altered +or mended since, and I have been minded to leave +it so, for the like reason that I generally prefer an +artist's rough sketch and the spirit of it to his +finished picture—for polish is not always an improvement, +sometimes it is but mere gloss.</p> + +<p>The route that eventually evolved itself is but +roughly indicated in my Sketch Map, for I found +it impossible, on a map of so small a scale, to trace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> +all our devious wanderings, or to note more than +a few of the many places visited. As to the illustrations, +in a few cases where my photographs +unfortunately proved failures I have ventured to +replace them with my own drawings; for these—they +are but mere brush notes—I crave a kind +indulgence.</p> + +<p>If I missed anything worth seeing on the way, +I can only plead with Plato of old that "as it is +the commendation of a good huntsman to find game +in a wide wood, so it is no imputation if he hath +not caught all."</p> + +<p class="pc2"> +J. J. HISSEY.</p> + +<p class="pc3"><span class="smcap">Trevin Towers,<br /> +Eastbourne.</span></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sum"> + +<h2 class="p4">CONTENTS<br /></h2> + +<table id="toc1" summary="cont"> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER I</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdrl"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Different methods of travel—The old coaching days—Maps + <i>versus</i> guide-books—The fortune of the road—The South + Downs—Hilly roads—The price of beauty—The sentimental + traveller—A lonely farmstead—Oxen at work—A + quaint old-world village</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER II</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">A quiet valley—The importance of the unimportant—Moated + and haunted houses—Romances in stone—A farmhouse + holiday—A picture-book village—A matter of Fate—The + tomb of Gibbon the historian—A gruesome happening—Upright + burials—An interesting church—A curious + epitaph</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER III</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">An old coaching inn—The resurrection of the road—Far from +anywhere—The charm of the unexpected—A historic +milestone—"Mine host" of past days—Our port-wine +drinking ancestors—The lure of the lane—Village life—Miniature +effigy of a knight—The tomb of "the good +Archbishop Leighton"—A church clerk's story</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER IV</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Dane Hill—Epitaphs—A wild bit of country—Ashdown Forest—Exploring—The +use of maps—Curious inn signs—A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> +Tudor home—The Devil's door—A medieval priest and +guest house—Old-fashioned flowers—An ancient interior—Curious +carvings—Roads in the old times—The window +and hearth tax</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER V</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">"Great-upon-Little"—The woods of Sussex—A maze of lanes—Frensham +Pond—A holiday haunt—The legend of the +shivering reeds—Rural inns—Roughing it(?)—Waverley +Abbey—The monks of old—The sites of abbeys—Quiet +country towns—Stocks and whipping-post—A curious +font—"A haven of rest"</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER VI</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">"Mine ease in mine inn"—King John's Castle—Greywell—Country +odours—Hidden beauty-spots—The valley of the +Kennett—A remote spot—Our picturesque villages—The +charm of ancientness—Solitude and genius—Coate—Richard +Jefferies' birthplace</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER VII</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Wootton Bassett—A quaint market-hall—Old towns—A +Roman road—The spirit of the past—A pre-Elizabethan +gate-house—The Royal Agricultural College—Chat with +an antiquary—Norman doorways—Second-hand book +catalogues—Syde—Cotswold houses—Over the Cotswolds—At +a Jacobean inn</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER VIII</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">The Vale of Evesham—A stormy drive—An angler's inn—A +big fish—Dating from "the flood"!—Fishermen's tales—The +joys of "the gentle craft"—Hotel visitors' books—A +"quiet day"—Burford church and its monuments—The +golden age of travel—A fine old half-timber inn—Ludlow—A +Saxon doorway</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER IX</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Place names—Bell ringing for lost travellers—A Robber's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> +Grave and its story—Wild Wales—A picturesque interior—The +fascination of the moors—Machynlleth—A Royal +and ancient house—Ten miles of beauty—Aberdovey—Tramps +and their ways—The poetical tramp</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER X</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Mallwyd—Falling waters—Dinas Mawddwy—Amongst the +moors and mountains—A wild drive—A farmer's logic—A +famous old inn—A fisherman's tale—A Roman inscribed +stone—Brass to old Thomas Parr—A cruel sport—Wem +and its story—A chat with "mine host"—Hawkestone +and its wonders</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XI</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Red Castle—A stately ruin—Old houses and new owners—The +joy of discovery—High Ercall and its story—Mills +and millers—The life of a stone-breaker—Old folk-songs—Haughmond +Abbey—Ancient tombs—A peaceful spot—A +place for a pilgrimage</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XII</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">An angler's haunt—Ferries and stepping-stones—Curious old +stained-glass window—The ruins of Uriconium—Watling +Street—The Wrekin—Richard Baxter's old home—A +Cabinet minister's story—A pretty village—Buildwas +Abbey—Ironbridge—The "Methodists' Mecca"</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XIII</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Madeley Court—Chat with a collier—The miner's rule of life—Charles +II. in hiding—The building of Boscobel—The +story of a moated house—A stirring episode—A startling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> +discovery—A curious planetarium—A wishing-well—Lilleshall +Abbey—"The Westminster Abbey of Shropshire"—A +freak in architecture—Tong Castle—Church +clerk-hunting</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XIV</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">A wonderful collection of tombs—A tombstone inscription by +Shakespeare—A leper's door—Relics—Manufacturing the +antique—Curiosity shops—The Golden Chapel—"The +Great Bell of Tong"—White Ladies Nunnery—The grave +of Dame Joan—Boscobel and its story—A tradition about +The "Royal Oak"</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XV</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">A town with two names—An amusing mistake—Abbot's +Bromley and its quaint horn dance—Dr. Johnson doing +penance at Uttoxeter—Burton-on-Trent—The "Hundreds +All" milestone—Indoor wind-dials—Stone-milled flour—The +old Globe Room at Banbury—Dick Turpin's pistol—A +strange find</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XVI</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">A gruesome carving—Architectural tit-bits—An ancient and +historic hostelry—Chipping Norton—Wychwood—A +parson's story—"Timothying"—Shipton-under-Wychwood—On +the Cotswolds—"The grey old town" of +Burford—Two old manor-houses—A new profession—Highworth—Church +relics</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XVII</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Little country towns—The romance of the ferry—"The Bear" +at Woodstock—Curious conditions of tenure—Where the +Black Prince was born—Islip—The mystery of Joseph's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> +Stone—An English Holland—Boarstall Tower—The +ancient town of Brill—"Acres for Aeroplanes"—Stokenchurch—A +quaint hiring fair</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XVIII</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">An inn of the old-fashioned sort—A chat with "mine host"—A +weird experience—Ghost stories—An ancient rectory +house—A quaint interior—A haunted passage—Lost in +a fog—The game of bowls—An old posting bill—The +siege of Alton church—Ants as weather prophets</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XIX</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">The Meon Valley—Warnford—A hidden church—A house "a +million years old"!—A Saxon sun-dial—A ruined home—Corhampton +and its Saxon church—A modern +"Naboth's Vineyard"—An out-of-the-world village—A +curious story—Quaint carvings and their legend—A +church tower built by servants</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XX</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">A tramp's story—A relic of a famous sea-fight—A tame road—Inn +gardens—New landlords and old traditions—Chichester +market-cross—A wind-swept land—"Dull +and dreary Bognor"—A forgotten poet—Littlehampton—Country +sights and sounds—A lulling landscape</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_363">363</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="mid">CHAPTER XXI</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">Travel in the old days—Sequestered Sussex—Country homes—A +mellow land—A gibbet post and its story—Chiddingly +and its church—The Pelham buckle—Wayside crosses—St. +Dunstan's tongs and his anvil—A curious brass—Iron +Stocks—Home again</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_379">379</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">INDEX</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_397">397</a></td> + </tr> + +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a><br /><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sum"> + +<h2 class="p4">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table id="toc2" summary="ill"> + + + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdrl"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">A Moated Manor-House</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_iii"><span class="small"><i>Frontispiece</i></span></a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Haunted!</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">A Sussex Farmstead</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Old Coaching Hostelry, Sheffield Park, Sussex</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">An Angler's Modest Inn</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">An Old Tudor Home, West Hoathly</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">A Pre-Reformation Priest-House, West Hoathly</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc">"<span class="smcap">A Good Honest Alehouse</span>"</td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">At "The Queen's Head"</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">An Old Mill</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Old Toll-House on Bath Road</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">The Village Post Office</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Syde Church</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Gatehouse, Stanway</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Saxon Doorway, Stanton Lacy Church</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">A Bit of Wild Wales</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Welsh Mountains and Moorlands</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">The Ruined Hall of Moreton Corbet</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Haughmond Abbey, Church Doorway</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Haughmond Abbey, Chapter-House</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Buildwas Abbey, looking East</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span><span class="smcap">Buildwas Abbey, looking West</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Madeley Court</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Madeley Court, Gatehouse</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Lilleshall Abbey</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Figure of Sir Arthur Vernon, Tong Church</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Boscobel</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">The Priest's Doorway</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Doorway of the Crown Inn, Shipton-under-Wychwood</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Bablockhythe Ferry</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">Boarstall Tower from the Moat</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_328">328</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">A Fourteenth-Century Doorway</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">An Old-time Home</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_367">367</a></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdtoc"><span class="smcap">A Jacobean Doorway</span></td> + <td class="tdrl"><a href="#Page_383">383</a></td> + </tr> + +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<p class="p4 center pn elarge">A LEISURELY TOUR IN ENGLAND</p> + +<h2 class="p2 mid">CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Different methods of travel—The old coaching days—Maps <i>versus</i> +guide-books—The fortune of the road—The South Downs—Hilly +roads—The price of beauty—The sentimental traveller—A +lonely farmstead—Oxen at work—A quaint old-world village.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">There are many ways of exploring the country: +one may walk, cycle, ride horseback, or drive a +horse in some conveyance, go by crawling caravan +or speedy motor-car—each to his fancy or opportunity. +Perhaps there is no best way of travel. I +say this after having sampled all the methods mentioned, +excepting caravanning, for I have tramped +it knapsack on back, and enjoyed the tramping, +through Switzerland, Scotland, the Lake District, +Wales, Cornwall, and Devon; I have taken long +cycling tours; I have driven in a phaeton and +dogcart from one end of our land to another; I +have ridden about country on horseback with a +pack; I have driven my own motor-car for more +miles than I can remember, and without mishap—so +I know, or ought to know, something about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +subject, but I will not venture to lay down any +dictum, for "What's one man's meat is another +man's poison." The thing is to see the country, +but what is worth seeing cannot be seen in a hurry.</p> + +<p>Walking enthusiasts declare that walking is the +only way, and certainly the pace that binds the +pedestrian permits of leisured observation, almost +compels it indeed: therein much virtue lies. Still +there are other ways, and the convenience of a +conveyance is not to be despised, for there are born +wanderers, like myself, who have grown old at the +game, and have come to that time of life when they +prefer to be comfortably carried than to carry a +load. Then there is the further comfort of not +being unduly stinted in the matter of luggage, for +given a conveyance, even sundry luxuries such as a +luncheon-basket, camera, rugs, sketching materials, +fishing-tackle (should an opportunity for sport occur), +a book or two to while away a possibly dull evening, +and a plentiful supply of maps may be taken +without inconvenience. To foot it does not enhance +the scenic charms of the way.</p> + +<p>Stevenson, who was a great walker, confesses: +"It must not be imagined that a walking tour, as +some would have us fancy, is merely a better or +worse way of seeing the country. There are many +ways of seeing landscape quite as good." I am +glad to quote Stevenson in this respect, for I have +had it so frequently dinned into me that the only +way really to see the country is afoot. Now I went +not afoot, but travelled in my reliable little motor-car, +conveniently little for exploring narrow lanes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +and crooked byways; and though I went by car +I went leisurely.</p> + +<p>Truly there is no poetry about a motor-car; it +has not existed long enough to have gained the +halo of romance, so to write of a motor tour makes +any appeal to sentiment impossible. This is a +handicap; for sentiment does count, even in this +matter-of-fact world, let wiseacres say what they +will.</p> + +<p>Possibly our ancestors saw little romance in +the stage-coach or postchaise; to them they were +commonplace affairs; indeed they often complained +bitterly about the former, the misery of the outside +seats in stormy weather and in winter time; moreover, +the inside passengers were generally sadly +cramped for want of room; then the coaches sometimes +overturned, and were frequently uncomfortably +crowded. We view those days through rose-coloured +spectacles—Time is the romancer. I wonder whether +our descendants in the far future will ever look back +longingly and lovingly to "the good old motoring +days"? Granted that many motorists rush through +the country gathering but "hurrygraphs" on the +way—that is the fault of the man, not the car. It is +unfortunate that at the very beginning of the +chronicle of my tour I should feel a need, perhaps a +fanciful one, to make excuse for the mode of taking +it. The car was but a means to an end; let us +forget all about it and consider only the journey +wherein my pleasure lay.</p> + +<p>I had no programme, no previously prepared +plan of route to follow, so happily escaped the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +tiresomeness of keeping or endeavouring to keep +to one. All roads are good roads to me, provided +they lead through a pleasant country, and so to +enjoyment begotten of contentment: "I travel not +to go anywhere but to go." In a definite itinerary +I find no attraction. Freedom is the essence of a +real holiday, and I would be as free to veer about +as a weather-vane that the wind plays on, free to +change my course at the call of any inviting byway +or lane, the beckoning of a beautiful distance, or at +any other passing prompting, or even at the unaccountable +mood of the moment; and this without +any feeling of reproach. As to guide-book compulsion +to see this or that, I would have none of it. +I took a supply of Bartholomew's Reduced Ordnance +Survey Maps with me on a scale of four miles to the +inch, covering all England and Wales, and these +were all the guides I troubled about: unlike some +guides they were reliable, I could do my own +romancing. Thus provided I wandered careless of +direction or destination; these and the distance done +each day were but trivial details unworthy of consideration—the +joy of the journey was the thing.</p> + +<p>I never knew when I started forth in the +morning where the evening would find me, nor had +I any concern so long as the needful inn for the +night materialised; and if the first inn I came to was +not to my liking, with a tireless car, being master of +my Fate, I was enabled to drive on to another more +to my mind. That is certainly one of the advantages +of travelling by machine instead of by muscle.</p> + +<p>I trusted, as I travelled on, wholly to the fortune<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +of the road, letting, so to say, the good things come +to me, I did not go in search of them—a delightfully +simple method of touring, but it served my +purpose well and saved much map-consulting and +asking of the way, and the vexation of sometimes +losing it. My only care was, as far as possible, to +find fresh roads to explore and taverns new wherein +to take my ease.</p> + +<p>Certain motorists there be to whom speed and +long distances accomplished alone appeal; these +need a whole continent to travel over, whilst a +modest portion of old England, with a bit of wild +Wales thrown in for the sake of varying the scenery, +sufficed me. Humboldt once remarked of a great +wanderer that he had "travelled further and seen +less than any one he knew." Now I trust to make +clear that though I did not travel far, I saw a +great deal.</p> + +<p>I was prepared for any adventures should Fortune +so favour me, but adventures are hardly to be expected +in settled lands, beyond, perhaps, the remote +possibility of the motor breaking down at nightfall +on some lonely moor far from human habitation; +but nothing of the kind happened, for my car gave +no sort of trouble—not even tyre trouble—from the +start to the finish of the journey. But then it was +driven at a moderate pace, and carefully. The +journey was void of excitement: happily so, for +though I have suffered sundry adventures in my +life, I realise they are more enjoyable in the telling +than in the experiencing.</p> + +<p>Says Hazlitt, "One of the pleasantest things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +in the world is going a journey." There I am +wholly with him, but not when he adds, "I like to +go by myself." I am afraid Hazlitt was a selfish +man. Then he continues: "I can enjoy society +in a room, but out of doors Nature is company +enough for me.... Instead of a friend in a postchaise, +or in a Tilbury, to exchange good things +with, and vary the same stale topics over again, for +once let me have a truce with impertinence." As +to going alone, surely a sympathetic companion by +your side, even though not a word be said at times, +only a presence felt, can in no way lessen the joys +of a journey? A companion does away with any +sense of loneliness that is apt at times to come over +the solitary wanderer like a cloud over the bright +sunshine; for after all, in spite of certain philosophers, +man is a communicative being. A beautiful +scene, or an interesting place, doubly appeals to me +when I have some one near by to express and share +my delight in it. But, in truth, a sympathetic companion +is not always to be had. Now it happened +that my wife was prevented from taking her place +in the car—"Excepto quod non simul esses, caetera +laetus," I could only say. No one else was at the +moment available; so perforce I had to take my +journey companionless or forgo it to an indefinite +future. The latter alternative was unthinkable; a +lost opportunity is not always recoverable; I trust +no future. "Elapsum semel non ipse possit Jupiter +reprehendere," said Phaedrus a long while ago, to +quote the ancients again, and a truth is a truth for +all time.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>After all I did not go alone, for I took my +faithful fox-terrier with me. A dog is the best +substitute for a human companion; indeed, I would +prefer to travel with a dog of the right sort to +venturing with an untried human companion any +day—at least you cannot fall out with a dog by the +way. A dog never worries you with senseless +prattle; he need never be entertained; he never +complains of waiting; his patience is inexhaustible. +On the other hand, he is ever ready and only too +delighted to accompany you at any moment on a +ramble afoot, or he will keep faithful guard over +your car should you leave it alone by the wayside; +and he will not grumble about his food or his +quarters. I took dog-biscuits with me for my +terrier in case of need, but generally the crumbs +that fell from his master's table sufficed him. A +dog is a most unselfish creature; a kind word or a +pat perhaps now and then he craves, and how easily +and gladly these are bestowed. One cannot ever +be dull with a dog as companion; so with my dog +I started on my journey. Now, to avoid the too +frequent use of the personal and irritating "I," I +crave permission at times to employ the less personal +"we," even if I have to include the dog and the car +to justify that term, or to do so forgetfully without.</p> + +<p>It was early one sunshiny morning towards the +end of May, with the pleasant month of June to +follow and the promise of it, that I mounted my +car and was off without more ado. I had carefully +packed it overnight to avoid any possible delay, +and that nothing needful should be forgotten in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +haste of departure. With my holiday only just +begun, with the little world of all England before me, +free to wander wherever I would, my mind full of +anticipated pleasures, I fared forth in the most +enviable of moods. From my home at the foot of +the South Downs I climbed to their breezy summit, +taking the old road that leads westwards over them, +having the rolling green downs on one side, and +the glittering sea visible, but a little way off, on the +other. Here one breathes a lighter, purer air, so +that the mere fact of breathing becomes a pleasure.</p> + +<p>My journey had a good beginning! By climbing +the downs I had raised my horizon and looked +down upon the world, not with a sensation of +superiority, but with a sensation of relief, being +lifted for a time above all its tiresome trivialities +and commonplace conventions. I found myself +alone with earth, and sky, and sea, rejoicing in my +loneliness, and I felt the sense of spaciousness of +the wide, bright, overarching sky, of the boundless +waters, and of the vast panorama of rounded hills +reaching far away into the dim and dreamy distance, +where the solid land looked as unsubstantial as a +cloud.</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Broad and bare to the skies<br /> +The great Down-country lies,<br /> +Green in the glance of the sun,</p> +<p class="pp2">Fresh with the clean salt air.</p> + +<p class="p1">My road led me a little inland, for I avoided the +tourist-haunted one that winds over Beachy Head, +that grand headland that rises so sheer, white, and +commandingly above the sounding sea. Would one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +could behold it in its ancient seclusion! Such spots +demand solitude, or they cease to be impressive. +"The fatal gift of fame" has been the headland's +undoing, aided by its proximity to a fashionable +watering-place, and the crowd it attracts from early +morning till the sun is setting. They even sell +picture post-cards there and bottled ginger-beer! +Need more be said? Yet I recently read an article +in a London paper upon "The Pleasant Solitude of +Beachy Head." Was it written in Fleet Street, +I wonder?</p> + +<p>All the roads over the downs are hilly ones; +they are for ever either ascending or descending; +their gradients are generally fairly severe, and their +surfaces none of the best. Now and then you +come upon a comparatively level stretch, but not +for long. So we soon began a long descent, only +to climb steeply again and to find ourselves on a +wind-swept height with a tiny flint-built church +crowning the topmost ridge of it. Friston church it +was marked on our map—an unpretending building, +yet not wanting in dignity, and simple dignity is a +rare quality, as delightful as it is rare. Even some +city-surrounded cathedrals do not attain it. Doubtless +its elevated and lonely position gave the humble +little fane a certain poetic charm, for it is not only +the building but its place in the prospect that +affects the observer. Stonehenge in a farm field, +away from the wild and open plain that surrounds +it, would lose much of its impressiveness; it has lost +some of it already by being railed in. A castle in +a hollow, as many were built to secure the services<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +of a moat, is not the same to the eye as a castle +boldly dominating the landscape from some overhanging +crag. Bodiam's ruined Castle, set in a +wooded valley, is beautiful but not impressive; on +the other hand, Carreg Cennin Castle in South +Wales, though inferior in size and much poorer a +ruin, is singularly impressive, standing as it does +isolated on the top of a perpendicular precipice of +rock. That is the sort of castle I pictured to myself +and used to draw in fancy when I was a boy.</p> + +<p>Facing the primitive church, with our road and +a pond between, we noticed, what is fast becoming +a thing of the past, an old wooden windmill, its sails +hurtling round apace in the brisk breeze. The +miller, white with flour dust, gazed lazily at us from +out a window of his aged and picturesque mill: +the wind was his willing slave doing his work for +him and working hard that day, why therefore +should he not laze and rejoice? The hum of his +mill wheels grinding their best must have been as +music to his ears. All winds that blow are good +for the miller; the sailor is not so fortunate, but +to the miller it matters not from what quarter the +breezes come, so long as they come. I have been +told by a meteorological authority that the wind +average for England is eight hours out of the +twenty-four. I should imagine that the winds upon +the open downs greatly exceed that, and a good, +refreshing, salt savour they bring with them, and +so a sentiment of the sea and its mystery.</p> + +<p>The wide and restful greenery of the downs +appeals to and gratifies the eye. In a less moist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +climate than ours the downs would be but parched +and barren ground: blame our climate as we may, +and the frequent rains that the prevailing west +winds bring, it is these frequent rains that give +our homeland its rich verdure and charming +mellowness which so attracts the foreigner from +sunnier climes. Beauty demands its price, and +considering the wealth of beauty granted us I +hardly think we ought greatly to begrudge the +price of it.</p> + +<p>On the downs the eye is free to rove unchecked +over miles and miles of this greenery even to the +most distant horizon; that is another delight of +them. Their rolling masses, no height being much +greater than another, might be likened to some +gigantic ocean suddenly arrested in a mighty storm +and converted, by some magic, into good dry land, +and here and there the white chalk showing might +serve for the foam of crested waves arrested also: +at least such a fancy came to me as I looked over +their sloping sides, their gentle rises and falls, +billowy down beyond billowy down in an apparently +endless succession. The very green of them, +though not translucent, distantly reminded me of +the green of the mid-Atlantic rollers raised by a +gale that for some time had ceased to blow so that +their surface is comparatively smooth and not +fretted by wind-driven lines. There is an indescribable +vacancy about the downs that suggests +the impressive vacancy of the sea, the boundlessness +of it. But each man sees things with his own +eyes, and to some my fancies may seem far-fetched;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +they were, but still they pleased me, for I am a +sentimental traveller.</p> + +<p>From our elevated road, some distance on, the +curious little village of West Dean was revealed +to us, a huddle of roofs and a tiny fane hidden in +a hollow of the hills—"a cup full of beauty." We +looked right down upon it and over its grey church +tower and over the lichen-laden uneven roofs of +its few dwellings—roofs all covered with golden +lichen, gloriously golden in the bright sunshine; +I have never seen roofs so completely thus covered +before, and then I realised what a beautifier, even +on a large scale, the lowly lichen can be. The +village had the rare look of remoteness, so detached +was it from the outer world by the wide and folding +downs, so far from rail and frequented road. We +determined to visit it when we reached the valley +by the long descent which followed and idle there +a time.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the descent we found a large and +lone old-fashioned farmstead surrounded by a +colony of flint-built barns and out-houses; the +little slothful river Cuckmere seeking its way to +the sea, with many windings, ran close by. The +grey old farmstead with its weather-stained walls, +the tranquil, reedy river below, the bare and +silent downs beyond, struck a note of intense +quietness. A peacefulness profound brooded over +this out-of-the-world spot: it might have been a +hundred miles from anywhere. A picture, too, it +made, effective in its breadth and simplicity. There +we rested for an hour or more, just because it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +pleased us so to do. We travelled in search of +peace and found it in a land</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Where little lost Down churches praise</p> +<p class="pp2">The God who made the hills.</p> + +<p class="p1">Near to the old farm we noticed a yoke of black, +long-horned, but meek-eyed oxen slowly drawing +a waggon up the steep slope of the hillside.</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">The slow, black oxen toiling through the day</p> +<p class="pp2">Tireless, impassive still,<br /> +From dawning dusk and chill</p> +<p class="pp1">To twilight grey.</p> + +<p class="p1">You seldom see such a sight nowadays, and only +rarely on the South Downs or the lonely Cotswolds. +Presently the oxen stopped for the waggon to be +loaded, and we took the opportunity of having a +chat with their driver, a sunburnt man clad in a +faded grey suit, and having the soft speech and +courteous manner that so often marks the Sussex +folk. "Oxen," said he, "beat horses at work any +day on these hills. I would not care to drive horses +if I could drive oxen; they are a bit slow perhaps, +but not lazy; they don't want so much urging as +horses; I never has any trouble with them, I have +just to give them a reminder with my stick now +and then and that is all; you don't need a whip +with oxen." I noticed that the stick he held was +a long one of hazel, just a thin stick and nothing +more, and I noticed that the yokes were fashioned +of wood with a heavy cross-bar at the top, and +these joined each pair of oxen together, being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +kept in position by a slight rounded wooden collar +below.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>Oxen, the driver explained to me, pull from the +top of their necks and not by the collar as horses +do; yet on lifting a yoke I saw no signs of worn +hair, only a smoothness where the yoke touched. +Oxen, I learnt, were broken in to draught work at +two years old and kept at it from five to six years, +after which they were fattened for the market. +Their beef was somewhat tough, as might be +expected, and chiefly bought by certain institutions. +Oxen, I further learnt, were cheaper to keep than +horses, as they were fed mainly on hay, chaff, and +roots; whilst horses needed oats. So I travelled +and picked up odd bits of information.</p> + +<p>Then we sought out West Dean, prepared to +tramp there if no road were available, for West +Dean we were determined to see. Unexpectedly +we discovered a narrow lane that led to it, the +downs rising sheer above on either hand, leaving +just room for the lane and a little clear-running +stream which we followed up to the village.</p> + +<p>A quaint village it proved to be, to use a term +too often misapplied, one that surely has no +counterpart in all the land. Picturesque it could +hardly be called; but though I prize both the +picturesque and quaint, the quaint pleases me the</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +better because it is so much the rarer. Its tiny +church has an uncommon tower—a strong structure, +well suited to its purpose, but devoid of disturbing +decoration that too often fails to decorate and serves +but to vex the eye; otherwise, though ancient +enough, the church is not noteworthy; still the +simple shapely tower gives it a certain charm +and character; and character, whether in man or +building, is a thing to be desired. + +<p>Facing the churchyard we discovered a most +interesting relic of past times when religion was +more to the fore than it is to-day. This was a +pre-Reformation priest-house of the fourteenth +century or thereabouts, an austere building of thick +rough masonry, deep and narrow arched windows, +and a great chimney-stack at one end, a building +probably erected in this remote spot by the travelling +monks who had not to live in it. I have, here +and there, come upon an ancient fourteenth or +fifteenth-century priest-house, for they have not +all been improved away. There is one at Alfriston, +another at West Hoathly—both in Sussex,—and +another at Muchelney in Somerset, but these are +all half-timbered buildings fairly lighted, and have +not the solid, gloomy look of the prison-like +structure at West Dean, the windows of which were +originally probably of horn, or even possibly mere +open spaces with shutters.</p> + +<p>One would imagine, being so close to the sea +with the river conveniently at hand, that West +Dean must have its smuggling traditions: those +free traders of old would hardly have overlooked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +so handy a spot; but if such traditions there be, +we could glean nothing about them, for we saw not +a soul in the place to speak to; the only living +thing we observed was a chicken that apparently +had lost itself. Never before have I been in a +village with such a forgotten look; there the +changeful centuries bring no change. Our car +stood unnoticed by the side of a tall and broken +flint wall that enclosed a weed-grown garden, +wherein stood a great, round, and roofless pigeon-cote; +not a face at a window did we see. West +Dean took no note of our coming or our going. +We drove into, and drove out of, a village asleep, +and not even the hum of our engines or the sound +of our horn awoke it. There brooded over all a +sense of silence and solitude like that of the +central sea.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">A quiet valley—The importance of the unimportant—Moated and +haunted houses—Romances in stone—A farmhouse holiday—A +picture-book village—A matter of Fate—The tomb of Gibbon +the historian—A gruesome happening—Upright burials—An +interesting church—A curious epitaph.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">Leaving West Dean we drove up the narrow and +quiet Cuckmere valley, the smooth green hills +rising steeply on either side and so preserving its +seclusion to this present day. So quiet the valley +seemed that the throbbing of our engines sounded +reproachfully in our ears, as though a motor-car had +no business to disturb its slumbrous tranquillity. +We felt like trespassers! A snug and friendly little +valley it is, through which the road and river run in +close company. The Cuckmere is but a toy river; +I should not have called it a river but that it is so +marked on my map, and on its banks I saw a man +with a gun shooting into the water. He was +shooting fish, he said! I have never seen such +sport before.</p> + +<p>Passing the hamlet of Litlington we caught a +glimpse, on the other side of the valley, of ancient +Alfriston, a little village that calls itself "the capital +of the downs," and its modest flint-built church "the +cathedral of the downs." So, by title, the unimportant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +assumes the rôle of the important. A +village becomes a capital, a country church a +cathedral, and a stream a river. One might +imagine this was the land of Lilliput!</p> + +<p>Of Alfriston a halting couplet runs:</p> + +<p class="p1 pp1"> +Poor parson, poor people,<br /> +Sold their bells to repair their steeple.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">But that, I take it, was a long while ago—if it +ever was, for I have heard similar couplets of many +other places; a few may possibly have some foundation +in fact, but I doubt the rest, and in some, alas, +the word "drunken" is substituted for "poor"! +After the Alfriston people had sold their bells, +tradition, that unreliable jade, avers that the bell of a +ship, wrecked on the coast, was purchased to take +the place of the lost peal, and by the side of the +ancient pilgrims' hostel in the same village stands a +ship's figure-head in the shape of a boldly carved +lion, fierce of countenance, said to have come from +the same ship that provided the bell; this, as long +as the oldest inhabitant can remember—and what +memories these oldest inhabitants have—has rejoiced +in a coat of brilliant vermilion, hence the local +saying, apropos of what I know not, "As red as the +Alfriston lion." Such, at least, were the tales told +to me, and many were the tales I heard as I +travelled on.</p> + +<p>Leaving the valley and the lonely downs regretfully +behind, we entered upon a level country, and +crossing the main Lewes road we proceeded straight +forward into a tame land of flat fields. The scenery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +was featureless and void of interest, but I was in +search of a moated house, so the quality of the +scenery was a detail. A friend had told me of this +house just before I started on the journey, and had +kindly given me a written introduction to its owner, +who by happy chance I found at home. So, +learning from my map that I was passing close to +the place, I determined to see it, if possible. Even +with the aid of my map I had some difficulty in +discovering the object of my search. Claverham, to +give the moated home its title, stands within a few +hundred yards of the road, yet so hidden by trees +that no casual passer-by would dream of its +existence. Thus many good things, though close +to his way, may be missed by even the keenest +observer, unless he has some hint of them and their +whereabouts. I had gone this stretch of road once +before and with open eyes, and yet had not discovered +Claverham.</p> + +<p>A moated house is a graphic reminder of old +times when every Englishman's house was in +reality, not in words, his castle. Early in the +seventeenth century Sir Edward Coke laid down +the dictum that "the house of every one is to him +as his castle and fortress," a dictum that passed into +a law proverb, "Jura publica privata domus." In +those benighted days there were no land taxers, +or sanitary or other inspectors to demand entry into +an Englishman's home. What, I wonder, in olden +times would the master of his house have said to a +sanitary inspector who demanded admission thereto? +Perhaps it would not so much have mattered what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +he would have said as what he would have done to +him—with a deep moat so handy.</p> + +<p>The very sound of the words "moated" or +"haunted house" was as romance to my ears when +I was a youth, and the sound has lost little of its +glamour and suggestion of mystery since that long +ago, for over such ancient homes there always seems +to brood an abiding air of mystery. In my search +after moated and haunted houses, many a ballad in +building, many a romance in stone, seeming more +like an artist's or a poet's dream than a happy +reality, and many a legended home in remote places +have I discovered—for a romantic spot is the +mother of legends. In the troublesome days gone +by the dwellers in a moated house must have felt a +delightful sense of security with the drawbridge up +and the outer windows iron-barred. Even to-day, +when staying in a moated house, have I felt the +sense of security that a moat affords. So much for +sentiment.</p> + +<p>Claverham disappointed me, though the fault was +mine in expecting too much. To cherish an ideal +and trusting to find it is to court disillusion, and a +seasoned traveller like myself should not have fallen +into this error. The unexpected always charms, +when it has the power to charm, more than the +expected. "Oft expectation fails, and most oft there +where most it promises," says Shakespeare, whom +it is the privilege of all Englishmen to quote. The +chief delight of travel lies in the surprise of the unforeseen, +and the discoveries we make for ourselves +of interesting places and beauty-spots: being unprepared +beforehand for such revelations, no ideals +have been formed. So the unknown attracts and +becomes oftentimes memorable.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-047.jpg" width="400" height="239" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">HAUNTED!</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">I always picture a moated house as a building +grey with years, perhaps in parts a little ruinous and +creeper overgrown, with ivied casements, a bent and +mossy or lichen-laden roof, and with oftentimes a +ghost thrown in. Such a house without its ghost +seems incomplete to me. Now Claverham, excepting +for one possibly original chimney and a lichen-laden +roof, conformed in no way to my picture, for +the house has been so altered and rebuilt that the +greater part of it, though not of to-day, is comparatively +of yesterday and not of centuries ago. +The wide and weedy moat, enclosing nearly an acre +of ground, is there as of yore, but the chief interest +of the place is in its history. Still Claverham is +picturesque: a pleasant, retired, and wholly delightful +abode in the summer-time; in the winter—well, it +was not winter-time then. Portions of the interior +are quaint, especially the black oak-beamed and +plastered hall that with its ingle-nook gives one +a genuine old-world greeting. The beams of +the hall are of the original building, and so, we +were told, was the wide ingle-nook of the dining-room; +the crane, fire-back, and andirons of this +fireplace, though ancient, are doubtless of more +recent date.</p> + +<p>This is the history of Claverham in brief as told +me by its present possessor. The house was originally +built in 1307; according to Volume XIV. of +the Sussex Archaeological Society, the manor of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +Claverham "in 12 Edward II. was in the possession +of Nicholas de la Beche. This personage appears +to be identical with the Sir Nicholas de Beche who, +according to a wardrobe account dated 27th March, +1311, participated with Sir Humphery de Littlebury +and Sir Thomas le Latimer in the reward of twenty +pounds for the singular service of <i>dragging the King +out of bed on Easter Monday</i>." So at any rate my +visit there unearthed a curious bit of ancient history. +The manor shortly afterwards came into the +possession of a member of the then famous Fiennes +family, a descendant of one of the Norman warriors +who had come over with the Conqueror. A successor +of his afterwards built Hurstmonceux Castle and +went to live there in 1422, but Claverham was +retained by the Fiennes until about 1600. My host +told me that his father remembered when there was +still a drawbridge over the moat; now where the +bridge was is an embanked approach to the house, +doubtless more convenient, but infinitely less +romantic. So, here and there, these picturesque +relics of the past disappear. A portion of the +building was so old that it tumbled down some few +years back. My host considered that the house was +never really fortified in the sense of being able to +resist a regular siege, but was rather intended to +withstand a raid, or a sudden attack by the robber +bands which infested the country; the moat, too, +served the further useful purpose as a protection +against wolves and other wild animals which at the +time had free range over the unenclosed and wooded +country around. To-day it serves as a fence to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +keep out straying sheep and cattle from the fields, +so that the tree-shaded and pleasant garden it +encloses can be enjoyed in as much peace and +privacy as though it were walled about; at the same +time the moat does not interrupt what view there is.</p> + +<p>Leaving Claverham we drove along a narrow +lane that ended in a fair main road, and this took us +for a space alongside of the wide Laughton Level, +over which sea of waving grasses, once mere marshland, +is to be had perhaps the best and most comprehensive +panorama of the South Downs, ranging +as it does almost from Beachy Head to close upon +Lewes. There before us they stretched, bare and +rounded to the sky, in their long and lordly array +of golden greenery fading into grey: miles and +miles of glorious greenery as beheld under the +summer sunshine, only broken here and there below +by the pale-blue shadows of their shallow recesses. +From that distance and point of view, the downs +that day looked almost mountainous; it was this +view that caused Gilbert White to describe the +South Downs as "that majestic chain of mountains"—perhaps +a somewhat exaggerated description, but +serving to show how impressive the downs may +appear under certain conditions, for Gilbert White +was not given to employ grandiloquent language. +It is the impression that a scene makes upon the +traveller that profits, not the vulgar record of mere +height, for there is a grandeur of form and colour as +well as of size, and for grandeur of rolling form I +know nothing to compare with the South Downs +seen from afar.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, rounding a spur of the hills, we descended +into ancient and homely Lewes, "sweetly environ'd +by the daisied downs": a town, according to Cobbett, +of "clean windows and pretty faces" (I am glad +that Cobbett found something during his Rural +Rides to admire in his own country, for he was +generally on the grumble). We left Lewes by a +main road leading northwards: hemmed in as the +town is by the downs, there was no other road to +take except the one to Brighton, and to Brighton +we were not minded to go. Presently we struck a +byway to our right which brought us to Barcombe, +a village of no interest; after this we found ourselves +in a tree-bordered lane of the delightful Devon +type, and this we followed for several winding +miles.</p> + +<p>At one spot we dropped down to a sheltered and +wooded hollow where we espied a lonely, half-timbered, +and rambling farmstead, such as painters +put in their pictures—pictures that the wealthy man +of taste hangs on the walls of his mansion purely for +the pleasure of looking at them, though I am afraid +few men realise the subtle charm of such old buildings +until an artist has translated it on paper or +canvas. They see their beauties through other +eyes, for there is an art in seeing and discovering +beauty not cultivated by the many. I was tempted +to take a photograph of this ancient farmhouse, but +could only secure a poor end view owing to the +slope of the ground and obstructing trees. It would +have made a delightful water-colour sketch, only +had I stopped to sketch every pleasing spot by the +way, my journey might have been prolonged to the +winter. I had no trouble in finding subjects for the +brush or camera; I came upon them in endless +succession. So does rural England abound in beauty. +My trouble was what to select out of the profusion +of good things presented to me. I felt like one +going through a vast picture-gallery of lovely landscapes, +only the landscapes were real and living, and +so the more delightful.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-053.jpg" width="400" height="284" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">A SUSSEX FARMSTEAD.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">The old-fashioned, age-mellowed farmsteads built +in the spacious days gone by, when every yard of +ground and inch of space was not considered, what +pleasantly familiar features they form in the landscape, +with their suggestion of contentment, and +you come upon them everywhere. Familiar, and +essentially English, but how unobtrusive they are, +they seem like a natural growth and truly to belong +to the soil; remove them from the countryside, and +the eye, perhaps hardly knowing why, would feel +that there was something missing. Times of late +years have not been prosperous for the agriculturist, +and I noticed during the journey at more than one +picturesque and pleasantly situated old farmhouse a +board displayed with "Apartments to let" thereon. +From a passing glance they appeared very desirable +quarters for those who love retirement, quietude, and +purely rural surroundings.</p> + +<p>"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good." Probably +in more prosperous times farmers would not +dream of letting lodgings, but now here is an opportunity +offering for hard-worked paterfamilias (whose +purse is limited, and who is in search of pure air,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +change of scene, and fresh surroundings for his +youngsters) to spend his holiday in the real country +far from crowds, where the children are free to +wander over the fields, romp in the meadows, climb +trees, play at haymaking, go a-blackberrying, a-bird-nesting, +or whatever rural doing may at the moment +take their fancy, when not intent upon watching the +constant, interesting, and varied life about a farmstead.</p> + +<p>A holiday in a farmhouse, how delightful and +restful is the thought of it to the town-tired man; +what a refreshing and complete change it spells +from the usually dull and dear seaside apartments, +with the everlasting pier, the noisy band, or the +inevitable nigger minstrels on the beach by way of +insistent entertainment! At a farmhouse of the +right and good old-fashioned sort you may obtain +fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden, milk +direct from the cow, real thick country cream, butter +that you may see churned, home-cured bacon and +perchance hams, to say nothing of newly-laid eggs, +such as are unobtainable in cities. This is no fancy +statement; I write from actual experience. The +thing is, of course, to find the right sort of farmhouse +and the farmer willing to take in lodgers, for +though existing they naturally require discovering, +or recommending by those who know them. For +the busy man this detail of discovery does present a +difficulty; to me driving haphazard about the country +it presented none, as such desirable quarters, situated +in pleasant spots, discovered themselves from time +to time as the journey progressed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once I tried the experiment of spending a month +in a farmhouse with my wife and child, and it proved +an unqualified success. In the matter of cost it was +the cheapest holiday I ever took, and no holiday +has given me more real pleasure, or lingers more delightfully +in my memory. The farmhouse in question +(I came upon it during a driving tour, and there I +stayed instead of touring further) was situated in +wild Wales and surrounded by beautiful scenery; +there were wide and open moors at the back of it +to ramble over, and mountains on the other side to +climb, and not far away was a playful, tumbling little +river that provided me with trout fishing.</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Much for my sport I cannot say,<br /> +Though, mind, I like the fun;</p> +<p class="pp3">There have I been the livelong day<br /> +Without extracting one.</p> + +<p class="p1">Still, it was ever an excuse for a delightful ramble +alongside the companionable river, for in the plashing +and gurgling of its waters it almost seemed a +living thing. At any unoccupied moment I could +sally forth with my rod by its rocky banks, just as +readily as I could start for a stroll with my stick, +though sketching from nature was my favourite +pastime when in a less lazy mood. So time never +hung heavily.</p> + +<p>Still, perhaps a word of caution may be given: +however otherwise desirable, farmhouse apartments +in a purely agricultural country are apt to prove a +disillusion to the elders if they have no resources in +themselves, owing to the want of something more +exciting to do than to watch the slow movements of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +farming operations. Pleasant surroundings are an +essential, so a hilly country is to be desired; then +places of interest in the neighbourhood may be made +the excuse for occasional excursions, and there are +few neighbourhoods where these may not be found.</p> + +<p>The farmer whose apartments I took let them +every year, he told me; an artist and his family had +taken them after my term was over, and from what +I gathered the different lodgers practically paid the +farmer's rent—a roundabout way of meeting agricultural +depression. Though but a detail, the farmer +sold us what little produce of his we consumed at +full market value or over, yet this was considerably +less than the usual tradesmen's charges, and every +little helps. Besides fruit, vegetables, milk, butter, +bacon, home-made jams, and countless eggs, we +purchased fowls in quantities, and occasionally +ducks. On fowls, indeed, we chiefly relied for the +table, butcher's meat being difficult to obtain, and, +truth to tell, tough when obtained. The fowls were +not over-plump, not being especially fattened—or +crammed, is it? Barn-door fowls, the farmer called +them, as they picked up a good deal of their substance +from the grain scattered about the outbuildings and +ricks; so their food was varied, consequently their +flesh, if there was not much of it, was tender and +delicate of flavour.</p> + +<p>We had to rely upon ourselves for society, though +we did get acquainted with one stranger, an artist, +who had taken up his abode at a homely little inn +some two miles away—an inn that had its uses in +that it provided us with the bottled ale of Bass.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +We led a self-contained life and gloried in it. Our +bread was home-baked, and I still pleasantly +remember how excellent that bread was, though it +had not the white colour one is accustomed to in +the town variety. We had only one baking a week, +but the bread kept sweet and palatable for the +whole of that time; it did not dry hard on the cut +surface as bought bread does; it was made from +home-grown wheat ground at a water-mill near by, +whose wheel was turned by the little, useful river—there +was the romance of it. Great long loaves +they were, with a generous allowance of crisp, rocky +crust to crumb—loaves to be remembered.</p> + +<p>We stepped at once from the door of the house +into the country, and that was the charm of it. Our +water came direct from the lonely moors above, and +was beyond suspicion pure and in superabundant +supply; indeed at one end of the large kitchen there +was a stone trough for washing purposes, and along +this the water ran day and night; no tap was ever +turned on—there was no tap to turn. Perhaps I +was fortunate in finding such desirable quarters, but +on comparing notes with an artist friend, who took +farmhouse apartments in Cumberland, I found he +fared as well as we did. A change in the method +of taking a holiday lends an added zest to it, and +those who are tired of expensive hotels, seaside +lodgings, or constant travelling, with the everlasting +packing and squeezing of the sponge, might do +worse than try farmhouse apartments in some +pleasant country. If rest be needed I cannot +imagine a more restful form of holiday.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>Besides being a good cook our farmer's wife was +skilled in the making of sundry jams, jellies, ginger-beer, +and elderberry wine; of the last she was very +proud, and mulled some for us to bring out its full +flavour—I did not sample it a second time: such +wine maketh the heart sad. One of her concoctions, +however, commended itself to me, namely, a home-made +kind of liquor that was fresh and pleasant to +my palate which she called, curiously enough, "Job's +Comforter." Who would have expected such a +thing in a remote farmhouse? This is the recipe +for the making of it as given to me: "Get a wide-mouthed +stone jar and put in it as many good lemons +as you can; stick as many cloves as possible into +the skin of the lemons, pressing them well in, then +place the prepared lemons in the jar and fill up with +unsweetened gin; let the lemons remain in the gin +for two or three days, after this strain the liquid off, +add honey and a little sugar-candy to sweeten +according to taste and to give a smoothness to the +liquor, then bottle it." I give the recipe exactly as +given to me. I had some trouble to obtain it, and +should prefer more precise details as to quantities, +but these old housewives are jealous of giving their +recipes away. I took a bottle of this "Job's +Comforter" home with me and friends of mine +pronounced it excellent—"as good as Chartreuse" +they declared, but perhaps this estimate was owing +to the novelty of the thing. Still, it was undoubtedly +good.</p> + +<p>Resuming our journey we followed the lonely +lane for a long way without arriving anywhere, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +"to travel hopefully is better than to arrive," and +we were in no hurry. Still, the longest lane has +ending, and ours ended at a wide, open, elevated +space marked Pit Down on the map; this spot, I +afterwards discovered, earned its title from the fact +that there in pits were hastily buried the victims of +the plague that once devastated the villages around, +and in one of these villages, Fletching by name, we +shortly afterwards found ourselves. A pretty village +it proved to be of the picture-book sort, as clean +and neat as though it were a Kate Greenaway's +drawing materialised. The ancient church stands +in precisely the right spot, around which are grouped, +as an artist might group them, the many gabled +houses of the village; the one thing wanting to +perfect the picture was the village green, but "fortune +seldom comes with both hands full." Fletching lies +well out of the beaten track and is only to be +reached by winding lanes, so that I should imagine +a motorist is seldom seen there, unless he has +fortunately lost his way to the finding of the village. +Even then some motorists might not realise their +good fortune.</p> + +<p>I stopped the car in the shade of one of its +attractive houses, when a man approached me, +evidently imagining I had come to see the church, +and, desiring to be of service, exclaimed, "The +rector will be delighted to show you over the church; +there are a lot of curious old tombs inside that are +well worth seeing. The rectory is just over the +way"—pointing to it—"and I know the rector's at +home." I explained that I had not come to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +the church but had merely driven into the village +accidentally. "But you really ought to see it now +you are here," he continued; "the rector takes a +great interest in it, and is always so pleased to show +it to any stranger." Fate had brought me to +Fletching, and Fate appeared determined I should +see the church. Fate was kinder than I knew. The +man stood there watching me, and after his civility +I felt it would seem ungracious to disappoint +him. So to the rectory I went, though somewhat +reluctantly, for it was a fine, out-of-door day, but +I did not wish to hurt the man's feelings.</p> + +<p>The grey-haired parson received me most +cordially; I might have been a welcome guest instead +of a stranger seeking a favour, but I have always +found that in pleasant places you meet with pleasant +people. Pleasant surroundings surely, to a certain +extent, influence the temperament of man? They +affect me, I know, and strongly. "Delighted to +show you over our church," said the parson; "it +possesses many features of interest that you might +miss if you went alone." So I put myself under his +guidance, for who should take a more intelligent +interest in, or know more about, a church than its +parson? He even appeared very desirous to show it. +A parson's life in a village is often a dull one, and +possibly the occasional meeting with a sympathetic +stranger comes as a welcome relief to his round of +monotonous days.</p> + +<p>Before entering the building I noticed a little +"low-side" or "leper window" on the left of the +porch. The purport of these so-called "leper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +windows," so frequently to be found in country +churches, has perplexed many a learned archaeologist, +and it seems passing strange to me why a +window so usual should be a subject of such mystery. +The once generally accepted theory was that they +were provided for lepers, that those so unfortunately +afflicted might view, from outside the church and +safely apart from the congregation, the elevation of +the Host, and thus participate, to some extent, in the +service. But in the case of Fletching church, and +many others, these peculiar windows are so placed +that no one could possibly see the altar from them; +moreover, as the rector remarked, lepers were never +admitted into churchyards. So the leper theory +fails. My personal impression is that these windows +were never intended for looking into, but for looking +out of the building, and for this purpose such a +small window sufficed. From the number of leper +windows I have inspected, and writing from recollection, +I should imagine that the majority of them are +suitably placed for watching the congregation entering +the church, and so might be of service to the +bell-ringers; but that, I take it, would be a +secondary consideration and not the main object +of them.</p> + +<p>On entering Fletching church my attention was +called to the Norman arches under the tower showing +that the building had been originally Norman. +Now, owing to rebuildings and restorations, it is +mainly Early English—the Early English of the +Victorian era! On the west wall is a curious and +well-preserved little brass, doubtless formerly on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +floor. The inscription on this, beautifully cut, runs +briefly as follows:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Hic jacet Petrus Denot, glover:<br /> +Cujus aie ppicietur Deus. Amen.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">The brass is manifestly an ancient one, and the +absence of a date is notable; there is plenty of space +for it. Two gloves, crossed, are shown below. +The English word "glover" looks strangely out of +place in the midst of the Latin. Presumably the +carver of the inscription, though doubtless familiar +from frequent usage with the usual Latin employed +on the memorials to the dead, its <i>Hic jacets</i>, its +<i>Obiits</i>, and the rest that goes between, was in a +quandary how to render "glover" in the classic +tongue; his limited learning failing him, he boldly +inserted it in English. At least I arrived at +that conclusion. Who was this Petrus Denot, I +wondered? The rector knew his story in part and +enlightened me. He was an inhabitant of Fletching, +a glover by trade, and was one of the unfortunates +who took a part in the Cade rebellion; he was +captured and hanged, but his body was recovered +by his relations and was buried in the church. I +query if that is the whole of the story, for it seems +strange that a tradesman of the period, to say +nothing of his being hanged for treason, should +have the much-sought-for privilege of being buried +within the church's hallowed walls, and honoured +with a brass besides. Does the brass being dateless +point to anything? I fancy that there is more in +the simple terse inscription than meets the eye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +At one time it appears Fletching was famous for +its gloves made from hogs' skins imported from +Holland, and it is supposed that the plague was +conveyed to the village by these skins, and that +brought the industry to an end, and the village +nearly too.</p> + +<p>During one of the restorations, when the flooring +of the church was removed, many skeletons were +discovered beneath, all in an upright position—"pointing +to Saxon burial," I was told. It may, +however, be remembered that Wordsworth in "The +White Doe of Rylstone" alludes to bodies in after-Saxon +days being so buried in a vault at Bolton +Priory:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Pass, pass who will yon chantry door,<br /> +And through the chink in the fractured floor<br /> +Look down and see a grisly sight:<br /> +A vault where the bodies are buried upright!<br /> +There, face by face, and hand by hand,<br /> +The Claphams and Mauleverers stand.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="pn p1">"Possibly you are aware," exclaimed my parson +guide, "that Gibbon the historian rests here in the +Sheffield chapel amid the Sheffield family deceased, +for the first earl was a great friend of his." I was +not aware of the fact, but with Cicero I could say, +"Non me pudet fateri nescire quod nesciam." The +number of world-famous men is so large, and grows +ever larger as the years roll on, that it is quite +impossible to remember where but a scant few of +the more famous of them were born, or died, or lie +buried. What matters it? These details belong +to Fate, not to genius; no genius can command<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +them. So we went to the Sheffield chapel, which is +approached by a narrow passage; facing this is a +plain marble wall impressively devoid of any ornament, +but covered with epitaphs to members of the +Sheffield family; in the centre of these is one, in +Latin, to Gibbon. He alone has the honour of +Latin, the rest being in plain English. "Now," +said the rector, "I have a gruesome revelation to +make. One evening when at her devotions in the +church a nurse was startled by a loud report coming +from the Sheffield chapel; she fled the building in +terror: it afterwards turned out that the coffin in +which Gibbon was laid to rest had burst and a +new coffin had to be made. But this is not a lively +subject; let me call your attention to those stained-glass +windows. The glass of these was removed +and buried in the churchyard for preservation during +the period of the Puritan fury; some years ago it +was unearthed and now is in its old place again. So +Time brings about its revenge; what one generation +would destroy another would preserve, only the +glass being much broken, the pieces have got sadly +mixed so as to resemble a mosaic, but not an unpleasing +mosaic, revealing little of the old design, +yet sufficient to show that the windows were to a +royal personage, presumably the Duke of Lancaster."</p> + +<p>Next a well-preserved piscina was pointed out to +me, having a bracket on the top presumably to +support an image, "in which respect this piscina is +almost, if not quite, unique in England." Then in +turn we inspected some of the ancient monuments; +reclining on the first altar tomb were two recumbent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +alabaster effigies side by side, one of a beruffled +man in armour and warlike of countenance, the other +of his wife. The inscription below runs: "Here +lyeth buried the body of Richard Lache. Coming +out of his office of High Sheriff for the counties of +Sussex and Surrey, having no issue of his body +living, he gave all his lands in the county of +Sussex unto Catherine his wife, and made her sole +executoress of his last will. In regard whereof +... she of her own account caused this monument +to be made, and herself living, to be pictured lying +by him, as you see." Yet this disconsolate widow +consoled herself the next year by marrying the +Earl of Nottingham and lies buried elsewhere! +Inconstant woman! Another fine altar tomb, +though minus inscription, is supposed by the coat of +arms remaining on it to be that of Sir Edward +Dalyngruge, "who having amassed a large fortune +by war, marriage, and court patronage, obtained the +royal license to build upon the hereditary estate of +his wife the castle of Bodiam." There were also +other ancient tombs of lesser interest, one mutilated +but apparently to a crusader and his wife; and a +thirteenth-century slab with only the matrix of its +brass remaining. In the transept I noticed, hung +against the wall, two crested helmets, gilt and +coloured, the gilding and colours being much age-dimmed, +with rusty spurs and gauntlets suspended +just below: the crests were those of the Abergavenny +family. There were also other features of +interest in the church—a penitent's window, a holy +water stoup, and at a late restoration I learnt that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +one of the pillars by the chancel was found to be +hollow and to contain the old steps intact leading +to the rood-loft, and at the top of the steps an +ancient green chasuble was discovered, left there in +some haste or for concealment, it may be imagined.</p> + +<p>On leaving I asked the rector if he knew of any +curious epitaph in the churchyard. Time, alas! has +robbed us of many a one, and worse still, to my +knowledge, certain men placed "in a little brief +authority," not approving of such levity on sacred +ground, have deliberately obliterated others. "But," +said the rector, "if I cannot show you any quaint +epitaph, I can tell you of a singular one I came +upon some time ago in ancient St. Mary's churchyard +at Eastbourne; it ran, 'A virtuous woman is +5/- to her husband.' This puzzled me at first, then +I came to the conclusion that it should read, 'A +virtuous woman is a crown to her husband.' Possibly +the carver was an illiterate man, and, being apparently +short of space, substituted 5/- for crown, deeming +them synonymous. But whatever the explanation, +that is how the epitaph read."</p> + +<p>Fletching church was one of the happy discoveries +of the journey; though much restored it is +of more than ordinary interest. There are, indeed, +but few churches of ancient date that have not +something noteworthy to reveal to the traveller; +truly they are chapters of history in stone, and some +of them are, in a sense, museums. It is well worth +a wanderer's while to step aside now and then to +inspect carefully and leisurely a country church +(carefully, or he may miss much), especially those in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +remote spots where a want of pence has happily +restrained the restorer's hand: blessed be their +poverty, I say, for owing to it only needful reparation +has been done, so ancient tombs and brasses +have remained undisturbed, and the medieval craftsman's +handiwork has not been improved away, to +the joy of every lover of the never-returning and +picturesque past.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">An old coaching inn—The resurrection of the road—Far from anywhere—The +charm of the unexpected—A historic milestone—"Mine +host" of past days—Our port-wine drinking ancestors—The +lure of the lane—Village life—Miniature effigy of a +knight—The tomb of "the good Archbishop Leighton"—A +church clerk's story.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">Leaving Fletching by a leafy lane, we shortly came +to a grass-margined highway, and where the lane +and highway met, stood, somewhat back from the +road, a lonely old inn—"The Sheffield Arms" to wit—a +well-preserved example of a modest country +hostelry of the easy-going Georgian era; one that +externally shows no signs of alteration since it first +was built, and few are the inns of the period that have +not suffered some change during those changeful +years. As our posting and coach-travelling forefathers +saw "The Sheffield Arms" with its long +range of stabling on one side, so it looks to-day, only +a little more time-toned and weather-stained, with less +life about it and, what life there is, less picturesque.</p> + +<p>There was no other building in sight on the long, +straight, but undulating stretch of tree-bordered +road fronting the inn, excepting one or two +lowly cottages half hidden in woods, so out of +direct observation that they did not lessen the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +impression of loneliness and the illusion of remoteness +that the place gave. "Miles from Anywhere. +No Hurry," is the legend displayed on the gable of +another lonely inn at Upware in the Fens; it might +as well be written on the signboard of "The +Sheffield Arms."</p> + +<p>An ancient coaching hostelry of some pretence, +that has seen better days and other ways, that has +not been modernised, standing forlorn by the roadside, +but still appearing too proud to mourn its long-lost +prosperity, always makes its appeal to me, for it +strikes a pathetic note. I do not need the building +to be picturesque, though I would prefer it thus, so +long as it be not too much decayed, only that it +possess the glamour of age, has entertained travellers +of the long ago, and so made its little history. Then +I humour my fancy. Many an old inn of this kind +has a sort of magnetic attraction for the few who +indulge in that despised article, sentiment: Stevenson +confessed that he could never get over his hankering +after a room in a wayside tavern in which to start +his tale. There is romance about a lonely and once +flourishing inn, however plain that inn may be—romance +that clings to it as surely as ivy clings to a +crumbling ruin. I feel that, in the days gone by, some +eventful happening only waiting to be revealed +must have taken place within the walls of such a +one, some romance unrecorded yet. For real +romance lingered long into the coaching age, but +steam and electricity have killed it. Now</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1"> +Romance beside his unstrung lute,<br /> +Lies stricken mute.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Had "The Sheffield Arms" a tale to tell? To +me it looked as though it had, but then it must be +remembered the poetry of a place lies as much in +the eyes of the beholder as in the place itself; what +is a romance in building to one is but bricks and +mortar to another. We do not all see alike; a +Turner, a David Cox, a Constable would each +render the same landscape differently. Once when +admiring an old ivy-covered Tudor manor-house I +ventured to remark to a native on the beauty of it; +he scornfully rejoined, "I see nought in it, it wants +pulling down." The eye is but a lens; it is the +mind that really sees and interprets.</p> + +<p>"The Sheffield Arms" is well retired from the +highway by a wide space of grassy ground whereon +grows a flourishing clump of trees; on the roadside +of this clump stands a large, two-pillared, crossed-top +signpost; from this depends a swinging sign, in +the good old-fashioned way as an inn-sign should—a +sign that boldly proclaims the business of the +house, so that even the rushing motorist could +hardly pass it unheeded by. Without the needful +sign one would hardly guess that the shy building +was an inn, so little otherwise does it assert its +purpose—and modesty becomes even a building!</p> + +<p>There I pulled up beneath the welcome shade of +the trees, sought the cool interior of the hostel and +called for a glass of ale, for the day was hot, and +mortal man is sometimes thirsty. The ale was good, +and brought to mind the poet's query:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Say, for what were hop-yards meant,<br /> +Or why was Burton built on Trent?</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Why, to provide good ale, of course, such as I +sampled there that day. Then I got a-chatting +with the landlord in hopes of gleaning something of +the old inn's past story. I found much civility, but +to my disappointment the landlord (whose name of +Weller, by the way, was a reminder of Dickens) +had scant information of the kind I sought. Truly +he said it once had been a coaching house: I could +have told him that.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-073a.jpg" width="400" height="312" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">OLD COACHING HOSTELRY, SHEFFIELD PARK, SUSSEX.</p> +</div></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-073b.jpg" width="400" height="295" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">AN ANGLER'S MODEST INN.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">The inn, I imagine, after the coming of the railway +suffered from long neglect, left stranded high +and dry, as it was, on a travel-forsaken road, its +profitable posting and coaching custom gone, and +with little else to depend upon: how it existed at all +during that stagnant period is a wonder. Who +would ever then have dreamt of the resurrection of the +road that the motor-car has brought about? How +the landlords of the half-forsaken country inns must +have rubbed their hands with glee to find custom, and +profitable custom too, come again their way. It was +a miracle; so they refurbished their ancient houses +and blessed the car that others cursed. In this +respect, at any rate, the motor has done good service, +for a quiet country inn is a boon to the traveller +who does not always care to seek his rest in crowded +noisy towns. There was a long time, after the +coaches had disappeared, when it was the rarest +thing to find a decent rural inn, and the best of +these existed for the sake of fishermen; they were +unfortunately few, but mostly excellent, for the fisherman +loves good cheer—so does his fellow-sportsman +the motorist.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the first glance the interior of the ancient +hostelry did not appear inviting. I found my way +into a large, cheerless apartment, erst, I imagined, +the coffee-room; truly there were flowers on the +table, and a door stood open wide on to a little +garden where sweet-scented roses grew whose +perfume was wafted into the chamber, but there +was no carpet on the floor, and bare boards, though +clean and stained a warm hue, are noisy to the tread +and comfortless to the eye. I was not impressed, +for though one despises luxury, one looks for +comfort. Then I jokingly asked the maid, who +put in a sudden appearance on the scene, if they +ever had any visitors stopping there: thought I, it is +a needless query. To my surprise she replied, +"We often have motoring parties for the night, and +sometimes they stay a day or two; would you like +to see our rooms?" I thought I would; I expected +to find musty chambers, four-poster beds, and forbidding +antiquated furniture, but I found bedrooms +scrupulously clean, neat, and simply but sufficiently +furnished; I have slept in rooms less comfortable +and less clean at expensive town hotels. There +was, too, a large but cosy sitting-room supplied with +really easy chairs, and—who would have thought +it?—a good bathroom! Upstairs the old inn was +clean and comfortable, and the not-too-exacting +traveller might take his ease there with much content: +indeed I almost wished I had been belated +and compelled to do so.</p> + +<p>It is always a delight to me to stay at a real old-fashioned +country inn, far from anywhere: I love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +the peace of it. The country is as tranquil as ever, +but the towns are, alas! more noisy. Would Dr. +Johnson care to "walk down" his beloved Fleet +Street to-day, I wonder, with all the twentieth-century +bustle of it? De Quincey, too, dearly +loved the quiet country inn; writing in 1802, of a +walking tour he took, he remarks, "Happier life I +cannot imagine than this vagrancy ... and towards +evening a courteous welcome in a rustic inn. It +has often struck me that a world-wearied man, who +sought for the peace of monasteries separated from +their gloomy captivity—peace and silence such as +theirs combined with the large liberty of nature—could +not do better than revolve amongst these +modest inns."</p> + +<p>At the rear of "The Sheffield Arms" the country +looked inviting with its green meadows and big +branching trees, and noticing a footpath I was +tempted to take a stroll. I had not wandered far +when to my surprise I came upon a deep, rock-girt, +and shady glen of much charm; at the head of this +I caught a glimpse of a large still sheet of silvery +water, a lake in miniature, for it was perhaps a +quarter of a mile in length or more, of generous +width also, and from its sides rose, steeply and +abruptly, hills, wooded to the skyline—wooded hills +that doubled themselves on its mirror-like surface. +I have seldom come so suddenly upon so lovely a +spot without a hint of what was to be revealed; in +truth the scenery gave no suggestion of this, and, +as a rule, Sussex lacks the enlivening presence of +water. There was a joy in the discovery of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +beauty-spot; nothing more delicious of the kind have +I ever seen.</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Good things that come of course far less do please<br /> +Than those that come by sweet contingencies.</p> + +<p class="p1">Possibly this sheet of water was artificial, though +it had purely a natural look, for it may have been +one of the numerous "hammer-ponds" constructed +long ago for the service of an iron mill or mills in +the now almost forgotten days when Sussex was the +Black Country of England, when the present peaceful +and pastoral land, as Camden says, "resounded +with the noise of busy hammer-mills beating upon +the iron," and its pure air was polluted with the +smoke of many furnaces and forges of which +Sheffield possessed its share. Sussex wood-smelted +iron was reckoned the toughest in the world, and +iron ore still abounds in the county; it was the +failure of fuel for smelting, owing to the exhaustion +of the forests and the near proximity of iron and +coal in the North, that caused the decay of the +extensive Sussex iron industry, not the lack of ore—a +fortunate happening as far as the beauty of the +land is concerned. Reminders of the period may +be found in the many place-names on the map, such +as "Steelforgeland," "Furnace Farm," "Cinder +Hill," "Hammerfield," and numerous others of a +similar nature. Those ancient iron-masters have +left their gracious mark in the land by the many +beautiful homes, standing yet, that they built for +their convenience and enjoyment in the days of +their prosperity: they built not only houses, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +built pictures in stone, in brick, in half-timber, +delightful to look upon; perhaps "they built +better than they knew." Amongst the many +in half-timber Middle House at Mayfield is a +good example, and of those in stone Batemans, +near Burwash, the home of Rudyard Kipling, is +another.</p> + +<p>At the end of the lakelet I discovered a +picturesque water-mill—grey and old, with a +weatherboard upper story, and a red-tiled, lichen-laden, +uneven roof, silvery and golden—its dark +green wheel revolving round in a leisurely fashion +to the droning of the ancient machinery within, and +the quiet splash of water without. A ready-made +picture awaiting the artist to paint it, if he has not +already done so. Somehow the sounds of water +and wind-driven machinery seem to me to be +different in quality to that of steam-driven +machinery with its insistent noise: water and +wind are natural powers, and both water-mills +and windmills with their adjuncts are picturesque +objects to the eye, but I know no steam-mill that is +not ugly. In the days before steam became the +almost universal power, and the modern builder and +engineer had not disfigured the country with their +assertive erections, how doubly beautiful England +must have been! Would that photography had +been invented ages ago, then we might possibly +have had photographs of Elizabethan England preserved +to us, so that we might better judge of its +picturesqueness than by descriptions and drawings +not always to be trusted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>I know of no other pleasanter stretch of highway +in all England than those few miles on either hand +of "The Sheffield Arms"; on both sides of it are +spacious grassy margins left to nature, and they +extend as far as the eye can see, and the sum of +them would come to a considerable acreage. On +these wide wastes grow big oaks and other trees; +especially noticeable are numerous clumps of Scotch +firs that, with their tall red trunks and twisted +branches high above, give quite a character to the +roadscape, if I may employ so odd a term; besides +which brambles, heather, bracken, gorse, and other +wild growing things flourish on them at their own +sweet will. An ideal spot for a wayside picnic, +where one might choose a secluded nook near to the +road, yet hidden from it. Here at least no "hungry +nobility have swallowed up all the land except the +King's Highway." There was not a soul in sight; +the vacant road impressed me with the same sense +of loneliness as does a house deserted, for I looked +for life and found none.</p> + +<p>On a slight rise, a little away from the road +and not far from the inn, I espied a tall, shapely, +solitary stone pillar, weather-stained and worn, +backed by a tangle of greenery. This aroused +my curiosity, so off I set to solve its purport—and +discovered a glorified milestone, manifestly +erected in days somewhat remote; the lettering +on it was, in parts, wasted away and so difficult +to decipher, but I managed to make out +certain of the names and figures, and this is what +I noted:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<table id="t01" summary="t01"> + + <tr> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdc"><span class="reduct">Miles.</span></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>Westminster Bridge</td> + <td class="tdc">39</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>East Grinstead</td> + <td class="tdc">10</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>Lewes</td> + <td class="tdc">10</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>Brighthelmstone</td> + <td class="tdc">17</td> + </tr> + +</table> + +<p class="pn p1">There were further inscriptions, but these were all +I copied. Brighton being given as Brighthelmstone +shows how far back the stone was placed there—those +were the days when people directed their +letters "Brighthelmstone, near Lewes." I learnt +afterwards that this milestone was erected by a +former Earl Sheffield in order to settle the frequent +disputes that arose with the postboys as to distances +to his park and the inn. "Private travellers," as +those who posted about country were called, had need +of well-filled purses, for in addition to the charge for +posting that ranged, according to Leigh's <i>Road +Book</i> (sixth edition of 1837), from 1s. to 1s. 9d. per +mile, the postillion expected and demanded a further +3d. a mile for himself, and more if he could extort +it; besides which the traveller frequently felt under +the moral compunction "to take something for the +good of the house" during the delay of changing +horses.</p> + +<p>On the arrival and departure of the postchaise +the old-fashioned landlord was always in polite +evidence, willing to drink the traveller's health at +the traveller's expense—it was the custom of the +age. What constitutions the men of those days +must have had, whether of high or low degree! +Men then there were who could drink their two, or +even three, bottles of port at night, and rise the next +morning apparently none the worse for it. When I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +was a youth I visited a country squire, one of the +last of the old race, and I well remember that after +dinner he drank his two bottles of port, excepting a +glass that was given to me; at the finish he was "as +sober as a judge," and the next morning, early, he +was out with the hounds.</p> + +<p>Leaving the old inn we took a narrow lane +opposite to it, for it had a pleasant look; the highway +too was pleasant enough, but we thought +the lane the more likely to lead to some out-of-the-way +spot and have more picturesque possibilities: +the highways serve the towns, the byways the villages +and the countryside, so always take to a lane when +you can if you desire to discover the secreted beauty +of the land. Our lane led us through a green and +old-world country with no hint of modern ugliness +or aught but tranquillity about it, a tranquillity that +hardly seemed of our bustling day. The lane was +long, but not too long for us, and very winding; +possibly our lanes follow the old primitive tracks of +past days when the early inhabitants, to avoid a +swamp, soft ground, or a wood, simply deviated this +way and that in search of firmer footing; even, it +may be, these early inhabitants followed on the +earlier track of wild animals. Small wonder our lanes +are often so wandering—delightfully wandering, for +therein lies their special charm: who can tell what +a lane may do, or what surprise each bend of it may +have in store for the traveller? Then a crooked +lane controls the pace, you cannot go fast on it, so +time is compulsorily afforded to see and absorb all +that is worth seeing; the lane is for the loiterer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +though few there be who care to loiter nowadays, +so the lane is almost forsaken except by country +folk and rural lovers. Some one somewhere says, +who or where I cannot now remember, nor am I +sure if I have the quotation right, but this is the +drift of it, "The lane is a work of genius, the highway +that of the engineer." The lane is to the highway +as old wine is to new; there is a finer flavour +about it, a rarer charm; it leads to half-forgotten +places and quiet scenes—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Where the wheels of Life swing slow,<br /> +And over all there broods the peace</p> +<p class="pp4">Of centuries ago.</p> + +<p class="p1">At last, after many windings and some climbings, +our lane brought us to the remote and pleasant +village of Horsted Keynes, set on a hill and +surrounded by woods. If one goes in search of +these out-of-the-way spots they are apt to escape +one; it is the good fortune of the true wanderer to +discover them—that is the reward of desultory travel. +Stopping the car in the wide village street, a goodly +portion of the youthful population promptly surrounded +it. "A motor-car, a motor-car," I heard +them call out to each other, as though the sight of +one was somewhat rare; perhaps but few motorists +find, or lose, their way there. To travel and escape +other cars and the morning paper is a feat even in +rural England. Then apropos of nothing one of +the boys explained, "That's the way to the church, +down that narrow road." "I did not ask the +way to the church," I responded; "why did you +point it out?" "Well, I thought as how you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +came to see it; there's nothing else to see here." +There was not, except one or two rather pretty +cottages.</p> + +<p>There before us, a little down a narrow road, +stood the ancient church with its tall shingle steeple, +curiously slight. I strolled up to the silent fane of +Sunday devotion for the sake of a walk and to get +a better glimpse of the old-fashioned cottages on +the way, each with its little garden gay with flowers. +Then I glanced inside the church. I had not been +there more than a minute or two before the clerk +made his appearance, somewhat out of breath in his +haste to discover me before I departed. "I saw as +how you were a stranger," said he, "and thought +perhaps you would like me to show you over the +church." So are strangers' movements noted in +quiet places. In many an out-of-the-world village +the coming of a stranger arouses an astonishing +amount of interest; his coming, his movements, his +business, his going, are subjects of discussion and +watching. How uneventful and unexciting must the +lives of the sleepy villagers be that so small a matter +should claim their special attention; little wonder +that the younger generation among them seeks the +town as a relief from the dull monotony of its +existence. How to make village life attractive is +the problem, and a pretty stiff problem too. Village +halls and reading-rooms do not solve it—the average +villager scorns them; he, or she, much prefers +to idle out-of-doors doing nothing, contentedly or +discontentedly, varied by an occasional visit to the +public-house. It is not an ideal existence. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +the villager needs is a wider interest in life. "Back +to the land" is a vain cry till country life is made +less dull and more desirable; but if the country in +the winter-time is dull to some, is not the town also +dreary to others with its yellow fogs and muddy +streets? I am writing of the poor man who throngs +the town where labour is over-supplied and leaves +the country where it is required. So the shires are +deserted and the slums crowded. I am no politician, +I detest politics as I do the devil—if they are not +one and the same thing—but from what I have seen +and heard, from the many talks I have had with the +countryman lowest down in the social scale, I do +feel that only the pride of possession of his freehold +cottage with a little garden attached, or some +small holding, will ever attract him back from the +town to the land. A garden to tend keeps a man's +idle hours pleasantly employed, and keeps him too +away from the public-house. In the same way I +still more strongly feel that the loss of the sturdy +yeoman farmer, tilling his own little freehold, on +which son succeeded father in the good old days, is +a disaster to the country. To do "yeoman's +service" had a pregnant meaning once; now it has +none, for the yeoman has gone, gone to other lands +to forward their prosperity. He was foremost in +the fight on many a hard-fought field: he it was +who helped to turn the scale at Crecy and Agincourt, +and his reward has been to be improved (!) +out of existence.</p> + +<p>But I have forgotten I was with the clerk in the +church. I am afraid that at first I rather resented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +his intrusion, but after all he turned out an obliging +fellow, amusing too without the thought of such a +thing, so I forgave him. "It's an interesting old +church," he exclaimed. How familiar I am with +that phrase, so often have I heard it; it is the stock +phrase of most clerks by which he introduces himself +to you, with the inevitable tip in view. But +there he was, not to be disregarded, and with a smile +on his face; he might have looked more serious, I +thought, for I fancy he was sexton too. I don't know +why, but his smile annoyed me; however, I let him +have his way. "It's a very old church," he went +on, "but it has been restored." "Do you know, +I've already discovered that," I retorted. "'Deed, +sir, then I suppose you be one of those learned +antiquated gentlemen who understands architecture. +Now I think I can show you something +that will interest you. I likes to meet learned +antiquities; I'm a bit of an antiquity myself." +He was!</p> + +<p>Then he led the way to the chancel, and there he +pointed out to me on the north wall under a small +canopied recess the miniature effigy of a cross-legged +Knight-Templar, with his foot resting on the +usual lion in miniature too—a very curious and +interesting monument, the like of which I have not +seen before; the recumbent figure is beautifully +carved and in a good state of preservation. But +why so brave and bold a knight—it is a matter of +faith with me that those knights of old were all both +brave and bold—should have such a miniature monument +I could not conceive. It perplexed even the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +learned clerk to account for this strange departure +from the usual life-sized effigies of warriors who are +supposed to sleep peacefully below their "stone +pictures." It could not have been want of pence, +for the carving was too well done; it could hardly +have been want of space. Why, then? There +was, unfortunately, no inscription on the monument, +so what the knight's name was, or what daring +deeds he may have done, or when he died, I cannot +say, but I guessed that the tomb was of about the +time of Edward I. Then the clerk told me the tale +of a learned "antiquity" who had come from +afar especially to inspect this monument (so the fame +of it has spread abroad, though I had never heard +of it before), and this learned authority had declared, +after carefully examining the belt of the effigy, that +the date of the monument was 1227. How he +could arrive at so exact a date I could not imagine, +for after hearing this statement I critically examined +the belt but could discover no figures thereon; and +the carving in itself is surely not enough to go by. +Still my guide stuck to his story.</p> + +<p>There were other things of minor interest the +clerk pointed out to me—the headless brass to a +woman, once on the floor but now on the wall; an +old stone slab with a finely carved and raised cross, +without inscription, also built into the wall; and a +number of nail holes in the fine oak roof, showing +where laths had at one period been nailed to it to +support a plaster ceiling! But I discovered for +myself a mural tablet on the chancel wall to a Mrs. +Sapphira Lightmaker, "a devout woman and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +mother in Israel, widow indeed, who notwithstanding +sollicitations to a 2nd marriage, lived to 44 years." +What was the import of this? Are unsought-for +"sollicitations to a 2nd marriage" likely to +shorten life?</p> + +<p>Then the clerk asked if I knew that "the good +Archbishop Leighton is buried here?" I was not +aware of it; the clerk knew more than I did, and +the fact appeared to please him. "I thought +perhaps I could tell you something you didn't +know," said he. I felt complimented, for his +remark showed that in his opinion I possibly was +not wholly ignorant about other things. "Where +is his tomb?" I asked. "Out in the churchyard," +was the reply; "but it was not always out +in the cold; at one time the ground was covered +by a chapel, but the chapel either fell or was pulled +down." Wherever you go in England you come +upon history: at Fletching I came upon the tomb +of Gibbon; here, on that of Archbishop Leighton, +and both in remote out-of-the-world villages reached +only by devious lanes.</p> + +<p>We went without to see the tomb, a portion of +the epitaph on which runs, "In an age of religious +strife he adorned the doctrine of God." But the +saintly Archbishop has a second, and an older, +monument (it is not often, indeed I do not remember +such a thing before, that one finds two monuments +of different ages close together to the same person). +The older monument is in the shape of a slab set +against the chancel wall, and bears the following +Latin inscription:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="pn center p1"><span class="reduct"> +Depositum<br /> +Roberti Leightvn<br /> +Archiepiscopi Glasguensis<br /> +Apud Scotas<br /> +Qui Obij xxv. die Junij<br /> +Anno Dmi 1684.<br /> +Aetatis suae 74.</span></p> + +<p class="p1">"Do you know," exclaimed the clerk, "I was +showing this monument to an old lady one day who +appeared to take a great interest in it, for she told +me she had been recently reading about the Archbishop; +then suddenly she said, 'I suppose you +knew him well, being the clerk here. Do tell me +exactly what he was like.' Now that's a true story." +"What reply did you make?" queried I. "'Madam,' +I said, 'do I really look over two hundred years +old?'"</p> + +<p>It may be remembered that the Archbishop used +often to say that he thought "an inn the fittest place +to die in, it looking like a pilgrim going home, to +whom the whole world was an inn, and who was +weary of the noise and the confusion of it." And +he had his wish, for he died at the Bell Inn, Warwick +Lane, London. Curiously enough, Cicero, centuries +before, expressed himself much in the same way, +for thus he wrote: "Ex vita discedo, tanquam ex +hospitio, non tanquam ex domo."</p> + +<p>As I was leaving, the clerk told me that about +a mile away, in a wild and wooded country, was +Broadhurst, where the good Archbishop spent the +last years of his life. "It's a funny tumble-down +old building," he said, "and it used to have a moat +right round it, but that's filled up; the road to it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +very rough and rutty; a farmer has it now." I +know not how it was, but though an ancient and +picturesque home has an unfailing attraction for me, +yet in this case I somehow neglected going just +that little out of my way to see what I understood +to be one. Truly "a very rough and rutty road" +is not good for tyres, or car, but I could have walked +it: why this did not occur to me at the time now +passes my comprehension; it must have been a +temporary lapse of sanity. Even geniuses have +such lapses, for it is recorded of Sir Isaac Newton +that he cut two holes in his study door, a large and +a small one, for a favourite cat and her kitten to +enter by! As to Broadhurst, I can only console +myself that possibly (as Dr. Johnson once remarked +of a place) "it is worth seeing, but not going to see."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Dane Hill—Epitaphs—A wild bit of country—Ashdown Forest—Exploring—The +use of maps—Curious inn signs—A Tudor +home—The Devil's door—A medieval priest and guest house—Old-fashioned +flowers—An ancient interior—Curious carvings—Roads +in the old times—The window and hearth tax.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">Out of Horsted Keynes we followed a friendly lane +that quickly dipped down into a deep and wooded +valley and then rose steeply to Dane Hill, an +elevated spot that probably derives its name from +an early Danish camp, or from some forgotten +battle taking place there during the Danish occupation; +its commanding situation suggests it may +have been a fortified post. Place-names, preserved +through generations, often mark spots where some +far-off and unrecorded event has taken place, and I +am inclined to think Dane Hill is one of these. I +hunted through several volumes of general and local +history, but failed to find any mention of a battle +there; sometimes, however, tradition is founded on +fact, though one cannot accept any tradition as +trustworthy; still, where probability and tradition +go hand in hand, I am inclined to give ear to +tradition. Some day perhaps some Archaeological +Society may go digging about Dane Hill and make +discoveries.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dane Hill is crowned by a fine, large church, not +ancient, nor yet quite of recent days, for its stones +have grown grey with years, however many or few +those years may be. Access is afforded to the +churchyard by some steps, and at the side of these +stands a modern, tall-pillared, canopied cross; the +carving and shaft of this are beautifully neat, a +careful copy of old work, yet without even a hint of +its spirit or vigour, it being all scraped and smoothed +to a meaningless finish, as though any mark of +handiwork was a thing to be ashamed of; the old +monkish craftsmen knew their art better, for it is +the human touch revealed upon it that gives meaning +to the meaningless stone. There is no soul behind +the modern workman's tool: how can we expect it +when for long years we have been making a human +machine of him? Look at his lifeless productions, +however painstakingly carved, and compare them +with the grotesque gargoyles that verily seem to +breathe and to struggle of the medieval sculptor, or +any other like work of his hands; the latter too +was a creator, not a mere copyist. His creatures +resemble nothing on earth or in water that has +been as far as I know, yet they look like things that +could live.</p> + +<p>Somehow the large churchyard looked strange +to me, and for the moment I could not reason why; +then suddenly I realised it was because there was +not a gravestone in it, not even a grass-grown +mound: did the people of the small hamlet never +die? The harvest gathered in God's acre is generally +so plentiful. Then I solved the mystery; on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +the opposite side of the road I discovered a little +cemetery hidden by trees and where the gravestones +were many, each with its loving tribute to the +underlying dead. To judge by the tombstone +inscriptions in our churchyards, what paragons of +perfection lie sleeping there, what saintly virtues +they possessed! Would that I had met them in the +flesh! Why always of yesterday and not of to-day? +Small wonder that a little girl who had been reading +similar eulogies asked her father, "Where are all +the bad people buried?" Only once have I come +upon an epitaph that might possibly bear an unkind +interpretation, and this read, "He was ...," leaving +the rest to be filled in by the imagination. Solon, +the great Athenian ruler, according to Plutarch, +"laid down a justly commended law that no man +must speak ill of the dead," and wisely ordered, for +the dead cannot defend themselves nor can have +any say upon what is inscribed above their dust, +excepting in those few instances when the living +have written their own epitaphs, not always laudatory +by the way, and one cannot but admire their +candour. For example, there is the much-quoted +one that Dr. Lloyd, a dean of St. Asaph (deceased +1663), wrote for himself, and it will bear quoting +again:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +This is the epitaph<br /> +Of the Dean of St. Asaph,<br /> +Who, by keeping a table<br /> +Better than he was able,<br /> +Ran much into debt<br /> +Which is not paid yet.</p> + +<p class="p1">At Dane Hill we came upon a good main road<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +that led us to a wild, open upland reaching far on +either hand, a delightful bit of unsophisticated +nature where the land is poor as land well can be, +so poor that according to a local expression "it +would make a crow cry to fly over it," yet beautiful +in colour to look upon. A glorious stretch of wide +and wild country bare to the sky and swept by all +the winds that blow, and the absence of any bounding +hedges or fences left the eye at liberty to rove +over it unchecked to the furthermost horizon of +distant hills "rolling in the blue," and to the fir-fringed +heights ahead of Ashdown Forest darkly +outlined against the sky. Glorious in colour with +its masses of purple heather and golden gorse, and +sweet was the odour of the gorse that came wafted +to us on the soft west wind. All England is not +tamed or cultivated, and I am thankful, in a scenic +sense, that some portions of it, such as the moors +and heaths, still resist the dominion of man, as they +have done for ages past. Not so Cobbett, for thus +he writes apparently of this very spot in his <i>Rural +Rides</i>: "You cross Ashdown Forest ... verily +the most villainously ugly spot I ever saw in +England ... getting, if possible, uglier and uglier +all the way, till at last you see some rising spots +which instead of trees present you with some ragged, +hideous rocks." But no land was beautiful in +Cobbett's view, I take it, unless it would grow good +wheat; he notices the rocks, "hideous" in his eyes, +though romantic in others, but has not a word for +the glowing gorse or purple heather that I presumed +flourished there in his day, as now. What was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +gorse or heather or their rich colours to him? You +cannot eat gorse or heather; mere beauty he considered +not, but a well-grown field of turnips sent +him into raptures. Ashdown Forest climbing the +hillside, though it only grows trees, is to me with +its green glades, its groves of pine and their dim +pillared recesses, as delightfully shady and as silent +a retreat as the heart of man could desire, yet +Cobbett deems it a "most villainously ugly spot." +Let no one trust Cobbett's <i>Rural Rides</i> as a touring +guide. Nor by his own showing does he appear to +have been a very gracious traveller, for thus he +writes of one inn where he stopped the night and +left the next morning early: "By making a great stir +in rousing waiters and boots and maids, and leaving +behind me the name of a 'noisy troublesome fellow,' +I got clear." I read Cobbett's <i>Rural Rides</i> in the +hopes of gaining some information about scenery—and +the only information I could gain was about the +qualities, good or bad, of agricultural land. Now +the title <i>Rural Rides</i> suggests pleasant rovings, not +lectures upon land and upon politics.</p> + +<p>We drove on to a spot right on the top of a hill +overlooking Ashdown Forest, and there the road +began a long and gradual descent, out of the sunshine +into the green gloom of the woods. This +descent we should have taken had we not espied a +lonely byway to our left that appeared to keep on +the high and open ground, so we chose the sunshine, +the breezy upland, and the byway: a solitary signpost +pointed down this with "West Hoathly" boldly +displayed on its extended arm. Now West Hoathly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +was but a name to us, but to West Hoathly we would +go; we might make discoveries there—which we did.</p> + +<p>Writing of signposts reminds me that when touring +in Somerset some years ago I asked my way of +a man by the roadside, and he said to me, "Go +straight on to the next parson; he will direct you." +"The next parson," I exclaimed in astonishment; +"whatever do you mean? I may not meet a parson +for miles, or at all." "I see you don't understand," +was the reply, "but us calls direction-posts parsons +in these parts." "How is that?" I queried. "Well, +I don't exactly know why, but us do." As I could +glean nothing further I sought information elsewhere, +and was fortunate enough to find a man who +explained to me that "Some folks hereabouts calls +direction-posts parsons, because they point the right +way but don't go it. It's quite an old joke in these +parts;" and he grinned as he repeated the joke to +me. Old though it was I had not heard it before, +though a Somerset clergyman to whom I told the +story often had.</p> + +<p>A glance at our map showed that the byway +would probably take us into a remote corner of the +land, far from travelled ways and into a country of +woods and wildness, for beyond West Hoathly, +marked on the map, were Worth, Tilgate, and +St. Leonard's forests, close upon each other and +altogether of considerable extent, with narrow lanes +winding through and round about them. There +surely we should be well out of the beaten track. +That is one profitable use and pleasure of a map, +to trace, now and then, a rough course upon it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +remote from town or rail. Many a delightful hour +have I spent with a map before me, travelling in +imagination by its aid when the winter storms and +snow forbade road wandering for pleasure: so I +would go up hill and down dale, now following the +course of a river for miles, now coming to a ferry +across it, now to a ford, now to a mill, now to a +bridge by which I reached the other side and +climbed up to a wild moorland solitude; then I +would descend to the lowlands and make my way +by somnolent villages, by shady woods and pleasant +parks; then I would come to a ruined abbey, anon +to an ancient castle, then to an old battlefield, a +prehistoric camp, and occasionally to a Druids' +circle, and all this whilst seated comfortably in my +arm-chair before a blazing log fire. I think it was +Sir Thomas Browne who said, though I am not +quite sure of my authority, that to travel with a +book was "the pleasantest way of all of travelling"; +but I prefer a map, then in fancy I can go where I +like, not where others take me. To show how +useful a map may be to the discovering of interesting +places that have not, generally, found their way +into a guide-book, and to specialise in moated houses, +I have now before me the Ordnance Survey Sheet +of Stratford-on-Avon, No. 200, covering no great +breadth of country, and I have just counted nine +moated houses marked upon it, or "moats" at any +rate; and these are they, being at, or close to, Inkberrow, +Rose Lench, Wickhamford, Broom, Broad +Marston, Clifford Chambers, and three around +Throgmorton.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Proceeding along the byway, at first we crossed +a wild heath, a perfect sea of heather, gorse, +brambles, and bracken, islanded here and there +by dark clumps of pines, their tops being tossed +about by the brisk breeze, a breeze that bent the +bracken below and harassed and hurried along the +white clouds above. There was movement everywhere; +great gleams of golden sunshine and patches +of grey shadow chased one another over the land +and raked the distant hills, then, as our eyes followed +them, lost themselves in space. We rejoiced in the +open-air confusion and in the clearness of the wind-swept +atmosphere that caused all objects in the +view to be free from any obstructing haze or mist, +and, to the vision, brought the distance so near.</p> + +<p>So, keeping still on the ridge of the hill, we came +to West Hoathly standing high above the country +around. Here we pulled up under the shelter of a +yew-tree overhanging the churchyard, and opposite +to a clean and creeper-covered little inn curiously +entitled "The Cat"; and this reminds me that we +observed some singular inn signs during the journey, +and here are samples of a few of them: "The +World turned upside Down," but unfortunately there +were only those words on the signboard; I should +have liked to see a pictured representation of the +world shown thus. Then there was "The Devil's +Elbow"—how did that originate, I wonder?—and +"The Merry Mouth," showing a big mouth smiling +a welcome on the sign; "The Labour in Vain" +had pictured two white men endeavouring to scrub +a black man white, truly a quaint idea. In Wales I +noticed "The Aleppo Merchant," a sign I had not +seen before, and of its significance I know nothing. +"The End of the World" was realised by the world +in flames; and there were others.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-100.jpg" width="400" height="282" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">AN OLD TUDOR HOME, WEST HOATHLY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Strolling about the ancient village, I espied, on +the further side of the churchyard, a grey old home +of the Tudor time, so substantially built those long +years ago that to-day it looks, but for the time-toning +of its stones and the slight crumbling of one +here and there, almost as perfect as when first +finished. Its mullion windows are without the +usual transomes, and do not seem to need them; +their leaden lattice-panes gleamed, just then, cheerfully +in the light. Windows are the eyes of a house, +in their way as expressive as those of a human being. +I like to see a clear eye and a bright window. The +old home was retired behind a high and buttressed +wall, and in the centre of the wall was an arched +outer doorway.</p> + +<p class="p1 pp1"> +Somewhat back from the village street<br /> +Stands the old-fashioned country seat.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Its roof is of stone slates, the most lasting and +the most lovely kind of roof imaginable, beautiful +when new, and yet more beautiful when old; the +stone slates in this case, as in every other I know, +being carefully "sized down, the smaller ones to +the top and the bigger towards the eaves, which +gives one the same sort of pleasure in their orderly +beauty as a fish's scales or a bird's feathers." There +is no ornamentation at all about the building except +some restrained carving at the top of the arched +doorway in the garden wall; the charm of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +building lies in its simplicity and goodly proportions, +perhaps also in the feeling of lastingness in that it +seems fitted to still stand unhurt, as in the past, all +the winds and storms of heaven for years uncounted, +without a thought of repairs. A modern builder's +"desirable residence" never gives me such an impression—indeed, +it does not appear to me even +"desirable." We seem to have lost all love of +building simply, let alone honestly. We too often +seek after striking effect and even quaintness, so as +to challenge attention, if not admiration, to the loss +of all repose and the sentiment of home; for a +man's dwelling-place should be first of all to him +a home.</p> + +<p>Once I knew a country squire who desired to +build himself a house on a fresh and more healthy +site than that in which he lived, so he employed an +up-to-date architect, full of ideas, to design him one. +In due course the architect placed the elevation of +the proposed house before the squire. It was a +most unrestful production of needless gables for +the sake of gables, tortured stone, and meaningless +carvings, in all styles and no style at all, but +intended to be impressive and to please. The +architect said he thought it original and that it +would "look well in stone." "Good gracious," +exclaimed the squire, "do you think I am going +to take a chair and sit out-of-doors and look at my +house? I want one to live in." "Those are the +very words I said to him," the squire told me, +adding, "I asked for a home, and he produced a +nightmare!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Modest in size though that old Tudor home at +West Hoathly is, yet it suggests a certain sense of +importance, just because it is so well built, with no +pretence about it; and what a charm those two +words, "no pretence," in an age of pretence and +shams, convey. Pretence is an undesirable quality +that threatens to submerge us all some day unless +we cast it off, realising the utter nonsense and +snobbishness of it. Modesty is a thing above most +others to be desired, though a famous American +once declared that "in our free country a man can +get on very well without it." I quite believe that. +But you cannot, architecturally speaking, in an +ancient land "put new wine into old wine skins" +successfully, or with any sense of artistic fitness—the +new wine of novelty, I mean; that is best left +for fresh lands that have no traditions.</p> + +<p>I took a photograph of the old Tudor house +from the churchyard, and there I got a-chatting +with a man in a faded tweed suit who had watched +my proceedings with apparent interest. I took him +to be a local inhabitant, but to use an antiquary's +favourite expression, "I could not quite sum him +up," nor did he enlighten me as to who or what he +was; but, after all, it was no affair of mine. At +first he talked about the weather, by way of introduction, +I presume, for it is a topic that never fails +amongst country folk. I really do not know what +they would do in dull places without the weather to +praise or abuse; even the tramp, whose sole object +is to beg, invariably first starts upon the weather, +and so he feels his way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you are interested in old places," said the +stranger, "you should see the ancient priest-house +a little lower down the road," pointing indefinitely +into space. "It's well worth seeing; and you might +like to take a glance at the church, it's very old +too." I thanked him for the information. Then +he led me to the porch and pointed out the oak +door there that was grey, not dark, with age, begging +me to notice the date upon it, marked in big studded +nails, "March 31, 1626." "There's a Devil's door +in the north wall; you might take a look at that +now you're here, but it's built up," remarked my +companion. "The Devil's door!" I exclaimed. "I +never heard of such a thing. Surely the Devil +does not go to church?" I was puzzled; I asked +for enlightenment. "Well, you see," came the +reply, "it's certainly not everybody nowadays +who is aware of the fact, but in past times there +used to be a small doorway on the north side of +churches to let the Devil out when a child was +baptized, and it was always kept open on such an +occasion; but that's an ancient superstition." I +was anxious to learn more about it. The stranger +had become interesting, and I wished to chat longer +with him; but he suddenly exclaimed, "I must be +really getting home or the missus will wonder whatever +has become of me. I promised to be home +ten minutes ago; it don't do to offend my missus"—and +I thought he laid a special and meaning emphasis +on "my"; so he bade me a polite good-day and +hurried off. He was a meek-looking man. I hope +he did not get a scolding for the time he took talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +to me. I wished his missus had been away from +home that day, for I was anxious to learn more +about the Devil's door; my curiosity was aroused. +That call of the missus was most provoking. I +nearly followed the stranger home to glean what +further information on the way I could, but I thought +he might not care for my company under the circumstances. +Thus the traveller in out-of-the-way places +picks up forgotten facts or fables, surprising traditions, +and odd bits of local lore; but the chaff has to be +winnowed from the corn.</p> + +<p>On my return home I hunted in every likely +book for any information upon the Devil's doorway, +but found no allusion to the subject. I sought out +several parsons, presuming that one of them would +surely be able to throw some light on the matter; +but they all declared that they had never heard of +such a thing, so I began to think that the stranger +had made a fool of me, and that I was myself a fool +to be so easily taken in. Yet when I recalled the +stranger's face, it had an honest look; he seemed +hardly a man to invent so poor a joke, and, provided +it was a joke, I failed to see the humour of it. +Then one day afterwards, when chatting with a +learned antiquary, I suddenly remembered about +the Devil's door; so I mentioned the tale about it +I had been told, and he confirmed the truth of it. +"Such doors in churches were quite common, if not +universal, long ago," he said; "they were always +on the north or Devil's side of the church, and may +still be found in many churches, though their purport +has long been forgotten. I even remember a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +parson who, only twenty odd years past, insisted on +having this door kept wide open during a christening, +so as to afford a ready escape for the Devil, +who was supposed to be driven out of the child." +Curiously enough, after making so many vain +inquiries on the subject, I found friends to whom +the former existence and use of the Devil's door +was quite well known.</p> + +<p>Leaving the church I went down the village +street to inspect the ancient priest-house. This +proved to be a long, low, half-timber building; its +roof was of stone slates, as most roofs of the period +were; the house has manifestly been restored at +some recent time, though carefully restored backwards, +as far as I could judge, to the intention of +the original builder. Unfortunately my photograph, +here reproduced, gives no hint of the bloom of age +that is upon it, or of the subtle curves of the +weather-bleached timber caused by the stress of +time. I have found in photographing many an +ancient building, unless its walls are actually broken +and decayed away, how little the photograph realises +its antiquity. In my photograph of Boarstall Tower +(that we shall come to later on), in spite of the years +the tower has stood, and in spite of the battering of +two sieges it has undergone, the ancient structure, +hoary with the antiquity of over five centuries, looks +almost as though the builder had but lately completed +his work.</p> + +<p>The approach to the priest-house was by a +stone-flagged footway across a garden gay and +sweet-scented with old-fashioned flowers. "Scents +are the souls of flowers," says an old writer whose +name I have forgotten: if only these hardy, old-fashioned +flowers were rare and difficult to grow, +how we should prize them for their charm of colour +and their sweetness, both so happily combined! But +the modern highly-paid gardener despises them as +common: well, the uncultivated foxglove is common +enough flourishing in neglected spots, yet no +pampered hothouse flower seems half so graceful, +stately, or pleasing to my eye.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-107.jpg" width="400" height="287" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">A PRE-REFORMATION PRIEST-HOUSE, WEST HOATHLY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">The door of the house was of oak and nail-studded, +and there was a quaintly-shaped iron knocker on it +of some antiquity; a gentle tap or two of this brought +an old woman to me. "Could I see the house?" I +queried. "Why, certainly," she replied; "that's what +I be here for, to show it to any one, and to take care +of it. I'm only too pleased to see a visitor, I don't +see many; it be a bit dull living here alone, it makes +me feel almost silly like at times. Come in, please." +Fortune was kind; I hardly expected to see over the +place, and I found not only ready admission but a +guide at my service. The old body proved intelligent +but talkative; she told me one thing after another +about the place and its history in such breathless +succession that I scarce could follow her; I begged +for a little time just to jot down a note or two, but +as soon as I started to do this she recommenced +prattling harder than ever. I think I never before +met a woman capable of getting in so many words +to the minute, though I have met many very capable +ones in that respect. The worst of it was, she had +really much of interest to relate, but so eager and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +so much haste was she to relate it that I could only +secure stray items out of her hurricane of abundance. +She had the history of the old place by heart, and +was learnedly—would only that she had been +leisurely—informative about its contents.</p> + +<p>First I was shown the living-room, or ancient +kitchen, a picturesquely antique apartment with its +low black-beamed ceiling, its red brick floor, its +recessed lattice window, its door that opened with a +wooden latch, its wide stone hearth fireplace, with +andirons in position and logs of wood laid between +them ready for the burning, not to forget the +chimney crane with an iron pot suspended from it, +nor the brick oven by the side for the baking of +bread—and what superlatively excellent bread those +old brick ovens produced! In some things we have +progressed backwards, and one of these is the +making and baking of bread. The iron fire-back, I +noticed, had the royal arms cast in bold relief upon +it, but in place of the unicorn was the Elizabethan +griffin, and on the quarterings of the shield (I believe +that is the correct heraldic expression) were only +the three lions of England and the fleurs-de-lis of +France, each repeated diagonally. On the big oak +beam above the fireplace were carved sundry curious +devices; they were but meaningless hieroglyphics to +me, and the old body confessed that no one had +been able to make anything of them; possibly they +were "invented out of the carver's brain," with no +other thought than to while away a dull hour or two.</p> + +<p>A good deal of what the old body told me might +have been told to the winds for aught I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +remember or make note of; even an American +tourist devoting ten whole days "to do" England +in somehow, and allowing out of this twenty minutes +for Westminster Abbey, could not have complained +of such a guide delaying him. Not that all, or +even the majority of Americans are like this, for I +have met many cultured Americans seeing the old +country every whit as leisurely as I. Indeed, I knew +an American party who came over to take a motoring +tour through England, and were so fascinated by a +remote English village they chanced upon, besides +finding there a really comfortable, old-fashioned inn, +that the party, with one consent, stopped a whole +week in that village, contentedly exploring the +country around; and one of the party wrote me +afterwards that she had never spent such a pleasant +or a profitable week in her life, and she thought +she might safely say the same of the rest.</p> + +<p>Of the hurried notes I managed to make about +the priest-house at the time, and those I set down +from memory afterwards, I gathered that it was +built not later than 1350, possibly earlier. Originally +there was a large hall heated by a fire on a raised +stone set in the centre, the smoke of which escaped +through a hole in the roof, and the old plaster of the +roof still shows the blackening caused by the smoke. +At either end of the hall were doors leading to +offices, the sleeping-rooms being above these. Such +was its simple plan. About 1522 the present +chimney was built on the site of the ancient open +fire, and the hall divided into two compartments +"as you now see it." "And how do you know all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +this?" queried I, when I could get a word in. +"Well, you see, sir, at different times members of +Archaeological Societies have been over to examine +the building, and I always went over with them, and +so I learnt a lot about it. The house was originally +built by the Prior of Lewes as a hospital for invalid +priests, and it also served the purpose of a guest-house +for stray travellers; the roads in these parts +were then but rough tracks through wild forests, full +of wild beasts, they tell me. In the chimney a hiding +hole was discovered, but it was only three feet +square, and as a man could not get into it, it is +supposed it was for hiding treasures, or perhaps +books."</p> + +<p>The old house was full of ancient furniture and +of odds and ends of curious things that served our +ancestors. I remember there was a steel striker +and a flint with a tinder-box; I tried my prentice +hand with these, and after several attempts at last +obtained a light, but with difficulty; it must have +been trying and tedious work using this steel, flint, +and tinder-box on a cold winter's morning. Little +wonder so many houses in past times had their fires +piled up at night so that they might keep in till +the morning, when the smouldering ashes readily +caused the fresh fuel put on them to become ignited. +At one old manor-house I went over some years +back, I was informed that the fire in the hall had +not been out for two centuries; even in summer it +was kept alight, day and night, for the walls of that +house were thick, and the hall was only pleasantly +warm on the fine August noon when I was there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +A friend of mine told me that in 1908 he discovered +a cottage at Huckaback, Castleton, Yorkshire, +where the turf fire had not been out for sixty-eight +years.</p> + +<p>Upstairs in the priest-house we noticed that the +internal partitions were of wattle and daub; the +daub, the old body said, consisting of pond slime +combined with cow hair and chipped straw: pond +slime does not sound nice, but the daub was lasting, +to which fact my eye and the touch of my hand bore +testimony. Then hanging on the walls we observed +two parchment deeds framed, one being the original +lease from "The Pryor of Lewes to T. Browne of +Westhotheleigh, of the Parsonage House and barn." +This was dated "9th yeare of Henry VIII." It did +not escape my notice that, even so far back, this +Brown rejoiced in an added "e." The other had +two red seals attached, and related to the conveying +of "the Rectory and Church of Westhotheley lately +granted by Henry VIII. for her lyfe to Lady Anne +Cleve." This was dated "Jan. 21st. 2nd of Elizabeth, +1560." The lettering of both of these documents +was as clear and as black as the day they +were written, and so quite easy to read, more so +than many a modern letter I receive. The world +has revolved countless times on its axis since the +date of those deeds; but the writing of to-day is not +so good as it was then, not even typewriting.</p> + +<p>On the ceiling of one of the top rooms is a +Dedication Cross, deeply cut, showing the religious +nature of the house; also we noticed there, put on +one side, some fine oak carving which I learnt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +formerly formed part of the chancel screen of the +village church, it being torn down by the Puritans, who +destroyed, or made a clearance of, "all carvings, +images, and decorations" they found in the sacred +edifice; and a rare clearance they appear to have made +at West Hoathly. Besides this there was a large +board showing signs of weathering, and plainly +painted on it was "Cheese Room." "That," explained +the guide, "did not belong to this place, but to a farmhouse +near by. It is a relic of the window-tax days, +when a window, used purely for trade purposes, was +free of the tax, provided a notice of its use was +placed above it. That is one of those notices. +Possibly you may not have seen such a thing before." +I had not. Indeed, I had almost forgotten that there +had ever been such an iniquitous tax (and that there +was a hearth-tax also), and was quite unaware of +any such an exemption from it. I was always +learning something on the road.</p> + +<p>Very interesting is the old priest-house at West +Hoathly, the more so because it is not bare, but supplied +with ancient, though not the original, furniture in +keeping with the place, and with domestic appliances +that were used in days remote. On my return home +I sought for particulars of this house in two or three +modern guide-books to the county, but could find +no mention of it, although the church was briefly +noticed, which shows that guide-book compilers +miss many interesting features by the way, to the +discovery of which the traveller must trust to his +own devices; and do we not take a special personal +pride and a greater delight in the good things that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +we discover for ourselves, than in those we first +read of, or are told about? Much of the charm of a +journey lies in making these discoveries, and in the +delightful state of expectancy of mind knowing not +what each day, or even hour, may reveal.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">"Great-upon-Little"—The woods of Sussex—A maze of lanes—Frensham +Pond—A holiday haunt—The legend of the shivering +reeds—Rural inns—Roughing it (?)—Waverley Abbey—The +monks of old—The sites of abbeys—Quiet country towns—Stocks +and whipping-post—A curious font—"A haven of +rest."</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">About a mile from West Hoathly, on the way we +took, we were told of a local "lion" in the shape of +a huge rock, firmly balanced on a very small one, +which together have earned the title of "Great-upon-Little." +The great top rock looks insecure +enough, and as though a push of the hand would +almost send it over. This curious rock stands in a +romantic and deeply wooded glen some half a mile +or so from the main road, and many other strangely +shaped rocks are to be found there; shapes manifestly +due to the erosion of the softer stone leaving +the harder portions to stand out more or less +prominently. To one who has beheld the wonderful +rock formations of the Yellowstone Valley in +America, this "Great-upon-Little" may appear but +a trivial thing; still, in its way it is striking. But +it was the rock-girt glen with its green woods, a +glen steeply winding down the rough hillside, that +charmed me infinitely more than this natural freak—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +veritable fairies' glen that would have made the +fortune of any watering-place were it only near to +it. Cobbett in his <i>Rural Rides</i> thus discourses +about this rock in his own peculiar way: "At this +place there is a rock which they call 'Big-upon-Little,' +that is to say, a rock upon another, the top +one being longer and wider than the top of the one +it lies on. This big rock is no trifling concern, +being as big, perhaps, as a not very small house. +How, then, came this big upon little? What lifted +up the big? It balances itself naturally enough, +but what tossed it up? I do not like to pay a +parson for teaching me while I have God's own +Word to teach me; but if any parson will tell me +how big came upon little, I do not know that I shall +grudge him a trifle. And if he cannot tell me this; +if he say, 'All that we have to do is to admire and +adore,' then I tell him that I can admire and adore +without his aid, and that I will keep my money in +my pocket." Which shows, however clever an agriculturist +he may have been, Cobbett was woefully +ignorant of geology, whilst little he cared for scenery. +The reading of his <i>Rides</i>, allowing for much skipping, +was a wearisome task to me, and glad was I +when I came to the end of the book. After this +dose of Cobbett and his grumblings, I had to take +a course of genial Charles Lamb to put me in good +humour again.</p> + +<p>Our road now took us by shadowy forests, which +afforded us some shelter from the quiet rain which +began to fall, and here and there we glimpsed, half +drowned in foliage, a lowly cottage, with its film of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +ascending smoke, and now and then we caught a +warm and fragrant whiff of burning wood that contrasted +pleasantly with the cool scent of the many +trees, their leaves rain-washed and shining. So we +drove on through woods and woods again, with +here and there a bit of wild waste, a patch of +pasture, or a furrowed field, and here and there the +gleam of water—driving first this way, then that, as +it took our fancy. Some ways were wide and good, +and some were narrow and bad, but the country had +a remote and pleasant look; so with the roads I had +no quarrel. The scenery concerns me more than +the road. I never hesitate to desert the smooth +highway for the rough and winding lane if the latter +appear the more attractive. My mind is set on +exploring, on seeking out odd nooks and corners, +not on rushing from one town to another, though, +when the highway suits my humour, along it I go +contentedly enough.</p> + +<p>So we drove on till we came to a more open +country of meadows and tilled fields and stray farmsteads, +but with woods beyond again, and over these +a peep of distant hills with misty clouds upon them. +A mellow, home-like land it was, where wandering +streams kept fresh the greenery of the fields, and +ancient footpaths wound in and out, and tangled +hedges that so beautify the land, though they show +poor husbandry, bordered the roadside on either +hand. Then we struck upon a fair main road, +though there was little traffic on it; in time the road +forked in two, and at the fork a signpost pointed +with one arm the way "To Guildford," and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +the other arm the way "To Godalming." We chose +the road to Godalming because it looked the more +inviting. Now we passed other woods that climbed +the low hills to our right, then we began to climb +the hills ourselves, to descend again into the valley +on the other side; so on through a rough country, +dotted with pleasant homes, both old and new, we +reached the long-streeted town of Godalming. I +had an idea—how I came by it I cannot say—that +Godalming was a pleasant and a picturesque town; +my drive through it effectually got rid of that idea. +I saw nothing pleasant or picturesque about it, even +allowing for the determined and depressing drizzle +that dulled the outlook. Perhaps I saw things +crookedly that day, but to me, certainly, Godalming +looked a one-streeted affair of commonplace houses +and shops, with not a feature amongst the lot worth +noticing, not even its old market-house.</p> + +<p>The road we took out of the town chanced to be +the famous Portsmouth road, much favoured by +motorists and other vehicular traffic, and not caring +for so much company, in due course we took a +by-road to our right without a thought as to where +it might lead. We soon got into a tangle of narrow, +signpostless lanes; so narrow in one part, indeed, +became our way that our hood actually at times +brushed the hedges on either side, a lane where +almost "two barrows might tremble when they +meet." Indeed, had we met any cart, conveyance, +or another motor I cannot imagine what we should +have done, but we met nothing; for miles the tangle +of lanes appeared to be endless, one as narrow as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +the other; then at last I espied a cottage and got +down to ask where the lane led, for I felt like a man +in a maze. Thrice I rapped loudly at the cottage +door before I got an answer; then at the third +emphatic rap an old woman appeared. "I be hard +o' hearing," she remarked, by way of apology for +her long coming. "The lane do lead to the pond. +It's only about a mile farther on." "To the pond!" +I exclaimed in astonishment. "What pond? We +don't want to go to a pond!" "Why, <i>the</i> pond, to +be sure," responded she; "but I've left my baking." +And that was all I could get out of her, for, doubtless +anxious about her baking, she rushed incontinently +indoors and left me wondering. I could only presume +that we were driving to a village pond, with the +uncomfortable idea that there the narrow lane might +end. There was nothing to do but to drive on—there +was no space to turn; for miles we had not +seen a soul, so unfrequented are some of the byways +of populous England, but at last a man actually +appeared trudging along the road. To him I +repeated my query, and got the same reply!—"To +the pond"—adding, "It be only a bit farther on." I +was more puzzled than ever. "What pond?" asked +I. "Why, Frensham Pond, to be sure." Then it +dawned upon me that a friend of mine had spoken +of Frensham Pond, to which he frequently went a-fishing, +and where he told me was a good inn—"the +very place for a quiet holiday," and he was an artist +not likely to speak favourably of a spot that had no +scenic attractions.</p> + +<p>Right glad were we to escape from the narrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +lane and to find ourselves at Frensham Pond, where +the road widened out beside the still water, and +where the little balconied inn my friend had told +me about stood facing it. Now Frensham Pond is +a large and beautiful sheet of water over a hundred +acres in extent, and to go round it means a good +three miles' walk, so the term pond is somewhat of +a misnomer; "mere," I think, would be a better +and less misleading title, more picturesque besides. +A good deal depends on a name; at least one does +expect a pleasant spot to bear a pleasant name: +now "pond" is not one to conjure with.</p> + +<p>It was raining again, so we pulled up under the +shelter of a spreading tree opposite the hotel, +whereupon the landlord appeared at the door and +invited me within; but I explained that I was only +halting there, as I thought the shower would soon +be over, and I wished to admire the view. I was +neither hungry nor thirsty, so what need had I of an +inn? "It's a lovely spot," the landlord remarked, +and as I looked over the little lonely lake with its +near background of pines, of heathery hills beyond +these, and nothing else in view, I fully agreed with +him. Even in the rain the prospect pleased me; +there was an individuality about it, it was fresh to my +eye, nothing quite like it had I seen before. "You +really should make up your mind to stop here," the +landlord continued, doubtless with an eye to business. +"There's fine fishing in the pond, and a boat at your +service; there's plenty of big pike and perch that +are willing to be caught"—which was very kind of +the fish; I have not found them so obliging in other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +parts. There was a man in a boat on the water +getting wet, but catching nothing, as far as I could +make out, unless it were a cold. It seemed poor +sport to me to sit thus patiently in a boat with the +rain coming down, watching for the bob of a float +on the chance of catching a fish not worth eating. +Fly-fishing is quite another story. When you wander +along the banks of some fair mountain river or +stream, even if you have poor sport, you have a +pleasant ramble over rock and boulder and amongst +pleasant scenes; moreover, your time is ever agreeably +occupied in casting your flies and watching +them dance on the running water till comes a splash, +a tug, and a tasteful trout good to look at, good +to eat, and worth the basketing!</p> + +<p>Suddenly the rain stopped, the grey clouds +vanished, the sun shone forth again out of a sky as +blue as the summer sea; the erst leaden lake looked +like molten gold, the hills became a burning purple, +but the dark pines seemed darker still by the +contrast with the brightness around. What wind +there was had dropped, but all the reeds were +quivering, and I thought of the legend of the +shivering reeds.</p> + +<p>Leaving Frensham—where, by the way, in the +tower of its church is preserved an ancient copper +cauldron that tradition asserts once belonged to +Mother Ludlam, a reputed local witch—we drove +by devious roads through a sandy and heathery +land, and into pine woods, the resinous odours of +which filled pleasantly the air. We passed one or +two lonely little inns on our way. To me a +picturesque, though little regarded, feature of the +roadside is the cosy country inn of the class that +rises superior to the public-house but is less pretentious +than an hotel, where I have found, during +my old tramping days, humble doubtless, but +sufficiently comfortable quarters, and where I got in +touch with the simple and friendly country folk, and +so could learn how the world treated them, and +what they thought of it, and their ideas in general. +The only way to do this is to mix with the country +folk on their own ground, and clad in a suit of +homely tweed, with often muddy boots, I was not +looked upon as a superior person, so the talk I +listened to was not curbed; only perhaps at times +my speech, I feared, might betray me, for I could +in no way manage the country accent, but I spoke +little, whilst my ears did me silent service.</p> + +<p class="p1 pp1"> +Imagination fondly stoops to trace<br /> +The parlour splendours of that festive place;<br /> +The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,<br /> +The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-124.jpg" width="400" height="275" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">"A GOOD HONEST ALEHOUSE."</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Dear old Izaak Walton called such an inn "a +good honest ale-house," and that title takes my +fancy. "I'll now lead you to a good honest ale-house," +says that rare old angler, "where we shall +find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and +twenty ballads stuck upon the walls.... Come, +hostess, where are you? Is supper ready?... Be +as quick as you can, for I believe we are all very +hungry." That is the sort of inn for me; I do +not desire luxury when I go a-touring. The more +homely my hostelry the more to my taste, so long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +as I find cleanliness, civility, and reasonable comfort +thereat. I even enjoy what some people might +term "roughing it" at times; in truth I have spent +many delightful red-letter days (some of the most +healthful and enjoyable I have ever spent) "roughing +it" in a log-hut on the wild far-off Californian +mountains, and there I found a wealthy and a titled +Englishman doing the same thing, purely for the +pleasure of it. If in some remote parts and on rare +occasions I was doubtful as to the cleanliness of my +inn, I made a point of not unpacking the car before +I had sampled the landlord and the accommodation +offered. I am glad to say that never once, on this +journey, did I find the inn I selected fail to satisfy +my modest requirements.</p> + +<p>Loitering along we came at the foot of a long +hill, passing first through gloomy woods, to a spot +low down where the indolent winding Wey widened +out into a quiet, clear-watered pool, and all around +were pine-clad hills; an old water-mill and one or +two ancient cottages completed the scene, just serving +to humanise it and nothing more. It was a +lovely spot, and there we pulled up to enjoy its +beauties at our leisure. I know no other country in +the wide world with spots so peace-bestowing as, +here and there, one finds in England, and to come +upon them unawares intensifies the charm of them; +I cannot think of a word that precisely defines their +special character, but "benign" is not far out.</p> + +<p>Then I consulted the map and traced on it the +river's course, and so made out, roughly, where +we were, and it chanced I noticed on the map<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +"Waverley Abbey" marked apparently near by. +Now I had a dim recollection, but nothing more, +that there was such an abbey, ruined of course, +somewhere in England, but as to where it stood I +had not given a thought up till that moment; if I +had to hazard a guess as to its location, I am afraid +I should have guessed Yorkshire, though the fact +came back to me that Waverley Abbey suggested +to Scott the title of one of his famous novels. +Ivinghoe in Bucks is also credited with having +given him the slightly altered title of <i>Ivanhoe</i>. +Rumour asserts that his attention was called to the +uncommon name by the local rhyme:</p> + +<p class="p1 pp2"> +Tring, Wing, and Ivinghoe,<br /> +Hampden of Hampden did forego,<br /> +For striking ye Prynce a blow,<br /> +Glad that he might escape it so.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">"Ye Prynce" was the Black Prince, and Hampden +an ancestor of John Hampden, so tradition says, +and the blow was given over a dispute about a +game of racquets that Hampden lost. I love these +old local rhymes and sayings that the inquiring +traveller so often comes upon, for they frequently +relate to past historical or traditional happenings +that have been wholly or half forgotten, and are +only otherwise to be found in odd musty volumes +that no one cares to read.</p> + +<p>We stopped the car in a sheltered corner not far +from the lodge entrance to a pleasant park, and +seeing no one around I ventured to ask at the lodge +the whereabouts of the abbey. "You're close to it," +responded the young woman, who promptly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +civilly came at my call; "it's only a short walk +across the fields." Moreover, she came outside and +pointed me out the way, bidding me keep to the +path by the river till I came to a bridge, "then to +your left you will see the ruins." Clearer instructions +could no one give, and so I found the abbey. +Pleasant indeed was the short stroll to it by the side +of the lazy river, with the greenest of green meadows +on one hand so soft to the tread, and wide spreading +trees on the other that threw "tangles of light +and shadow below." So listlessly the water flowed +it hardly seemed to flow at all; manifestly the river +was loth to leave so fair a spot to join the stormy +sea, and fain would linger there in peace. I think +it was Wordsworth who first endowed Nature with +a living personality.</p> + +<p>Of Waverley's once stately pile little now is left +but crumbling walls and vacant archways; still, its +low, roofless remains cover much ground, a fact that +attests its former size and glory. The quiet country +around, I imagine, has not changed noticeably, if at +all, since the abbey stood proudly there in its prime—to +stand, as the early builders doubtless thought, +till the Day of Doom; but the future was not at their +command. As in the past the placid river flows by +it without a murmur, the hills beyond rise boldly to +the sky, the luscious meadows round about are the +same luscious meadows that the old monks trod; but +their erst lordly edifice is mostly dust, its stones +having been basely used for other buildings, and for +a long while to make and mend the roads; still, the +country looks as green and fresh as ever, its youth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +renewed by every recurring summer. I can recall +no spot of which so poignantly and so pregnantly +may be said, "Sic transit gloria mundi."</p> + +<p>An almost saintly silence brooded there; I heard +neither stir of leaf nor song of bird, nor caught +I sight of any living thing to break the solitude. +It was as though the monks had laid a spell of profound +peace over all, a spell unbroken yet—and +may it never be!</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +A region of repose it seems,<br /> +A place of slumber and of dreams,<br /> +Remote among the wooded hills.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">The peace-bestowing silence and restful solitude +of the spot will linger with me as long as my +memory lasts. Great must have been the temptation, +in a troublous age, to be a monk, so to escape +from all the turmoil of it, and to live at peace and +at ease in some such earthly paradise. Many a +world-weary man to-day well might sigh for such a +harbour of rest.</p> + +<p>Truly those monks of old had an eye for pleasant +places; they built "in fair grounds," as the sites of +their many abbeys prove. Father Gonzague, Prior +of Storrington, puts it: "Some were built in the +valley by the running stream, or on the jutting hill, +overhanging the river bank, like St. Agatha's and +Eggleston in Yorkshire; others close on the seashore, +within hearing of the perpetual cadence of +the waves, like Torre, the wealthiest of the English +houses in Devonshire, on a spot the charm of which +is not easily surpassed, backed by hills and uplands, +with just room enough on the plain for the noble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +church, the monastery and its outbuildings, its +gardens, its fish ponds, and its mill; or again among +the deep and narrow dales of Derbyshire; or the +gentle swell of the Kentish hills; in the forest +land of Nottinghamshire, like Welbeck; or else in +remote and wild retreats, speaking of penance and +detachment, like the Abbey of Magdalen's Vale at +Shap, in Westmoreland." Then there are others in +situations quite as romantic and as gracious: there +is Tintern by the winding Wye, Bolton by the +tumbling Wharfe, Fountains sheltered amongst the +woods, Rievaulx amongst the hills, Llanthony lone +amongst the mountains, Cleeve secluded in the +"Vale of Flowers," and many another—all in well-favoured +spots and tranquil ones in ancient days, +and some, like Waverley, as tranquil now.</p> + +<p>A better judge of scenery than the monk of old +there could not be; where stood his abbey there was +a pleasant land, well watered, overflowing with +beauty, and not seldom "overflowing with milk and +honey" too. If one could trust that rare romancer +Time, the monks were a jovial lot—"peace to +their ashes"—reaping where they had not sown, and +garnering where they had not toiled; making sure +of heaven above whilst also making sure of the good +things of the world below, ay, and enjoying them to +the full as much as any sinner. To make the best +of both worlds, especially this one, that was their +motto, and they lived up to it. Of the modern +monks that I have seen, one half look fat and lazy, +the other half lean and sour, with an aspect of piety +that would not have disgraced the strictest Puritan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +But I know not if one can fairly judge of the old +by the new. "Tempora mutantur," and possibly +monks with them, and this is all that need be said.</p> + +<p>Of the scant abbey ruins the only portion not +wholly exposed to the weather is what looks like +the crypt, with its fine and delicate Early English +pillars and groined roof; but it has a fireplace, and +from a label attached to its walls I learned it was +the "Layman's Refectory." The rest of the ruins +are roofless, and it is difficult to make out, with any +certainty, even the site of the church—at least I +found it so. On the greensward I noticed, level +with the ground surface, a stone coffin vacant and +exposed to the sky, presumably discovered there +and left undisturbed save for the removal of its +covering; this was hollowed out to the shape of a +body, with a place for the head; probably it belonged +to one of the stately abbots' dust and ashes long +years ago, but the interior of the stone still preserves +the chisel marks of the ancient mason, as sharp almost +to-day as when first made. Somehow those marks so +old, yet so clear, that but for the time-stains upon +them might be of recent date, bridged over the +centuries and brought the past quite close to me.</p> + +<p>Leaving the old abbey to its peaceful seclusion, +we once more resumed our way and soon found ourselves +at Farnham, far famed for its castle and its +ancient coaching hostelry—"The Bush," to wit—and +possibly also for hops and ale, but of these I +am not so sure. "The Bush," says Thackeray in +his <i>Virginians</i>, "is a famous inn which has stood +in Farnham town for these three hundred years."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +But why I refer to this old house, in passing, is that +its sign is the oldest of signs, which, in ancient days, +consisted simply of a bush hung out at the end of a +pole to show that wine, or ale, was sold there. +Hence doubtless the saying of Shakespeare, "Good +wine needs no bush."</p> + +<p>After Farnham we struck the Winchester highway, +dusty with much traffic at the time, so to +escape both the traffic and the dust we took the +first lane we came to—a lane that led past hop-gardens, +up hill and down again; next winding +round a well-wooded park it brought us to the little +out-of-the-world village of Crondall, where I noticed +one or two quaint half-timber houses of sufficient +charm to cause me to stop and sketch them. Then +after a short stretch of tree-bordered road we arrived +at Odiham, a sleepy, sunny, wide-streeted town to +which "no noisy railway speeds"; perhaps because +of this it retains unhurt so much of its past-time +naturalness. On a previous journey we had driven +through Odiham, without however stopping, even +though it pleased us, but we reached it by a different +way. There is often a great deal in the first impression +of a place, and this frequently depends +upon how you approach it. No doubt there is a +certain charm in the first view of fresh places, when +such places possess the power to please and present +themselves under favourable aspects, but it is wisdom +not to linger in them overlong lest the eye should +discover imperfections, so their poetry lose much of +its glamour, or wholly vanish like a dream that has +passed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before, when at Odiham, the "George" inn +there, facing the roadway with its cheerful front and +projecting sign, attracted my attention: a typical +old coaching hostelry that looks as though it had +seen more prosperous days, yet it had not retired +from business but kept open wide its doors, bravely +facing changed circumstances. "Posting House" +in letters large is still boldly displayed on its front, +but its posting is done to-day by the landlord's +motor-car! <i>Paterson's Roads</i>, the Bradshaw of +our ancestors, mentions the "George" as the inn +of the place, and nearly every old roadside inn one +comes across still retains the very title given to it +in that rare eighteenth and early nineteenth-century +road-book, according to which of its many editions +one consults.</p> + +<p>Now being, by chance, at Odiham again, I +thought I would put up at the "George" and +sample its entertainment. Quarters in the real +country best please me, but they do not always +materialise; next I prefer a modest hostelry in some +quiet little town, and here I had my desire. So +beneath the sign of the "George" I slept that +night, and there I found a pleasant garden in the +rear, good fare of the simple sort, much civility, and +a most moderate bill; so, when next morning I +departed, I left it with my blessing. I discovered +that the inn was, unfortunately, for sale; it may have +been sold by now. I can only trust that the old +house may fall into the hands of worthy successors, +and that it will, for as long as it stands, and long +may that be, retain its good old name; for it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +must be remembered it is the landlord makes +the inn.</p> + +<p>Does not Alonzo of Aragon say that the recommendations +of age are "old wood to burn, old wine +to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to +read"? and I should like to add old inns to rest at, +and by preference those inns of the candle or lamp, +mahogany or oak furniture, and wood-fire-on-the-hearth +period, and these, the Fates be praised, are +still to be found by the diligent searcher, and when +found the wise traveller will not tell everybody +about them. In this respect selfishness is a virtue, +a moral obligation for the benefit of other quiet-loving +travellers; for it is so easy to convert the old into +the new, but the new cannot be converted into the +old. I was tempted to photograph one of these +ancient little inns I chanced upon, on account of its +artistic signboard, for it is rare to meet with such +artistic creations, though a few may be found to +delight the eye of the wayfarer. My photograph, +here reproduced, will show the skilful and effective +painting of this signboard.</p> + +<p>Having still an hour or two of daylight left, I +took a stroll round the little town; it did not take +me long; then I came to the church, and in the +roadway before it I discovered, carefully roofed +over, its ancient stocks and whipping-post; evidently +the Odiham people prize these relics of "the good" +or bad "old days." Then I took a glance within +the church, where I found much to interest me; +there I noticed seven old brasses in an excellent +state of preservation—for old brasses—and these +were kept both bright and clean; they were fixed +against the south wall all in close order, being +doubtless removed from the floor at some former +restoration. Though removed thus from their proper +place over the dust they commemorate, and where +they should rightly be, they certainly are seen to +better advantage where they are—and their dead +owners are not far off. All the brasses but two +happily retain their inscriptions; the earliest bears +date of 1400; one to a priest in his vestments that +of 1498; and there is one to a man in armour, +roughly but effectively engraved. The piscina, I +noticed, had an ornamented pillar support; I do not +remember having seen such an arrangement before. +I noticed also the finely carved Elizabethan or +Jacobean pulpit, and besides, a thing you seldom +nowadays see in churches, an oak gallery, of considerable +antiquity, upheld by stout oak posts. Then I +became aware that I was not alone in the building, +for I heard quiet footsteps, and looking round +observed a man at the font, apparently examining it +with considerable interest, so too I needs must go +and examine it. Said the stranger to me, "This is +a curious font and a very ancient one." "It +certainly looks it," I replied. "Perhaps you may not +know," he continued, "but it possesses a peculiar +feature only to be found in one other font in England, +and that is at Youlgrave in Derbyshire. Permit +me to point out to you the cup-like projection on +the top; this is provided to drain back into the basin +any drops of water that might be accidentally spilt at +a christening." Some people delight to be informing, +but the information they impart depends for its +value on their special knowledge of special subjects. +I observed that the stranger was carefully consulting +a handbook when I approached him, which he put +away in his pocket, and I thought to myself possibly +the stranger has just read up about the font in that +book, and is merely imparting to me second-hand +information gleaned from it just for the self-importance +of imparting it, and to show his cleverness. I +might have done him an injustice, but he spoke in +a manner so authoritative as to challenge criticism. +Anyway I have not the implicit faith in handbooks +most people have, for more than once I have found +them wrong in facts beyond dispute. So I have +examined for myself the "curious" projection, being +a bit of an archaeologist, though not a learned one, +and came to the conclusion that there was nothing +curious about it, and that it had merely been intended +to receive a hinge for a font cover. But such an +explanation is perhaps too simple to be satisfactory +to certain minds to which only the singular or +mysterious appeals.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-135.jpg" width="400" height="563" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">AT "THE QUEEN'S HEAD."</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a><br /><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Round the top of the font runs a much-worn +inscription in long Lombardic, or other early lettering, +of which I could make nothing; no more could the +stranger, but he made excuse that the light was very +poor; so it was. "If we only had a guide-book," I +said suggestively, but he failed to take the hint.</p> + +<p>Leaving the church I noticed some picturesque +alms-houses adjoining its quiet "God's Acre," +built of brick but grey with age, of one story, +uneven-roofed, with shapely chimney-stacks, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +houses with their enclosed garden, full of flowers—and +weeds—reminded me of Walker's famous picture +"A Haven of Rest," though they were not the +original of it. Then as the sun was setting I sought +"mine inn."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">"Mine ease in mine inn"—King John's Castle—Greywell—Country +odours—Hidden beauty-spots—The valley of the +Kennett—A remote spot—Our picturesque villages—The charm +of ancientness—Solitude and genius—Coate—Richard Jefferies' +birthplace.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">That evening in the coffee-room of the "George" +there was only one other guest besides myself, and +we sat apart at either end of a long table taking our +meals in unfriendly silence. It was very stupid and +very English. The other guest was an austere-looking, +clean-shaven man neatly dressed in a tweed +of grey; he might have been a lord (though it was +hardly an inn that lords would patronise), or a +commercial traveller of a superior type in his own +opinion: I inclined to the latter view. However, +what he was did not trouble me, but the silence did, +so I ventured some ordinary remark about the +weather, that being, as the chess handbooks have it, +"a common, but a safe opening." The stranger +agreed that it was a warm day, then relapsed into +silence. Thought I, everybody golfs now; I will +try him on that. His reply was brief and sarcastic: +"I'm no golfer. I think, as a game, it's inferior +to marbles." Then silence again. After that I +mentioned motoring as a possible subject of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +interest, for so many people motor nowadays, +either on their own, their friends', or on hired cars. +"No, I don't motor," responded he; "only went on +a motor once, and I don't want to go on one again." +At this point I fancy most people would have given +up the game, for when every card you play is +promptly trumped it hardly seems worth going on, +but I determined to try one last card. I played +fishing. That was a failure too. "No, I'm no +fisherman," said he; "never fished since I was a +boy. I think it poor sport. A worm or a fly at +one end of a line and a fool at the other, as the +saying is." I never came upon so pronounced a +specimen of a pessimist, and pessimism with the +added acid of sarcasm is the devil's own special +combination. Perhaps he did not like being disturbed +at his meal; perhaps he was not well; perhaps +his thoughts were occupied on some important +matter. Even Carlyle, we are told, had his "bad +days," when he would hardly speak to a soul, and +only sharply and bluntly to one when he did. Now +if a philosopher can act so, how is an ordinary +mortal to be blamed for the same failing to be +responsive? Writing of Carlyle reminds me of a +story I was told the other day of a visitor who went +to Ecclefechan to see the room in which the genial +author of <i>Sartor Resartus</i> "first saw the light of +day," as the newspaper reporters have it, when the +woman who acted as guide as he was inspecting +the room exclaimed, "And our Mary was born +here too"!</p> + +<p>The atmosphere of the coffee-room being too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +freezing for my pleasure, I sought the smoke-room +in search of more genial society, or the restfulness +of none at all. Better an empty room than to feast +with a pessimist. The smoke-room proved to be +no ordinary apartment, for it was panelled, or +partially so; and there my eye rested on a finely +carved old oak fireplace, distinguished enough for a +nobleman's mansion, and by the side of it was a +cupboard, with shapely old-fashioned outside hinges, +for the tidy holding of wood. How came so modest +an inn to possess such a beautiful specimen of +ancient carving? I wondered, for it was truly a work +of art worthy of a museum, but better where it was. +I had not to wonder long, for presently a man +entered the room and seated himself opposite to me, +first lighting his pipe and calling for a drink, and +his manner showed he was quite at home there. +In marked contrast with my coffee-room companion +he was smiling sociability itself. "Fine old fireplace +that," exclaimed he, in a right jovial voice, +pointing to it with his pipe. "I'm never tired of +admiring it." "I was admiring it too," I said; "do +you know anything about it and how it came +there?" "Well, I heard it came from Basing +House when the place was sacked; they say that +nearly every one round about on that occasion +helped themselves to something from it, and so I +suppose the owner of this house, at the time, +appropriated that fireplace. He did not do so +badly. I've heard that the freeholder has been +offered £1300 for it and refused the offer, but I'm +always expecting that some day some one will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +surely come along and buy it. It will be a great +pity if they do, for it's a great attraction to the +house. You are a stranger here, I expect?" I +confessed I was. "Be you on business or pleasure, +I wonder?" I felt at first inclined to reply that +was my own affair; then, thought I, the man does not +intend to be rude, but is only seeking to keep up the +conversation by the first remark that comes handy. +He explained himself: "If you be pleasure-touring +I thought I might tell you that there is an old castle +about a mile from the garden at the back of the +hotel; it's a bit ruinous, but it's worth seeing. They +call it King John's Castle, but I don't know much of +its history; they say there's an underground passage +from it to the town." How familiar I am with that +underground passage, I meet it somewhere on +every journey; but I was glad to hear of the old +castle, for I had no idea there was one in the +locality. Then jumping from one subject to another +he went on: "Talking about fireplaces"—which we +were not at the moment—"there's a lot of curious +chimney corners in the cottages around," and so he +gaily chatted on about this thing and that, much +to his own pleasure, and would, I believe, have gone +on chatting for an hour or more, had not some +persons entered the room, townsfolk I took them to +be, for they all seemed well acquainted; then others +dropped in, so that soon there was a goodly +company assembled there—mostly, if not all, +tradesmen of the place, I gathered from their talk. +After that I became a silent spectator, but I got +plenty of entertainment out of the company by studying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +their various characters, and from their conversation +I ascertained how the town was served; I even +learned from one or two of them how the kingdom +could be better governed if they only had the +governing of it. Somehow it amused me to hear all +this, and the pride of it. I think one of the speakers +had missed his vocation; he should surely have been +in Parliament; he spoke quite as wisely and more to +the point than many of its paid members do. "It's +as good as a play," remarked Charles II. once when +listening to a long debate, and I thought the same +that night of what I saw and heard; then how +unconscious the actors were, and how well they +performed their parts all unprepared!</p> + +<p>"It's a deep tankard that never requires refilling," +and I noticed that the glasses were fairly frequently +replenished (for beer in the cellar quenches no man's +thirst) and pipes recharged, whilst the conversation +never flagged, not for a moment, but I liked the +hum of it. Towards the end of the evening there +was much laughter and merriment; many a joke +was cracked; some were good, some were poor, and +one or two were fresh to me, and one or two even +good enough for <i>Punch</i>, I thought. So the hours +passed in an atmosphere of good-fellowship and +tobacco smoke. A merrier company never have I +met, and little did that company know, I ween, how +their merriment served to enliven my evening. +Then, talking still, the guests departed by ones, and +twos, and threes—and I was left alone.</p> + +<p>Next morning early I took leave of "mine +hostess," who in the good old-fashioned manner of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +an earlier day, possibly a tradition of the house, +came to the door to see me off, thanked me for my +small custom, and wished me a pleasant journey—moreover, +wished me it in a manner so hearty +that showed she meant it. How pleasant these +little civilities are; how they cheer the traveller on +his way; how they oil the wheels of life so that +they run smoothly, and yet they cost the bestower +nothing! Alas, people nowadays do not seem to +appreciate an article that can be had—for nothing! +I like a smile of welcome when I arrive a stranger +at a strange inn, though in truth I do not always +get it—I expect I have to pay the penalty of many +a grumpy traveller (how I despise him)—but this I +will say, I seldom leave "mine inn" without the +landlord or landlady, as the case may be, coming +to see me off, and that with some gracious added +remark or another; it is pleasant to part thus. I +pay my reckonings, of course—I could not do otherwise—still, +there was hardly an inn on the road, not +one, in fact, but somehow I felt, on leaving it, I had +received something more, and more valued, in the +shape of thoughtful attentions and kind words, than +what was set down on the bill. In truth, my bill +mostly seemed to me more an accidental incident +of my stay than a charge for accommodation and +services rendered, and I fancy—it may be even more +than fancy—that a gracious guest most times finds +his reckoning on a modest scale. So, take it on the +lowest, meanest standard, civility pays.</p> + +<p>I well remember when at an old country coaching +inn—where I stayed for over a week, so pleasant a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +resting-place I found it, so pleased was I with mine +host, mine hostess, and my surroundings—one day +a coaching party on a hired coach arrived there, +who blustered and fumed and gave themselves so +many airs, and ordered the landlord about in so +would-be a lordly manner as to make me ashamed +of them, so much so that on their departure I went +up to the landlord, a good sort if ever there was +one, and heartily sympathised with him. I thought +to ease his mind. "Bless you, sir," said he, "they +didn't trouble me one bit; I saw they weren't +gentle-folks; I charged them in the bill for their +incivility."</p> + +<p>At first, for a mile or more, we followed a smooth +highway, then we took to a little lonely lane to our +left; a signpost at the corner of the roads told us +it led to Greywell. Now Greywell had a pleasant +sound; we soon came to it, and it proved to be a +pleasant village in keeping with its name; some of +the cottages there are old and of half timber, and +no more picturesque or comfortable a cottage was +ever built than in that style, with its projecting +upper story that gives more room above than +below, where room is mostly wanted, besides +keeping the lower walls dry and causing an agreeable +effect of light and shade. How I dislike the +modern cottage built on the square and strictly +economical pattern, a mere slate-roofed brick box +with holes for windows in it. Sometimes you +meet with rows of them as like one another as peas +in a pod, only even perhaps more so. They ruin +the prospect wherever they are.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>A footpath led from the entrance of the village +to its tiny church, which, though restored, has not +had all its interest restored away, for it can show +some pre-Norman work, a curious old carved screen, +and, what is rarer, a rood-loft; externally a simple +wooden bell-turret gives a touch of character to the +building.</p> + +<p>Beyond Greywell we entered upon a low-lying +land of lazy willow-bordered streams, a green and +quiet land of luscious meadows loved of cattle, a +land of lanes</p> + +<p class="pp4 p1"> +where under the same wheel</p> +<p class="pp1">The same old rut would deepen year by year.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Now and then we caught the scent of new-mown +hay, sweetening the air as we drove along under +the shadow of leafy trees, and anon in the sunshine. +The scent of new-mown hay or of a fragrant beanfield +in blossom, how delightful a thing it is; shop-purchased +perfumery is poor stuff indeed compared +with it. For once we looked above rather than +around for beauty, above to the windy, wide, white-clouded +sky, with its ever-varying incident of +passing and changeful form; for the skyscape has +interests as well as the landscape, and there are +times when it is the more interesting of the two.</p> + +<p>Even when you pass through a land of scant +scenic attractions, you may often, by searching, +discover unexpected and secluded beauty-spots, the +charms of which, in a small way, are not readily +outrivalled; but they need finding, for many lie +unannounced though near the roadside. One day +I was driving through an open country of flat fields<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +and low bounding hedges, with only one little hill +in all the prospect to break the level horizon of +circling blue; a country not without its pleasantness, +but tame and somewhat monotonous withal, though +there was a fine fresh-air feeling about it, such as +one finds on the far-reaching Fens. I was hungry, +and so looking out for a likely spot in which to +picnic, but it was some time before I could find one +to my fancy; then it was not so retired as I could +wish, and passing traffic robbed me of the privacy +I desired. There were no grassy margins by the +roadside to enjoy, and the fields did not look inviting. +Having stopped the car I thought I heard the +sound of falling water; it came from the direction of +a little wood that had escaped my notice and to +which a footpath went. Thereupon I determined +to go exploring in the hope that I might find a +secluded spot by some stream side for my midday +halt and refreshment. The sound of running or +falling water has always a fascination for me, it is as +music to my ears, and who could be dull in the +company of a gurgling or tumbling stream that +almost seems to talk to you in the oldest language +of the world?—"I chatter, chatter, as I flow," sings +Tennyson of a brook. I was unexpectedly rewarded, +for a few minutes' walk brought me to a little winding +river that managed to conceal itself from the road, +and by the river backed by trees stood an ancient +water-mill with mossy roof and weather-stained +walls, its great and somewhat broken, dripping, +wooden wheel revolving round in so leisurely a +fashion that its very movement suggested rest. +The ancient mill, wood, and tumbling water, what a +perfect picture they made! There on a grassy +bank opposite I found an ideal place for my purpose, +with the song of the mill-wheel, the swish and +splash of the weir, the twittering of birds and the +soothing cooing of pigeons to enliven that peace-bestowing +solitude, a retired nook where one might +"dream down hours to moments." Yet there was +no hint from the roadway of mill or river, of anything +else than a little wood. How much of quiet beauty +that little wood conceals from the vulgar public gaze! +How many of those who pass daily close by have +discovered that charmed spot, I wonder?<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-149.jpg" width="400" height="238" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">AN OLD MILL.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Again on the road, after a time we sighted a +signpost pointing the way to Basingstoke, then in +a short distance another with the same legend; +indeed, all the signposts we came to had "Basingstoke" +writ large on their arms, as though there +were a conspiracy amongst them to force the traveller +to that town. Cobbett on one of his rides wanted +to go from somewhere to Hindhead, and he was +told he had better go through Liphook; but for +some reason known to himself that obstinate farmer +declared, "I won't go to Liphook." And he didn't. +Just then a fit of like obstinacy came over me; I +would not be dictated to by signposts, I would not +go to Basingstoke. Basingstoke was a town; I +would keep in the country. So whenever I came +to a signpost with "To Basingstoke" upon it I went +another way. It would have been better had I +gone to Basingstoke, for the lanes I got on were +tortuous, narrow, and rough, without any compensating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +virtues in the matter of scenery. However, I +had a fit of travel temper strong on me, so I stuck +to my whim and eventually discovered a decent +road that led across a rolling open country, and +from every height of our up-and-down progress we +had extended views to distant hills, blue and undulating. +The distances were glorious, the near +scenery featureless, so our eyes feasted on the +distances.</p> + +<p>So we arrived at Kingsclere, like Odiham a +pleasant and a clean little town remote from rail, +and it seems to get along, in a quiet way, exceedingly +well without it. The place pleased me, not +because it was specially agreeable, but owing to the +absence of any aggressive modern ugliness. Its +virtues are of the negative order, but even that +negative quality counts for much. I noticed its +large and fine old church—it was so large and close +to the road I could not help but notice it; all the +same I did not dally to go a clerk-hunting, so failed +to inspect the interior: on that sunshiny day my +antiquarian zeal did not run to church interiors, +though I did not miss observing a rather good +example of a Norman doorway unfortunately built +up on its south wall. I noted, too, opposite the +church, and pleasantly retired from the street, +another of those clean little unpretentious inns I +had so frequently come across—an inn that from +a passing glance of it almost made me wish the +day's journey ended there.</p> + +<p>After Kingsclere the country grew wilder, and +presently crossing an extensive heath we dropped +down into Newbury. I think it must have been +market day there, for the streets of that pleasant +town were thronged with carts and horses, to say +nothing of pedestrians who would provokingly walk +all over the roadway and not on the pavements. +Some shouted to us, "Why don't you blow your +horn?" and when we did others shouted, "Why do +you keep blowing your horn; do you want all the +road to yourself?" so we pleased no one, and made +what haste we could to get out of the bustle, and +to the London and Bath old mail road, smooth +travelling and pleasant enough as far as Hungerford.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-154.jpg" width="400" height="564" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">OLD TOLL-HOUSE ON BATH ROAD.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">A little before Hungerford my curiosity was +aroused by the sight of a lonely castellated building +by the roadside which I stopped to photograph. +Then a man appeared upon the scene: somehow +whenever you start to take a photograph, even in +apparently deserted places—and the highway there +just then seemed deserted—some one is almost sure +to put in an appearance. I asked the man about +the building. "That were an old tollhouse," +answered he; "it used to mark the half-way between +London and Bath." "Does it not to-day?" I +queried. The man made no reply. I have frequently +found that certain country-folk are curiously +averse to jokes, however mild or innocent those +jokes may be; they seem afraid lest you are poking +fun at them. Taking no heed of my query he +continued, for your true-born countryman loves to +talk: "Travelling by motor-car, I sees; wonderful +things them motor-cars be, to be sure, and they do +put on the pace on this bit of road, I reckon; make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +a regular railway of it, that's what us say; fortunately +there baint many housen on it," and so forth for a +good five minutes, whilst I packed up my camera, +and was therefore a perforced listener. I was +somewhat surprised to hear, preserved to this day, +the old Saxon plural of "en" in the word "housen" +(though we still retain it in men, women, children, +and oxen); the so-termed Yankee "I reckon" did +not surprise me much, as I have frequently heard +it thus employed in country districts, in Sussex +especially.</p> + +<p>At Hungerford I noticed the ancient "Bear Inn" +as we passed, and that is the only thing about the +town that I can now remember: a comfortable-looking, +time-mellowed, two-storied, old-fashioned +building, a pleasing picture of a past-time coaching +hostelry; now I believe its patrons are mostly +motorists and anglers; for the latter there is a +troutful river at hand, and troutful streams around. +I noted two anglers with their rods leaning listlessly +against the inn door, who looked as though they +were on a lazy holiday bent, and that the wily trout +must wait their turn. The town authorities still +preserve an ancient horn inscribed as follows—by +which horn they hold the right of fishing in the +rivers and streams around—"I John a Gaunt doe +giue and grant the riall of fishing to Hungerford +toune, from Eldren Stub to Stil, excepting som +seueral mil pond. Jehosphat Lucas, Constabl." A +curious form of a deed of gift, that reminds one of +the more famous Pusey horn, an even more ancient +charter of rights. I fancy that name of "Jehosphat"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +for a constable; it has a genuinely ancient ring +about it. Not being learned in old English script, +I am not sure whether "riall" should read "right" +or "royalty," but the intention of the sentence +is clear.</p> + +<p>A curious old-world custom, dating from about +1370, still prevails at Hungerford. I came upon +an account of this in my morning paper, which I +think of sufficient interest to quote here in full:</p> + +<div class="cit"> + +<p class="p1">Hungerford was yesterday the scene of incidents reminiscent +of the remote past. It was Hock-day, a day when Hungerford +slips back into past centuries and revels in customs and privileges +granted by John of Gaunt. One feature of the proceedings is +the perambulation of the town by two "Tuttimen," represented +on this occasion by Mr. F. Barnard and Mr. J. Tyler, whose +interesting mission it is to kiss all women-folk and exact head-pence +from men. Nor is the custom honoured only in the +breach, with the result that the "Tuttimen" had a busy day. +In exchange for kisses they give oranges.</p> + +<p>Particularly busy were the "Tuttimen" at the workhouse, +where they found the women-folk insistent on the due observation +of their privilege. Another interesting scene occurred at +the laundry, where the female employés, their hair gaily decked +with primroses, paraded before the kissing men, who, by special +charter, were instructed to be discreet in their choice, and +selected two of each as the recipients of their salute.</p> + +<p>While the "Tuttimen" were engaged in this mission the +borough dignitaries, who form the Hocktide jury, were assembled +in solemn conclave at the Court-house, whither they had been +summoned in the early morning by blasts on John of Gaunt's +historic horn. The ancient rules, regulations, and privileges +were recited with due solemnity.</p> + +<p>The labours of the deliberate assembly being at an end, the +members of the jury adjourned for the Hocktide luncheon, +while pence and oranges were thrown from the window to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +crowds of children who were granted a holiday in honour of the +event. When the company separated the "Tuttimen" continued +their mission.</p> + +</div> + +<p class="p1">It is astonishing how many of these quaint old +customs are still preserved in various parts of the +country, such as the curious horn-dance at Abbot's +Bromley we came upon a little later in the journey. +How few people seem to be aware of them or their +surprising number.</p> + +<p>A little beyond Hungerford we bade good-bye +to the Bath road, for espying a promising byway +we followed it up the narrow Kennett valley. The +quiet beauty of the scenery took us by surprise. +As long as the river kept us welcome company the +valley was as fair as a valley may be; truly we saw +it under the inspiriting effect of the cheerful sunshine, +but that only enhanced and did not cause +its charms; the clouds had rolled away and the +sky above was serenely blue, and all the land was +bathed in golden light. When the English weather +is really in a good humour, truly it can make things +very pleasant. From one point of the road we +had a delightful vision of the shallow river where +it widened out and ran rippling merrily over its +pebbly bed, silvery and sparkling and gold in the +sunshine, with dark green woods rising above, low +hills rising beyond these again; and the river sang +its song as it ran to the music of the wind-stirred +trees. So both eye and ear shared in the charm +of the spot. When next I go a-fishing I should +like to go a-fishing there, then, sport or no sport, +it would be joy enough to be amongst such pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +scenery, for I have an eye for a pretty river-side, +an ear for rural sounds, as well as for that crowning +delight—the exciting plash of a trout. Then we +drove on between wooded hills that rose gently on +either hand, passing near by to our left Littlecote +House, that lonely, grey, ancient, and some people +have it haunted, home, overshadowed by the gruesome +story of "Wild" Darell, a tragedy too well +known to need repeating here—an almost incredible +tragedy, only that time has shown it to be true, +and "truth is stranger than fiction," though some +modern fiction is running truth uncommonly hard +in this respect.</p> + +<p>Aldbourne, the first village we came to, with its +fine old stately-towered church, its big round pond, +and its antique houses grouped around it, pleased +us vastly, for the village had such a remote and an +unmistakable old-time air—a spot where we really +seemed to have left the modern world wholly behind. +For a moment we gave ourselves up to the illusion +of the place, and were back in the seventeenth +century. We pay the novelist to romance for us; +why should not we do our own romancing at times? +Therein lies the charm of old-fashioned places; +they spur the imagination. As Laurence Sterne +showed us, sentiment, after all, is not a bad thing.</p> + +<p>It may have been wholly imagination on my +part, but I thought that the people there had a +contented look and a quiet eye, as though they had +no part in the stress of modern life and the wearisome +struggle of it. For where striving ceases, +there life runs smoothly; and where life runs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +smoothly, there contentment reigns. Truly, my +impressions were purely those of a passer-by, who +had no part in the life of the place. Perhaps the +traveller chiefly sees what he desires to see. Now +I set out to see the bright side of life—who would +blame me for that?—and I happily found what I +sought; at some places more than others, still, +always the bright side. It is a mere matter of eye-training, +the seeking the gold and leaving the +dross.</p> + +<p>There is a Society for the Preservation of Ancient +Buildings; I would there were a Society for the +Preservation of Picturesque Villages, for many still +there are, more than people imagine, that remain +unspoilt, or almost so—villages that have not known +the hand of the modern builder, bits of old England +surviving in the midst of the new, and a gulf of +centuries separates the two. Their churches stand +on the same sites they did in the thirteenth or other +early century; some of the Saxon times are of much +earlier date; the continuity of the village and its +life is astonishing. As in the days of old, there +stands the snug rectory where it has stood for +generations past; the humble inn with its swinging +sign of "The Red Lion" as likely as not, though it +may have suffered alteration, occupies the same spot +where an inn has been "time out of memory." So +with the cottages, one of which is generally the +Post Office; and even in these democratic days the +inhabitants are still divided into three classes—the +squirearchy, the tradesfolk, and the labourers—and +they seem to get along thus very well and contentedly, +till the Socialist comes and scatters his +tares.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-161.jpg" width="400" height="278" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">THE VILLAGE POST OFFICE.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">After Aldbourne the country had a wild and a +deserted look, for we found ourselves traversing the +open downs where the landmarks are few, our grey +road winding before us miles away, with nothing +else visible but bare, green, sun-flushed hills around. +It was a glorious drive over those billowy downs, +and bracing was the air of them, delightful too in +its purity and in the delicate scent of the thymy +turf that the breezes gathered on their way and +brought to us. There one might indulge in</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +The pleasure of believing what we see<br /> +Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.</p> + +<p class="p1">The downs, bare to the skyline, looked lonely +enough to satisfy an anchorite. It is refreshing +now and again in this crowded England to come +upon such silent yet friendly solitudes, for there is +nothing frowning or austere about them; hardly +does the sunshine cast a shadow upon their spacious +slopes of greenery. The charm of English scenery +generally lies in its rich detail and finish, the result +of the tireless toil of centuries; but the downs afford +us broad effects, and broadness of outlook begets +broadness of thinking. Fortunately the downs are +unblest with mineral deposits, so they will probably +remain unspoilt for ages yet; they have no attraction +for the tourist crowd, nor are they likely to be +vulgarised by too ready railway accessibility, for +their population is too scanty for that.</p> + +<p>Our solitary road ended its solitude in the small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +but straggling village of Coate, that, like Stratford-on-Avon, +has a certain, though lesser, fame cast on +it by being the birthplace and early home of Richard +Jefferies; and there amongst the fields around and +sequestered downs beyond he used to roam alone, +neglecting, I am afraid, his father's farm, considered +by the local people—and perhaps not without excuse +according to their lights—a lazy, loafing, unsociable +fellow, "with never a pipe in his mouth nor a glass +in his hand." To be a genius is not always to reap +a reward, for fame, as in poor Jefferies' case, frequently +comes too late—for what profit is fame to +the dead?</p> + +<p>Some years ago, when touring in Lincolnshire, I +met an aged man, a Mr. Baker of Horncastle, now +gone to his forefathers, who when a boy knew of +Tennyson, for Somersby is near to Horncastle, and +Mr. Baker told me "people around used to think +Tennyson a wild sort of fellow, for ever wandering +alone over the wolds a-muttering to himself"; and +I believe much the same was said of Wordsworth, +"a-booing to hisself" during his solitary rambles +over the Cumberland Fells. Solitude is company +enough for the majority of geniuses, it seems. +Byron says, "In solitude I am least alone"; and +Thoreau remarks, "I never found a companion that +was half so companionable as solitude." Once +when an acquaintance offered to go a walk with +him, Thoreau ungraciously declined. "I have no +walks to throw away on company," said he. At +any rate, there are worse companions than solitude; +yet, in spite of poets and philosophers, I am wholly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +with genial Charles Lamb in my love of sympathetic +human company, but the sympathetic quality is +not always to be discovered. Doubtless Richard +Jefferies failed to find amongst the farmers around +a suitable companion; their thoughts were not his +thoughts, so he roamed the downs alone in close +communion with the nature he loved so dearly and +understood so well. It is said, and with some truth, +of Thoreau that he found the freedom of the wilderness +within the sound of Emerson's dinner-bell; so +too Richard Jefferies found his freedom within a +walk, if not within actual sight, of his home. Now +solitude for the day, with a home, friends, fireside, +and a welcome to come to at evening time, is solitude +with the keen edge of it considerably blunted.</p> + +<p>Coate is a quiet village, not noteworthy in any +way of itself. It is neither picturesque nor ugly, +merely commonplace; like some worthy people in +the world, it lacks character. Had it not been the +birthplace of Richard Jefferies, I should have passed +it unregarded by; but authors, poets, and other +men who have earned fame for themselves in this +world have no command over their birthplaces: that +is the chance of circumstance. In the village I +pulled up and asked the first man I met, a man +apparently of average intelligence and as well clad +as I, if he could point out Richard Jefferies' house. +"Richard Jefferies," replied he thoughtfully; "I +never heard of him. There's no one lives here of +that name." Then after a moment's hesitation he +exclaimed, "Maybe it's Mr. Dash the auctioneer +you wants. He lives at yonder house to the left;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +it's the best house in the place." Why he imagined +I wanted Mr. Dash the auctioneer, whose name +was quite different, I could not understand. I +asked the man if he lived there. "I do," responded +he; "I've lived here some time." And yet he +declared he had never heard of Richard Jefferies! +"Perhaps he lives at Swindon," he suggested as I +left; now Swindon is not far off Coate. Poor +Richard Jefferies!</p> + +<p>Then I made my way to the house indicated. +It seemed to be the most important house of the +few unimportant houses there, a pleasant, long +rather than square, two-storied dwelling, retired +behind a bit of garden and walled in from the road; +and there on the wall by the entrance gateway I +espied a stone slab, plainly inscribed—</p> + +<p class="pn center p1"><span class="reduct"> +Birthplace<br /> +of<br /> +Richard Jefferies.<br /> +Born<br /> +November 6th, 1848.</span></p> + +<p class="pn p1">Yet even that tablet means nothing to the villager!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Wootton Bassett—A quaint market-hall—Old towns—A Roman +road—The spirit of the past—A pre-Elizabethan gate-house—The +Royal Agricultural College—Chat with an antiquary—Norman +doorways—Second-hand book catalogues—Syde—Cotswold +houses—Over the Cotswolds—At a Jacobean inn.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">Leaving Coate we soon reached the erst quiet little +town of Swindon; it is no longer quiet or little, but +looms large and ugly—seen from afar a blot on the +fair landscape; the railway has made it prosperous +and its name, once unknown to the outer world, "as +familiar as a household word." Swindon does not +appeal to the traveller who, like the famous Dr. +Syntax, fares forth "in search of the picturesque." +Of old, I have been told, it was a pleasant spot. +We were fortunate enough to simply touch the edge +of the bustling town and to get again on to an open +country road, careless as to where it might lead; it +might go to anywhere so long as we escaped smoky +Swindon with its big works, tram-lines, and rows of +mean buildings over which the smoke, in the still +air, hung like a pall. That is the price it has to pay +for its prosperity.</p> + +<p>Our road took us in a few miles to Wootton +Bassett, a small, sleepy, clean market-town set high +up on a hill, unprogressive yet not dull, and it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +greeted us with an air of restfulness and ancientness. +It is a good road that takes you to a pleasant place. +I was glad to discover Wootton Bassett, a long one-streeted +town, and in the centre of its broad sunny +street stands its quaint half-timber market-hall +upheld by stone pillars, with its ancient stocks preserved +in the covered space below. Why will they +not build such useful and eye-pleasing structures +to-day? This quaint old market-hall, so picturesquely +prominent, gives a character to the whole place. I +could not imagine Wootton Bassett without its +market-hall any more than I could imagine a +cathedral city without its cathedral. It seemed the +centre of attraction of the little town, for around it +were gathered many of its inhabitants, lazing, +smoking, and gossiping; the wonder was how they +could afford to idle time so, they hardly looked like +men of independent means! Now when I desired +to take a photograph of the building they, of one +accord, stood up all in a formal row, like soldiers on +parade, so as to effectually spoil my proposed photograph +as a picture. If the good people had only +been content not to have minded me, and stayed as +they were naturally grouped, they would even have +been of pictorial service; but standing each one +stiffly facing the camera, the case was hopeless. +Why will people always pose so "to be took," with +no expectation of seeing "their pictures"? They +provoked me almost into being angry, for I so +desired to obtain a pleasing photograph of the +quaint old structure. Still, I made a sketch of it, +conveniently ignoring the figures; but it took me a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +good half-hour or more to make the sketch, and +the photograph would only have needed a minute to +take and been faithful to the minutest detail. Now it +chanced that I was hungry, and a hungry man is not +a good workman. I made a mistake; I ought to +have satisfied my hunger and then made my sketch, +but somehow at the moment I did not think of so +simple a thing. Then I sought an inn, for I had +forgotten to replenish my luncheon basket that +morning.</p> + +<p>The first inn I saw looked clean and unpretending, +so inviting, and there I obtained some bread +and cheese and ale, as that could be had at once +for the asking; moreover, it was nicely served in a +cheerful little room, and a neat, be-ribboned maid +waited quietly on me. I noted that the walls of the +room were covered with grey canvas and not with +paper; now canvas, after wood panelling and lordly +tapestry, is the most artistic wall-covering imaginable. +I never expected to find such a thing at a +small country inn, where I am content with comfort +and never look for the luxury of art. The landlord, +anxious to be obliging, apologised that there was no +cold meat, but, said he, I could have chops, only +they would have to send for them. Fancy a famishing +man waiting for the purchase and the cooking of +chops; then possibly the chops might prove tough. +Bread and cheese and ale, I explained, were good +enough for me, and they could be had instanter. +Now hunger is the best of sauces, and no meal ever +I had did I relish more than my modest one that +day. The table was spread with the whitest of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +cloths, flowers in a vase adorned it, and there is +much in the manner a meal is served; the bread was +crusty and the crust was crisp, the cheese excellent +of flavour, the clear, nut-brown, frothing ale was, as +Shakespeare puts it, "a dish for a king." Honestly, +just then, I would not have exchanged the simple +repast I had in that inn's tiny parlour for the most +sumptuous lunch at the most expensive restaurant; +and the civility and attention of the maid were more +to my liking than the servile service of any black-coated +waiter, with a tip in view according to his +servility. Then my enjoyable lunch cost me exactly +one shilling; no charge was made for stabling my +car, and the attentive maid received my modest +gratuity with such smiling thanks as though she +expected no such thing. Even the landlord thanked +me for my poor custom.</p> + +<p>Wherein lies the charm of these unprogressive +little country towns, whilst modern cities, though +they may be fine, are generally so uninteresting, is +as difficult to explain as the attraction of personality +or character. It is not in architectural merit, for +they rarely have that, except perhaps in an odd +building or two. One thing is, their buildings are +low, and so their streets are sunny, which gives them +an air of cheerfulness. But I think their real charm +lies in their naturalness and welcome absence of all +show, assertiveness, or pretence, and this causes a +feeling of restfulness, for the eye is not called upon +to admire anything; also they have a delightfully +finished look—where the town ends there the +country begins. The prosperous modern town<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +never seems finished, and as it grows, it grows the +more ugly.</p> + +<p>From Wootton Bassett on to Cricklade I have +now no recollection of the road, beyond that we +caught a glimpse on the way of a delightful old +Tudor, or Elizabethan, home of many mullioned +windows and a great porch that spoke a welcome—a +picture rather than a place. Of Cricklade I have +a pleasant memory of a stone-built, old, and grey-roofed +town, with little of life about it, and of a tall +canopied cross in the churchyard at the farther end +of its long street. If Cricklade has more to show I +missed seeing it. So quiet the town was, it looked +like a town asleep and not anxious to wake again. +Its long street was free of traffic, excepting for a +solitary cart; not even a dog troubled to bark at us. +But you cannot see or understand any place by +simply driving through it; these, therefore, are but +passing impressions. On a long journey you have +not time to loiter everywhere you would, or the +journey would take a whole year, perchance even +more; already I had loitered long at Wootton Bassett, +and Cricklade looked less attractive.</p> + +<p>After Cricklade we came upon a level, long +stretch of straight road, so straight indeed that it +suggested Roman origin, and on consulting my map +I found it there marked "Roman road from Cirencester +to Speen" (where the Speen alluded to is, or +was, I am not sure, but there is one in Berkshire +and one in Buckinghamshire, neither of importance +nowadays). This straight road extending far as +the eye could trace with all revealed ahead, nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +left to imagination, is not an attractive one, except, +perhaps, to an engineer's eye, but it has a look of set +purpose that impresses the mind; it concerns itself +with nothing but its destination, turning not aside +for this or that; a road of importance, or rather +once it was. This very road, of old, the Roman +Legions trod; that takes one back some centuries! +The spirit of the past still seems to linger over it; +it impressed itself on me. In this old land history +greets you volumes deep; you cannot escape it. +"Happy is the country that has no history," runs the +ancient proverb; and true though the proverb may +be, to travel in I prefer a country with a storied +past—an eventful past that lends an interest to the +present. When touring in California, in spite of its +glorious scenery, I felt a vacancy; why, I could not +imagine for some time; then I realised it was the +absence of any ancient history, legend, or tradition +connected with anything I saw beyond poor Indian +legend, for something more than mere scenery is +needed to satisfy the reflective mind.</p> + +<p>At the small hamlet of Latton we passed through, +I noticed the worn steps and broken shaft of a +wayside cross. How numerous these crosses must +have been in the pre-Reformation days is proved +by the number that still remain in their ruined state, +in spite of the complete destruction of others during +the Puritan time, and from the frequent and familiar +name of "Stone Cross" or "Stony Cross" one +finds on the maps, though no vestige of a cross can +now be discovered at such spots. Then, to avoid +the monotony of the straight road, we took to a lane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +that a signpost informed us led to Down Ampney, +when I suddenly remembered having seen, at +some picture gallery, a painting of a charming old +house of that name; for I always note both the +paintings and photographs I see of picturesque +old houses, and when they bear a title keep it in +memory—this in case Fate should some day bring +me within reach of the originals; and here was my +opportunity.</p> + +<p>A mile or so brought us to Down Ampney, once +the stately home of the famous Hungerford family, +and there the lane ended. What pleased me most +about the place was not the mansion but its quaint +and exceedingly interesting and picturesque arched +gate-house of the pre-Elizabethan era, with its two +octagonal embattled towers on either side of the +archway. It was well worth while making the short +detour to see that fine old gate-house, for a pre-Elizabethan +gate-house is somewhat rare in the +land, and, when found, forms such a pleasant roadside +feature, besides taking the memory back to the days +that are gone.</p> + +<p>Then we resumed our drive along the old Roman +road, and this brought us to ancient Cirencester, +where at "The King's Head," a flourishing inn +before railways were invented, we found comfortable +quarters for the night. Thrice before on my driving +tours have I found myself by chance at Cirencester, +for all the roads around centre on that town, like the +spokes to the hub of a wheel, and take you there +unawares; but I had not come to it by the Roman +road before. I thought I had seen all Cirencester<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +had to show, but I discovered a fresh interest on +this visit in the shape of the Royal Agricultural +College about a mile away, and the Principal most +kindly showed me all over the building and took +me a stroll through the grounds besides. This +college, as many know, was established by Royal +Charter in 1845, "to train land-owners, estate +agents, surveyors, intending colonists, etc., in +agriculture, forestry, and allied subjects." It is +beautifully situated on high ground and admirably +fulfils its purpose. I have often wondered why +some of the number of men of limited income, of no +occupation, and trained to no profession, instead of +idling life unprofitably away without an object, do +not study at the Royal Agricultural College, where +all things are well ordered, and go in for farming; +and what a pleasant and healthy life it is, in close +touch with Nature: a man can be a farmer, a +sportsman, and a gentleman. Better this, surely, +than to lead an aimless, lazy existence?</p> + +<p>At Cirencester, going into a shop to replenish +my tobacco supply, I got a-chatting with the owner, +who appeared to have a soul superior to tobacco, +for, to my surprise, I discovered him to be an +enthusiastic and well-informed antiquary. Who +would have thought it? He told me that round +about Cirencester there were no fewer than fifteen +churches with fine Norman doorways; he kindly +gave a list of these, only to be lost! He also +showed me a photograph of each one, so that I was +able to judge what beautiful and well-preserved +specimens of Norman masonry they were; in such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +instances photography asserts its usefulness. The +only church of the number the name of which I can +remember is Quennington, and this because I bought +a picture-postcard of it, showing a most beautiful +and richly sculptured doorway; judging from the +photograph, nowhere have I seen so fine a one. +The postcard has printed on it the following particulars: +"The Norman doorways" (it appears there +are two) "of Quennington church are noted for the +beauty of their workmanship, and for the curious +carved tympani they contain. The south door has +elaborate carving, with beak heads around the top +of the tympanum, which latter represents the mythical +Coronation of the Virgin." Then he told me of a +very old church not far away (he pointed out the +position of it on the map, and on consulting my +map again I feel fairly certain it is Daglingworth) +where is a Saxon sun-dial, and where he had discovered +in some of the stone-work of one of the +windows portions of an ancient Roman inscription, +proving that the monkish builders paid scant regard +to the despised pagan altars and inscribed tablets +that in early days were so plentiful at Cirencester, +but used them as they would stone from a quarry; +for Cirencester, or Corinium, was an important +Roman military station. Fortunately many interesting +relics of the time are now carefully preserved +from further "base uses" in the Cirencester museum. +In turn, to even matters, the monks' "graven +images" and other "superstitious" work was ruthlessly +destroyed by the stern Puritans. So the +pagan was avenged!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>For want of a better occupation that evening +I amused myself by looking over some old local +newspapers I discovered in the smoke-room, for in +these papers you often come upon odd and interesting +bits of information, possibly contributed by +some resident antiquary; there I came upon the +particulars of a curious bill that I thought worth +noting, and this is the paragraph that caught my +eye: "Below is an abstract from <i>The Annual +Register</i>, 1771, page 140. 'Cirencester, August +31st. The following is a true copy of a painter's +bill of this place, delivered to the church-wardens +of an adjacent parish: Mr. Charles Ferebee (churchwarden +of Siddington) to Joseph Cook, Dr. To +mending the Commandments, altering the Belieff, +and making a new Lord's Prayer, or £1 : 1s.'" So +curious is this that it really seems like an invention, +only that it is given on the authority of <i>The Annual +Register</i>, and vouched for as true; otherwise I +should not have ventured to requote it, and the +very names of the churchwarden, the painter, and +the church are put down. Invention surely could +not improve on that old bill—and invention is no +laggard!</p> + +<p>At another inn I discovered some second-hand +book catalogues left presumably by some former +guest, and spent quite an interesting and profitable +hour going over these. The various literature you +chance upon when travelling oftentimes proves +entertaining reading; the following extracts I made +from four of these catalogues will, I think, prove +my contention. In the first case an "Autograph<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +Album" is offered for sale at the modest price of +£25, but then it contains "A collection of over +100 signatures, including those of Lord Tennyson" +and other world-famous authors, "and an Autograph +Poem by Lord Tennyson addressed to Lady Tennyson," +a sample verse of which is quoted, and thus +it runs:</p> + +<p class="pp5 p1"> +"Here on this Terrace fifty years ago,<br /> +When I was in your June, you in your May,<br /> +Two words 'My Rose' set all your face a-glow;<br /> +And now that I am white and you are grey,<br /> +That blush of fifty years ago, my dear,<br /> +Lives in the past, but close to me to-day,<br /> +As this red rose upon the terrace here<br /> +Glows in the blue of fifty miles away."</p> + +<p class="p1">Then, curiously enough, in another second-hand +book catalogue a volume of poems, privately +printed, is offered, containing likewise "an unpublished +sonnet by Tennyson, beginning</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Me my own Fate to lasting sorrow doometh,"</p> + +<p class="pn p1">but this is the only line of the sonnet given. Then +another catalogue offered a book by John Wesley, +dated 1770, and entitled <i>A Preservative against +Unsettled Notions in Religion</i>, in which Wesley, in +an open letter to Robert Barclay, says: "Friend, you +have an honest heart, but a weak head. Once your +zeal was against ungodliness, now it is against all +forms of prayer—against saying 'you' to a single +person, uncovering your head, or having too many +buttons on your coat. O what a fall is there! +What poor trifles are these that well-nigh engross +your thoughts."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>Still a further catalogue offers a "Black Letter +book, printed in double columns, published about +1555, 'Of the tragedies, gathered by Jhon Bochas, +of all such Princes as fell from theyr estates throughe +the mutability of Fortune since the creacion of +Adam.' A fairly long history. This has a note +written on the title-page as follows, 'This book was +boughte in the yeare of Or Lorde God 1555.'" +There were other volumes offered in these catalogues +at a price, but they were of less interest. +I think, however, I have quoted enough to show +what an entertaining evening may be spent in +simply conning over second-hand book catalogues.</p> + +<p>I am afraid I have wandered off the road, but +such occasional digressions, in the absence of the +usual added love-story, may serve to break any +possible monotony in the chronicle of our tour. We +left Cirencester betimes (to use a favourite expression +of Samuel Pepys, of Diary renown), though not so +early but that sundry country folk were astir on the +road before us; and how inexpressibly fresh and +sweet is the morning air, "before it has been braithed +over," that was Iden's <i>elixir vitae</i> in <i>Amaryllis at +the Fair</i>! We started forth, as usual, without any +definite idea of where we were going or of our +destination for the night, simply taking this road +and that, rough, or smooth, or hilly, as seemed best +in our eyes at the moment. Excepting perhaps in +a flat country, such desultory travel is not wholly +advisable unless you can rely upon your car mounting +the worst of the hills that may be encountered, for +now and then on these byways you may come unexpectedly +to a hill that is startling in its steepness, +and though it be short it has to be climbed, or you +have to hark back ignominiously and not see what +you set out to see. Fortunately I knew my car, +my old and well-tried travelling companion that, +when traversing some of the wild Welsh mountain +and moorland tracks, had surmounted gradients of no +ordinary severity. So I travelled on strange roads +with a mind at ease. To go exploring cross-country +roads in a hilly district you need a reliable car. It +may have been the quality of my car, it may have +been good fortune, it may have been careful driving, +for careful driving counts, but the fact remains, in +spite of many bad and stony roads, during the +journey I suffered no breakdown, nor did I on a +previous journey of some hundreds of miles.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-180.jpg" width="400" height="572" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">SYDE CHURCH.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">So, leaving Cirencester, where the church bells +have little rest, for they were chiming the hours and +quarters at length both day and night, we wandered +about uneventfully till we found ourselves in the +out-of-the-world hamlet of Syde, built on the slope +of a hill, with a glorious rolling country around. +I love these little remote hamlets and the placidity +of them—hamlets where "the telegraph, the railway, +and the thoughts that shake mankind" have never +penetrated. I daresay dull care finds its way to +them as elsewhere, but to the outward eye they +suggest untold peace. Some one says that "care +will come and climb even the side of a ship far out +at sea in search of its victims."</p> + +<p>At Syde we discovered a tiny and charming +church with a saddle-back tower, a tiny church,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +pleasing in its simplicity, and close to it a fine old +tithe-barn with a grand roof of open timber, and a +delightfully quaint little Gothic window at one end +of the building: the monks would have even a barn +beautiful. From great beams of oak was the roof +constructed, not sawn straight out of a tree regardless +of grain in the manner of to-day that tends to weakness, +but the natural bends of the wood were utilised +so as to ensure the utmost strength of the material, +and that made for lastingness and curves that unconsciously +please the eye. The medieval craftsman +knew the art of making the best use of raw +products, and to his credit be it said, as far as I +could note, the ancient roof shows no signs of +weakness though constructed centuries ago, and +apparently all those centuries left to take care of +itself. Still such roofs, though strong in themselves, +are heavy, and need substantial walls and a generous +use of masonry to uphold them. The modern +builder would probably construct at least two barns +of the same size out of the materials employed in the +construction of this one, and then have something +to spare, but I greatly doubt if they would stand the +stress of centuries as this one has done without +constant renewals and repairs.</p> + +<p>Leaving Syde we wandered about the lonely +Cotswolds for most of the day, leisurely and +deviously, delighting in their breezy openness, their +frequent solitudes, and the extensive prospects +afforded to us of hills beyond hills rising out of the +blue. Houses are few and scattered in the Cotswolds, +and these are mostly farmsteads of past days, grey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +and old, well and strongly built of the native stone +that has a pleasant tint. Simple and yet picturesque +are these old houses with their great gables, +mullioned windows, stone slate roofs, and big +chimney-stacks. The Cotswold architecture is a +style of its own, than which a better style for an +Englishman's home, from cottage to mansion, there +could not be, for it is a style equally suitable for a +small dwelling as for a stately hall. I think the +keynote to the attractiveness of the Cotswold houses, +large or little, is that they are first of all homes; +this is what impresses you about them. Iron or +lead, in the pre-railway days when the roads were +indifferent and transport expensive, was not readily +available in this remote district, so the ancient +craftsman designed his buildings to have as little +guttering and metal work as possible; he used stone +wherever he could, stone for his mullioned windows, +stone slates for his roofs, stones for his porches, +stones for his chimneys, and for all his copings, his +ridges, and his cappings; so his houses form part +and parcel of the rock on which they stand, as +though they had grown up from it. Were I ever +to build another home for myself I should go to the +Cotswolds for inspiration; still, a good design might +be spoilt in its realisation by unfeeling workmanship; +you may command the design, but you cannot +command the spirit in which it is carried out. +Even such a simple thing as a plain stone wall may +be built to be beautiful; in the Cotswolds, the mason +of old laid his stones in straight courses, carefully +keeping them of different sizes; he also varied these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +courses in width, thus escaping the monotony of +uniformity; he laid the biggest stones at the base, +making for strength, to the eye at least, but here +and there he ran a band of big stones between the +smaller ones above, so he secured breadth with +variety, and this just because he took a pride and a +joy in his work and regarded the look of it. I have +yet to meet the modern workman whose pleasure is +in his work; he calls it "a job." Here ends my +amateur lecture on architecture—fortunately it is +short.</p> + +<p>I made my midday halt at a lonely, elevated +spot, with not a building or any other sign of man's +handiwork in sight, excepting the long and winding +road and the rugged stone walls that bounded and +followed it in curving parallels, up hill and down +dale for many a mile, till lost to vision in the haze +of space. There on a soft grassy margin of the +road, with the wall as shelter from the wayward +wind that always seems to blow over the Cotswolds, +I spread my rug, reclined at ease, and, free from +care as a man can be, enjoyed my alfresco meal and +contemplative pipe to follow, feeling in the best of +humours with all the world and myself, envying +none. I heard no sound but that of the wind gently +surring among the tall grasses, and softly murmuring +through the many crevices of that loose and broken +wall. My eyes saw nothing but the sunlit and +rolling land stretching far around, and the silent, +spacious sky above. I was impressed with the +sense of solitude and the peace of the spot. It is +good for man to be alone at times with the wide<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +earth and sky; it teaches him how small a thing he +really is, for nature shows man neither respect nor +attention; she treats the tramp and the lord the +same. Even on the wild Canadian prairies, before +the coming of the colonist, one could hardly find a +solitude more apparently profound than mine that +day, for the eye cannot see farther than the uttermost +horizon; beyond might be the end of the world.</p> + +<p>Just to live in the present, content with the +present, that was my mood of the moment, neither +looking backwards nor forwards, being simply thankful +to be alive without any pain of body—that is the +true holiday spirit, that is the wine of life; then pure +laziness is a virtue, for if a man would enjoy his +holiday lazing, laze he should. The gospel of exertion +has been preached overmuch. It was a fair spot I +had found, and the world is very fair in fair places; +and does not Ben Jonson say, "How near to good +is what is fair!" Long I rested there, so long that +the shadow thrown by the wall changed round like +that of a dial, but the matter of time troubled me +not, for my hours were not marked by the clock. I +wished my mind to be fallow. Emerson says, "The +hardest thing in the world is—to think." I cannot +follow him, for I find it impossible not to do so. I +would be</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1"> +At vacancy with Nature,<br /> +Acceptive and at ease,</p> +<p class="pp3">Distilling the present hour<br /> +Whatever, wherever it is,</p> +<p class="pp1">And over the past, oblivion.</p> + +<p class="p1">When I tired of my solitude there was my car,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +ready at a moment's notice to whisk me back to the +haunts of man. "Solitude hath its charms," but, to +me, only when I know I can get away from it after +having had my fill. One travels to escape for a +while from man and town, from streets and houses, +and then in turn one longs to get back again to +despised humanity and neighbourship—at least I do, +being no moody philosopher but a lover of my kind.</p> + +<p>Leaving my peaceful nook, after further lonely +wandering, I struck upon a decent though hilly +road, and eventually came to a long, steep descent, +at the foot of which I found myself in the truly +old-world village of Stanway, where is another fine +specimen of a tithe-barn. An apology perhaps is +needed for using the term "old-world" so often, but +I came during the journey to so many quaint and +ancient places that no other word will so well, +tersely, and truthfully describe, so I feel bound to +use it occasionally, even frequently, though not, I +trust, without good cause.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the descent, facing me, stood a +notable gate-house giving access to a time-greyed +and noble mansion built in the Jacobean days; the +former looks like the work of Inigo Jones. I was +tempted to photograph this old gate-house, and any +photograph here reproduced will serve to show what +manner of building it is, for a picture of any kind +appeals direct to the eye, thus conveying a better +impression of a place than pages of printed +description could: and be it said in favour of a +photograph over a drawing that there is no romance +about it, it simply records what is before the camera, +whilst most artists are prone to treat their subjects +with more or less poetic licence, so that one can +never be quite sure how much of their work is faithful +to fact or how much is fanciful.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-187.jpg" width="400" height="277" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">GATEHOUSE, STANWAY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Then, as the west was growing golden and the +shadows lengthening, my thoughts turned to an inn +for the night. It seems to me that an inn of the +good old-fashioned sort, friendly, unpretentious, +clean, and comfortable, deserves a warm corner in +the heart of the wayfarer—for how would he fare +without one? Whenever I come upon such an inn +I make a note of it so as to keep it in memory, +besides marking its site on my map for easy reference +on the road. Many a time, and many a mile, have +I gone out of my way, and gladly, to revisit such +desirable quarters, sure, from past experience, of a +welcome, civility, and a moderate reckoning, three +qualities I mostly prize in the order given. Healthily +hungry, agreeably tired after a long day's journey in +the open air, how delightful it is to arrive at a good +inn when the day is done—that is one of the joys of +travel, and not the least of its joys. Suddenly I +remembered that at the foot of the Cotswolds, and +not very far away, was an ancient, many-gabled, +Jacobean and storied hostelry of mullioned windows +and panelled chambers where erst I had taken +"mine ease"; thither would I go again, so I sped on +my way, rejoicing, to the ancient "Whyte Harte" at +Broadway, one of my ports of call when cruising +on the road, and there I harboured for the night.</p> + +<p>In the smoke-room of my inn that evening, +seated by its big ingle-nook before a blazing log-fire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +that threw a ruddy, cheerful glow on beamed ceiling, +panelled wall, and antique furniture, I got a-chatting +with the chance and friendly company gathered +there. Amongst the company was a touring cyclist +who talked interestingly about the country and the +places he had passed through; another was a fellow-motorist +who "talked motor," but he had an eye for +scenery as well; still another had recently returned +from a long voyage, but he had neither met the +Flying Dutchman nor seen the sea-serpent, nor +even an iceberg, and what worth is a tale of the sea +without a little romance thrown in? I love to hear +the good old-fashioned sailor spin his confidential +yarn; salt is cheap, so you can allow him more than +the proverbial grain. The last yarn I had was from +a skipper aboard his ship out in the wide Atlantic, +who told me positively that he had seen the sea-serpent +"swimming in the sea." "I estimated that +it was ninety feet long," said he, "judging from the +length of the ship, but perhaps he was a young one: +it was a sea-serpent or a snake of some kind sure +enough, and much alive." "Did you record it in +the Log?" was my response. "Not I," replied the +skipper. "You see, another captain of our company +had previously seen a sea-serpent, only a much +bigger one than mine, and he noted the fact in his +Log. Now when our people saw the Log they said +to him, 'Captain, if you see any more sea-serpents +you won't get another ship.' He never saw another." +And this is an unvarnished tale as told to me by +the well-known skipper of a famous liner, faithfully +retold, word for word, as far as my memory serves.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">The Vale of Evesham—A stormy drive—An angler's inn—A big +fish—Dating from "the flood"!—Fishermen's tales—The +joys of "the gentle craft"—Hotel visitors' books—A "quiet +day"—Burford church and its monuments—The golden age +of travel—A fine old half-timber inn—Ludlow—A Saxon +doorway.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">Leaving our ancient inn we proceeded westward +along winding, hedge-bordered lanes that took us +through the beautiful and fruitful Vale of Evesham, +a very Land of Goshen. We had an uneventful +drive to close upon Pershore, where we found ourselves +on a good main road; then crossing a narrow +bridge we drove into that quiet and ancient town, +famous for its fine old abbey church, and for what +else I know not; as for the town, it has a pleasant +look. Then into the country again and into a +storm of rain. By a signpost we learnt that the +road led to Worcester, and, as it appeared to keep +on high ground with the promise of fine views, we +followed it.</p> + +<p>We had a stormy drive on to Worcester, for it +rained the whole of the way; to our left the Malvern +Hills loomed up a mass of purple-grey under the +leaden sky, appearing almost mountainous, magnified +in size to the eye by the mist and rain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +Approaching Worcester it poured in torrents; if +this keeps on, I said to myself, I shall seek the +shelter of an inn. I was in ill-humour with the +weather; I do not mind ordinary rain, but this was +a deluge, and the roads were becoming rivers. +The hint was not lost on the weather; as we +drove into Worcester the rain ceased, or almost +ceased, and ahead there even appeared a watery +gleam of sunshine. Such are the surprises of the +English climate. This was encouraging, so through +Worcester we went without a stop; no inn I needed +now, and to escape the main road and straggling +houses I took a turning to the right at a venture, +and we were soon in the open country again, wet +and gleaming, but we drove into fairer weather.</p> + +<p>The country we passed through was pleasantly +pastoral, the rain-washed air was wonderfully clear +and fresh, the distances distinctly blue, and the +moisture brought forth the pungent scent of the +earth. Presently we passed a finely wooded park, +in which we caught sight of a little lake mirroring +the sky, the silvery water shining cheerfully bright. +Soon after this we reached the village of Great +Witley, not a large place, but perhaps "great" for +a village, and it presented us with a pretty picture +with its old houses, some of half-timber, climbing +the hillside, for we were amongst the hills again, +hills topped by wind-blown firs darkly outlined +against the sky.</p> + +<p>Before arriving at Great Witley we asked a +man, on the way, to where the road led. "To +Witley," he replied; "there's a decent public in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +the village where they sell good beer." As though +beer was man's chief desire in life—as perhaps it +is with some! I did not take the hint, so instead +of the usual twopence I simply tendered thanks +for the information given. The man was disappointed; +he looked reproachfully at me—at least +so I thought. Now the "public" turned out to +be a homely but an inviting-looking inn, "The +Hundred House," to wit, and, judging of it from +a passing glance, had I been benighted I would +have claimed its hospitality, and deemed myself +fortunate in having found such quiet, unpretending +quarters. In truth I almost wished for the rain +to come on again as an excuse to sample its +entertainment. But as the sun was occasionally +shining and the clouds were uplifting I was not +inclined to stop, when I had half the day unspent +before me for exploring. Somehow I fancy that +the people I meet in such out-of-the-way places +differ from other people; at least I know I get +friendly with them quicker than with those who +live where the pulse of the world beats faster—so +I have that feeling strong upon me.</p> + +<p>After Great Witley we had for some miles a +hilly drive; at once our road began to climb +steeply, only to descend again; it was all up and +down, and from the tops of the rises we obtained +glorious views of the wild Welsh cloud-loving +mountains, standing in rugged array where the +remote distance met our gaze, here and there +above the mists a peak clearly showing. Next +we came to a welcome level stretch of country,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +our road narrowing into a lane with fine high +hedges on either side, Devon fashion; their one +fault was that they effectually shut out the view—from +leagues our vision was limited to yards.</p> + +<p>When, at last, the Devon-like lane ended, facing +us stood "The Swan Inn" by the Teme side, an inn +where anglers congregate, for the Teme is a troutful +stream; there I put up for the night, and found +comfortable quarters, good fare, and companionship. +What more could the traveller desire? The landlord +came forth to greet me in a manner after my +own heart. "Glad to see you," said he; "you +always bring me luck." I thought he had mistaken +me, for, as I explained, I had not been to +Tenbury till that day. "Well," responded he, "it +was certainly not here I saw you last, but I well +remember you coming to 'The Porth Arms' at Llandysill, +when I was its landlord some few years ago, +and just as you arrived one of my guests there had +caught the fish of the season." Then, thinking back, +I too remembered the circumstance. "Now," continued +he, "I've a fisherman staying here who just +before you came caught a splendid trout, as fine a +trout as ever I've seen; I'll show it you. There's +as good fish in the Teme as ever came out of a river;" +and he brought the trout out on a dish for my inspection, +a grand one in truth. At least, thought I, there +are big trout in the Teme. When next I go a-fishing +may I catch its like! There is a consoling old +saying that "the worst anglers catch the biggest +fish." Some of those old sayings appeal to me!</p> + +<p>Writing of big fish reminds me that once in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +old curiosity shop I noticed, amongst the various odds +and ends shown for sale there, a glass case with a fine +fat trout stuffed and carefully preserved in it. I was +surprised to find this marked at a high figure, as it +appeared to me a somewhat unlikely article to find +a purchaser. So I ventured to remark upon it. +"Well," said the dealer in curiosities, "that's as +good an article to sell as any I have in the shop, +though you mightn't think it. You see, the landlord +of some fishing inn is sure to buy it and hang it +up in one of his rooms, as a sample of the sport +to be had in his river. I'll get my price for it. I +think I know where to place it as it is." Have +I not seen the like at certain river-side inns I +know!</p> + +<p>It is pleasant to be remembered thus on the road; +twice during the journey when arriving at a strange +inn in a strange place did the landlord of it remember +me, he having moved from some other inn elsewhere +which on a previous tour I had visited. Landlords +and head waiters of country hostelries appear to have +the faculty that kings are supposed to possess of +recognising faces, and of even bearing names in +mind. The waiter of "The King's Head" at +Cirencester knew me from having waited on me at +another inn on the road, "and that were over two +years ago." "However do you manage to remember +people and their names?" I queried, "for you must +see so many different people coming and going in +the course of the year." "I don't remember them +all," he confessed, "only the nice people." I felt +flattered, though perhaps he was thinking of his tip.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +A good memory is a valuable possession when used +diplomatically.</p> + +<p>As there was still an hour or two of daylight left, +I crossed the river by a patched-up stone bridge to +inspect Tenbury, for the town lay on the other side +of the Teme—a countrified little town, like those +you find here and there in the heart of the shires, +so I was the more surprised to discover it boasted +of being a watering-place, though its reputation in +this respect was unknown to me, for it possesses a +Spa with a regulation pump-house where people +drink and bathe in the waters, and around the +pump-house are well-laid-out grounds with winding +walks. No town that ever I was in gave me less +the impression of being a watering-place where +invalids congregate, for not even a Bath-chair did I +see, nor was there a soul at the Spa. I take it that, +up to the present, Tenbury is more famous for its +fishing than for its waters; if the latter were only +more pronounced, or more distasteful in flavour, +possibly Tenbury might become renowned. "They +ought to do me good," once I heard a visitor at +Harrogate remark, "for the waters are nasty +enough." Well, at any rate, Harrogate waters +possess that virtue and Harrogate prospers, though +I heard of one invalid who, having tasted those +waters, declared he preferred his malady!</p> + +<p>Rain coming on I sought shelter in the church +near by; I was glad I did so, for I found much to +interest me there. For the second time this journey +I discovered another curious, though unfortunately +mutilated, miniature effigy to a knight of old in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +chain armour with his legs crossed; one hand is on +his sword, the other holds a shield with a coat-of-arms +carved upon it. This effigy is only a little +over two feet in length and bears no inscription.</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +The records of his name and race<br /> +Have faded from the stone.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="pn p1">A possible, but doubtful, explanation of these miniature +monuments is that they are merely heart shrines; +another even more doubtful is that they are to +children of knightly parents, and so are represented +in armour.</p> + +<p>Near to this modest memorial to a warrior, in +startling contrast, is a stately altar-tomb with life-sized +alabaster figures, beautifully sculptured, of a +man in armour with his wife by his side, she being +quaintly and picturesquely attired; the man's feet +rest on a boar, his lady's on nothing, for the faithful +hound that presumably once was there has disappeared. +A portion of the long inscription in +raised letters over this monument runs as follows:—</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Here lyeth Thomas Actone of Sutton Esqre<br /> +Who departed this lyfe in 1546<br /> +And Mary his wyfe who deceased on<br /> +The XXVIII Aprill 1564....</p> +<p class="pc1">Ioyse</p> +<p class="pp6">Their only daughter and heire being then of the<br /> +Adge of XII yeres was espoused to Sir Thomas LVCY<br /> +Of Charcot knight which Dame Ioyse in dutifull<br /> +Remembravnce of theis her loving parents<br /> +Hath erected this monument. Anno 1581.</p> + +<p class="p1">Here we have the knight whom Shakespeare +ridicules under the title of Justice Shallow in <i>The +Merry Wives of Windsor</i>. What caused the Bard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +to hold up this Sir Thomas Lucy thus to ridicule +no one appears to have discovered; the ancient +story that the knight prosecuted Shakespeare for +poaching his deer in Charlecote Park is out of +court, for in those days there was neither park nor +deer there.</p> + +<p>As I was leaving the church I noticed a brass +plate against the west wall about three feet from +the pavement, bearing record that</p> + +<p class="pa4 p1"> +On May 14th, 1886<br /> +The River Teme overflowed its Banks<br /> +And rose to the height of the mark<br /> +Placed below.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">And to this day certain Tenbury folk date events +"from the year of the flood," which to the unknowing +sounds strangely of a period immeasurably +remote.</p> + +<p>I dined well at "The Swan" that night in the +pleasant company of two anglers, one of whom had +caught the big trout already mentioned. The +simple dinner was excellently cooked, and my fellow-guests +indulged in a bottle of good red wine; so also +did I for sociability. Not but that</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Pure water is the best of gifts<br /> +That man to man can bring;<br /> +But what am I that I should have<br /> +The best of everything?</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Dinner ended, in the spirit of the Roman of old I +could say, "Fate cannot harm me, I have dined +to-day."</p> + +<p>We three made merry over our meal (fishermen, +sailors, and artists all seem to possess cheerful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +souls); we talked and we joked and "the good wine +quaffed"; fishing stories went round the table, true +every one of them—or at least they were not impossible. +I scorn that cruel libel that declares "the +angler goes out in the morning full of hope, returns +at evening full of whisky, and the truth is not in +him." But we did not talk of fishing alone; we +talked of many charmed spots where tranquil rivers +flow, of sleepy pools where the big trout lie, of +mountain streams with their heathery banks, streams +that gurgle and splash along their rocky beds; and +I learnt that a trout rises to a fly either because he +is hungry, or merely out of curiosity; if the former +you may surely land him, if the latter it is a touch +and go if you do. Many days the trout have +had their fill, so they "rise short," being only +curiously minded; then the angler changes his flies, +but it is not a fresh fly that is needed, but a hungry +trout.</p> + +<p>Much has been said of the joys of the gentle +craft.</p> + +<p class="pp4 p1"> +Other joys<br /> +Are but toys,</p> + +<p class="pn p1">we are told, but I think there is another craft more +gentle, fully as fascinating and as pleasure-giving—to +some even more so, bold though the saying be—and +that is sketching from Nature, "good, right, +healthy work," Ruskin calls it, and the sketcher +need never return home without something to show +for his day in the open air. I do not exactly see +the gentleness of taking a barbed hook out of a +fish's mouth, or of impaling a wriggling worm on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +hook, and to do this, mind you, "as though you +loved him, that is, harm him as little as you may +possibly, that he may live the longer"! which is +the dictum laid down by gentle Izaak Walton. +After all, may it not be that the term "gentle craft" +came from the fact of the use of gentles as baits? +But whether one goes a-fishing or fares forth with +sketch-book and colours, much of the joy that either +gentle craft gives its votaries is, I take it, the +pleasant scenery they habitually find themselves +amongst. Now I come to think of it, our table talk +was of scenery as much as of fishing, so as a listener +it struck me that to some wise men fishing after all +is in the main an excuse for a delightful and restful +holiday with an object, not the mere catching of fish +the sole aim of it.</p> + +<p>In the coffee-room of mine inn I discovered a +Visitors' Book, and I glanced through it in the faint +hope of perhaps finding there some quaint or +humorous effusion, but the day seems past for +these things. Of old such men as Kingsley, Tom +Taylor, Tom Hughes, and a host of other literary +wits were not above making merry in these books; +even such notables as Lord Byron, Sir Walter +Scott, Samuel Pepys, to mention a few of the many, +amused themselves by recording their names, +scratched with diamonds, on the window-panes of +some of the old inns and houses they visited, and in +a few instances their signatures remain there to this +day. I saw that of Sir Walter Scott in Shakespeare's +birthplace not long ago. Seldom now +either do I come across any quaint or notable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +epitaph in our churchyards, yet when I was young +I came upon many a one. Indeed I had a notebook +filled with them, and curious they were. As +I have previously remarked, Time is not the only +culprit responsible for their disappearance, though +Time has had his hand in the matter, and there is +now no Old Mortality to re-cut crumbling inscriptions. +A case was brought to my notice where +a quaint epitaph (quite harmlessly quaint, as a +layman, I thought) was deliberately chiselled off a +tombstone "by the parson's orders."</p> + +<p>In the Visitors' Book at "The Swan" I came +upon the following:—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +In July a man came to the Swan<br /> +And the fat of the land lived upon,<br /> +"But," said he, in September<br /> +If I rightly remember,<br /> +"It's just about time I moved on."</p> + +<p class="pn p1">I copied this, not that the verse has any merit, +but to show the temptation there is to linger on at +a comfortable country hostelry, as I have been +tempted to linger often for an extra day or two, +instead of travelling on. In this respect a good +inn is an enemy to travel. Twice have I had +pointed opportunities of confirming this attraction +of an inn. I remember spending the night at a +cosy little Kentish hostelry, and there I met a man +who told me he had come for a week-end only, but +so pleased was he with his quarters that he had stayed +on three weeks, even regretting that he was obliged +to leave on the morrow. But an almost startling +incident of the kind I came upon at a sequestered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +Sussex inn; a fellow-guest there confided in me that +he arrived at the inn intending to spend one night +only, but so comfortable was he that he decided to +stop on from day to day, and the days had grown +into three years. He was a homeless bachelor, and +"here," said he, "I've found a home, no trouble +about servants, no rent or taxes to pay, entertaining +company at times without the cost of entertaining; +I've only to order what I want to get it." I felt +genuinely sorry for the man that he should have to +make his home with strangers at an inn, but he did +not appear sorry for himself. At that same inn I +also stayed a week: the portly landlord of it was +the best of fellows—may his shadow never grow +less! The landlady as kindly an old soul as ever +breathed—long life to her! The maid who waited on +me thought nothing of her trouble, the rooms were +clean, and there was a large and shady garden +attached where I idled many an odd hour pleasantly +away, lazily reading a favourite author whilst reclining +in a hammock hung between the trees. But +these old, unspoilt, home-like inns are not to be +found every day, though I know of a few, but wild +horses could not drag from me their whereabouts. +"I have certainly spent some very enviable hours +at inns," remarks Hazlitt. So have I. Do I talk +too much of inns? Thackeray says, "It always +seems to me very good talk." A big book could be +written about inns of the good old-fashioned sort, +and yet not exhaust the pleasant subject; but it +needs be written lovingly, as Izaak Walton wrote of +fishing, so that the two works may lie side by side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +and ready of reach amongst the treasures of a well-selected +library.</p> + +<p>As I was leaving "The Swan" at Tenbury the +landlord informed me that close to my road at +Burford, and but a mile away, was a most lovely old +church, beautifully decorated, and with some fine +gilt and painted altar-tombs. "You really should +not miss seeing it," said he. I know not why, but +somehow it seemed strange to me for an innkeeper +to be so keen about a church. As he was so pressing +I promised the landlord I would see the church, +and thither I went. I pulled up the car at the +corner of a narrow lane that led to the building, +proceeding the rest of the way on foot, and on my +way I overtook two ladies slowly walking in front +of me. I was bold enough to inquire of them, and +as politely as I could, whether the church door were +open, or if not where I might find the clerk. One +of the ladies answered me in a low voice, and with +so solemn a look that I felt I had made a mistake +in addressing her; however, she said, "The doors +are open. It is a quiet day." I thanked her and +congratulated myself that I had come on a "quiet +day," then I could inspect the church undisturbed +and at leisure. I did not then know the significance +of a "quiet day." Since I have learnt that a +"quiet day" is one wholly devoted to silent prayer +and meditation, in church and out of it, and that +those taking part in such are supposed not to speak +to one another during the day more words than are +absolutely necessary. Further, I have been told +the story of a parson who, in reply to his bishop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +offering to conduct "a quiet day" in his parish, +declared that what his parishioners required was not +"a quiet day" but an earthquake!</p> + +<p>The church proved to be richly adorned; there +were several exceptionally fine altar-tombs in it, +more suitable, I thought, to Westminster Abbey +than to that little country fane; there too I noticed a +beautiful rood-screen, and its fine timber roof had +for supporters the carved figures of angels gracefully +wrought; three lights, in hanging lamps, were +burning before the "altar"; I quite expected to +find a faint odour of incense, but this I failed to do. +It was a Protestant church after all, though to me +it hardly had the look of one. But to those who do +not see "the mark of the beast" in an ornate church +interior, and in burning lights before the "altar," +the effect and richness of such decoration is pleasing. +What would one of Cromwell's stern Puritans, could +he come to life again and see that church, think +of it, I wonder? Without that resurrection it is +enough to make him turn uneasily in his grave.</p> + +<p>One of the tombs against the north chancel wall has +the recumbent effigy of Princess Elizabeth of Lancaster +under a finely carved canopy; she is represented +with longhair bound round with oak leaves; two kneeling +angels hold her cushioned head. Her epitaph runs:</p> + +<p class="pa4 p1"> +Here lyeth the bodie of the<br /> +Most Noble Elizabeth,<br /> +daughter of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster,<br /> +own sister to King Henry IV.<br /> +. . . . . .<br /> +She died the 4th yere of Henry VI.<br /> +An. Dni. 1426.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pn p1">So I picked up much unknown, or wholly forgotten, +family history on the road.</p> + +<p>Another magnificent altar-tomb, glorious in gilt +and colour, stands in the centre of the church; on +this rests the effigy of Edmond Cornewalle, deceased +1508; he is shown in plate armour, his head on his +helmet; his feet with gilded spurs are supported by +a crowned lion, painted red. If a dead man could +behold his monument, this Edmond Cornewalle +should be very proud of his. There are other +interesting and beautiful tombs, including two heart +shrines, but I had to content myself with a hurried +glance at these, for people were silently arriving +and kneeling in the pews, and some of them looked +up so reproachfully at me for wandering about that +I felt ashamed I was not like them; and what else +could a sinner do, under the circumstances, but take +his quiet departure? I had, however, time just to +note a wonderfully fine and ancient decorative panel +in perfect preservation and of large size in the +chancel; this has figures of the apostles painted on +it, with sundry coats-of-arms, all done in rich colouring, +though what the apostles have to do with coats-of-arms +I cannot imagine. As I was leaving the +church I was surprised to find, standing just within +the porch, an old grandfather's clock marking +faithful time, for it looked curiously out of place, +almost as much, it struck me, as would a lectern in +a drawing-room. So hushed was the church that +the subdued tick of the clock was plainly audible, +mildly disturbing the Quaker-like quiet of the people +gathered there. In the churchyard I observed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +beautiful modern stone cross raised on the ancient +and worn steps of a former one doubtless destroyed +by the Puritans, to whom a cross of any kind was +as a red rag to a bull; but there is a cross back in +the old place again, as though there had been no +such thing as the wrathful Puritan. "See how these +Christians love one another," once exclaimed a +gentle Japanese pagan when listening to a hot dispute +between a Protestant and a Roman Catholic +missionary in his own peaceful land. Now I +suppose both the Roman Catholic and the Puritans +called themselves Christians, but there was little of +brotherly love between them!</p> + +<p>After Burford our road led us up a valley of +clear streams and green pastures, bounded ahead +by a long line of blue and undulating hills; we +crossed one or two grey old stone bridges, so +narrow that two vehicles could not pass over them +at the same time. Perhaps this slight impediment +to travel does not greatly trouble people in these +parts, for we met little traffic on the way, only a +cart for some miles, and a solitary tramp trudging +along disconsolately. We had the country almost +to ourselves until we came in sight of the grey old +town of Ludlow, one of the most interesting and +picturesque towns in England; but to see Ludlow +at its best it needs to be approached, as we +approached it, from the south, for to the north a +collection of ugly modern brick houses has unhappily +sprung up, and these are sadly out of harmony with +the rest of the age-mellowed buildings. Before the +railway was invented was the golden age of pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +travel—for those who had money in their purses. +Then Buggins the builder had done comparatively +little harm in the matter of the uglification of the +countryside; there was pleasure in posting across +country in those picturesque, motorless days.</p> + +<p>Coming to it from the south, the castle-crowned +town of Ludlow greets the traveller with a genuine +flavour of antiquity. He enters it, as did the +traveller of centuries ago, through a narrow, arched, +stone gateway with round flanking towers. The +gateway stands "massive and grim across the +street," a graphic reminder of the feudal days when +Ludlow was surrounded by fortified walls, broken +and ruined now, but they can still be traced encircling +the town. Then as we drove on we had a glimpse +of the famous "Feathers Inn," with its nodding +gables, as fine and as well-preserved a specimen of +a half-timber hostelry as one may hope to look +upon. The interior of this ancient house with its +elaborately carved chimney-pieces and enriched +plastered ceilings is even more interesting and +picturesque than the exterior, and there are many +other quaint and beautiful old houses in the town, +notably the Reader's House. I should like to +unearth the story of the "Feathers," for it looks +like an inn with a storied past, else why those +stately chambers? But though, on my return home, +I searched for this in many books, I could discover +nothing certain about it. Probably it was originally +the home of some notable personage.</p> + +<p>We left Ludlow by the broad highway that +leads to Shrewsbury, but we soon deserted it for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +a lane which took us across a wide and breezy +common, with an open, shelterless country stretching +for miles away in front. Then we observed great +banks of louring clouds ahead rapidly approaching, +leaving trailing lines of rain behind which blotted +out all the distance. Suddenly the wind rose +ominously, then followed a low growl of thunder; +we were in for a storm, and our road was unpleasantly +exposed. However, there was nothing +to do but to drive on; then suddenly I espied, a +little to the right of our open road, a village almost +buried in leafy elms, that together, village and +trees, stood out from the plain like a wooded island +from the sea. Other shelter was there none, so +to that village we sped on apace; it was a race +between us and the storm, and we won by barely a +minute. Stanton Lacy proved to be the name of +the village, and I do not remember ever having +been in one so buried in trees before—great +branching trees that at one spot afforded us fair +shelter from the worst of the storm. Fortunately +the storm was short, though sharp, for I do not +think our natural umbrella would have provided +protection for long.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-210.jpg" width="400" height="568" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">SAXON DOORWAY, STANTON LACY CHURCH.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Having taken shelter close to the church, I +thought I would while away the time whilst the +rain came down by taking a glance at it, though I +had already seen one church that day; for there +was nothing else to do but to sit in the car beneath +the drip of the trees. After all it was a fortunate +storm, for without it I should not have visited that +village or its very ancient church, which proved of +uncommon interest. A Saxon church of old, I +discovered by the "long and short" projecting +stone-work on a portion of the building, and by a +very perfect though simple Saxon doorway in the +north wall having a boldly carved raised cross on +the top, and above this a curious bit of ornamentation +of which I could make nothing. In the +churchyard is an eighteenth-century tombstone to +Thomas Davies, whose epitaph runs:</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Good-natur'd, generous, bold, and free<br /> +He always was in company;<br /> +He loved his bottle as a friend,<br /> +Which soon brought on his latter end.</p> + +<p class="p1">The storm over, we once more resumed our +way. The open fields, after Nature's copious +shower-bath, were freshly green and smiling; the +distant hills of Wenlock Edge stood out shapely +and sharply with their fringes of fir against the now +bright sky; the air was enchantingly pure and +fragrant with the scent of many growing things; +the road was dustless, and the brisk breeze fluttered +the foliage of the few trees by the way, and sported +with the long grasses in the fields as it swept over +them, giving a sense of joyous movement everywhere. +It was well worth suffering the storm for +the after glory of the day, the peaceful evening that +followed it, and the clear starlit night succeeding +that.</p> + +<p>The next village we came to was Culmington, +a sleepy out-of-the-world spot on the Corve; the +ancient church there attracts the eye on account of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +its fine and uncommon broach spire. There is little +else of interest in the place. Next we turned up +at the rapidly growing village of Craven Arms, +curiously so named from a solitary inn of some +pretence that stood there—and still stands, I +believe—in the old coaching days, with a wonderful +tall milestone in front of it, on which are recorded +the names and distances of no less than thirty-six +towns, near and afar, so important a centre of travel +was the "Craven Arms"—the hostelry, that is—in +past times. Now it is an important railway +junction, and round about the once solitary inn has +grown a large village that promises in turn and +time to grow into a small town, though for the +name of a village that of Craven Arms sounds +strange in my ears.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Place names—Bell ringing for lost travellers—A Robber's Grave +and its story—Wild Wales—A picturesque interior—The fascination +of the moors—Machynlleth—A Royal and ancient house—Ten +miles of beauty—Aberdovey—Tramps and their ways—The +poetical tramp.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">Out of Craven Arms I took the fine old coach road +that leads to Shrewsbury, intent on seeing Church +Stretton on the way, for I had heard much in praise +of the scenery round about that quiet little Shropshire +town. From my map I gathered that the road for +some miles went between high hills, and so promised +me a pleasant drive, for I am a lover of hills.</p> + +<p>Of the ten miles or so on to Church Stretton one +spot alone now comes back distinctly to my memory, +a spot where I was sadly tempted to desert the broad +highway for a tempting lane that led westward into +a mystery of moorlands. I had some difficulty in +resisting the temptation, but I desired to see Church +Stretton. For once I had a definite destination +before me, yet I almost wished I had not, for it +robbed me of my freedom.</p> + +<p>First we came to Little Stretton, where we had +for company the ancient Roman Watling Street with +its parvenu follower, the railway. I wonder will the +railway endure as long as the Roman road has done!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +Soon afterwards we found ourselves in Church +Stretton, with the green hills rising grandly around +and forming a pleasant background to the straggling, +old-fashioned town built along the sides of the highway; +hence, possibly, its name is derived from Street +Town, but this is mere guessing, and in guessing you +sometimes go sadly wrong, as I found out once when +I deemed I was certainly right. In Sussex there +are two villages not very far apart—one is called +Friston, the other Alfriston. Now I jumped to the +conclusion that Alfriston meant Old Friston, to distinguish +it from the younger village; but a learned +antiquary would have none of my guessing, he +declaring that Alfriston stood for Alfric's tun or +town, it having been given by the king to one +Alfric, lord of the manor, who gave the place his +name.</p> + +<p>At Church Stretton we tarried a time, but I am +not going to describe the familiar; the guide-book +writers have written fully of the place. I do not +desire to enter into a needless competition with them. +Merely will I say that those who love hill rambles +and scrambles will not be disappointed with the +country round about Church Stretton, for it is a +pedestrian's paradise. The churchyard there contains +one or more curious epitaphs; that to Ann +Cook, who died in 1814, runs:</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +On a Thursday she was born,<br /> +On a Thursday made a bride,<br /> +On a Thursday broke her leg,<br /> +And on a Thursday died.</p> + +<p class="p1">In old times I was told the church bell was rung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +on foggy days and nights, as a guide to the town +for travellers who might be lost on the hills around; +now they are not so thoughtful for the fate of befogged +wayfarers. Not that I think that the ringing +of a bell is really of much guidance under such circumstances, +for once I lost myself on the South +Downs in as dense a fog as well could be, and though +I heard some church bells in the distance faintly +ringing, I could not make out with any certainty +from what direction the sound of the bells came; +in truth they rather confused than helped me.</p> + +<p>On to Shrewsbury a change gradually came over +the scenery; we left the hills behind and entered +into a pleasantly undulating, pastoral country. We +dallied not in Shrewsbury, but drove straight through +that ancient and interesting town, for who that professes +to know his own country knows not Shrewsbury +by the winding Severn side? My object was +not to revisit places I knew full well, however attractive +these places might be; I was in search of the +fresh and the unfamiliar.</p> + +<p>Being at Shrewsbury, after a glance at my map +I suddenly made up my mind to strike from there +right through the heart of Central Wales to Aberdovey +and the sea, steering, roughly, a westerly +course as the roads permitted. A longing to get a +glimpse of wild Wales had taken possession of me, +to refresh my eyes by a sight of its tumbling rivers, +foaming falls, lone mountains, and heathery boulder-strewn +moors. Then this portion of Wales being out +of the general tourist beat, I looked forward to seeing +it in its native simplicity. I would I could have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +seen North Wales in the days of David Cox before +the railway and the cheap tripper had invaded and +vulgarised it, the days when Bettws-y-Coed was a +poor and primitive village, before the "Royal Oak" +there—then the haunt of tweed-clad artists and +cheery anglers—was converted from a homely little +inn into a flourishing hotel where noisy tourists +mostly congregate. I am afraid I am a selfish man, +for, amongst the mountains, the only company I +crave is the landscape painter, the honest angler, +and the weather-beaten shepherd; these are in +unobtrusive harmony with their surroundings, and +claim their part in it from ancient right.</p> + +<p>Crossing the Welsh Bridge at Shrewsbury, we +followed, for some long way, a winding road through +a country given over to farming; a country of fields, +hedgerows, and growing crops, of sleepy hamlets +and stray farmsteads; idyllic but unexciting. Still, +there were peeps of hills and the promise of wilder +things in the vague beyond to which we were bound. +No amount of disappointment robs the beyond of its +glamour, for the unknown unfailingly attracts, the +disenchantment of to-day may be followed by the +surprise of to-morrow. Yet distance is but a gay +deceiver; where we may be at any moment, is not +that the delectable distance to others far away? +"The delusion that distance creates contiguity +destroys."</p> + +<p>We kept steering a westerly course to the best of +our ability, and on the whole we succeeded in doing +so fairly well, trusting to arrive somehow and at +some time at Aberdovey. Who has not heard of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +sweet bells of Aberdovey?—I know not whether +they ring sweetly still, for no bells rang for us when +we were there. For many miles the scenery, though +pleasant enough, was devoid of special character, but +as we progressed the country grew wilder and the +villages lost their indefinable English look; we had +not arrived in Wales, but we were nearing the +borderland. Long Mountain rose grandly to our +right, clear cut as a Grecian statue against the sky, +and to our left the curiously-shaped range of hills +known as the Stipperstones stood prominently forth, +their summits broken by huge rugged rocks, "the +fragments of an earlier world," that stand boldly +forth from them. According to a local legend, at +times on stormy nights "Wild Edric," an ancient +warrior chief, may be seen riding in the air above +the Stipperstones, and when he is seen it forebodes +some calamity. Give me the West Country for +legends! I have heard of ghostly huntsmen with +their yeth-hounds being seen there; of ghostly highwaymen; +of headless horsemen who pursue lone +travellers at night on lonely roads; of the ghosts of +men and horses who once a year, on the anniversary +of the battle of Sedgemoor, may be heard a-galloping +away from that fatal field; and of the Devil himself +riding across country, whose horse once cast a shoe, +when the Devil called at a blacksmith's to have it +re-shod, and how the blacksmith declared he caught a +glimpse of his Satanic majesty's cloven foot beneath +his cloak—and this within the memory of living man!</p> + +<p>Most singular is the formation of the Stipperstones. +Of course there are sundry legends to account for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +these gigantic rocks that strew the crests of the hills, +as though some cyclopean city had been ruined there, +and the Devil plays a prominent part in all. How +busy the Devil appears to have been in England +during the old days! I call to mind the Devil's +Leap, the Devil's Dyke, the Devil's Bridge, the +Devil's Punch Bowl, the Devil's Stone, the Devil's +Den, the Devil's Frying-pan, and many another +spot named after him. The one sin of idleness +cannot be placed at his door. Then as we drove on +Marton Mere, church, and village made a pleasant +diversion, and shortly afterwards the tiny old town +of Montgomery came into view, climbing the steep +hillside, with its ruined castle above, and tumble +of hills beyond. From this point Montgomery presents +such a picture as Turner loved to paint—a +prominent castle, grey and old, a sleepy little town +below, with dreamy hills beyond, and a winding +road leading the eye towards them.</p> + +<p>When last I was at Montgomery—let me see, +that was over twenty long years ago. Alas, how +time flies! Still, however I may have changed, the +old town looks to me just as it did then; it is one of +those delightful, remote places that never seem to +change, let the outer world wag as it will—Well, +twenty years or so ago the clerk (may he be alive +and as well as I!) showed me the Robber's Grave in +a quiet corner of the churchyard there, a grave on +which no grass will grow, in proof of which the +grave was pointed out to me, a bare spot roughly in +the shape of a coffin, when all around was freshly +green. Whether the grave be still bare I know not,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +for my present road did not lead me into the town; +I almost wish now I had gone the short distance out +of my way to reinspect the spot. This is the story +I noted down at the time of the Robber's Grave as +told to me by the said clerk, only retold in brief. +A certain John Newton, a long while ago, was +accused of highway robbery, convicted and sentenced +to be hanged, such an offence being then punished +by death. On the scaffold Newton loudly proclaimed +his innocence, exclaiming, "I have prayed +God in proof of my innocence that no grass may +grow on my grave." I forget now how many years +the clerk told me he had been clerk there, but they +were many, during which period he had carefully +watched the grave, but not a blade of grass would +grow upon it. Fresh sods had been laid there, but +they withered away even in one night; the earth +was dug up and grass seeds sown, but they would +not come up, so the grave remained bare and brown. +"I've been clerk here for all those long years," said +he, "and I'm only telling you the truth." I cannot +say why, but that clerk reminded me of another of +the fraternity who exclaimed to a certain Dean he +had shown over his church, "I've been clerk here +for now over forty years and never missed a service, +and, thank God, I'm still a Christian"!</p> + +<p>So small a town is Montgomery, though the +capital of the shire, that a man, it is said, who once +tramped there in search of work, inquired in the +town how far it was to Montgomery, for he thought +he was merely passing through a village on the way +to that place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now our road wound round the side of a wooded +hill, from which there was a fine view of the country; +and in this wood I sought shelter from the sultry +sun and rested there awhile for refreshment, when +the birds began to sing for my special entertainment, +for there was no one else for them to sing to, and +the "Wind, that grand old harper," struck his harp +of pines by my side and played a soft accompaniment. +Reclining at ease on a mossy bank I smoked +a fragrant pipe, well pleased with my wayside +hostelry, my comfortable couch, and the music provided +with my meal. "The outer world, from +which we cower into our houses, seems after all +a gentle habitable place," says Stevenson. Only at +night in the summer time do I desire to "cower" +into a house, and that for the convenience of it; +indeed the only room I can suffer on a summer day +is a library walled round with a goodly company of +books, and with just a picture here and there of +a pleasant landscape for my eyes, when in a lazy +mood, to rest upon. On winter days, when the wild +Nor'-easter blows and the rain and hail descend, I +grant it is good to be indoors; then give me a seat +in a good old-fashioned ingle-nook with a blazing +wood fire upon the wide hearth before me, the +sweet incense of it reminiscent of the forest. As +Richard Jefferies says, "The wood gives out as it +burns the sweetness it has imbibed through its +leaves from the atmosphere which floats above grass +and flowers."</p> + +<p>Once more on the road we dropped down into +a valley and soon came to the Severn again, here in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +its youth lashing and frolicking along—how good it +is to be young and gay! So we followed the +rejoicing river up to Newton, where I took the +precaution of filling my petrol tank before making +my dash across wild Wales. The man who sold +me the petrol asked me where I was going—this, as +he politely explained, in case he might give me any +information as to the route. Such is the friendliness +of the road. When I told him where I was bound, +he exclaimed, "You've got a lovely drive before +you, through the most beautiful scenery." I was +glad to hear this, though I expected much of the +country, and I was pleased to find that the vendor +of petrol had a thought for the scenic charms +around. He was not a mere vendor of petrol, +though he courteously supplied it to a needful +world.</p> + +<p>Soon after leaving Newton we entered upon a +pleasant valley, as pleasant a valley indeed as +shapely hills, shady woods, and a sparkling river +running through it could make a valley; an uncommercial +clear-running river, for it turned no mill +by its banks as far as I could see. Its only concern +was to be beautiful, and after all that is no small +concern. Clouds appear as devoted to the hills as +a lover to his lass, and here we found the clouds +prevailing over the blue sky, shadowing for a time +the hills; then as the clouds passed over them, and +a gleam of sunshine came, the hillsides would stand +forth all in glowing colour, purple where the heather +grew, glowing with gold where the gorse was in +bloom, a yellow green on their grassy slopes, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +a gleaming grey where the wet rocks showed. For +the rich and varied colour of its landscapes I know +no country to compare with Wales, though it has +its dull days, of course, like most other lands.</p> + +<p>So we drove on in contemplative enjoyment, and +then we came to Carno, a tiny hamlet pleasantly +placed on a crag above the voiceful river that would +be heard as well as seen. I wish all Welsh villages +had such easily spelt and such pronounceable names +as Carno; for many a day and many a time, when +I have been on the road in Wales, have I been unable +to ask my way because I could not pronounce +the names of places so that a Welshman could +understand me. What can you make of a gathering +of consonants, with only a stray vowel here and +there amongst the lot? At Carno I espied a +homely little inn, the "Aleppo Merchant," to wit, +though what possible connection there could be +between an Eastern merchant and this remote and +tiny village I could not fathom. There I pulled up +and called for a glass of ale as an excuse to take a +glance at the interior of the old house in case it +were answerable to its exterior, for some of these +Welsh houses within are most picturesque; nor was +I disappointed. There I caught sight of a low, +brown-beamed, ceilinged room—I think it was the +kitchen, for there was a fire in it though the day was +warm, and above the fireplace, arranged in orderly +array, were sundry old brass utensils, so brightly +polished as to glow like gold; and mingled with +these were some pewter pots that shone like silver, +and how pleasant they were to look upon. For +decorative effect there is nothing like blue and +white china, and polished brass and pewter, and +they are all as much at home in a mansion as in a +cottage. Hanging from the beams I saw a goodly +display of hams, no less than thirty-four in all, for I +carefully counted them out of curiosity. "Home-cured," +the maid who served me with my ale +declared. I thought I would buy one, for home-cured +hams are not easy to come by nowadays, +and such a ham is a delicacy to be enjoyed. But +they were not for sale; not even one of them would +they spare me, though I did not haggle about the +price. "We want them all for ourselves," explained +the maid, and with that she went away to serve +another customer. I thought to myself these Welsh +country people do not fare so badly.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-223.jpg" width="400" height="239" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">A BIT OF WILD WALES.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Some way beyond Carno we began to climb +out of the valley and reached a wide moorland, +encircled by misty mountains. A moorland waste +enlivened only by the dreary gleams of peaty pools, +but how buoyant and bracing were the breezes +that blew over it! The air was inspiriting if the +scene was not. From the moorland we descended +steeply to the Tal valley with its tumbling river by +our side making wild music as it dashed on its +downward way. We were</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Amongst a multitude of hills,<br /> +Crags, woodlands, waterfalls, and rills.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">That describes our road in two short but sufficient +lines, and what need is there of more? At Cemmaes +we found ourselves in the wider valley of the Dovey; +then we rose again to another moorland high above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +it, with far-reaching prospects over the river to a +confusion of bare hill-tops rising above the deep +woods below. The Dovey is a river much favoured +by fishermen, as our eyes bore witness, but one irate +angler I afterwards met, who had fished it without +success, declared to me that there were more fishermen +on its banks than fish in the stream. Possibly +he was prejudiced; possibly the river is much +poached, for the Welshman is a born poacher, +though, being religiously minded, I am told he +considers it a sin to poach on Sundays.</p> + +<p>I did not reach Aberdovey that night, for as I +drove into Machynlleth, a town of unpronounceable +name to me, the rain came down, and finding a good +inn there I proceeded no farther, though Aberdovey +was but ten miles on, but it was late and at +Machynlleth I was certain of my quarters. Aberdovey +could wait. There were two fishermen in +the porch of my inn when I arrived; they had just +returned from the river with empty creels. "It +will be a good day to-morrow for fishing after the +rain," one of them consolingly exclaimed. What +virtue there lies in to-morrow and in the promise +of it!</p> + +<p>In the smoke-room that evening I discovered a +man poring, and apparently puzzling, over some +maps and guide-books, so I ventured to ask if I +could be of any assistance. I learnt from him that +he was a courier and was travelling in a motor-car +with a lady and her daughter from the States, and +that he was planning their route for the morrow; +but what truly astonished me was his statement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +that his party had come over to England solely to +see the moors and the mountains, and that he was +instructed to avoid all large towns as far as possible. +It certainly struck me as passing strange that any +American should come to England in search of +wildness to the avoidance of old-world places. +"We've had a rough journey of it," the courier +exclaimed. "We landed at Southampton, made +straight for Dartmoor, then we did Exmoor, now +we're doing the Welsh mountains in the most +deserted districts, next we're off to do the Yorkshire +moors, then we're going the round of Scotland. +We've had awful roads, and the chauffeur does not +much fancy the job. No more do I, for that matter, +but when a woman with money has got a whim in +her head, she's bound to carry it out. It's the +funniest journey I've ever undertaken."</p> + +<p>The rain was dashing against the window-panes. +"What a day we shall have to-morrow over the +mountains," said the courier; "whatever the weather, +off we go; I've got to see the thing through, and +to be at Liverpool at a certain date to catch the +steamer." I found some entertainment in the +conversation, and though I am prepared for +surprises on the road, I was hardly prepared for +such a surprise as this—an American to come to +England in search of wildness. But one may travel +till one ceases to wonder at anything. Now when +I come to think of it, I do remember some years +ago meeting at Warwick two American ladies who +were on a driving tour, and who told me what +impressed them most in the Old Country was "the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +weird wildness of the moors where the world seemed +as though it had only just been created; we thought +to see nothing but meadows and cultivated fields," +continued they, "and we've found solitudes." So +did John Burroughs, by the way, during his +English wanderings. Now that the motor-car has +been invented you meet American travellers on +motor-cars in the most out-of-the-way and unexpected +places, and they appear to delight in them +and in their discovery. Columbus discovered +America; now the Americans have set about the +discovery of rural England. Soon there will be +nothing left in the world to discover.</p> + +<p>Then one of the fishermen came in, but he never +broached the subject of fishing; he appeared to take +more interest in my tour than in his sport. I left +the subject of conversation to him. He asked me +where I had come from that day, and when I told +him, I was interested to learn that he too was a +well-seasoned road traveller who, like myself, knew +his roads better than his Bradshaw, and that he +considered the drive from Newton to Machynlleth +one of the most beautiful in the kingdom, "because +it is so changeful and so continuously pleasant." +Truly it has no presiding peak, no particular waterfall, +no old castle, no special <i>coup d'œil</i>, no shrine +for the tourist to worship at, nothing that you feel +bound to admire whether in the humour or no, +so you can quietly jog on your way without fatigue +of mind or eye, without a thought of missing this +or that you ought to see and friends expect you to +see and perhaps praise. Where all is interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +there is no special assertive point of interest, and for +one I prefer my scenic meal served thus. I certainly +can commend that drive, and during the whole +length of it I met no other car, so I imagine it is not +a much-travelled road, unless it were the chance of +circumstance that no motorists were in evidence +then. It is an easy road, too, with only one really +steep hill on all the way from Newton to Aberdovey.</p> + +<p>Machynlleth is a cheerful town, which all Welsh +towns are not; its wide main street is lined with +trees, and what adds to the pleasantness of the +place is its fortunate position in the sheltered Dovey +valley from which rise wooded hills around; after +Conway I think it is the cleanest and pleasantest +town in Wales. Though it possesses no castle to +centre its interest, or church of note, still it boasts +of some old buildings that have the charm of +character. One very ancient and historic building +is the "Royal House," though its plastered front +effectually disguises its ancientness, nor is there +anything about it to suggest its past importance, +but there it was in 1402 that Owen Glyndwr was +crowned King of Wales, and there he held his +Parliament, and within its walls his life was attempted +by one David Gam. In this very house, +too, Charles I. slept a night on his way to Chester. +I was informed that the walls of the building were +in parts of Roman masonry, so old is it, but as the +walls are plastered over I had to take this statement +on faith. Still it is within the bounds of +probability, for the Romans had a fortified station<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +at Machynlleth "to keep the troublesome mountaineers +in order."</p> + +<p>There is also another house, with some fine +carving within, known as the "Mayor's House," on +which the inhabitants set much store, though I saw +little in it; it is a mildly picturesque structure of +half-timber, with two large dormer-windows above, +a building that strikes an odd note in a land of +stone. On the front of it boldly carved in oak is +the following enlightening inscription—</p> + +<p class="pn center p1">1628. I. OWEN. PVQHIOVXOR.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">That is all of interest the town has to show, as far +as I could discover or hear about; the scenery +around is its chief attraction. Finding my quarters +and the company at my inn to my liking, I determined +to stay there over the next day, just putting +through the spare time by driving to Aberdovey +and back, by way of a partial rest from continuous +travelling.</p> + +<p>The beauty of the road from Machynlleth to +Aberdovey was a surprise to me; the drive was +infinitely more rewarding than the object of the +drive. First we crossed the Dovey by a fine stone +bridge (would that the Welshmen built their chapels +as beautifully!) at a spot where the river chattered and +danced over its pebbly shallows, and where its quiet +pools were green with the reflection of the shady +woods by its sides. For the rest of the way our road +with many a bend wound about the base of the +wooded hills, with the river brightly gliding on the +other hand; now our road rounded a projecting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +crag, now it dipped down to rise again, following +faithfully the natural bent of the land; it could not +well do otherwise, unless it blasted its way through +rocks and tunnelled under the hills. Had it been +carefully engineered it would not have been half as +pleasant; its very waywardness was the charm of it. +Each bend of the road revealed some fresh combination +of wood and hill, of rock and river, and the +last bend of it the sea cheerfully gleaming in the +sunshine. Beneath the woods and on the banks by +the wayside the waving bracken flourished, forming +a soft background to the many wild-flowers growing +there, amongst which the stately foxglove, "chieftain +of the wayside flowers," showed prominently. +Approaching Aberdovey we had a fine view over +the wide estuary of the Dovey, that almost looked +like a lake with its background of hills. A signpost +pointing "To the Roman Road" brought to mind +the times remote when even the wild Welshman +in these far-off mountain fastnesses felt the strong +and extended arm of the Roman power. Then we +came to the open sea, smooth and smiling as though +there were never any hurt in it; it lapped the rocky +shore in a friendly fashion without hardly a splash +or a sound, a plaything fit for a child, as though it +never longed for the wind, or the wreck of a ship, +or took toll of the lives of men.</p> + +<p>Aberdovey neither pleased nor disappointed me. +I knew it was a watering-place, so I found what I +expected: a row of ordinary houses, having apartments +to let, facing the sea; a watering-place saved +from being wholly uninteresting by a little jetty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +jutting out into the water, where at the time of our +coming two coasting schooners lay alongside discharging +their cargoes, a few shoremen looking +languidly on. There is always a certain charm +about ships of the old-fashioned sort, a suggestion +of adventure; and what finer sight can there be +than a ship in full sail on the sea? A sight that, +alas, is a rare one to-day! How monotonous is the +long, level line of the sea's horizon without a ship in +sail on it; for a steamer is dark and is not the same +thing to the eye as a sailer. One point about Aberdovey +is that the distant Welsh mountains in part +break this horizon line pleasantly.</p> + +<p>I was glad to get back to Machynlleth, for it +made no pretence of being anything but a quiet little +country town at which the traveller might take his +ease. I spent the evening seated in the porch of +"mine inn" a-chatting with "mine host," having also +an eye to the people on the road, and so to the life +and the humours of the place. With the help of the +landlord to tell me who was who, as far as he knew, +and what part each one played on the town's stage, +I was entertained enough. I think amongst the +loiterers, if I had been a novelist, I could have +picked out a character or two of service. Plots may +get exhausted, but characters seem inexhaustible. +Amongst the numbers of passers-by I noticed a +poor specimen of humanity in the shape of a footweary +tramp; and though I have so often been +taken in by tramps, yet he looked so pitiful an object +that I had a mind to take compassion on him to +the extent of a whole sixpence; for how could I sit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +there, who had dined and was even indulging in the +infrequent luxury of a cigar, and behold a fellow-mortal +go by in need and not hold forth a helping hand? +The landlord, too, had noticed him. "Look at that +man," exclaimed he. "I know him well. He's +on one of his yearly tramps. Always comes to +Machynlleth regularly. Never did a day's work in +his life. As lazy a good-for-nothing fellow as ever +trod the road." I presumed the landlord knew, so +hardening my heart I kept my sixpence in my +pocket.</p> + +<p>One might scarcely think it of so unprepossessing +a person, but I have found the tramp to be +occasionally an amusing individual, that is, when I +have got him alone on the road and obtained his +confidence—to accomplish which needs considerable +diplomacy, a professed sympathy with his lot, and a +certain expenditure of coin of the realm to prove +such sympathy; then, when in a confidential mood, +my tramp has more than once given me an insight +into the sort of life he leads, and has even gloried +in his mendacity, and has recorded with much self-satisfaction +the way he manages to live and find +shelter without doing a stroke of work. Such a one, +as far as I can gather, would tramp the country +even though weary and wet through at times, live +on anything, rather than work. How is a man like +that to be dealt with? He takes no pride in himself +or anything; he has not even a character to lose. +"It's a pretty poor life at times, I own," said one +of the tribe to me; "but it's the only life worth +living, it's so gloriously free. Take one day with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +another, it's not such a bad life after all in fine +weather, and I always has my pipe and bit of 'baccy +with me by way of company. I never got any +pleasure out of life till I took to the road. Well, +sometimes it's a bit lonely, but I can generally +manage to pick up a companion on the way. We +are a friendly lot, we tramps be," and so on.</p> + +<p>Whether it is their lonely life or otherwise I +cannot say, but it seems that some tramps are +addicted to composing poetry. Here, for example, +is a trifle, expressing his sentiments, that a certain +tramp left behind him scribbled on a casual ward +(at Newark I think it was):—</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">The sailor loves his good old ship,<br /> +The soldier loves his camp;</p> +<p class="pp3">But give to me the good old road,<br /> +To live and die a tramp.</p> + +<p>Some year or two back the Chief Constable of +Berkshire, according to my morning paper, when +discussing the subject of vagrancy before a meeting +of the Charity Organisation Society, quoted the +following verses written by a prisoner on the wall +of his cell, as illustrating the predilection of tramps +even for prison rather than work:—</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">I cannot take my walks abroad,<br /> +I'm under lock and key,</p> +<p class="pp3">And much the public I applaud<br /> +For all their care of me.</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">The lowest pauper in the street<br /> +Half naked I behold,</p> +<p class="pp3">Whilst I am clad from head to feet<br /> +And covered from the cold.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Thousands there are who scarce can tell<br /> +Where they may lay their head,</p> +<p class="pp3">But I've a warm and well-aired cell,<br /> +A bath, good books, and bed.</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Whilst they are fed on workhouse fare<br /> +And grudged their scanty food,</p> +<p class="pp3">Three times a day my meals I get,<br /> +Sufficient, wholesome, good.</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Then to the British public "Health,"<br /> +Who all our care relieves;</p> +<p class="pp3">And when they treat us as they do,<br /> +They'll never want for thieves.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Mallwyd—Falling waters—Dinas Mawddwy—Amongst the moors +and mountains—A wild drive—A farmer's logic—A famous old +inn—A fisherman's tale—A Roman inscribed stone—Brass to +old Thomas Parr—A cruel sport—Wem and its story—A chat +with "mine host"—Hawkestone and its wonders.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">We left Machynlleth on a blustery morning when +the wild west wind was out for a rampage across +country, and who could say it nay? We retraced +the road we came by for a short distance, but the +landscape had a fresh look seen in the reverse +direction; then we turned up the narrow Dyfi valley, +hills rising near and bare on either hand, those to +the right mist-crowned and scarred by numberless +streams that would be torrents, which had worn for +themselves long stony channels on the steep hillside, +and down these they dashed, milk-white in +their mimic, harmless fury, filling the valley with the +sound of their complainings. A hill</p> + +<p class="pp4 p1"> +. . . that shows</p> +<p class="pp2">Inscribed upon its visionary sides<br /> +The history of many a winter storm.</p> + +<p class="p1">It was a day full of movement; the clouds above +were hounded along relentlessly by the hurrying +wind that even blew the birds on the wing about—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +wind that played riot with the woods, tossing the +tops of the trees this way and that, swaying their +branches even to breaking one here and there, and +surring through their leaves with a sound like that +of a stormy sea heard afar off. The air was full +of the confused sounds of the roaring wind and +raging waters. The clouds above looked drooping +and threatening, but the wind trailed them along +and drove them over the mountains before they had +time to do much mischief, tearing some even to +shreds. Nature was at play that day, and in as +rampageous a mood as ever a schoolboy out for +a holiday; but no mood of hers would have suited +better the bare hills and bleak mountains, for, as +Coleridge remarks, "there is always something going +on amongst the mountains in stormy weather." +There was a good deal going on that day, and loud +was the din of the contending elements, and rough +the embrace of the wind.</p> + +<p>At the end of the valley we found ourselves at +Mallwyd, a tiny hamlet consisting of a cottage or +two, a curious and ancient church, and an old-fashioned +little stone-built inn half drowned in dark +ivy. Mallwyd is a lonely spot shut in by gloomy +mountains; its inn is the fit resort of anglers and +artists, for who else, except perhaps a poet, would +seek such solitary quarters, unless it were some one +who desired to flee mankind? The old inn appealed +to me, so far removed from the busy world it seemed, +so restful with all around so full of unrest, its strong +stone walls fit to bear the buffeting of all weathers; +such strong walls it needed, and it looked so cosy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +solid, and comfortable, in such contrast with the +inhospitable country about and the wild winds that +were raging.</p> + +<p>In front of the inn, overhung by drooping trees, +is a deep ravine down which the flooded river rushed +and roared, a ravine spanned by a grey old bridge; +and this with the tumbling, churning waters below, +the dark, damp, shining rocks, the boulders that +would impede the river's rush, the green, dripping, +and trembling foliage of the trees above, made a +picture to be remembered—"A roaring dell, o'er-wooded, +narrow, deep." There on the bridge I +stood awhile watching the turmoil of the waters; +for a space they glided smoothly but swiftly over +the rounded rocks with a polished surface clear as +crystal, only the occasional and sudden darting lines +of white foam and bubbles revealing their movement; +then they broke and crashed into the dark pools +beneath, sending their spray up on to the rocks and +trees, which in turn dropped back beads of moisture +into the whirling waters below. Strange that watching +the restless waters should have given me a +feeling of rest, but so it did; and do not some +people find rest by the restless sea?</p> + +<p>Great is the fascination that falling water has for +certain people, and of the number I am one. Give +me a mountain torrent in some wild and rocky glen +remote in the wilderness, and let me be there alone, +then I can, for an hour or more, contentedly watch +its mad downward dash and mazy side-plays, its +plunges and its plashings, its struggles with the +boulders it overleaps and that itself has brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +down but to obstruct its troubled course; its changeful +colours, here silvery and bright in the shine of the +sun, there dark and porter-hued in the shade of the +rocks, a translucent amber tint where just escaping +from the shelving rocks, with many greens above; +and the bass roar of it sounds like music to my +ears, the memory of which brings to me a sense of +deep refreshment when in the thronged and bustling +town; and sometimes at night in the roar of the +streets' traffic I fancy I hear again the torrent's +hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>From Mallwyd we went to Dinas Mawddwy, a +little more than a mile away, a village veritably +walled in by high mountains that rise close and +sheer around. It lies at the bottom of a mighty +rock-girt cup. When we were there the mountains +were roofed across with clouds, so they might have +been of any height our fancy pleased. Dinas +Mawddwy oppressed me with a sense of gloom—not +but what there was a certain grandeur about its +gloom, but the mountains around looked so dark, +dreary, and enclosing. The place obsessed me, it +had such an eerie look under the louring sky; I was +glad to get out of it. The prevailing gloom depressed +my spirits, a depression that lasted till I +got far away on to the wide open moors. I love +mountains, to be on them, but I do not care to be +imprisoned in them.</p> + +<p>Returning to Mallwyd we began to climb high +amongst the hills; it was a wild, glorious drive, one +vastly to be enjoyed, though on our exposed road +we came in for a rare buffeting with the wind, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +little we heeded that. Right bracing we found it, a +tonic of tonics. As we rose the clouds began to +break, and great patches of bright blue showed overhead; +then frequent bursts of sunshine raked the +distant mountains and swept over the moors, causing +the wet rocks to glitter here and there, revealing +too, now and again, a sparkling rill or a gleaming +pool, so enlivening the wide waste of green and +dull grey. We had exchanged mountain gloom for +mountain glory. It was a fine landscape, delightful +in its spaciousness and far-receding distances.</p> + +<p>Having climbed some miles we began a gradual +descent to a sheltered hollow, where we entered into +a straggling wood that had a civil look after the +bareness of the mountains and the bleakness of the +moors. Here our road took a sudden bend and +crossed a deep dell boldly spanned by a one-arched +bridge, and beyond the bridge we looked up to a +cleft in the hills down which a tumbling stream left +its white and broken trail, a stream that lost itself +for a space in the woods below to shortly reappear +again. This was one of the beauty-spots of the +journey. The wooded dell, the grey bridge spanning +it in one leap, the water falling and foaming down +the dark rocks of the mountain side, the tawny-coloured +stream below the bridge—altogether what a +picture they made! "It seemed but a comparatively +short and easy step from Nature to the canvas or to +the poem" at that captivating spot!</p> + +<p>Leaving the wooded glen we came to the open +moors again, moors strewn with great weather-stained +boulders that have lain there untold ages, +before the stones of the Pyramids were hewn or the +monoliths of Stonehenge raised from the ground, +lain there since the close of the last geological epoch—some +old writers indeed have declared "since God +created the world." Centuries come and go, kingdoms +wax and wane, but the moors remain the +same, unchanged, and apparently unchangeable, in +an age of change, in an age when most of the land +is tilled to the uttermost. Here was a solitude with +nothing but the mountains and the moors for the +eyes to look upon; the wind had dropped, and great +was the silence prevailing except for the faint tinkling +of unseen rills that made the silence seem the +more profound—not the comparative silence of the +countryside, which to the attentive listener is not +silence at all.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-241.jpg" width="400" height="240" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">WELSH MOUNTAINS AND MOORLANDS.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Gradually we dropped down to where the moors +gave place to more kindly soil, though treeless and +open still excepting for some rough and low stone +walls by the roadside, but of what service (there +being only hardy Welsh sheep dotted sparsely +about) I could not imagine, for such sheep can +climb a wall as well as any man; the only way to +confine them is to place thorn branches along the +tops of the walls, held there by big stones on them; +even this arrangement sometimes fails, for the sheep +are apt to pull down both branches and stones.</p> + +<p>As we descended we came to patches of cultivated +fields, and these increased till most of the land was +enclosed and tilled, or under grass, so the scene +became tamer. At the beginning of our descent we +espied, close to the road, a lone farmhouse with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +large water-wheel by the side of its outbuildings, so +that the farmer, enlightened man, evidently utilised +the power provided by the running streams instead +of letting it go to waste, presumably to do his +threshing, corn-grinding, chaff-cutting, and possibly +churning, to the saving of labour. In a village I +know the water-mill there grinds corn by day and +generates electricity at night for its inhabitants, thus +doing double duty. Rather different to a certain +village in Essex where a meeting of the inhabitants—so +I read in my morning paper—was held as to +the lighting of it. At the meeting a local farmer +opposed the project on the ground that "the +Creator would have provided light if it had been +necessary in the country at night," and strange to +say, but true all the same, the lighting scheme was +abandoned, though possibly on account of the +expense and not because of the farmer's logic.</p> + +<p>Then we left the hills behind and came down +into a green and fertile valley and to "Cann Office +Inn"—why so curiously called I cannot say. "What's +in a name?" says Shakespeare. Now I think there +is much in a name; Aberdovey has a pleasant sound, +but Cann Office is not a name suggestive of rural +pleasantness, yet "Cann Office Inn" is a charming, +old-fashioned, comfortable-looking wayside hostelry, +ivy-covered to boot, and it boasts a restful garden; +moreover, it is set in the heart of a lovely country +far from the sight and sound of the fussy railway, +though to be reached by the ubiquitous motor-car, +for where goes the road there comes the car. Truly +I wish the car was not so ubiquitous; indeed, oftentimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +I find myself looking longingly and selfishly +back to the desirable old days when the motor-car +was not, when I travelled either afoot or by horses, +slowly perhaps but contentedly enough on the then +little-travelled, peaceful country roads, and took my +ease at quiet rural inns, feeling fairly certain of +accommodation and even of the best room of the +house; now I do not feel so certain of either, nor of +the old-time quiet—inns that in those days seemed +so remote, and I delighted to give myself up to the +delusion of their remoteness. How pleasantly those +past wanderings linger in my memory, when in the +country you were sure of finding peace and often +solitude away from the railway! There is no getting +away from the car or the sound of its horn. But +vain is the cry of Backward Ho!</p> + +<p>"Cann Office Inn" was a famous hostelry in the +good old coaching and posting era, so I have heard, +and that there our hard-drinking ancestors made +right merry over their glasses—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1">In the past Georgian day<br /> +When men were less inclined to say<br /> +That time is gold, and overlay</p> +<p class="pp7">With toil their pleasure.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Nor troubled they about the morrow—or the gout.</p> + +<p>Unlike many other coaching inns, Cann Office +never seems to have fallen upon evil days, for when +it lost its travelling and posting custom, anglers, just +in the nick of time, happily discovered it, and ever +since have haunted the troutful rivers and streams +around. One angler indeed said to me, "If you +can't catch fish here, you won't catch them anywhere."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +By my map I see that the rivers Banwy, +Gam, and Twrch meet close at hand, and many a +minor stream runs near by. "Twrch"—there is a +fine specimen of a Welsh name, without a vowel in +it, for a Saxon to pronounce! Truly it is short, but +there are others that are long, and still have not a +helpful vowel in all their astonishing array of +consonants.</p> + +<p>An angler friend, who in years gone by had +fished the rivers about Cann Office, told me that on +bringing back his catch to the inn one day, by some +mischance his fish got mixed with those of another +angler who had fished another river there. He was +somewhat vexed, but the landlord said he could +quite easily sort them out, for the trout of the one +river differed in appearance from the trout of the +other—and he sorted them to the satisfaction of +both parties. The same angler friend told me a +story, for the truth of which he vouched. It appears +that though a fairly good fisherman there were days +when his sport was poor, and even he had to return +at times with an empty creel, yet another angler +there on those very days generally came back to the +inn with a more or less satisfactory show of fish. +So he consulted a native on the matter who knew, +or was supposed to know, all about local conditions. +The native replied that the man mentioned had a +special fly to which the trout rose greedily, but he +kept it a secret. One day, however, the man lost his +cast on the branches of a tree; this the native discovered +and recovered, and, for a consideration, +handed to my friend. "All's fair in love—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +fishing," so my friend sent the fly to his rod-and-tackle +maker to be copied. The fly was unlike any +fly my friend had ever seen, but he used it with +marked success, and during the rest of his stay he +used no other.</p> + +<p>At Llanerfyl, a little village beyond Cann Office, +I pulled up to inspect a long printed notice I +observed on the church door there. I found this +related to the proposed Disestablishment and Disendowment +of the Welsh Church. A great deal has +been said of late, both in Parliament and out of it, +about the neglect of the Welsh parsons of their +parishes in past times.</p> + +<p>But to go back to the eighteenth century, here is +the story told by the author of <i>The Spiritual Quixote</i>, +published in 1772, who in his Welsh wanderings +found "a poor Welsh vicar of the diocese of Llandaff, +sitting in his humble kitchen paring turnips for +dinner, while he read a book and listened to one of +his children repeating his lesson." Then he repeats +what the vicar said to him:—</p> + +<div class="cit"> + +<p class="p1">"Now you must observe, sir, that after spending some years in +the University and taking a Master of Arts degree, I am possessed +of a little rectory of about £30 a year, and of this vicarage which, +if I could make the most of it, might bring me in £20 more. +Now each of these preferments these poor people consider a noble +benefit, and though you see in what way I live, yet because I am +possessed of half a dozen spoons and a silver tankard, they envy +me as living in a princely state and lording it over God's heritage. +And, what is worse, as my whole income in this parish arises from +the small tithes, because I cannot afford to let them cheat me out +of half my dues, they represent me as carnal and worldly-minded, +and as one who regards nothing but the good things of this life,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +and who is always making disturbances in the parish, and this +prejudice against me prevents my doing that good amongst them +which I sincerely wish to do. One man has left the church and +walks miles to a Methodist meeting, because I took one pig out +of seven as the law directs; another has complained to the Bishop +of my extortion because I would not take three shillings and sixpence +in lieu of tithes for a large orchard, as my predecessor had +done. In short, sir, there are two or three Dissenters in the +parish, who give out that all tithes are remnants of Popery; and +would have the clergy consider meat and drink as types and +shadows, which ought to have been abolished with the Levitical +Law."</p> + +</div> + +<p class="p1">In the churchyard of Llanerfyl I noticed a +large and ancient yew-tree, its extended branches +shadowing the ground far around, its roots amongst +the dead. In the shade of it I discovered what +I took to be, from the look, the shape, and the +lettering on it, a Roman inscribed stone, a stone +weathered and worn, with much of the inscription +wasted away; still, with difficulty, I managed to +decipher a part of it—not that the deciphering left +me much the wiser—and this is what I recovered:—</p> + +<p class="pp7 p1"> +HIC . . . . . .</p> +<p class="pp8"> . . . . . .</p> +<p class="pp7">D . . . . . . .</p> +<p class="pp8">GEDLAPA<br /> +TERMIN . .</p> +<p class="pp7">AN . . XII . N .</p> + +<p class="p1">Our road presently followed alongside the river +Banwy, a river overhung with trees through which +we caught constant silvery peeps of it tumbling +over its bed of shelving rocks in shallow murmuring +falls, anon resting, here and there, in many a quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +pool where the big trout lie hidden, or should do so. +The English language, and perhaps all others, +needs a word to express the sound of falling water—"gurgling" +and "plashing" are the nearest I can +think of, but they hardly fulfil the need. Then +Llanfair village, picturesquely situated on a hill just +above the running river, came in view, with its large, +tall-towered church keeping watch and ward over its +cottage homes; you rarely see so fine a church in a +Welsh village—most frequently you find a chapel, +a gaunt and square eyesore, where they preach the +Calvinistic Creed.</p> + +<p>A signpost informed me that the road led to +Welshpool. Now to Welshpool I had no desire to +go; it is a large town where, I believe, they manufacture +flannels, a useful town, but it had no interest +for me; however, as the road was a pleasant one I kept +to it. By the way, the first signpost was inscribed +"To Welshpool," but farther on this was shortened +to simply "Pool." We duly reached Welshpool; it +had a prosperous look; there was much traffic in its +streets. We were glad to get out of it into the quiet +country again, and a very pleasant country it proved +to be, our road leading us along the hillsides and +past fragrant pine-woods, with distant peeps of +finely-shaped hills.</p> + +<p>Close to the hamlet of Wollaston I pulled up to +consult the map, and to ask the name of the place +from a youth who was passing by, and when he had +told me this I jokingly queried if there were +anything to see there, for it looked an uninteresting +spot where nothing had ever happened, or was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +likely to happen. "Well," replied he, "old Parr +lived here—you may have heard of him; there's a +brass about him in the church. I know where the +key's kept, I'll run and get it for you"—doubtless +with an eye to earning an honest penny or two, +where, I should imagine, pennies were hard to earn. +But he was a civil youth, so I let him get the key. +There in the church I found a brass against the wall +with a portrait of that old man engraved on the top, +and the following inscription below:—</p> + +<p class="pa4 p1"> +The Old, Old, very Old Man<br /> +Thomas Parr<br /> +Was born at the Glyn<br /> +In the township of Winnington<br /> +Within the Chapelry of Great Wollaston<br /> +And Parish of Alberbury<br /> +In the County of Salop<br /> +In the year of our Lord 1483.<br /> +He lived in the reigns of Ten Kings<br /> +And Queens of England (viz.) King Edward 4th<br /> +King Edward 5th King Richard 3rd King Henry 7th<br /> +King Henry 8th King Edward 6th Queen Mary Queen<br /> +Elizabeth King James 1st and King Charles. Died the 13th<br /> +And was buryed in Westminster Abby<br /> +On the 15th of November 1635<br /> +Aged 152 years and 9 months.</p> + +<p class="p1">From Wollaston we had for some miles a +pleasant stretch of pastoral country varied by +shady woodlands, and we caught peeps on the way +of some charming old half-timber homes, such as +one finds in Shropshire, for we were in that shire +now and approaching Shrewsbury again—so the +signposts told us. We managed to drive round +Shrewsbury by the Severn side, so did not enter the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +town, and were soon again on the open road, +climbing, most of the way, to the village of +Albrighton, having glorious panoramas, over a richly +wooded country to our left, presented to us the latter +half of the stage.</p> + +<p>At Albrighton I learnt there used to prevail the +cruel sport of whipping a cat to death on Shrove +Tuesday, and the old signboard, that once hung in +front of the inn there, is still preserved, on which is +a painted and faded representation of a man whipping +a cat, and the legend below—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +The finest sport under the sun<br /> +Is whipping the cat at Albrighton.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">At the place I could glean no information as to +the origin of this cruel and curious custom, but later +on during the journey I found enlightenment of a +Shropshire parson, who told me he believed it arose +from a cat having got into the church and having +ate the Sacrament.</p> + +<p>It was now growing late, and I began to think +about my night's quarters. I passed an inviting-looking +inn by the roadside, but, as I saw no +stabling for the car there, I drove contentedly on +in the gathering gloaming through a country that +appeared to me to be exceedingly beautiful and +richly wooded, and then with the evening star I +made the little town of Wem (no town could surely +well have a shorter title); there at the "Castle Inn" +I found excellent accommodation, much civility, and +a landlord who was interesting, informing, and obliging. +I was glad I came to Wem.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>That evening in his cosy bar I had a long chat +with "mine host." I discovered him seated there +reading Mitford's <i>History of Greece</i>, which much +surprised me, as being, I thought, a rather heavy +work for a landlord to read, and he told me he was +reading for his amusement! He also lent me a +<i>History of Wem</i>, by Herbert Merchant, which I +found interesting, and from this I learnt that Hazlitt +lived for twelve years at Wem. Augustine Birrell +says that "by his writings Hazlitt, the most eloquent +of English essayists, has so infected the place with +his own delight that it is hard to be dull at Wem"—but +not impossible, I think. Coleridge visited +Hazlitt at Wem, walking with him from Shrewsbury +to that place; I presume they walked along the +same road we had come, and Coleridge was so +delighted with the scenery on the way that he +exclaimed, "If I had the quaint muse of Sir Philip +Sidney I would write a sonnet to the road between +Shrewsbury and Wem." Surely Coleridge's muse +was quaint enough—who else but he could have +composed <i>The Ancient Mariner</i>? Hazlitt, it +appears, like Thackeray, first sought fame as an +artist, for he had inscribed on his tomb, "William +Hazlitt. Painter, Critic, Essayist. Born 1778. +Died 1830."</p> + +<p>In 1643, when the rest of Shropshire was loyal to +the King, Wem declared for the Parliament; thereupon +the King sent Lord Capel with five thousand +men to capture the town, but—so the story goes—he +was repulsed by the garrison of only forty men, +aided by the women of the place, who were dressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +in red cloaks and placed in positions where they +could be seen by the King's forces. Lord Capel, +judging from the number of red figures he observed, +thought the garrison was too strong to be successfully +attacked, and ignominiously retired. Hence +the old couplet—</p> + +<p class="p1 pp1"> +The women of Wem and a few musketeers<br /> +Beat Lord Capel and all his cavaliers.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">There was, too, a Royalist mock litany of the +time, a part of which reads—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +From Wem, and from Nantwitch,</p> +<p class="pp7">Good Lord, deliver us.</p> + +<p class="p1">This story of the red-coated women of Wem +reminds me of the similar story told of the French +invasion of Fishguard in 1797, where and when a +small French force was landed from three frigates +to raid the country. Lord Cawdor at the head of +a hastily collected body of militia, of about half +the strength of the enemy, went forth to meet +them; a number of Welsh women, in red cloaks, +gathered on the hills around to watch the expected +battle, and these were mistaken by the French for +regular troops prepared to cut off their retreat; +thereupon, deeming they were overpowered, the +Frenchmen surrendered. Both stories read much +alike. I wonder if either one is true? "I hae my +douts."</p> + +<p>I learnt much about Wem from the landlord, how +in past days the houses of the town were all +thatched, and that there is still preserved in the +old town hall a huge iron hook fixed to the end of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +long oak pole that was used to pull down the thatch +from any house that was alight and so to prevent +the flames spreading, and he offered to show it me +in the morning if I cared to see it. I thought I +should; such a contrivance must be somewhat of a +curiosity—at least I had never seen or heard of +anything of the kind before. However, in spite of +the hook, it happened that the whole town was +burnt down, the church steeple too, in 1677. +"Wem was quite a large place at one time," he +continued; "and though you might hardly think it, +some of the quiet country lanes around were once +the town streets. It is the only Shropshire town +mentioned in the Doomsday Book, which perhaps +may prove its former importance. Judge Jeffreys, +who had his home a mile from the town, was created +Baron of Wem. His house is still standing and +has his coat-of-arms carved over the doorway." +Then some customers came in and the conversation +became general; I wish they had not, for I was +interested in the landlord's account of the place, and +I fancy there was much more he could have told me +about it.</p> + +<p>Amongst the company was a farmer, at least I +took him to be such, and the weather was his main +subject of conversation. I gathered from him that +for some cause thunderstorms were fairly frequent +at Wem and round about, and I understood that a +farmer in the locality had recently lost several sheep +by lightning. "Talking of lightning," he went on, +"do you know it is a fact that lightning never +strikes a moving object?" I did not, though I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +to confess I had no recollection of such a circumstance, +which was but negative evidence. Then +said he, "According to my experience, if there's a +full moon on a Saturday it's sure to rain the next +day, and if there's a star close by the moon it's +bound to blow hard the next morning." Though +why this should be he could not explain—and little +wonder! Many other things he said about the +weather, but I did not note them down. The only +man I trust about the weather is the shepherd of +the downs or the plains, for on those open places +the weather reveals its secrets to him who has little +to do but observe it. I do not even trust the newspaper's +forecasts except in settled times, when there +is no need of them, for as a traveller who is concerned +as to what the day will be, I have as often +found them wrong as right. Sometimes they strike +a provokingly uncertain note, such as "Rain in +places," which is very safe forecasting and leaves +me much in doubt.</p> + +<p>During the conversation some one talked about +his "near-dwellers," and the same man twice used the +term "unked." These were unfamiliar expressions +to me, and on inquiry I found "near-dwellers" to +mean neighbours, and "unked" was employed to +signify down-spirited. Then some one made use +of the old saying, "You'll have to mind your P's and +Q's." "Does any one know how that saying +originated?" queried another of the party, "for I do." +No one appeared to know. "Then I'll tell you," +he went on, manifestly pleased to be informing. +"In the old days, when the publican had to trust<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +many of his customers, slates were kept in the bar +with the customers' names written on them, with a +P and a Q below. The P stood for pints and the Q +for quarts, and crosses were chalked under the P's +and Q's corresponding to the pints and quarts for +which each customer owed. So, you see, they had +to mind their P's and Q's." I had plenty of +entertainment that night, of which I have given a +fair sample. Much else about other things was +said, but perhaps the talk of strangers at an inn is +not a subject that profits to enlarge about or even +worth mention at all; however, the conversation, and +the unexpected turns of it, served to pass my evening +pleasantly enough away. A fisherman once told +me of a brother of the craft, which brother I own +was given a little to romancing, that he "talked +salmon and caught only tiny trout." Perhaps the +moral applies to the conversation I listened to; +agreeably tired after my long day in the open air, +I grant I was in no exacting mood as to the quality +of my entertainment, I was too dreamily lazy to be +critical; then there was nothing to pay for it, and +happy is the man who can find entertainment wherever +he chance to be.</p> + +<p>Glancing through the <i>History of Wem</i> that +the landlord lent me, I read there a glowing description +of Hawkestone Park, a most romantic spot +according to the description, and as it was only four +miles from Wem I determined to go there next day. +I also discovered that Dr. Johnson visited Hawkestone +on July 24, 1774, and this is what he had to +say about it:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<div class="cit"> + +<p class="p1">We saw Hawkestone and were conducted over a large tract +of rocks and woods, a region abounding with striking scenes and +terrific grandeur. We were always on the brink of a precipice +or at the foot of a lofty rock.... Round the rocks is a narrow +path cut into the stone which is very frequently hewn into steps, +but art has proceeded no further than to make the succession of +wonders safely accessible. The whole circuit, somewhat laborious, +is terminated by a grotto cut into a rock to a great extent, with +many windings and supported by pillars, not hewn with regularity.... +There were from space to space seats in the rocks. +Though it wants water it excels Dovedale by the extent of its +prospects, the awfulness of its shades, the horror of its precipices, +the verdure of its hollows, and the loftiness of its rocks. The +ideas it forces upon the mind are the sublime, the dreadful, and +the vast. Above inaccessible altitude, below is horrible profundity. +He who mounts the precipices of Hawkestone wonders +how he came thither and doubts how he shall return. His walk +is an adventure and his departure an escape.</p> + +</div> + +<p class="p1">Now all this strikes a most romantic note, and +surely Dr. Johnson was too great a man to be given +to gush, so all the more it surprised me how it was +that I had never heard of Hawkestone and its +wonders before. Just "Ignorance, pure ignorance," +as the famous doctor once remarked to a lady in +reply to her query how it was he did not know +something that she considered he ought to know. +Truly Hawkestone was one of the surprises and +discoveries of the journey. There is one advantage +in not knowing all about the country you are travelling +in, for such lack of knowing keeps you ever in +a delightful state of expectancy as to what fresh discoveries +you may make; no matter though to others +they are familiar, that does not rob you of the thrill +of pleasure in discovering them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>Next morning I learnt from the landlord that +there was a good inn at Hawkestone, so after a look +at Wem I determined to spend the rest of the day +there and explore its beauties at leisure. Wem did +not detain me long that morning. My curiosity +induced me to see the "fire fork" already mentioned +that was used to drag down the burning thatch from +the houses, and I estimated this to be thirty-six +feet long, but I was told it was much more than +that originally. It looked just like a big iron fishhook +at the end of a pole. In a niche of the +church tower I noticed a much-weathered stone +figure, and this the clerk told me represented St. +Chad, "a favourite saint in these parts." I asked +him if there were anything of interest in the church, +and he said no, "but there's a unique Gothic doorway +at the west end well worth seeing, it's four +hundred years old"; so I went to inspect it, and I +found a most quaintly shaped doorway, the like of +which I had not come upon before, but it struck me +as more uncommon than beautiful—and this was all +I discovered worthy of note in Wem; its interest is +historical, and that does not appeal to the eye.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Red Castle—A stately ruin—Old houses and new owners—The joy +of discovery—High Ercall and its story—Mills and millers—The +life of a stone-breaker—Old folk-songs—Haughmond +Abbey—Ancient tombs—A peaceful spot—A place for a +pilgrimage.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">On leaving Wem I sought instruction of the landlord +as to the road to Hawkestone, for the roads +about Wem are many and winding, and it is not +easy for a stranger to find his way on them. He +told me to go to Weston, a village adjoining the +park, "where there is a good inn. If you ask your +way to Hawkestone," said he, "the natives may +send you miles round; for Hawkestone is a big +place, and there is no inn but at Weston." So to +Weston we went, guided by the signposts, and +not a signpost, strange to relate, did we see with +"Hawkestone" upon it.</p> + +<p>Weston proved to be a charming little village +of black and white half-timber cottages with an old +church set on a hill above them, and by the churchyard +wall were its ancient stocks intact. At the +end of the village we came to the inn delightfully +placed facing the park and its glorious scenery, and +with only a low hedge between it and the park. +The Hawkestone hotel gave me an agreeable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +greeting, for on entering it I found myself in a +panelled hall, and beyond this I caught a peep of a +pleasant little garden belonging to the inn. Again +I was fortunate in finding comfortable quarters. I +liked my inn; it had a home-like look. I asked +about seeing the park, and was told I could have a +guide to show me over it, though I was welcome to +go alone if I wished. No guide was pressed on +me, and I appreciated the fact; but I felt I might +miss much if I went without one. The park was +extensive, there were many things to see there; +so I obtained a guide, and set forth to explore +Hawkestone, and I went alone with the guide. +After Dr. Johnson's description of the place and all +the adjectives he used—I presume he considered +them necessary—I feel somewhat at a discount in +attempting a further description, and finding fresh, +suitable adjectives; but we see places with our own +eyes and glean our own impressions. What struck +me first about Hawkestone was a certain indefinable +theatrical look, a sense of unreality, as though I +were viewing a stage production on a large scale. +I had never seen Nature and Art so romantically +combined before. Though I climbed the precipices +by narrow paths cut along their sides, I did not feel +"my walk an adventure and my departure an +escape," nor did I feel the "sublime, dreadful, vast, +or horrible profundity" of the spot—I wondered +much at those expressions; to me it appeared fully +to justify the terms romantic and picturesque, but +not in the least that of dreadful: never were my +spirits daunted! The guide was loquacious; had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +he talked less, I might have remembered more of +all he told me, and he told me much of the past +history of Hawkestone and of its lords, from the +early days when the first castle was built there to +close upon the present time; and he expressed his +surprise that I had not heard of Hawkestone before. +"Not to know Hawkestone is to show yourself +unknown," I almost fancy he thought.</p> + +<p>I was first shown the Red Castle, built in the +reign of King Henry III., of which castle, except +some broken masonry, a tall, round keep, standing +isolated and stately on a crag, alone remains. +"How like one of Salvator Rosa's pictures!" I +could not help exclaiming to myself; and really it is. +The far view from this tower over a vast extent of +peaceful, pastoral, and wooded country to the stormy +mountains of Wales, so rugged of outline and +contrasting, is wonderfully fine and space-expressing. +There was a bigness about it, looking over "the +sweep of endless woods," that pleased me, a green +spaciousness that was splendid. I forget now how +many feet high the guide said the top of the tower +on its crag was from the ground; but one had to +crane one's neck to see it from below, and this gave +one the impression of commanding height whatever +its height might be.</p> + +<p>Next we went under a wide-arched rock at the +end of a ravine, and began to climb the crags on +the opposite side by a narrow winding footpath +with steps cut here and there in the steepest +parts; so we reached a wonderful series of grottos, +consisting of arched chambers in the solid rock,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +with many roughly-hewn pillars. These grottos +were lined with shells and spas: the guide gave me +the history of them, but I have forgotten it; some +one, however, cut them out of the rock, and some +ladies decorated them in the manner described. +Then I was conducted on to the top of the crag, +opposite to which is the Raven's Cliff; from this +point the view over the park and rocks is very +striking, the rough grey rocks peeping out here +and there from the sea of soft green foliage, forming +a telling combination and contrast. Then +we descended, only to ascend again up a steep +and stepped path to the Hermitage, a cavern +in the cliff side, over the entrance to which is +inscribed—</p> + +<p class="pp7 p1"> +Procul, O procul este, profani.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">It was a strange whim of our ancestors to have a +Hermitage in their grounds; and as real hermits +were not to be procured, often an aged pensioner +was made to take their place for the benefit of +visitors—but nobody was of course deceived. I am +afraid it was an age of shams, even of sham ruins +built to beautify the view! In the present instance, +however, a wax figure of a grey-haired and bearded +man seated at a table with a skull upon it did duty +for a living hermit, though it did not do it very +well; for the effect of the figure was marred by the +dripping of moisture from the roof of the cave: not +even a hermit could endure that for long and live. +The guide told me that he was supposed to leave me +here and go in by a secret door at the back of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +figure and somehow introduce himself beneath its +cloak and talk. He was quite open about the +proceeding; it was mere acting; and I told him, +after such a confession, he need not trouble himself +or me. Though actually he declared some young +people were taken in by the device, owing to the +gloom of the cavern; if this be true, I am afraid +there are a good many young innocents abroad. +Then I saw the Druid's Cavern and St. Francis's +Cave, and a recess in the rock where, according to an +inscription, "Rowland Hill, a gentleman renowned +for his great wisdom, piety, and charity, who, being +a zealous Royalist, hid himself in the Civil Wars of +the time of King Charles I.; but being discovered, +was imprisoned in his adjacent Red Castle, whilst +his house was pillaged and ransacked by the rebels." +There were other things of interest in the park, but +in truth its gloriously rocky and wooded scenery, +and its ruined castle keep, appealed to me vastly +more than the rest.</p> + +<p>June is a month to joy in, for when in a gracious +mood it can produce the pleasantest of weather, and +the next morning gave us a sample of its occasional +perfectness. A glorious sunshiny day followed the +promise of the morning with a deep sea-blue sky +above, and hardly a cloud in it—a day that made us +feel the joy of being alive. So we made an early +start, and wandering about deviously we suddenly +espied before us, standing gaunt and deserted and +lone in a grass field, the ruined hall of Moreton +Corbet, its roofless walls, its upstanding gables and +great vacant windows, darkly silhouetted against the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +bright sky. I recognised the old house from a +friend's photograph; it had a familiar look, though +I had never been there before and had come upon +it unexpectedly. The house covers a considerable +area of ground, and some of the quaint carvings on +its front appeared to be almost as sharp as the day +they were carved, and that was centuries ago. +Were I an architect, I think I should try to discover +the quarry from whence came that enduring stone, +for many a fine building I have seen has suffered +sadly from the perishable nature of the stone +employed in its construction. An architect cannot +be too careful in the selection of his material if he +wishes his work to last—and what architect does +not—not to mention his client, who surely deserves +some consideration?</p> + +<p>Moreton Corbet was begun by Sir Robert Corbet +in 1606, but he died of the plague before the building +was finished; his brother Sir Vincent Corbet +continued the work, but the house was never finished +or inhabited, and now the rambling ruins are but +the home of owls and other birds. Camden the +antiquary in his day wrote of it: "Robert Corbet +began to build a most gorgeous and stately house, +after the Italian model, for his future magnificent +and splendid habitation, but death countermanding +his designs took him off, so that he left his project +unfinished and his old castle defaced." The remains +of his "defaced" old castle are at hand, with the +initials A. C. for Sir Andrew Corbet over its +doorway. There is a hazy local tradition that +some enemy of the Corbets, when the house was +building, uttered the prophecy that "Moreton Corbet +shall never be finished." But who can tell, it may +be some day, though late the day, for its walls +appear sound, the stone mullions stand in the +windows still, and I have known ancient houses +even more ruined that have come into the hands +of a new owner and have been restored and converted +into delightful homes. "Patch and long sit," +runs the old proverb, but "build and soon flit" it +ends, and from my limited experience of the ways +of men there is some truth in the proverb. But +proverbs are so often contradictory that I have lost +faith in them. One says, "Absence makes the heart +grow fonder"; then another has it, "Out of sight +out of mind," and I might go on quoting familiar +proverbs of an antagonistic nature, only to do so +would be a waste of space. You can generally by +searching find a proverb to fit a special case whichever +way you desire—that is the beauty of proverbs.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-265.jpg" width="400" height="269" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">THE RUINED HALL OF MORETON CORBET.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">A ruined home, whether of cottage or mansion, is +always, more or less, a pathetic sight and one that +appeals to the sentimental traveller, but coming +thus suddenly and unexpectedly upon so stately a +ruin as Moreton Corbet right in the heart of a quiet +country, a country with no suggestion about it but +of farms and fields—one expected nothing else—the +greater was the appeal to such sentiment. The +coming to the notable ruin of an abbey or castle for +which the traveller is prepared by guide-book +description is quite a different thing; at least I, for +one, cannot command my sympathies to the order +of a guide-book. To repeat, in effect, a previous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +remark, I really think that the chief charm of travel +is the coming upon the unexpected, the enjoyment +of discovery, so that even the lesser sights by the +way assume an importance that perhaps is not +rightly theirs and become memorable.</p> + +<p>Leaving Moreton Corbet we got wandering +amongst winding lanes, and very pleasant lanes +they were; these eventually brought us to High +Ercall, a lonely little village consisting of an ancient +church, an old Tudor manor-house of some size +standing close by, and a cottage or two. High +Ercall had not much to show us, but what it had to +show was interesting, chiefly the fine church which +retains some features of interest in spite of the fact +that it was sadly battered about by the Puritan +party, and the time-toned Tudor house built, according +to an inscription on it, in 1608. The main +portion of the house is of stone, but it has brick +gables above that give it an odd appearance. The +old home took my fancy. "It looks history," I +exclaimed to myself, though at the time I knew +nothing of its past. Why I should have imagined +that house had a story to tell I cannot say, but so it +impressed me, perhaps simply because it was so old. +Anyway, on making inquiry I found my intuition +not wrong, for I discovered it was one of the many +Shropshire houses that had been fortified in the +time of the Civil Wars and held for the King, and +though but a house, so gallantly was it defended +that it successfully resisted several fierce assaults, +being indeed the last house in the shire to surrender, +only the strongholds of Bridgnorth and Ludlow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +holding out longer. I wonder if anything eventful +will ever happen at High Ercall again. Who would +have expected to come upon history there? It +looked so innocent of anything of the kind. Certainly +the Civil Wars have given the added interest of +stirring days to many a now dreamy spot in England, +for those wars concerned themselves with the sieges +of so many private houses scattered far and wide +over the countryside. Those days have passed for +ever, for no private house could now be converted +into a fortress. Many of these old houses still retain +bullet marks on, and sometimes the lead of the +bullets in, their thick oak doors; their strong walls +too occasionally show, even to this far-off day, +the indentations made by some of Cromwell's inexhaustible +cannon-balls. You cannot escape +from Cromwell's doings when you go a-touring +in England.</p> + +<p>Beyond High Ercall we crossed over a marshy +upland, and over a bridge or two so narrow that +there was only just room for the car to pass. The +country had a remote look, for we travelled far +before meeting a soul, and that soul was a solitary +man breaking stones by the side of the road. From +the uplands we dropped down to a picturesque old +mill, its wheel turned by a sparkling stream; and a +pretty picture the old mill made with its foaming +weir above, its sleepy pool below, and the green +fields gently sloping down to it. The mill was +busy that day, and the muffled hum of its machinery, +the swish, swish of its wheel and the plash of its +weir, broke pleasantly the silence of the spot.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>I saw no miller, or any one, about; perhaps the +miller was at his dinner whilst his work was being +done for him. I wish I could have seen him, for I +have a liking for millers, always having found them +jovially disposed and not averse to a gossip; now I +have a weakness for gossiping with country folk, +trusting by so doing to glean something of their +views of life. Such folk I have generally found +willing to talk about anything but politics—well, I +do not care to talk politics, but why they should so +carefully avoid the subject I cannot say, nor yet +why millers are so cheerful a race, any more than +why farmers in contradiction should be given so to +grumbling, even when the seasons are good. I +remember that picture in <i>Punch</i> of a squire addressing +a tenant of his: "Good morning, Mr. Turnips, +fine growing day." "Yes, sir," responds the farmer, +"'twill make the weeds grow." But the miller +looks on the bright side of life; perhaps it is because +he seems to have so little work to do, only having +to watch whilst the running water or the willing +wind do his work for him. I know I have chatted +with a miller for an hour or more inside his mill +and amongst his whirling wheels, as the flour flowed +fast and free from the wooden shoots into the sacks +below, and he merely glanced round now and then +to see if a sack were nearly filled, so that he might +put another in its place; nor did this take him long +to do, nor did the work seem hard. It was this +miller who so kindly explained to me how much +better it was to rely on water than wind power, the +latter being so uncertain, for "the wind may drop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +in the daytime, and then blow at night when you +are comfortably in bed, so you may idle away half, +or even the whole of a day, but water-power is +constant, if you have a decent stream to depend +upon." Then the miller told me how in his father's +time, for his father was a miller too, the gleaners +used to come to the mill to have their gleanings +ground, and in those friendly past days the miller +used to grind their gleanings without charge in his +spare time, as the custom was. "Then helped +every one his neighbour," for those were "the good +old days," at least they seem good to look back +upon.</p> + +<p>After the mill followed a stretch of open country +with wide cornfields on either hand waving round us +like a golden sea and rustling in the wind; then by +way of change we entered upon a tree-lined road, +with at one spot great rocks by its side, and from +this spot Shrewsbury and its church spires came +into view vaguely showing in the mist like the city +of a dream. Not desiring to revisit Shrewsbury, I +stopped the car and consulted my map; it was +a fortunate circumstance, for in doing so I discovered +"Haughmond Abbey" marked thereon, and +apparently not very far off. I seemed to be always +making discoveries on my map. Now I had heard +of Haughmond Abbey, but what the ruins were +like, where they were hidden away, whether extensive +or the mere fragments of a building, I had +no idea. Bolton, Tintern, Fountains, Glastonbury, +Melrose, and other famous ruined abbeys were +familiar to me in pictures, engravings, photographs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +and poetry long before I saw them, but of Haughmond +I had seen neither picture nor engraving, nor, +as far as I am aware, has any poet sung its praises. +Yet Haughmond Abbey I found to be a beautiful +ruin, not so romantically situated as either Tintern +or Bolton truly, but set in as sweet a spot as all +fair England can show, delightful to the eye with its +verdant meadows, shady trees, tranquil water, grey +rock, and sheltering wooded hills around—a spot +so peaceful in its seclusion, so peace-bestowing, too, +and without a hint of the modern world, for at +Haughmond nothing is to be seen but quiet woods, +gentle hills, and the spacious sky above. Never +came I to a more tranquil spot; the monks of old +must have left their benediction there, though +robbed of their abbey they loved so well and turned +adrift into the outer world, and though they doubtless +fondly hoped and believed it would "have canopied +their bones," or at least they would have been laid +to rest in the shade of its church.</p> + +<p>But I am a little previous. Close to where I +pulled up I saw a man breaking stones by the roadside, +and I asked him if he could tell me the whereabouts +of the abbey. "It be right down there," said +he, pointing ahead with his finger into space, "not +more than a quarter of a mile away. You comes +to a cottage, and on the other side of the way is a +footpath by a stream leading to it." He was a +civil man, his instructions were clear, stone-breaking +is wearisome work; I was sorry for him to the +extent of a sixpence, better expended than on a +tramp, I thought, and tramps in my green days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +wheedled many a sixpence out of me. I remember +that the last tramp to whom I gave a trifle exclaimed +in the fulness of his heart upon unexpectedly +receiving it, "God bless you, sir. May we soon +meet in Heaven!" Since then my donations to +tramps have ceased. I would chat with that stone-breaker, +I would see the world through a stone-breaker's +eyes. But his view of the world was +limited; manifestly the monotony of his labour had +told upon him, perhaps too the loneliness of the +life, so that I got little profit out of the conversation. +It needs a strong mind to sit by the roadside all +day long and break stones, do nothing but break +stones, and have any imagination left.</p> + +<p>Finding a secluded, shady spot by the wayside +I rested there awhile, for the day was hot; moreover +I was already beginning to feel hungry, and my +luncheon-basket was handy. How hungry one gets +motoring in the fresh air, to be sure! Whilst resting +there and thinking, it suddenly struck me how +seldom in Wales I saw any children romping about +in the villages as English children are wont to do; +even to-day sometimes on the village greens one +finds the latter playing games so old that no one +can tell how they originated. Take, for instance, +the game of "Old Roger" often played at children's +gatherings in the West Country to an old song as +follows. I have given this song in a previous book, +but it will bear repeating, and I repeat it to show +how this old song, long years ago, found its way to +America, and how it became altered there. This, +then, is how the original "Old Roger" runs:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Old Roger is dead and lies in his grave—</p> +<p class="pp2">Hee-haw! lies in his grave.</p> +<p class="pp1">They planted an apple-tree over his head.<br /> +The apples were ripe and ready to drop,<br /> +When came a big wind and blew them all off;<br /> +Then came an old woman a-picking them up.<br /> +Old Roger jumped up and gave her a knock,<br /> +Which made the old woman go hipperty-hop.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Now an American lady reading this in my book +wrote to me about it, enclosing the words of a song +that was sung to her by her grandfather, who had +learnt it from his grandfather. "It is very plain," +wrote the lady, "that our song came over from +your country, and that it originated in your 'Old +Roger.' This is very interesting to me. We call +our song 'Old Father Cungell.' It goes this +way:—</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Old Father Cungell went up to White Hall,</p> +<p class="pp2">Hum, ha! up to White Hall,</p> +<p class="pp1">And there he fell sick amongst 'em all,</p> +<p class="pp2">With my heigh down, ho down,</p> +<p class="pp7">Hum, Ha!</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Old Father Cungell was car-ri-ed home,</p> +<p class="pp2">Hum, ha! car-ri-ed home;</p> +<p class="pp1">Before he got there he was as dead as a stone,</p> +<p class="pp2">With my heigh down, ho down,</p> +<p class="pp7">Hum, Ha!</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Old Father Cungell was in the grave laid,<br /> +They covered him up with shovel and spade,<br /> +And out of his grave there grew a big tree<br /> +That bore the best apples that ever ye see!</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Before they were ripe and fit for the fall,<br /> +There came an old woman and stole them off all;<br /> +Her gown it was red, her petticoat green,<br /> +The very worst woman that ever was seen.</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Old Cungell got up and hit her a knock,<br /> +That made the old woman go hipperty-hop.<br /> +The neighbours were scared and said in their fright,<br /> +'The ghost of Cungell gets up in the night,'</p> +<p class="pp2">With my heigh down, ho down,</p> +<p class="pp7">Hum, Ha!"<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-276.jpg" width="400" height="561" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">HAUGHMOND ABBEY, CHURCH DOORWAY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Rested and refreshed I went in search of Haughmond +Abbey, the ruins of which, though near to, +are not visible from the road, so the casual traveller +might pass them unawares, as doubtless many do. +A short stroll along a shady footpath and by the +side of a limpid stream soon brought me to the spot; +the hoary, ivy-clad ruins peeping through the +branching trees made a perfect picture, the sunshine +resting on them and brightening the century-gathered +gloom of their broken walls and rugged +gables. It was, in truth, a pleasant spot the monks +selected for their abbey, an ideal spot well secluded +from the outer world; even to-day it retains its old-time +tranquillity undisturbed. I had the ruins to +myself, rejoiced to escape from the noisy prattle of +the mere sightseer; to myself, excepting that some +birds were holding a profane service on the grass-grown +ground where erst the high altar stood. The +ruins are of considerable extent, though, but for a +portion of a wall and a fine sculptured doorway, +the church itself has wholly disappeared; its foundations, +however, may still be faintly traced. Unlike +most abbeys the ruined churches of which remain +whilst their monastic outbuildings and offices have +vanished, at Haughmond the reverse is the case. +So one generation builds a fane of prayer and +another generation levels it to the ground, even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +glorying in its destruction; and the sad thought of +it is, who can say that what we build in our pride +to-day may not at some future time share a similar +fate? Doubtless the monks who reared this stately +abbey thought it would last to Doomsday; it lasted +about four hundred years, for it was founded in 1135 +by Fitz Alan of Clun, and was suppressed by King +Henry VIII. in 1541, he "being mynded to take it +into his own handes," as he did many another +abbey, "for better purposes." The world knows +what those "better purposes" were.</p> + +<p>Nettles and weeds now flourish in the abbey's +deserted courts and around its roofless buildings, +the only roofed portion being the Chapter-house, +which is entire with its three richly ornamented +arched doorways, of which I give an illustration. +It may be noted that between the pillars are statues +under canopies, a remarkable feature that I do not +remember to have seen in any ecclesiastical edifice +before. It struck me that these statues were an +after-thought and had been introduced at a later +period by cutting pillars away to receive them; I +cannot say that they altogether pleased me, for they +disturbed the unity and simplicity of the fine +Norman arches. The flat oak roof of the Chapter-house +appears to be in perfect condition, though I +was surprised to find an oak roof there and not a +vaulted one of stone. The chief offices appertaining +to the abbey appear to have been built round a +court beyond the cloisters; of these the Abbot's +Lodge retains its beautiful bay-window, and what +was probably the guest-house retains all its side +windows with their tracery intact. This building +has a large gable at one end flanked by shapely +turrets.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-279.jpg" width="400" height="279" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">HAUGHMOND ABBEY, CHAPTER-HOUSE.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Of the many stately tombs the abbey church once +contained only two inscribed slabs remain, but these +are interesting: one to John Fitz Alan, deceased +1270, who was buried before the high altar, bears +the following inscription in Norman French, as was +the fashion of the time:—</p> + +<p class="center pn p1"><span class="reduct"> +VOVS KI PASSEZ ICI PRIES PVR LAME IOHAN FIS ALEIN<br /> +KI GIT ICI DEV DE SA ALME EIT MERCI. AMEN.</span></p> + +<p class="center pn p1"><span class="reduct"> +ISABEL DE MORTIMER SA FEMME ACOST DE L ... DEV<br /> +DE LVR ALME ... MERCI. AMEN.</span></p> + +<p class="pn p1">Another slab has the incised effigy of a woman +shown wearing a quaint head-dress with a coat-of-arms +on either side of it, her gloved hands folded +in prayer; the inscription is in Latin, that prevailed +during that later period and for long afterwards, and +thus it runs:—</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Hic jacet ... filia Iohis Leyton armigi & uxor Ricardi<br /> +mynde que obiit in festo Cathedre Sancti Petri<br /> +Anno Dni Millesio cccc xxviij cui aie ppiciet Deus Amen.</p> + +<p class="p1">I loitered long at Haughmond, and loth I was to +leave so peace-bestowing a spot; thither the world-weary +pilgrim might well come in search of rest, for +nowhere could he find a quietude more profound. +I wish I could, in words, express the peacefulness +of the spot, a peacefulness that grew upon me and +that seemed to me on leaving like an unuttered +benediction, but not the less a benediction because +unuttered. Never bade I farewell to a spot more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +reluctantly; never have I felt a greater desire to +return to one. Such was the spell it cast upon me. +"Within its walls peace reigned; from its stately +church came the sounds of prayer and praise; its +gates were ever open to the pilgrim and the poor; +its hospitality and brotherly kindness softened the +harsh incidence of the feudal days."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">An angler's haunt—Ferries and stepping-stones—Curious old stained-glass +window—The ruins of Uriconium—Watling Street—The +Wrekin—Richard Baxter's old home—A Cabinet minister's +story—A pretty village—Buildwas Abbey—Ironbridge—The +"Methodists' Mecca."</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">Leaving Haughmond to its ancient peace, and +finding the road we were on led to Shrewsbury, we +took a byway to our left, chancing where it might +go. We did not select our road, we took the first +one we came to so as to avoid revisiting Shrewsbury, +and it led us, with many pleasant windings, +through a country of great charm, and unexpectedly +to many interesting places. No guide-book could +have done us better service. We had at the +start fir-crowned hills to the left of us with a +tower on the top of them, a modern one, but still a +picturesque feature, and the silvery Severn to the +right, and in the narrow and pleasant stretch of +country between our road went in a dreamy, indirect +fashion.</p> + +<p>At Uffington I noticed a river-side inn with an +angler, rod in hand, standing idly in the doorway, +so concluded, with the river close by, this must be +a fisherman's haunt. I was almost tempted to pull +up there and go a-fishing, for it looked such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +pleasant hostelry, one whereat a lazy man might +laze contentedly. At Uffington the monks of +Haughmond had a ferry, and so in the absence of +any bridge they crossed the Severn there on the +way to Shrewsbury. I am told the ferry still exists, +and I was glad to hear it, for ferries and stepping-stones +form such picturesque features in the landscape. +In Wales, where I once stopped awhile at +a remote farmhouse, the only way across the little +river in front of it was by stepping-stones, and I +took quite a childish delight in crossing and recrossing +them, and more than once I discovered an artist +painting the spot; there was a very real fascination +for me about this primitive way of crossing a stream, +in an age when all things are made so uninterestingly +smooth and easy, a method probably originally +suggested by the boulders that strew the bed of a +mountain river.</p> + +<p>So we followed the Severn down, now losing +sight of it, now recovering it again, till we came to +Atcham, where the river flowed wide and strong +under a fine seven-arched bridge; there by the roadside +stood a large old house that had evidently been +a coaching inn, and there under the shade of some +trees I pulled up the car to have a look around, for +it was a pleasant spot.</p> + +<p>I wandered into the churchyard overlooking the +river. The church I found old and interesting. +At the east end I noticed two of the so-called leper +or low-side windows that have caused so much discussion +amongst antiquaries; these were in such a +position behind the high altar that, of course,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +neither the altar nor the elevation of the Host +could be seen from them, and this, I think, surely +proves, at least to my satisfaction, that such windows +were not for the use of lepers to observe the service +from without; but as I have already discussed the +subject, I will say no more about it.</p> + +<p>There is some good carved old oak in the +church; the reading-desk has some quaint carvings +on it of the story of the prodigal son; the fine openwork +screen too merits attention, and its walls still +plainly show the marks of the medieval masons' +chisels; but what specially interested me was a very +curious and ancient stained-glass window representing +a woman kneeling and presenting a book to +Queen Elizabeth enthroned; the top lights above +contain the drawings of five angels busy with harps. +The inscription below runs:—</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Blanch daughter of Henry Miles Parry Esqre.<br /> +Of Newcourt Herefordshire by Alicia daughter<br /> +Of Simon Milborn Esqre. Chief gentlewoman<br /> +Of Queen Elizabeth privy chamber whom<br /> +She faithfully served from her<br /> +Highnesses birth dying at Court<br /> +The 12th of Febry. 1589. Aged 82.<br /> +Entombed at Westminster. Her bowels at Bacton in</p> +<p class="pp2">The county of Hereford.</p> + +<p class="p1">A little beyond Atcham, whilst driving along +a narrow and quiet country road and thinking of +nothing in particular, I suddenly noticed some +crumbling ruins on rising ground not far away, +and I asked at a blacksmith's forge, close by, +what the ruins might be, and was told they were +the ruins of the Roman city of Uriconium. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +was interesting information, and at once the low +and broken, moss-grown and ivy-clad walls assumed +a look of importance. We had come upon the +site of an ancient city of wide renown. "We +keep the key here," said the blacksmith, for I +found that what remains of the once great city of +"gleaming white walls" is fenced round and +turned into a sort of peep-show with "a charge of +sixpence a head for admission." What an indignity +to the ancient city, perhaps the chief city +of the country when England was but a colony of +Rome: how strange to think of England as a +colony! I have said perhaps the chief city of +the country, for according to J. R. Green, the +historian, "the walls of Uriconium enclosed a +space more than double that of Roman London, +and exceeded in circumference by a third those of +Pompeii, while the remains of its theatre and its +amphitheatre, as well as the broad streets which +contrast so strangely with the narrow alleys of +other British towns, shows its former wealth and +importance." It was to Uriconium that the famous +Watling Street went direct from Dover through +London, and thence as straight as the Romans +could conveniently make it to Uriconium. The +Romans wisely favoured the high ground in preference +to the low for their roads, which to keep +dry were carefully trenched on either side, but +they always went straight ahead to their destination, +excepting when the gradient proved too severe +or they had to round a hill, but after such divergence +straight ahead they went again; one cannot but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +admire the purposefulness of them. Watling Street +has now been reopened and reconnected from +Daventry to Shrewsbury, a distance of eighty-three +miles; and to be a little previous, from +close to Boscobel on to Daventry we followed the +ancient street on our homeward run—excepting +for a diversion to Uttoxeter at the Lichfield turn, +rejoining it at Atherstone, missing but about fourteen +miles of its length between the point above +Boscobel and Daventry—and a very pleasant rural +road we found it, delightful for its absence of towns +and even villages; indeed it took us for miles and +miles right through a thoroughly old-world sparsely +peopled land. So we followed the footsteps of +the Roman legions. The foundation of most of +the street, in spite of years of neglect, is as firm +to-day as when the ancient Romans made it, for +they built for centuries. Our modern road-builders +might well take a hint from those clever old +engineers. There was no scamped work in those +benighted ages, for scamped work meant death—not +a fortune.</p> + +<p>But to return to Uriconium. To show the size +of the ancient city, its walls, still traceable, are +over three miles in circumference, enclosing now +open fields and meadows; in these, I was told, the +plough occasionally turns up portions of mosaic +pavement, bits of pottery, tiles, and other relics. +I entered what now remains of the city above +ground by a locked gate and wandered over its +grass-grown streets, or at least a very small portion +of them, and amongst the fragments of its time-worn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +walls that are still standing. Wild roses, +brambles, nettles, and docks were growing everywhere +disorderly; ivy, moss, and lichen were creeping +over its stones at will. Some of the foundations +of the buildings have been uncovered and laid bare, +but Nature is busy at work covering them up again +with many a wild growing thing. Little enough +remains, in truth, to reveal the former glory of +Uriconium; the chief wall standing, built of squared +stones, varied by courses of thin red tiles, is presumably +that of the basilica; adjoining this are the +baths, the plan of which can be roughly made out, +the furnace chambers may be traced, and a number +of small pillars constructed of thin bricks reveal the +hypocausts or heating arrangements. The public +baths are the best preserved parts of the city that +have been unearthed, and show the extent of +civilisation to which the Romans in England had +attained. I was glad to have seen Uriconium; it +made me respect the civilisation of our early conquerors. +I was impressed with the picture that +I recovered to myself of the refined life the +Romans led in their British colony close upon +nineteen centuries ago! Delightful is the situation +of Uriconium on its gentle rise, with far views of +the country around, and the Severn winding just +below. It seems strange that, whilst the sites of +so many Roman towns are the sites of English +towns to-day, Uriconium so favoured in position +should be left desolate—given over to the winds +of heaven and the birds of the air.</p> + +<p>Leaving the ruined city to its sole inhabitants,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +the birds and perchance the rabbits, we had a fine +view of the isolated hill of the Wrekin, from the +top of which flamed forth the beacon that told the +great Armada was in sight. Then</p> + +<p class="pa4 p1">... streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest of light.<br /></p> + +<p class="pn p1">"To friends all round the Wrekin" is a famous +Shropshire toast, and all good Salopians know +how that hill came into being: how that the +Devil, once upon a time, as the fairy story-books +have it, had a grudge against Shrewsbury, and +was carrying a great load of earth and rocks on +his back, intending to dump it down in the bed +of the Severn, and so block the flow of the river +and drown all the Shrewsbury people; but even +the Devil grew weary of his heavy load, and +threw it down on the spot where the Wrekin now +stands, declaring he would carry it no longer. So +the mountain arose and Shrewsbury was saved. At +one point or another the Devil appears to have been +very busy in Shropshire knocking the scenery about. +When later on I found myself at Ironbridge, with +its furnaces and factories, I really thought the +Devil must still be busy in Shropshire, for who +but he could have entered into the mind of man +to cause him to spoil so fair a spot for the sake +of mere money-making? Remove the dirty, mean, +and ugly town and all connected with it, Madeley +too, with its collieries close above, and smoky +Broseley but a mile away, and I doubt if the +Severn could show in all its pleasant meanderings +from its source in lone Plynlimmon to the sea a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +spot so fair as this would be—and was in the days +of old.</p> + +<p>The scenery improved with every mile as we +wound our way down by the Severn side, from +which rose gently sloping and wooded hills on the +other hand, a very pleasant land in truth. Coming +to the little village of Eaton Constantine, I pulled +up there to photograph an exceedingly picturesque +black and white half-timber farmhouse with a great +gable at one end, its roof sloping down to a sheltering +porch. Were I an architect and designer of +country homes I certainly would seek for inspiration +in Shropshire; I know no other part of England +where the houses look more like homes. Chatting +with the owner of the farmhouse, who kindly allowed +me to photograph it from his farmyard, and even +stood in front of his porch to be included in the +picture—though I did not desire this further favour +of him—I learnt that it was formerly the home of +Richard Baxter, the Nonconformist divine and the +author of <i>The Saints' Everlasting Rest</i>, and quite a +host of other improving religious works well known +to fame, but which I regret I have never read. It +was at Eaton Constantine, I believe, that when a +boy Richard Baxter used to rob his neighbours' +orchards, but, as some one says, "often the worst +boys become the best men," a pleasant way of +excusing their peccadilloes. Even Bunyan I have +somewhere read "sowed his wild oats" freely +when a youth, and I have even heard of a certain +Cabinet minister who has boasted that he frequently +went poaching as a lad. Perhaps it is because I +was so good a boy that I have failed to distinguish +myself in any way; had I to live my life again I +might have got more enjoyment out of my youth, +knowing now what good and clever men bad boys +can make. I heard a Cabinet minister at dinner +tell the story of how his schoolmaster one day +declared to him that he was a lazy, troublesome +boy, always in some mischief, a disgrace to the +school, that he would never do any good for himself +or any one else. In after years, when the boy +had become one of Her Majesty's ministers, the +very same schoolmaster, then an old man, met +him and clapped him on the back, declaring, "I'm +proud of you, my boy. I always said there was +the making of a clever man in you." The story +must be true, for a Cabinet minister would not +tell a lie—about a trifle, but only for the good of +his party.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-292.jpg" width="400" height="556" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">BUILDWAS ABBEY, LOOKING EAST.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">The next village of Leighton was almost ideal, +with its picturesque black and white cottages half +drowned in foliage; then our road became as +beautiful as a dream till we came in sight of +Buildwas Abbey, gloriously situated by the banks +of the Severn, where the river flows gently by. +But the situation is robbed of much of its charm +by the intruding railway, that passes close to the +abbey's ruined walls and sadly disturbs its quiet. +All you can do is to try and forget the railway as +though it were not. Amidst the ruins you cannot +see it, but alas! you can hear it; and how can one +romance to the sound of a railway train and the +locomotive's blatant whistle?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>Buildwas Abbey is the relic of a splendid building, +beautiful and stately even in decay, seemingly too +proud to mourn its long-lost grandeur, "cased in +the unfeeling armour of old time." Its massive +pillars and stout walls, braving all weathers, stand +strong and enduring still. Time, that gentle healer, +has tinted and adorned its broken walls with many +hues, and fringed their rugged tops with bright +wild-flowers, grasses, and weeds; here and there, +too, the ivy creeps over them and peeps in from +without through the vacant windows. Its silent +stones seem laden with memories: would that they +could tell their story apart from the written one! +Its open arches frame pleasant pictures of rich +meadows, of woods beyond them, of blue hills +beyond again, with bits of sky peeping above. +Says Disraeli, "Men moralise amongst ruins"; here +is a rare spot to moralise in for those so minded.</p> + +<p>The abbey church is cruciform in plan, with a +central tower ruined low; its stout Norman pillars +with their square capitals are very effective in their +suggestiveness of strength. There is a massive +dignity, purity, and simplicity about the architecture +of Buildwas that pleases the cultured eye; +there is nothing petty or pretty about it, rather +perhaps it errs on the side of sternness, if it errs at +all. Grace of outline rather than ornamentation was +evidently the monkish designer's guiding inspiration, +but what the building lacks in richness of detail +it gains in breadth and quiet harmony.</p> + +<p>The site of the abbey in a valley formerly lonely +and of much sylvan beauty, with a river running +by, was one that commended itself to the Cistercians, +and none were better judges of scenery than they. +How did the abbey come by its name? Some +antiquaries assert that it came from "beild," a +shelter, and "was," a level; others declare, equally +sure they are correct, that it came from "build" +and "was," a building by the wash of the river. I +am inclined to favour the former view; but when +learned antiquaries disagree, how shall a mere layman +decide?<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-295.jpg" width="400" height="271" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">BUILDWAS ABBEY, LOOKING WEST.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">It was an unwelcome change, from the rural +pleasantness of the country about Buildwas, coming +to the squalid and smoky town of Ironbridge in +Coalbrookdale, a town that climbs the steep hillside +above the Severn, and practically joins the almost +as mean a town of Madeley above, around which +latter are numerous collieries with their tall chimneys +and heaps of slack, that scar and make hideous the +countryside. Ironbridge gains its name, of course, +from the bridge of iron that spans the Severn there +in one bold arch. At the time of the building of +this bridge in 1779 it was considered a great +engineering feat, even a thing of beauty, though I +saw no beauty in it excepting the curve of its arch. +Its black colour is out of tone with the landscape; +it seems to have no part in it. Now a bridge constructed +of the local stone, such as the monks would +have built, would be in agreeable harmony with the +scene, and, growing grey with age, would not force +its unwilling attention on the traveller; moreover, +stone does not need periodical painting to keep it +from rusting. Such a fine stone bridge as the one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +that takes the old mail road over the Towy at +Llandilo with one mighty arch, how grandly effective +a similar bridge would look spanning the Severn +boldly so at Ironbridge! There are one or two +places called Stonebridge in England, I believe, +and to me the name has a pleasant sound; but that +of Ironbridge has not. I can imagine a picturesque +bridge of stone, perhaps old and weather-worn +and stained, but what can one imagine of an iron +bridge but something very precise and proper? +Nothing about it with any appeal to sentiment. I +believe that this structure at Ironbridge was the +first of the kind of any size that was built in +England, and was thought a wonder in its day. +How distant seems that day! Now people have +ceased to wonder at it, or at anything else. A +wireless message from Mars would probably be but +a nine days' wonder; to fly across the Atlantic a +no astonishing thing.</p> + +<p>Climbing through Ironbridge to Madeley, I +pulled up there to replenish my petrol supply. +Madeley has been called the "Methodists' Mecca," +for there lies buried the famous Methodist, the Rev. +John Fletcher, of whom Southey said, "He was a +man of whom Methodism might well be proud as +the most able of its defenders." But what a Mecca! +Whilst waiting for my petrol I got a-chatting with +a motor cyclist who was on the same errand as I. +I am afraid I made a not very complimentary +remark about the place to him, but he did not +resent it. He even owned he thought the same; +but, said he, "I can tell you of something worth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +seeing close by. There's an old house called +Madeley Court not a mile away that might interest +you, and prove that there is something worth seeing +here. It's a grand old house, and worth a visit. +Charles II. once hid in it, they say. Lots of people +go to photograph it." Then he kindly described +the way to it, "down a roughish and narrow lane"; +but I thought I might as well escape Madeley in that +direction as well as any other, in spite of the rough +lane. On consulting my map I found Madeley +Court plainly marked upon it, so I presumed it was, +or at least it had been, a house of some importance. +My road that day had provided me with +many pleasant surprises, and here was still the promise +of another.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Madeley Court—Chat with a collier—The miner's rule of life—Charles +II. in hiding—The building of Boscobel—The story of +a moated house—A stirring episode—A startling discovery—A +curious planetarium—A wishing-well—Lilleshall Abbey—"The +Westminster Abbey of Shropshire"—A freak in architecture—Tong +Castle—Church clerk-hunting.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">It was certainly a rough and narrow lane, as the +cyclist remarked, that led to Madeley Court, and +it led past a lot of untidy colliers' cottages, for the +hilly country around was well dotted with collieries; +yet I fancy from the lie of the land that a hundred +years or so ago, before the mines were sunk or +the cottages built, that lane must have been a very +rural and retired one. At one of the cottages I +noticed a collier at work in his little garden; his +face and hands and clothes were black as though +he had only recently come up from the pit, but +there he was busy amongst his flowers and +vegetables, and there I pulled up the car and +ventured to bid him good-day. "'Tain't a bad +day," responded he, and went on with his work +unconcernedly. Then I said a word in praise of +his flowers, adding I supposed he was fond of +gardening. "Well, a few flowers do look a bit +cheerful like, so I grows 'em." Now there had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +been a miners' strike lately, and I wanted to learn +his opinion about strikes. Nothing loth he gave it +me. Miners I have found, as a race, openly and +frankly express their opinions "without fear or +favour," and I rather think they even enjoy a +chance to express them, sometimes pretty strongly +too, for miners have no respect of persons nor of +other people's feelings. "We just says what us +think and have done with it," as one of them +declared to me. "As to strikes," said he, "I'm +not gone on them; maybe they's necessary at times, +I don't know. You see, we're bound to belong to +the trade union lest the masters should best us; but +the masters be all right in these parts and we've +no need to strike, but us have to strike to help +other folk when the unions tell us. Striking's poor +game, I'd rather work than play any day; I likes +to get my money regularly every week, then I know +where I be. Now one never knows when the +order may come to 'down tools.' What I say is +that every herring should hang by its own tail." +What exactly he meant by the last remark was +not very clear to me, nor had I ever heard it before, +nor was I able to obtain any enlightenment on the +matter, for just then he exclaimed, "There be the +missus a-calling me in for tea, and I wants it," and +without another word he went to his tea. Just as +I was leaving two of the miner's children ran out +into the garden; one of them plucked a flower, then +ran and gave it to me, saying, "Father told I to +pluck it for thee"—a graceful little act that was +pleasing. So often under rough exteriors kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +hearts beat. That miner had not forgotten me, +though he left and spoke so abruptly. Yet the +following, I am told, is the miner's rule of life:—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Hear all, see all, say nought,<br /> +Eat well, drink well, and care nought;<br /> +If thou dost ought for nought</p> +<p class="pp7">Do it for thyself.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">But I do not believe all I hear. A parson told me +the miners were not a bad lot as a whole, but they +wanted knowing. They do! Now the poor country +folk have often manners; the miners have none.</p> + +<p>Then we left the cottages behind and dropped +sharply down into a sheltered hollow, and there +below was revealed to us the rambling and ghostly-looking +old manor-house of Madeley Court, a +romance in stone, built in the far-off Elizabethan +days when men built pictures as well as homes. A +large, cheerless pool of water, dark and still, on +one side of the ancient and time-dimmed house +added to the dreary and eerie impression of the +spot as it is to-day: that pool was suggestive to me +of some evil deed done in past days, though why +I know not, but over all the ancient place there +brooded a certain indefinable sense of mystery. It +seemed to hold a life apart from its present-day, +commonplace surroundings.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-303.jpg" width="400" height="277" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">MADELEY COURT.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">It was probably on this very lane that, wet +through to the skin, weary and hungry, Charles II. +recently escaped from Worcester, sought shelter +with his guide, Richard Penderel, under a hedge +from the pouring rain. Charles had fled from "the +faithful city" with a few followers and had sought +temporary asylum at White Ladies, the house of +Charles Giffard, that gentleman being recommended +to the king by the Earl of Derby. Giffard, however, +advised the king not to tarry there, as his +house was well known, and suggested that he +should go to his retired hunting-box of Boscobel, +where there were hiding-holes that had not been +discovered; so to Boscobel the king went escorted +by one Richard Penderel, a trusted retainer of +Giffard's. Now two other retainers of the same +family of the Penderels, William Penderel and +Joan his wife, had charge of Boscobel, where they +assisted, from time to time, in secreting persecuted +Roman Catholic priests; indeed chiefly, if not +wholly, for this purpose of giving refuge to such +fugitives was Boscobel in reality built and planned: +the hiding-holes there were no after-thoughts. +Boscobel was then "an obscure habitation in a +wilderness of woods," and was ostensibly merely a +hunting-box. After resting there a few days the +king became uneasy, for it had become known to +the Parliamentarians that he had escaped into +Shropshire, and troops of soldiers were scouring the +country all around in search of him. So Charles +determined to endeavour to make his way into +Wales, but before starting forth he had himself +disguised by having his locks cut off, his face and +hands stained with walnut juice, and then to complete +the disguise he donned a woodman's attire +belonging to one of the Penderels, and he consented +to be known as Will Jones. Thus disguised, one +stormy night the king, with the faithful Richard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +Penderel for a guide, tramped to Madeley close to +the Severn, trusting to find shelter there either at +Madeley Court, the home of that staunch Royalist, +Sir Basil Brooke, and personal friend of Giffard's, +or at another house on the hill above, the abode +of William Woolf, a yeoman and an honest man +well known to Giffard, both houses having the +conveniences of hiding-holes. The king deemed +it prudent to go first to Woolf's house, as being a +comparatively small one and that of a simple yeoman; +he thought it less likely to be suspected or searched +than Madeley Court, especially as Sir Basil Brooke +was known to favour the Royalists, and he had +many servants, some of whom might prove curious +and become suspicious. A thousand pounds was +the price for betraying the king, and death the +penalty for harbouring him.</p> + +<p>So late that night the faithful Penderel went +alone to Woolf's house, and rousing its owner +inquired of him if he would be willing to give +shelter for the night to a gentleman of quality. +Mr. Woolf said he would gladly do so, but it was +impossible, he was a suspect; his son had lately +been arrested and put in prison; moreover his house +had been searched, all his hiding-holes discovered, +so they were useless, and his house might at any +moment be searched again. Then Penderel confided +to him that he for whom he sought shelter +was no less a personage than the king himself. +Hearing this Woolf exclaimed, "I would the king +had come anywhere than here, for soldiers are all +round about and are watching the Severn in case +any fugitives should escape that way. Now that I +know who it is that desires shelter I would risk +my life to do that service, but it is not safe for the +king to be here." Whereupon Penderel explained +that the king was tired out and famished and knew +not where to go. After this the two consulted as to +what was best to be done, and it was arranged that +the king should hide himself in one of the barns +amongst the straw. Woolf saw to this and brought +the king out refreshments, and there the king with +Penderel lay hiding that night and the whole of +the next day. Finding it would be folly to attempt +to cross the closely guarded Severn, they walked +back to Boscobel on the following night.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-308.jpg" width="400" height="525" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">MADELEY COURT, GATEHOUSE.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">But to return to Madeley Court, this fine old +house, now going, alas! to decay, being converted +into miners' abodes and left to their tender care, +still retains some semblance of its former stateliness. +It is approached by a fine gate-house flanked by two +octagonal and roofed towers, of which I give an +illustration; beyond the gate-house the many-gabled +building stands, and with its big chimneys +presents an effective and picturesque outline against +the sky. It is the very ideal of a haunted house, +but now that it is divided into miners' tenements I +can hardly imagine that any self-respecting ghost +would remain in such quarters; even ghosts may +have their feelings. Madeley Court possesses the +abiding charm of antiquity. An ancient time-worn +home like this that has made its history, what a wide +gulf separates it from a modern building that has no +story to tell, even though the modern building be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +beautiful in itself, which it seldom is. I believe it +was Ruskin who said he could not live in a land that +had no old castles, and I should like to add ancient +houses of the eventful and picturesque Elizabethan +or Jacobean era. Castles have their lure to lovers +of the past, though they beat the big drum too +loudly for my fancy; give me rather a grey-gabled, +rambling, old moated house, remote in the country +and away from other human habitations, pregnant +with traditions that have gathered round it; and if I +fail to unearth those traditions, I am quite capable +of inventing some for myself suitable to the place, +and to my liking.</p> + +<p>Some years ago during my road wanderings I +came, in Worcestershire, upon the decayed but +delightfully picturesque moated hall of Huddington +Court, standing, isolated and with a sadly forlorn +look, in a desolate district, far removed from the +beaten track. Of its history, at the time, I could +glean nothing, but that it had some story to tell I +felt convinced; there was a certain subtle something +about the place, actual enough to me but indefinable, +that suggested old-time romance. I could not get +away from that feeling; I had it with me for days +long after. Now in a previous book I described +the old place and the glamour it cast over me, and +this brought me from a reader of my book and a +direct descendant of its former owner a long and +most interesting letter giving a graphic account of +certain stirring events connected with it, and I take +the liberty of here quoting a portion of this letter +as showing the share in history, often forgotten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +history, which many an old house inherits. This, then, +is the story of the ancient home as given to me:—</p> + +<p>"Huddington Court, with its moat, its priest-holes, +was the ancestral home of the Winters, and +has played a notable part in many a stirring scene +intimately connected with some of the most romantic +and fascinating pages of English history. It was at +Huddington Court that the famous Gunpowder Plot +was in part hatched, Robert Winter (or Wintour, +or again Wyntour), the then owner of the Court, +being one of the chief conspirators with Thomas, +his redoubtable brother. It was at that top window, +under the great gable, shown in your excellent +photograph, that Lady Mary Winter stood to watch +the horseman who should bring her news as to the +success, or failure, of the Plot. The prearranged +signal was a raised hand (in case of success), and it +is an easy matter to picture her look of eagerness +and poignant inquiry as she caught a glimpse of the +mounted messenger coming down the very road +where in all probability you left your car whilst +inspecting the Court. As the horseman drew near, +what, think you, must have been her feelings when +with bowed head he clattered onwards without a +sign? There was no necessity for a spoken word; +she knew only too well that the Plot had failed, and +that the consequences must be swift and terrible. +So in truth they were.</p> + +<p>"Riding like fiends before the breath of destruction +the conspirators fled into the night, and from +London and elsewhere converged, one and all, upon +the Court House of Huddington. The day after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +discovery of the Plot they were all assembled there, +and received absolution at the hands of a priest who +had journeyed post-haste from Coughton Court, +another historic old home in the neighbourhood. +Under the shadow of the Court, just across the +moat, you will remember the little church into which +you failed to obtain entrance; there it was that the +conspirators met in those last solemn rites of the +church. Then as a last desperate effort they rode +forth to raise the countryside. They visited Hewell +Grange, and failing to enlist the sympathy, or assistance, +of the then Lord Windsor or his followers, +they turned to and sacked the place, carrying away +with them arms and ammunition from its well-stored +armoury. By this time the forces of armed justice +were close upon their heels, and their plight was +desperate indeed. Fate played into the hands of +their pursuers, and they found themselves 'hoist +with their own petard,' for crossing the Stour (then +in flood) the bags of gunpowder attached to their +saddles became wet. They presently dismounted +and carried them into an inn so that they might dry +before the open fire. During the risky operation +a spark flew out from the fire and blew the majority +of the conspirators to atoms. Leaving the injured +to their own devices, the remaining portion of the +band clambered again into the saddle and made off +in every direction. Thomas Winter, with several +other desperate companions, turned to bay in a house +near by, where a hand-to-hand fight ensued of a +most sanguinary character. Thomas, whose sword +must have done deadly service for a time, for he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +was a noted swordsman, only succumbed after being +grievously wounded in the stomach by a pike, and +was taken prisoner. Robert Winter escaped to the +house of a friend and lay in hiding for several weeks, +only to be eventually discovered and captured. +Both Thomas and Robert suffered death upon the +gallows in London for their share in the Plot, and +John Winter, a half-brother, was executed at +Worcester. No wonder an air of desolation and +the mystery of an untold sorrow still seems to hang +about the place; it would be strange if it were +not so."</p> + +<p>Such is the tragedy connected with Huddington +Court. Most old houses have some story to tell, at +least most old houses of former importance seem to be +haunted by the memory of some interesting episode +in which they have had their part. Sooner or later, +as in the case of Huddington Court, their story will +out. The spirit of place calmly awaits discovery. +One old house that took my fancy the first time I +saw it I afterwards found was connected with quite +a romantic incident that reminded me of Dorothy +Vernon's famous exploit. Early in the eighteenth +century it appears that the daughter of the house +clandestinely eloped with her lover, letting herself +down from her chamber by the aid of two sheets +tied together, just before sunrise one morning. +Reaching the garden below safely and unobserved +she met the man of her choice, who was quietly +waiting near by with two saddle-horses, one for him +and one for her, when the pair galloped off to a +distant church, where all was arranged for their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +wedding. This is a true story and no invented +legend, and the very sheets are still kept by the +family as heirlooms.</p> + +<p>Writing of old houses, here is an account of a +curious discovery made in one that I transcribe +verbatim from my morning paper of July 10, 1912: +"Whilst repairing the fireplace and chimney at the +Feerm Farm, near Mold, workmen have discovered +a revolving stone, which on being moved revealed +a secret chamber. The house was built in the early +part of the sixteenth century and was once a manor-house. +In the chamber was antique oak furniture, +including a table on which lay old firearms, household +utensils, and the remains, reduced to dust, of a +repast. It is surmised that the room was used as a +hiding-place by Royalist fugitives during the Civil +War in the reign of Charles I., and that since then +it had remained undisturbed." Still a stranger +discovery, and a most tragic one, relating to an +old house in England is recorded by Mrs. Hugh +Fraser in <i>A Diplomatist's Wife in Many Lands</i>, and +this is her account of it: "The owners of a certain +old house, having inherited it from another branch +of the family, decided to clear away a crowded +shrubbery that almost covered one side." Upon +the shrubbery being cut down, we learn, "it became +evident that a part of the building ran out farther +into them than any one had noticed. Measurements +were taken and proved that a room existed to which +there was no entrance from within; this was finally +effected by breaking down a bricked-up window, +and then the long-excluded daylight showed a bedroom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +of the eighteenth century, in wild confusion, +garments thrown on the floor, and chairs overturned +as if in a struggle. On the mouldering bed lay the +skeleton of a woman, still tricked out in satin and +lace, with a dagger sticking between the ribs. +Under the bed was another skeleton, that of a man, +who seemed from the twisted limbs and unnatural +position to have died hard. No clue had been +obtained to the story."</p> + +<p>After this who shall say that old houses have +not their romances, recorded or unrecorded? Mrs. +Fraser's account of a hidden chamber and of skeletons +found therein is not the only one of the grim kind +that has come to my notice. A book indeed would +be needful to tell all the strange and, I believe, +truthful tales about old houses in remote spots that +I have gathered during many years of road wandering. +Boscobel, like many another house of its kind, +might never have become famed or known to the +outer world but for the chance sojourn there of the +hunted king.</p> + +<p>I have been digressing: it was the sight of that +ghostly-looking old house of Madeley Court with +its haunting charm of suggested romance that set +my thoughts and my pen a-wandering thus. To +return to Madeley Court, its walled-in pleasure +garden is now but a pathless, grass- and weed-grown +space—a play-ground for pigs when I was there. +When I opened the gate to peep into it, a miner's +wife bade me be careful not to let the pigs out. +"Them's our pigs," she exclaimed. Lucky miners +to live in a stately, if dilapidated, old hall and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +keep pigs galore, and yet to go on strike, as they +had lately done, though as the honest old miner +I met, as already mentioned, frankly confessed, +"we hereabouts has nothing to complain of." As a +mere onlooker it appeared to me that these miners +felt the need of a trade union to protect their +interests, yet were themselves half afraid of the +power they had set up over them. One thing +remains in the neglected spot that once was, I +presume, a garden trim and gay with flowers, and +that is a large and remarkable sun-dial or planetarium. +This consists of a great square block of stone raised +on four stout pillars above some steps; on the four +sides of the stone are large cup-like recesses that +formerly contained the dials; these, I was informed, +not only showed the time, but also the daily or +nightly position of the moon and the planets. How +they could do all this passes my comprehension; +the position of the moon I might possibly grant, +but that of the various planets that change positions +every twenty-four hours is "a big order."</p> + +<p>Had only Madeley Court been a little cared for +and in pleasanter surroundings, it would have been +one of the most picturesque homes imaginable. +But the country about being blest with coal beneath +is, by the getting of it, curst with ugliness above. +I left Madeley by a rough lane that threaded its +way through a hilly country and past many collieries, +but in time I escaped the spoilt scenery, where both +the buildings and the land looked sombre and sad, +and reached a fairer country, though for some distance +the atmosphere was dull and grey with the drifting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +smoke from the chimneys of the mines. Then as +the evening came on I found myself in the little +town of Shifnal, where I discovered a decent inn, and +that, to me, was the chief attraction of the place.</p> + +<p>That night I consulted my map to hunt up the +position of Boscobel, for I was minded to see that +historic and ancient house next day, and the study +of my map revealed the fact that Lilleshall's ruined +abbey and the remains of White Ladies Nunnery +were not far off, so I determined to make a round +of it and see them on my way, and a pleasant cross-country +expedition, mostly over winding lanes, it +promised to be. I had heard of Lilleshall Abbey +but not of White Ladies Nunnery that I found +marked plainly on my map, at a spot apparently +remote and not far from Boscobel.</p> + +<p>From Shifnal I went to Sheriff Hales, a small +village of no interest, but it was a convenient point +to make for first on the complicated way to Lilleshall. +Somehow, though I used my eyes and consulted my +map, I managed to successfully miss the abbey, +notwithstanding the fact that it stood close to the +road I was on; but so screened by trees were the +ruins that I passed them unawares, and soon found +myself a little beyond them in the village of Lilleshall, +where there is nothing notable to see unless it be a +tall obelisk that crowns the hill above. This obelisk, +erected to the memory of a former Duke of Sutherland, +is a prominent landmark for miles around, and +from the hill-top is a grand panoramic prospect +over a goodly country, a prospect that well repays +the easy climb.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>The church of Lilleshall is uninteresting; the +only thing that attracted my attention in it was a +monument in the chancel with the recumbent effigy +of a stately dame on it, her head bound round with +a fresh linen bandage. It appears that the nose of +the figure had been broken off, and had been +replaced and cemented on again, and that the +bandage was there to hold the nose in position until +the cement hardened. But in the church's gloom +the freshly bandaged head gave the effigy a curious +look, as though it were alive and suffering severely +from toothache!</p> + +<p>At Lilleshall there still exists an ancient pond of +considerable size, the water from which once drove +the abbey mill, and the course of the mill-race may +still be traced. From near this pond I found a +footpath over the fields that led to the abbey ruins, +and half-way to them I came to a little lonely railed-in +well, known of old as "Our Lady's Well."</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Above the well a little nook<br /> +Once held, as rustics tell,</p> +<p class="pp3">All garland-decked, an image of<br /> +The Lady of the Well.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Nowadays it is known as "The Wishing Well," +and it is said that whoever drops a pin in it and +wishes, his or her wish will be fulfilled. Having +no pin with me I was unable to test the efficacy of +the well; but this I can say, that I know a certain +"Wishing Gate" in the Lake District, much +esteemed for its virtues, where all you have to +do is to lean against the gate and wish; now +when I was much younger I leant against it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +the company of one and wished, and my wish was +realised.</p> + +<p>Approaching the abbey ruins by the footpath, +they made an effective and pathetic picture lightened +and warmed by the soft sunshine, with the green +woods behind them, the ruins so old and wan, and +the woods so freshly green. The chief feature of +the abbey is its bold and beautiful late Norman +west doorway, and from this wide portal the whole +of the church can be seen at a glance, so that one +can judge the extent of it, and a glorious and +stately fane it must have been when the last abbot +in 1538 meekly handed it over to the minions of +Henry VIII., "with all its manors, lordships, +messuages, gardens, meadows, feedings, pastures, +woods, lands, and tenements." A rare and rich +morsel for that greedy monarch.</p> + +<p>Lilleshall Abbey has been picturesquely ruined, +yet I wish it had been a little less ruined, for one +misses the graceful tracery that once adorned its +now vacant windows; it is the tracery of their +windows that gives such an added charm to Tintern +and Melrose. The abbey was fortified and held +for the king in the Civil Wars, and was bombarded +by Cromwell's merciless cannon-balls; afterwards it +was utilised as a ready-made stone quarry, so that +one wonders, and is thankful, that so much of it +remains. Past the abbey's walls runs a little +slothful stream with scarcely a murmur, a stream +now weed-grown and overhung by trees, and very +pleasant it was to ramble by its cool and shady side +with the grey ruins on one hand and the tangled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +woods on the other; the quiet wind just whispering +as it passed by, it might be, the secrets of the past. +I had the abbey to myself; not a soul did I see; not +a sound did I hear but the hardly audible lisp of the +stream, and the subdued rustle of the wind-stirred +leaves. The spell of peace was there. I fancy the +abbey is little visited, for, like Haughmond, it lies +out of the track of tourist travel, and there is no +inn or railway within miles of it as far as I can +remember; now the tourist demands an inn and +refreshment in near proximity to the places he +haunts. To get beyond railways and inns, that is +the thing for the peace-loving traveller. The motor-car +he must suffer, but the average motorist loves +the highway; on the Shropshire byways I met +scarcely one.</p> + +<p>From the abbey I started forth to discover +White Ladies Nunnery and Boscobel. Eventually +I discovered both, but so out of the world are they +that I had much difficulty in making their discovery. +Signposts were useless, for not one directed me to +either place. First I went to Tong, as the road to +that village is fairly clear to follow, and it appeared +to be on my way; moreover I had been told of a +wonderful old church at Tong, so full of stately +monuments that it is locally known as the "Westminster +Abbey of Shropshire," and is sometimes +termed the "Church of the Dead"; also it has +gained the title of the "Minster of the Midlands." +Quite a choice of names.</p> + +<p>Just before Tong I observed an Arabian Nights +sort of a building, a freak in architecture standing +desolate in a large neglected park. The house, with +its Oriental domes, looked strangely un-English and +out of place in the landscape. It might have been +bodily conveyed from the East and boldly set down +there. I even rubbed my eyes to be quite sure that +I saw aright. This I found to be Tong Castle, +though anything more unlike a castle I could not +imagine; but I learnt that a castle once stood on +the spot, and there was a big board put up in the +park that told its story, for boldly painted on it was +"Tong Castle. For Sale."<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-321.jpg" width="400" height="240" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">LILLESHALL ABBEY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">At Tong I pulled up at the church to find that +the door of it was locked, so I went to hunt for the +clerk; fortunately I found him at home close by, +and at my service. It does not always happen so, +for at different times I have spent many an hour +clerk-hunting, and failed to run down my quarry. +It is the most uncertain of sports. It seems passing +strange to me how in a small village this minor +official occasionally entirely disappears, and no one +can tell you where he is, not even the publican; on +the other hand, so contrary do things arrange themselves +that frequently, when you stop in a village +for any purpose, the clerk ferrets you out at once +and almost insists on showing you the church +whether you desire to see it or no. On a former +tour, coming to a small country town in the Eastern +Counties where I had been told the church contained +a very curious and interesting old tomb, unique of +its kind in the kingdom, I spent one whole hour +clerk-hunting. Nobody appeared to have seen the +clerk that morning, and nobody could tell me where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +he was. The last person of whom I made inquiries +was an old woman standing by her house door. +Neither did she know, but she had seen him yesterday, +which was not very helpful. Then, perhaps +noticing my look of disappointment, she suddenly +exclaimed, "I be sorry you can't find the church +clerk; but I've the key of the Methodist chapel, if +you would like to see over that"!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">A wonderful collection of tombs—A tombstone inscription by Shakespeare—A +leper's door—Relics—Manufacturing the antique—Curiosity +shops—The Golden Chapel—"The Great Bell of +Tong"—White Ladies Nunnery—The grave of Dame Joan—Boscobel +and its story—A tradition about the "Royal Oak."</p> + +<p class="pn p2">Externally Tong church strikes the rare and +happy note of individuality; however beautiful our +country churches may be, those in the same county +of the same period are but too apt to repeat familiar +forms; there is no freshness about them to attract. +Now Tong church is an original conception, original +without being strange, and it possesses the excellent +and pleasing merit of good proportion. Its central +tower is octagonal, rising from a square base, with the +four corners of its base tapering off to the octagonal +above; the tower is crowned by a graceful steeple +with spire lights, which spire lights "are perhaps +nearly unique." The roof of the church has manifestly +been purposely kept low, the better to reveal +its embattled parapets and pinnacles. Thought is +apparent everywhere in its design. It is a cathedral +in miniature, and a beautiful miniature too. At the +west end of the building stand the crumbling arches +of its former college, and in the churchyard is a +cross that marks the plot of ground set apart for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +burial of unbaptized children, to me a fresh feature +of a churchyard.</p> + +<p>The interior of the church, with its many truly +magnificent altar-tombs, proved vastly more noteworthy +and interesting than I expected; the clerk, +too, was both interesting and well-informed, and +evidently took a pride in the building. He did not +go round conveying information in a parrot-like and +irritating fashion as some clerks do, as though repeating +guidebook-gathered information learnt by +heart, and glad to get it done. The tombs are all +exceedingly beautiful and well-preserved; they have +happily survived the Puritan's rage and the church-wardens' +era undamaged. The effigies on them of +the noble lords and brave knights of old provide an +object-lesson as to the wearing and to the details +of ancient armour; those of their ladies reveal the +elaborate dresses worn in days of yore, and the +changing fashions of head-gear, all so faithfully rendered +one could almost reconstruct the armour and +renew the dresses from the sculptured stone. The +oldest tomb (for they were all pointed out to me in +due chronological order) is that of Sir Fulke de +Pembruge (who is represented in chain armour of +the period of the Crusades), with Dame Elizabeth +his wife by his side; though the clerk said "some +antiquaries who have examined the tomb have +thrown a doubt as to whether the effigy of the lady +is really that of the knight's wife, from the fact that +the base of the tomb below her effigy has undergone +alteration and is not quite in keeping with the other +part. It has even been suggested that possibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +the effigy may have been removed from elsewhere +and placed there for convenience, in careless past +days." In truth, to do such a monstrous thing would +have needed very careless days indeed. Still, in +times past stranger things were done in the name +and under the cloak of church restoration. I learnt +that Sir Fulke predeceased his wife some years, and +I formed a theory, satisfactory at any rate to myself, +that quite possibly this Sir Fulke de Pembruge had +first been buried beneath a single altar-tomb, and +that some years later his wife might have been laid +by his side, and this would account for the slight +difference in the details of this under portion of the +tomb, which has manifestly been added at a little +later period. Quite a plausible explanation it seems +to me; then wherefore seek for a more improbable +one?</p> + +<p>There were several other stately tombs to various +members of the Vernon family, who owned not only +the Castle of Tong, but also Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, +hallowed now by the story of Dorothy Vernon. +Each mail-clad image of the noble house,</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +With sword and crested head,<br /> +Sleeps proudly in the purple gloom<br /> +By the stained window shed.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Sir Henry Vernon, who died in 1515, the founder +of the Golden Chapel and the donor of the Great +Bell of Tong, has a very elaborate tomb adjoining +the chapel; both his effigy and that of his wife are +coloured. But the most magnificent monument of +all is that of Sir Thomas Stanley, who, by the long +inscription on it, we learn, "married Margaret Vernon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +one of the daughters and cohairs of Sir George +Vernon of Haddon in the Covntie of Derbie, knighte." +His wife's effigy lies beside his. This tomb is of +considerable interest because a verse attached to it, +the clerk informed me, is said to have been written +by Shakespeare. Sir William Dugdale, the antiquary +(born 1605, deceased 1686)—I note how long lived +antiquaries often are—declares positively that it was +written by Shakespeare and by no one else. Now +Sir William Dugdale is no mean authority. This is +the verse:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Not monumentall stone preserves our fame,<br /> +Nor sky aspyring piramids our name.<br /> +The memory of him for whom this stands<br /> +Shall outlive marble and defacers' hands.<br /> +When all to Tyme's consumption shall be geaven,<br /> +Stanley, for whom this stands, shall stand in Heaven.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">In spite of Sir William Dugdale's assertion, most +people are of opinion that this verse is not of sufficient +merit to warrant Shakespeare's authorship; still, +to me at least, it appears equal to the well-known +and much-quoted epitaph that the poet composed +for himself, which is inscribed over his grave in +Stratford-on-Avon church. Truly there is the difficulty +of dates to be considered. Now when Sir +Thomas Stanley died Shakespeare was but twelve +years old; however, as frequently was the case, +the monument might not have been erected until +some few years after Sir Thomas Stanley's death, +and again the verse may not have been written then. +It may be that the verse, which is apart from the +inscription, was an after-thought, placed there at a +little later time. Therefore, as far as dates are concerned, +there is nothing impossible in Shakespeare +having composed the verse when a young man. +Here is a promising matter for antiquaries to dispute +about!<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-330a.jpg" width="400" height="413" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">FIGURE OF SIR ARTHUR VERNON, TONG CHURCH.</p> +</div></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-330b.jpg" width="400" height="302" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">BOSCOBEL.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Next the clerk called my attention to the fine old +fifteenth-century stained glass of the west window, +found some years back under the floor of the church, +presumably placed there for safety from the Puritan +fanatics. Also he pointed out the boldly carved +royal coat-of-arms set up against the north wall of +the church "to celebrate the capture of Napoleon +Bounaparte." Then he showed me the old Collegiate +Choir stalls, on one of the panels of which +is a very curious and cunningly conceived carving +representing the Annunciation; at the base of the +panel is shown a vase with lilies growing from it, +and these are so contrived to subtly suggest the +Crucifixion where the flowers expand. A quaint and +poetic conception cleverly carried out. "A carving +quite unique," the clerk told me; certainly I had +seen nothing like it before. I wonder how the +medieval carver got his inspiration?</p> + +<p>Next we inspected the Golden, or the Vernon +Chapel, built in 1510, a copy on a smaller scale +of the Henry VII. Chapel in Westminster Abbey. +The fan-vaulted roofing of this is very fine, and +both the roof and walls still plainly show traces of +gilt and colouring. In a niche in the west wall and +under a richly carved canopy is the figure of Sir +Arthur Vernon represented as preaching, this Sir +Arthur Vernon being "a priest of the College."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +During the restoration of the church his brass was +discovered beneath the floor of the chapel, though +why it should have been floored over I cannot +imagine; now it has been recovered and exposed for +all men to read who know the Latin tongue. The +original altar stone (of rough sandstone with five +crosses on it) has also been recovered from the +floor, and has been returned to its former rightful +position, suitably elevated, at the east end of the +chapel, and above it is a faded fresco of the Crucifixion. +On the south wall is also a quaint brass to +Ralph Elcock—Cellarer of the College.</p> + +<p>Next we went to the vestry, and I noticed that +the door entering to it had three large round holes +in the top. According to the clerk this door was +originally an outer one and known as the lepers' +door, the holes being for the use of lepers to observe +the service from the churchyard. I have come upon +lepers' or low-side windows galore, but never upon +a so-called lepers' door before. As, for reasons +already given, I do not believe in lepers' windows, +it naturally follows I could not agree with the clerk +that this was ever a lepers' door. More probably, +I thought that the holes were merely made in the +door to afford an outlook from the vestry into the +church, but that explanation was too simple to +satisfy the clerk, it robbed the door of its romance. +In the vestry is preserved a library of rare old +tomes, also a richly embroidered ecclesiastical vestment +said to have been worked by the nuns of +White Ladies. Amongst the treasures of the +church is a tall and richly chased silver-gilt and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +crystal cup, given by Lady Eleanor Harries in 1625, +but the cup itself is of very much older date and is +probably of foreign craftsmanship. What was the +original purpose of this I cannot say; possibly it was +a monstrance—it could hardly have been intended +for a Communion cup.</p> + +<p>Since I was at Tong I have heard that an +American collector had offered a large sum for +this cup, £800 I think I was told. I am glad to +say that the church authorities forbade its sale. +"England," as Nathaniel Hawthorne once said, "is +one vast museum," but even the vastest museum, +if continually deprived of its treasures, must become +depleted in time. As I travel on I am continually +hearing of art treasures, of ancient furniture, of fine +oak panelling, ruthlessly removed from old houses, +of old family pictures and portraits, old pewter, old +fireplaces, old everything, having been purchased by +Americans, millionaire or otherwise, and conveyed +across the Atlantic; how far true I cannot say, but +I have also heard that there are sundry manufactories +abroad and at home of sham antiques, of +old masters, old pottery, "Toby Jugs" in particular, +and furniture, kept busily employed for the benefit +chiefly of Americans. Of late I was informed that +Shakespearian relics are booming, and those of +Charles I. run a close second, and the trade is a +profitable one, for the prices of these "rare" articles +are high, or they would not be considered genuine. +Perhaps this explains where all the old furniture +comes from, and the store of ancient things one +finds, now that motorists scour the land, displayed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +conveniently to catch the eye of the passer-by in +countless village curiosity shops; also the growth of +these shops, and why their stores never grow less. +A short time ago it came to my knowledge that +a lady consulted an authority on old china as to the +genuineness of a dessert service she had purchased +on the understanding that it had "been in one +family for over two centuries," whereupon the lady +made the unwelcome discovery that the factory in +which it was produced only opened in 1850!</p> + +<p>Old worm-eaten oak from old houses pulled +down and from old churches being restored is utilised +in making careful copies of ancient Elizabethan and +Jacobean furniture, so the wood of these is old +enough and genuinely worm-eaten. I recently +visited a village, through which motorists frequently +pass, where there is a large curiosity shop literally +crammed with "genuine" ancient furniture mostly +made yesterday, but the copies I saw were so good +and had such a look of ancientness as to deceive +many an innocent purchaser. Two "monks' tables" +were on sale there, suits and bits of rusty and +knightly armour, made I fancy, in spite of the easily +obtained rust, not more than a dozen years or so +ago in Germany, where they do the thing very well, +old sun-dials, old dressers, Elizabethan chairs, early +water-clocks and bracket clocks of the Cromwell +era, and I know not what else; all most cleverly reproduced +even to the signs of wear—done by a wire +brush, I believe—and the cutting of initials and dates +of centuries past on tables and chairs. A gentleman +who had been to Japan told me that he discovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +a craftsman there who was most clever in reproducing +old brass Cromwell clocks, works and all, even +to the English makers' names and ancient dates +upon them; these were sent over to England, and +he showed me one that he had purchased, and so +skilfully was the original imitated, even to the presumed +wear of the works, that I was astounded at +the cleverness of the fraud.</p> + +<p>But to return to the vestry of Tong church, said +the clerk to me, "Have you heard of the Great +Bell of Tong?" I had not till he mentioned it. I +waited for him to tell its story that I knew was +coming. I have forgotten how much he declared it +weighed, but I believe it was considerably over two +tons. "It takes three men to start it," he went on, +"but when once started one man can keep it going. +It was presented to the church in 1518 by Sir +Henry Vernon. It is only rung on Christmas Day, +Easter Day, Whit-Sunday, and St. Bartholomew's +Day, on the birth of a child to the Sovereign and +an heir to the Prince of Wales, or when the head of +the Vernon family visits Tong."</p> + +<p>Dickens confessed that it was to Tong church +that he brought Little Nell with the schoolmaster +in the <i>Old Curiosity Shop</i>, and this is how he +describes it: "It was a very aged, ghostly place; +the church had been built many hundred years ago, +and once had a convent or a monastery attached," +referring doubtless to the decayed College, "for +arches in ruins, remains of oriel windows, and fragments +of blackened walls, were yet standing; while +other portions of the old buildings, which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +crumbled away and fallen down, were mingled with +the churchyard earth and overgrown with grass, as +though they too claimed a burial-place, and sought +to mix their ashes with the dust of men."</p> + +<p>Leaving Tong I got amongst narrow winding +lanes in my search after White Ladies, and a rare +difficulty I had in discovering that remote spot. +"It's not a good country for strangers to find their +way about in," exclaimed one old body of whom I +asked direction, and I quite agreed with her, it was +not. I kept on asking for White Ladies of any one +I saw, but the lanes were very deserted and I met +few people on them, and their answers to my queries +were none too clear. Indeed they reminded me in +indirectness of a reply that a Shropshire gentleman +assured me he once received from a villager. He +was asking the villager how long her father had been +dead, and she said quite calmly, "If he had lived +till to-morrow he would have been dead a week." +Country folk, for some inexplicable reason, never +seem capable of giving a plain answer to the simplest +question. They appear to love to go round it, perhaps +because they like to talk. After all I really think +I should have missed White Ladies, for it is hidden +from the road and only reached by an ill-defined +footpath through a wood and then over a field, had +I not been bold enough to call at a farmhouse where +I received clear instructions how to find the ruins. +Fortunately they were not very far off, "only +about a mile farther on," so I could not well go +astray, for I had only to follow the lane till I +came to "a little wicket at the corner of the wood."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +I was glad of it, for I felt weary of wandering without +arriving anywhere.</p> + +<p>What is left of White Ladies Nunnery consists +almost wholly of its despoiled Norman church, if +church be not too dignified a term for so small a +building, roofed now only by the sky and paved with +rough and tangled grasses, the foot of its walls being +fringed with flourishing weeds. There are few +architectural features of note about the building +except its ornamented north doorway and its rounded +Norman windows, the carving of this doorway being +little the worse for the weathering of centuries. The +ruins stand silent and solitary in a large meadow, +and around the meadow stretch deep woods for far +away, and beyond the woods are distant hills, that +day faintly outlined in palest blue against the sky; +these woods are the relics of the once famous forest +of Brewood. It is a lonely spot to-day, and must +always have been a lonely one; its only approach is +by a lane, and then over the quiet fields. There +solitude dwells. Close to the ruins once stood the +old half-timber hall of the Giffards (an old print I +have seen represents this as it was in 1660—a low, +rambling, and most picturesque building surrounded +by walls, and with a quaint gabled gate-house in +front), of which now not a vestige remains. Thither +came Charles II., fleeing in hot haste from the fatal +battle of Worcester—fatal to the Royal cause at least, +for Cromwell called it his "crowning mercy." It is +always so, to the victor the battle is a triumph, the +God of Hosts is with him. Is it not recorded that +Cromwell once exclaimed to his troopers whilst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +crossing a river, "Trust in God," followed quickly +by "but keep your powder dry"?</p> + +<p>Within the ruined walls of the convent church +are many ancient tombstones, for it was long a +burial-place of Roman Catholic families. The oldest +of these doubtless dates from pre-Reformation days, +possibly being those of some important ecclesiastic, +for it is adorned with foliated crosses beautifully +carved, though without inscription as far as I could +discover. But, to me, the most interesting tombstone +of all bore no ornamentation but was briefly +inscribed:</p> + +<p class="pp7 p1"> +Here lieth the bodie of a<br /> +Friend the King did call<br /> +Dame Joane but now shee<br /> +Is deceased and gone.<br /> +Interred Anno Do. 1669.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">There Dame Penderel lies.</p> + +<p>Boscobel was not far away; I simply followed the +lane trustingly, and soon I beheld the great chimney +and roof-trees of that ancient and historic house +peeping through the trees. I came upon it suddenly +and unawares. I was prepared to be disappointed +with Boscobel; I always am prepared to be disappointed +with historic places, for one gets so worked +up with enthusiastic descriptions of them that but +too often the reality leaves one cold and disenchanted, +for who can romance to order? Where historic +events have happened, I demand, perhaps unreasonably, +a fitting background. The romantic incident +of the stay and concealment of Charles II. at Boscobel +calls for a picturesque setting, and there I +found it. Boscobel is still, as of old, remote amongst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +the woods, and suits the story to perfection. Though +externally the house has lost somewhat of the patina +of age by renovation, yet it impressed me. Had I +come upon it unknowingly the very aspect of it with +its old-fashioned garden and quaint summer-house +would have caused me to stop, for it had that indefinable +thing—a look of romance. Never yet have I +come upon a house with that special look that has +not earned it. A man writes his character on his +face; so does an old house.</p> + +<p>I did not know whether this storied home would +be shown to strangers, but there I found a soft-spoken +dame of dignified manner, who not only showed me +over it, but told me its tale again so well and so +freshly that in its old-world and pleasant panelled +chambers the present seemed almost a dream and +the past a reality. So strong was the influence of +the place upon me that I almost expected to see the +faithful Dame Joan appear approaching along one +of the dusky passages, or even the hunted king himself. +If ever a house were haunted by past presences, +that house is Boscobel. I even thought it remotely +possible that the grey-haired dame who showed me +the place might be a descendant of the Penderels. +I confess I had a longing to ask her if she were not +of the good old stock, and should have done this +but from fear of being disillusioned; but whether +she were or no, for the sentiment of the thing, so I +pleased to fancy her. Indeed I thought I traced a +resemblance in her features to those of faithful Dame +Joan Penderel, whose painted portrait I saw hanging +on the wall of the ancient oratory, possibly because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +I looked for it, and you often see what you look for. +There can be no mistake about this portrait, for on +it the artist has inscribed, as was the custom of the +time, both her name and a date, thus: "Dame +Penderel—Anno Dom. 1662," though her age at +the time he has not recorded as was usual. Full of +quiet character and motherly kindness is the face, a +pleasure to look upon. Great is the contrast of this +portrait with those of Charles II. and Cromwell +(apparently excellent likenesses) hanging in the +dining-room, for the king's features reveal a weak +and pleasure-loving nature, whilst those of Cromwell +are determined and austere.</p> + +<p>It was a happy time I spent at Boscobel, and I +was fortunate to see it alone. I learnt from my +guide that the house was built in 1540, so that it +was over a century old when the king sought refuge +there, and I further learnt that the name Boscobel +originated from a suggestion made to John Giffard, +its builder, by his friend Sir Basil Brooke, of +Madeley Court, who had recently returned from +Italy; and his suggestion was that the house, being +seated in the heart of a forest, should be called +Boscobel, from the Italian words <i>bosco bello</i>, meaning +fair woods; so it was named. Passing through the +hall I was shown first the fine oak-panelled dining-room, +where is still preserved the very table that +was used by the king. Much as it was then is the +room to-day. On its walls hangs a copy of the +Proclamation issued by the Parliament at the very +time Charles II. was hiding there, offering a reward +of £1000 for the discovery of the king, also declaring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +that it was death without mercy for concealing +him. It speaks well for the Penderel brothers, all +poor men "of honest parentage but of mean degree" +to whom a thousand pounds would have been a +fortune, that even when closely questioned by the +troopers when searching the house and woods around, +each one in turn pleaded ignorance of the king's +whereabouts, rejecting the proffered reward and +risking death rather than betray their sovereign.</p> + +<p>Opening out of one of the panelled sleeping +chambers in the upper part of the house is a small +closet; a cunningly concealed trap-door in the floor +of this gives access to a small hiding-hole, and from +this hiding-hole is a secret stairway (or rather was, +for it is closed up now) contrived in part of the big +chimney-stack; this stairway led down to a concealed +door at the foot of the chimney and so out into the +garden, forming a way of escape from the hiding-hole +should it be discovered. It was down this +stairway that Charles II. made his escape into the +woods when one of the brothers Penderel (four of +whom were keeping constant and tireless watch on +the roads around) gave the alarm that soldiers were +approaching, and it was deemed safer for the king +to hide in the woods than to remain in the house. +So selecting a thick-leaved oak, some distance off, +with a tall straight trunk that no one could imagine +that a man could climb, Charles II. mounted into +its upper branches by means of a ladder carried +there by the faithful Richard Penderel, who hurriedly +carried it back to an outhouse before the soldiers +arrived. In connection with the familiar story of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +the king's hiding in this oak my guide related to +me an incident that I had not heard before. It +appears that the king took with him into the tree +two pigeons in a bag, as had been arranged he +should, and that when the soldiers rode past below, +he released these pigeons as though the soldiers had +disturbed them, this to show that no one could be +concealed there. The story of the pigeons is told +in a quaint carving on the top of an old oak box +that is kept in one of the rooms of the house, and +is so far confirmed. The carving gives a bold +representation of the Royal Oak in full leaf with the +two pigeons flying from it, and the soldiers in search +below.</p> + +<p>Whilst the soldiers were searching the woods +Dame Joan went out ostensibly to gather sticks for +the fire; she engaged the soldiers in conversation, +and so diverted their attention from the neighbourhood +of the special oak where the king was. You +may always trust a woman whose heart is in her +task to fool any man.</p> + +<p>Alone in a field not far from the house and +surrounded by an iron railing stands a flourishing +and fair-sized old oak, known as the Royal Oak. +Though this is doubtless on, or close to, the spot +where the historic tree grew, it can hardly be the +one in which the king hid; some authorities, however, +blinking hard facts, boldly avow their belief in it. +Now for these hard facts, though romance suffers +thereby, and you may not hint such things at Boscobel, +Dr. Stukeley, the antiquary, writing in 1713, +declares that then the old tree was "almost all cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +away by travellers whose curiosity leads them to see +it," and John Evelyn in his day writes that when he +saw it "relic-hunters had reduced the original tree +to a mere stump." Moreover, the king in his own +account of his hiding said that he got into a tree +that had been polled and was very bushy at the top. +Now the present oak has never been polled, which +is surely sufficient proof that it is not the original +one. If I may judge from the various chests and +other articles I have seen, and which are said to +be made out of the wood of the original Royal Oak, +it must have been the largest tree that ever grew; +but the wise traveller does not take all such relics +seriously. An ancient writer indeed declares that +at one time in European churches there were shown +to pious pilgrims portions of the true Cross which +if collected together would be sufficient to load a +big ship. Even the clerk of Tong told me that he +owned a large oak chest made out of wood from the +Royal Oak, and he is but one of many who own +chests that have this reputation, to say nothing of +chairs, tables, stools, and countless snuff-boxes, all +made, and carved, from the wood of that wonderful +tree—the tree</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Wherein the younger Charles abode<br /> +Till all the paths were dim,</p> +<p class="pp3">And far below the Roundhead rode,<br /> +And humm'd a surly hymn.</p> + +<p class="p1">Upstairs in the house, beneath what was formerly +a cheese attic, is another hiding-place, a dark small +hole at the top of the stair and entered by a trap-door +in the floor, and here it was that Charles II.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +spent one uncomfortable night, cheeses being rolled +over the trap-door for the better concealment of it. +So my guide told me. Now the puzzling thing +about this is, why, especially at night when the house +was carefully locked and guarded, should it have +been thought needful for the king to secrete himself +in this cramped place? Surely he might have slept +comfortably in bed, for there ought to have been +ample time, when the soldiers knocked at the door +and the alarm was given, and whilst the door was +being slowly opened, for the king to have secreted +himself; as it was he spent a most uncomfortable +night to no purpose. Now when Charles II. was +afterwards sheltered in Moseley Hall and was resting +on a couch in a chamber (it chanced to be one +afternoon), some soldiers made a surprise visit there, +but on the servants rushing upstairs crying "The +soldiers are coming," the king found ample time to +reach his hiding-place, where he lay concealed in +safety till the soldiers departed baffled. It speaks +much for the cleverness of the contrivers of the +hiding-holes both at Boscobel and Moseley that none +of these holes, though carefully searched for, were +ever discovered. Still it must have been a very +unpleasant experience for the king, hidden away in +a dark and dismal hole all the while the soldiers +were busily searching the house, not knowing but +that he might at any moment be discovered. Indeed, +when his host had seen the soldiers safely away and +came to release the king, the king exclaimed to him +"he thought the time very long"—and little wonder; +so might any one in so unfortunate a position. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +said that Charles II. was the last person to be +secreted in the hiding-holes at Boscobel. Possibly +Boscobel was not so diligently searched as other +houses were, owing to its being solely in the care +of servants at the time, so less suspicion fell on it.</p> + +<p>Boscobel in its woods calls to my mind a saying +of that quaint old worthy Thomas Fuller: "It is +pleasant as well as profitable to see a house cased +with trees. The worst is, where a place is bald of +wood no art can make it a periwig."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">A town with two names—An amusing mistake—Abbot's Bromley +and its quaint horn dance—Dr. Johnson doing penance at +Uttoxeter—Burton-on-Trent—The "Hundreds All" milestone—Indoor +wind-dials—Stone-milled flour—The old Globe Room +at Banbury—Dick Turpin's pistol—A strange find.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">Leaving Boscobel by a winding lane I presently got +on to the ancient Roman Watling Street at a +forsaken-looking portion of it, though I fancy the +whole of the street for most of the way is, more or +less, deserted. I had never been on Watling Street +before; it looks so uncompromisingly straight and +so uninviting on the map that I never felt any +desire to explore it, but now I had come to it by +accident I thought it a very pleasant road, this +portion at least, with its wide grassy margins, and +there before us it stretched far away through a well-wooded +and lonely country—a genuine bit of Old +England, mellow and grateful to the eye. I +forgave the road for its straightness on account of +the long and goodly green vista it afforded me, +reaching even to the far-away blue—and it was +delightfully free from traffic. Now I am a selfish +traveller, I do not care for much company on the +way. Here I had the advantages of a good road +with the loneliness of a lane.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>So along the old Roman street we went, passing +but few human habitations, here a solitary inn, +there a grey old farmstead, and every now and then +a cottage, but that was all; it was pleasant driving, +for there were no children, nor dogs, nor fowls for +miles to trouble us, and all being safe we indulged +in a burst of speed purely as a stimulant. Once +on it I intended to follow the ancient street all the +way to Daventry, but somehow I got wrong at a +point where it takes one of its few bends, and +unexpectedly found myself at Lichfield. Through +Lichfield I drove without a stop, for I was not +travelling to revisit familiar places, and Lichfield +and its cathedral I knew long ago. The route I +took through the city I took at a venture, but when +I got into the country again I discovered by a signpost +that I was journeying to King's Bromley—well, +I would go to King's Bromley, it mattered little +where I went, life is too short to trouble over trifles; +I was out to see the country, one way was as good +as another, provided it took me through pleasant +scenery, and on this score I could make no complaint.</p> + +<p>About three miles from Lichfield, at a point +where London was a good hundred and twenty +miles away, I was amused by a solitary and leaning +signpost with simply "To London" on it, and its +arm pointed down a mere lane that one would +imagine led to nowhere in particular. I remember +some years back coming to another such solitary +signpost in Hertfordshire with just "York" inscribed +on its extended arm, but that was on the Great +North Road and there was some excuse for it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +though York was very far off. There is such a +thing as character in even signposts, and I rather +sympathise with signposts that deal with big +distances, they impress me with their pride of +importance.</p> + +<p>The next signpost we came to had "To Abbot's +Bromley" on it; I felt uncertain whether this were +a different place, but a man who was passing assured +me that King's Bromley and Abbot's Bromley were +one and the same. "It's a small town," said he, +"with two names. You can call it which you +please." I thanked him for the information. I +wondered who he was walking leisurely on the +country road clad in a shooting suit. He might +have been a squire—or a gamekeeper. I thought I +would find out, so I made further innocent inquiries +about Abbot's Bromley. "It's a small town," said +he; "you won't do much business there." I discovered +he thought me a travelling commercial—of +a glorified type, I hope. I did not mind for myself, +but I felt the slight on my car; fortunately a car has +no feelings, but my dog growled—manifestly he had. +"In what line do you travel?" queried he quite +politely, possibly with the idea of being helpful. +Here was a poser. Could I tell a lie? Manifestly +not, so I said I was out sampling scenery. "Well, +I never heard of such a thing," exclaimed he, and +before he had time to think the matter over I went +my way. I hope when he realised his mistake, as I +presume he did, he would not think I was offended, +I was simply amused. I only wish I could have +kept up the character, but I was hard put to do it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +on the sudden emergency. I wonder who he could +have been? I am sorry now I drove on so hastily, +but the situation was getting strained. It is the +people you meet by the way as well as places that +are interesting; at least I was glad to find that +every motorist is not considered a millionaire. +When I come to think of it, it was an idiotic thing +to say that I was sampling scenery; still, was I not? +The strange fact is that when occasionally I have, +at country town inns, been thrown in the company +of commercials, and have tried my best to play the +part of one of them, I have ignominiously failed. I +might invent a new proverb, "If you want to do a +thing don't try to do it"; in your anxiety you are +almost sure to overact your part. To make amends +for being considered a commercial, the landlord of a +certain country inn once took me for a real live lord +travelling under an assumed name, and the more I +tried to convince him of his error the more sure was +he that he had made no mistake, he had seen my +photograph as Lord Somebody in some paper; he +was honoured to receive me, lords would have their +whims; why should they not travel under assumed +names if it pleased them? He would "my lord" me—and +charged for it heavily in the bill.</p> + +<p>Abbot's Bromley, or King's Bromley, gave us +quite a cheerful greeting. I saw one or two flags +flying in the town; the village maids (it seemed but +a village to me) were dressed in their best; some +were carrying flowers and looked quite charming +in a rustic way, and there were young men in +attendance too, dressed in their black Sunday best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +that did not suit them a bit. So I would know +what was happening. I ventured a joke on one of +the prettiest maids. "I see you were expecting +me," I said. It fell flat. "No, we weren't," she +replied, "it's a bazaar," and without a further word +she walked away. But another maid, who had +overheard the conversation, graciously came up to +me and explained: "We're having an open-air +bazaar; will you come to it? We're going to +have the horn dance." Then I became interested. +What was the horn dance? I wondered; I did not +remember having heard of such a thing before. I +begged for information, saying I was a stranger that +chance had brought that way. I hardly need have +done this, for in country places everybody seems to +know everybody and their business, so the good +people doubtless knew I was a stranger, and most +of them appeared to think I had been attracted from +afar by the news of the bazaar with its special +attraction of the horn dance. It was an eventful day +for Abbot's Bromley, where eventful days I should +imagine are a rarity. Then I learnt that Abbot's +Bromley is one of the few places where the old +hobby-dances are still kept up and take place +yearly, but this was a special performance in aid +of the bazaar. The horn dance, I understood, is +carried out by ten or a dozen performers all gaily +attired, and the characters are a Maid Marian, a +fool, a man with a hobby-horse, and a man with a +bow and arrow; then there are six dancers each of +whom carries a pair of reindeer horns of large size. +These reindeer horns are kept in the church tower,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +and are mounted on wooden skulls provided with +handles. According to tradition these horns are +those of reindeers that in times long past once +roamed over the forests surrounding Abbot's +Bromley.</p> + +<p>In my copy of <i>Paterson's Roads</i> (that gives a +short account of the various towns on the way), +under Abbot's Bromley I find the following reference +to this dance, from which it appears that it +was then in abeyance: "The curious custom called +the hobby-horse dance formerly prevailed here; +it was generally celebrated at Christmas, on New +Year's Day, and Twelfth Day, when a person +carrying beneath his legs the semblance of a horse, +made of thin boards, danced through the principal +street, having a bow and arrow in his hands ... +five or six other persons also dancing carrying six +reindeers' heads on their shoulders."</p> + +<p>Abbot's Bromley struck me as a very pleasant +and picturesque little place; it has no railway, and +that is perhaps why it has such an old-fashioned +look. I have always a liking for these little towns +beyond railways. Most of its houses, built long +years ago, are of black and white half-timber; and +the ancient inn there is of half-timber too, that with +its grey gables, its casement windows, its swinging +sign, is suggestive of the coaching and Pickwickian +days and all the lost romance of them. It took my +fancy. It ought to have some story to tell of those +"good old times," but I failed to find or to conjure +one; for though the house remains much as it was, +the actors are dead and gone—host, coach-farer, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +highwayman. It is the sort of inn you read of +in Harrison Ainsworth's novels, though I doubt if +any one reads them to-day. How rich in incident +and picturesque description they are! I know I +took my fill of them when I was a boy; now, +alas! they have lost much of their flavour; yet they +have changed not, the change must be in me. To +complete the old-world picture of the place, Abbot's +Bromley boasts of an ancient roofed-in Market +Cross, with thick oak supporting-posts around. +Only compare the sought-for picturesqueness of a +model garden city with the natural unsought-for +picturesqueness of such old towns as Abbot's +Bromley, and oh, the difference! I left the little, +forgotten town basking, but not sleeping, in the +sunshine, for it was much alive and making merry +that day.</p> + +<p>We had not gone far before a change came over +the weather—I hope the open-air bazaar did not +suffer from it. Overhead the sky grew dark and +threatening, then came a sudden flash of lightning, +loud thunder followed, then the rain in torrents. I +wondered whether a motor-car with all its metal +work was the safest place to be in, for the storm +was severe; but there was nothing for it but to +drive on, with such uncertain assurance as the +saying of the farmer at Wem afforded that +"lightning never strikes a moving object." In +spite of that comforting dictum lightning is not to +be trusted. Since then I have heard that a motor-car +travelling on the road has been struck by +lightning, and, though fortunately no one was hurt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +the car was damaged. How the rain hissed down, +and how the wind howled through and shook the +trees, even blowing bits of their branches and +leaves across the road! Still above the sound of +the storm I could hear the steady beat of our +pistons, as one hears the reassuring throb of the +engines of a steamer in a gale at sea.</p> + +<p>The country appeared to be richly wooded, as +far as I could judge; but what with the thunder +and the lightning, the wind and the rain, I obtained +but a vague impression of it. Then after the storm +had done its worst, a town loomed up on a hill +before us, and this proved to be Uttoxeter, a neat +town neither attractive nor ugly, and that is the +best I can say for it. Here, it may be remembered, +Dr. Johnson, when in the height of his fame, stood in +its market-place bare-headed in the rain, "exposed to +the sneers of the standers-by," as an act of penance +for his unfilial disobedience as a boy in refusing to +watch his weary and infirm father's bookstall set up +there for a while. It is a well-known story, but the +actual sight of the spot where that touching incident +took place made me realise it the more.</p> + +<p>Having viewed the market-place, made historic +by this event, we took the first road handy out of the +town, mildly wondering where we were going next. +There was a sense of pleasurable excitement in not +knowing our destination. I have a friend who does +this sort of thing when he goes a-cycling, and who, +like myself, travels to see the country, little caring +where he goes. If a windy day he simply lets the +wind settle his direction, for he always makes a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +point of cycling with the wind behind him; he finds +it much easier so, and when it blows hard he finds +himself blown along with the minimum of exertion. +So he never troubles about any plan, but when +he starts out in the morning he just glances at +the way of the wind and goes contentedly with it. +Capricious though this mode of travelling be, yet +it rendered fortunate results. When he traced me +out on the map one or two tours he had made in +this haphazard fashion, I felt bound to confess that +no planned tour could have turned out better, and +it took him to many odd out-of-the-way and pleasant +places he would probably never have seen otherwise. +Truly I did not consult the wind, but on the other +hand I did not consult my map unless I wished +to make for any special spot, and I also toured +fortunately so, to the discovery of interesting places, +for the most of my journey.</p> + +<p>This time it was a milestone that revealed the +fact we were bound for Burton-on-Trent. Now to +Burton I had no desire to go; Burton is a big +town, but the road was a very pleasant one, so I +kept to it. The country was fine and open, with +glorious views to the south, where undulating hills +bounded the distant blue. We passed one or two +stately old and dignified homes standing "amid +their tall ancestral trees"; then the rain came on +again, and in the pouring rain we passed through +Tutbury, where afterwards I learnt there are the +slight remains of a castle; but I saw nothing of +them, for I was thinking more of the rain and the +road than anything else: the rain was blinding, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +little wonder I missed them. It was not a moment +for seeing castles or anything else.</p> + +<p>I was not pleased at having to drive through +Burton, for I expected to find it a busy town with +much traffic in its streets, and this was the first +large and busy town I had to pass through during +the whole of my outing; I had merely skirted +Shrewsbury, so that did not count. Yet never +have I passed through a large and busy town so +easily as I passed through Burton; its streets are +wide, and for a wonder I found the traffic on +them, much of it brewers' drays, kept well to its +side of the road, so I was soon into the country +again.</p> + +<p>Just beyond Burton I had a choice of two roads, +and was doubtful which to take, when I saw a signpost +with "To Watling Street" upon it—merely to +that old highway and not to any inhabited place. +This decided me; I would rejoin the famous +Watling Street, of which I had a pleasant memory. +I knew it avoided big, bustling towns, and that was +no small recommendation. A long rise brought me +into a very pleasant country, and into welcome blue +skies and warm sunshine. Such varied samples of +weather had I that day—the blackest of clouds and +the bluest of skies, cold pelting rain and the brightest +of sunshine. The scenery was delightfully rural all +the long and lonely way to Atherstone, where we +should be on the Watling Street again, excepting +that at one spot there were some collieries on a +near hill that spoilt the prospect for a while; but I +looked the other way. These passed, we traversed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +a fine undulating country, made up of meadows, +fields, and woods, and ever and again wide views +of much charm opened out before us; and there the +air blew sweet and bracing, with the rare freshness +that follows rain. I pulled up at one quiet spot +under the shelter of some overhanging trees for +refreshment and for a rest, and there I stopped +for an hour or more, and not a soul either driving, +riding, cycling, or afoot went by. It was a cross-country +road, apparently little used, and one to be +enjoyed for its quietude and rural pleasantness. It +surprised me how often I came upon such long +stretches of almost deserted roads; we travelled +far on that stage before we met a human being. +Perhaps when I pulled up it was the hour of the +day when the good old-fashioned country folk are +mostly indoors dining, and the labourers resting from +their work, so no one was about; but that does not +account for the rest of the road later on being so +forsaken.</p> + +<p>Atherstone is one of the order of far-extending +thoroughfare towns that flourished in the old +coaching days, and that seem to have fallen half +asleep since, for the chief concern of such towns was +with the road and its traffic, though Atherstone is +not so sleepy as most of them are. All that I could +discover of any interest in the place was an old +milestone set up against the ancient "Red Lion +Inn" there; this, curiously enough, stands just one +hundred miles respectively from London, Liverpool, +and Lincoln, as the following inscriptions on it +show:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<table id="t02" summary="t02"> + + <tr> + <td class="tdc">To</td> + <td class="tdc">To</td> + <td class="tdc">To</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdc">Liverpool</td> + <td class="tdc">London</td> + <td class="tdc">Lincoln</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdc">100</td> + <td class="tdc">100</td> + <td class="tdc">100</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td class="tdc">Miles.</td> + <td class="tdc">Miles.</td> + <td class="tdc">Miles.</td> + </tr> + +</table> + +<p>A man who was quietly watching me copying these +inscriptions, when I had done my copying, exclaimed, +"That be a famous old milestone. The drivers of +the old coaches as stopped at the inn used always +to call their passengers' attention to it." On +returning home I looked up in my <i>Paterson</i> for +the name of the chief inn at Atherstone, and found +it was "The Red Lion."</p> + +<p>It seems strange that to-day, when so much loving +regard is shown to the preservation of old houses, +and to the careful restoration of them backwards to +the intention of their ancient architects, that our +many quaint and friendly-looking old coaching inns +should have found such few patrons to preserve +their fascinating features. Standing by the roadside, +how delightfully picturesque they often are, +when unaltered and—save the mark!—unimproved. +Many, in truth, are poems in buildings (and the +term is not strained in regard to them) with their +many-gabled, time-toned fronts; their signs often +gaily painted, swinging on an upright post without, +to proclaim their useful business; their great arched +doorways under which the loaded coaches drove and +landed their passengers at ease sheltered from the +rain and undisturbed, or their ample porches that +spoke a welcome as plain as any uttered word. +Some are of half-timber and some are of stone. +Perhaps those of half-timber are the more picturesque,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +but nearly all are pleasing to the eye; some, alas! are +going to sad decay, such as that fine specimen of an +old English roadside hostelry, "The Bell" at Stilton, +which used to be both afamous and aflourishing house +in its day, and which gave its name to the well-known +cheese that the landlord of the time used to sell to +his guests—indeed I believe it was considered the +thing to buy a cheese at "The Bell" to take home +with you. One of these old inns Ashby-Sterry has +pictured to us in verse, and well the picture suits +many an inn I know:</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">'Tis a finely-toned, picturesque, sunshiny place,<br /> +Recalling a dozen old stories,</p> +<p class="pp3">With a rare, British, good-natured, ruddy-hued face,<br /> +Suggesting old wines and old Tories.</p> +<p class="pp3">Ah! many's the magnum of rare crusted port,<br /> +Of vintage no one could cry fie on,</p> +<p class="pp3">Has been drunk by good men of the old-fashioned sort<br /> +At the Lion.</p> + +<p class="p1">"The Lion," white or red, was in the past—I am +not sure that it is not even to-day—by far and away +the favourite sign; "The White Hart," I think, +came second. These old inns, both outwardly and +inwardly, have suffered sadly from neglect, and from +the mania for show that does not spell comfort. +Yet when simply, decently cared for, and unaltered, +how charming and restful their old-time interiors +are with their snug, low, brown-beamed, ceilinged +parlours, sometimes panelled and with big ingle-nooks, +their mullioned windows with their lattice +panes, often deeply recessed with a seat in them, +their cool and cosy bars and odd nooks and curious +corners. That delightful Jacobean hostelry, "The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +Whyte Harte," to wit, at Broadway in Worcestershire, +with its genuine old-world atmosphere and +quiet comfort, may be given as a good example of +one. Some of these old hostelries were provided +with a quaint device in the shape of an indoor wind-dial +worked by a vane without, so that travellers +overnight could judge by it of the next day's possibilities, +and learn from the direction of the wind +whether it were likely to be hot or cold, wet or fair. +One of these interesting and useful indoor wind-dials +may still, I believe, be seen in London at the +Buckingham Palace Hotel; at least one was there +and working but a year or two ago, and I understand +that they are being introduced into modern +homes. There are still some things we may learn +from our ancestors.</p> + +<p>At Atherstone I was again on the ancient Watling +Street, and I followed it to Daventry as far as it is +at present opened out to the south. Again it led +me through a lonely country of field and forest, +unexciting but very pleasant, a country fragrant +with the scent of wild flowers and the refreshing +odours of the woods. I did not dally at Daventry, +for the little town appeared to me featureless, and +finding from my map that Banbury was but sixteen +miles away, I thought to spend the night in that +place as being of greater interest; moreover, I had +recently read in my morning paper an account of +the old historic Globe Room there at the "Reindeer +Inn," with the further unwelcome information that its +fine oak panelling, with its richly carved fireplace +and its elaborately enriched plaster ceiling, had all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +been sold and were to be removed, and I wished to +see it—if not too late. In this room Cromwell, it +is said, held a council of war in October 1642 just +before the battle of Edge Hill, so it had (oh, that +pathetic word "had"!), besides the charm of its +ancient picturesqueness, the additional interest of +being with little doubt the place of that historic +gathering. Now the fine old room has been gutted. +So the "vast museum" of England is being +despoiled! Whatever were the citizens of Banbury +about to permit of such a thing; could they not have +subscribed the price demanded for the panelling +and decorative work (comparatively a paltry sum +when divided amongst so many), and have retained +that beautiful, historic, and ancient room intact? +You cannot replace or purchase history. Even +taking the meanest, most commercial view of the +transaction, surely it would have well repaid the +town to have bought and to have preserved that +fine old chamber so intimately associated with +Banbury, for I know it brought many tourists from +afar to see it, some from even across the wide +Atlantic; now perhaps they will not desire to go to +Banbury and spend their money there, for it has little +else but some ancient houses to show. Years ago +the iconoclastic Banbury folk pulled down their exceptionally +fine and interesting old church, "one of +the most magnificent in the shire," even destroying +its fine monuments, to save the little needed to keep +it and them in repair, to say nothing of having +done away with their "goodly crosse" of nursery +renown, though a later generation has replaced it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +with a poor and meaningless substitute. What +child would now "ride a cock-horse to Banbury +Cross"? It is not worth riding to or talking about.</p> + +<p>But I am a little previous, not having arrived at +Banbury yet; our road to that town was either up +or down hill all the way, but there was nothing to +grumble at in this, for the scenery was rewarding +and the motor had to do the climbing. At the top +of one hill we came upon a lonely old windmill +going to decay, its gaunt arms standing darkly +profiled against the sky and shaking with every +gust of wind. It had a weird and haunted look, +though I never heard of a mill being haunted; +precisely what is it, I wonder, that gives certain +buildings such an uncanny look? There must really +have been some magic about that mill, for I photographed +it and only got a ghostly result on my +film. I have never seen a ghost, but to my astonishment +three intelligent people have declared, and +positively declared, to me that they have done so. +A little later will be found a reference to this matter. +Now a ghost is a visible object and ought to be +capable of being photographed: what would I +not give to see a genuine photograph of a ghost! +When next I sleep in a haunted room I must take +my camera with me on the off chance of a ghost +appearing, so that I may snap him! Though I fear +my chances are but slight, for I have slept in +haunted rooms where other people are reported to +have seen "things," but saw nothing—not even in +my dreams, which were undisturbed. Why will +"things" appear to others and not to me?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<p>Years gone by, and not so many years either, you +might from one spot have seen half a dozen or more +windmills busily at work where now by chance you +may see one; and in those past years you might have +seen farmers' waggons slowly wending their way to +the mill loaded with sacks of corn to be ground, or +wending their way back white with fat sacks of +flour. Now, except possibly in some parts of Sussex, +to see a windmill with its hurtling sails is a rare +sight. Grieved indeed am I that it should be so, +for as a child I dearly loved the merry bickering +windmill—what child does not? Now I have grown +to man's estate I have not lost the old love of the +sight of one. There is something very cheery and +fascinating in watching the mill sails whirling round +and round in their never-completed journey, now +grey in shade, now white in the glance of the sun. +But I sadly fear the dear old picturesque windmill +is doomed, unless the manufactured article flour, +not the raw material wheat, is taxed. I am no +politician—I think I have said so already—for in an +age when it seems to me, to misquote Macaulay, +"all are for the party and none are for the State," +the business of politics, as one of the Georges, I +forget now which, remarked, "is not to my fancy." +I preach neither free trade nor tariff reform; I have +not studied the question, and I do not profess to +know the facts of the case without study, as some +people do—even members of Parliament who vote +for their party right or wrong; it would probably +cost them their seat and four hundred golden +sovereigns a year if they did otherwise. But this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +I know, for I have tested it, that stone-ground +flour produced by the old-fashioned windmill is +infinitely sweeter, more nutritious, and more wholesome +than the foreign roller-mill flour that is so +starchy, "hence the present-day indigestion and the +decay of teeth." Then, again, there is the fact, of +which some clever people lose sight, that by importing +flour and not wheat to grind at home we lose +the valuable asset of "waste" as a fattening food +for fowls, pigs, and cattle.</p> + +<p>The village of Charwelton was the only one on +the way of which I retain a memory, and this I +remember on account of a fine and very old two-arched +Gothic bridge of stone there by the side of, +and parallel to, the road, manifestly intended only +for foot passengers, so narrow is it, a carriage bridge +in miniature, so solidly built and buttressed as +though it spanned a rushing river and had to resist +its strivings. Now the road was dry and no water +flowed under the bridge; I could only presume that +water had once flowed there. So I asked a man, +who was idly standing by, about it. "The road be +flooded in the winter time," said he, "and then us +use the bridge. The water be quite deep at times +and the horses on the road have to ford it. That +bridge be seven hundred years old, they do say." +It looked it. He appeared inclined to talk, so I +let him, not knowing what might be coming. "It's +a slow place Charwelton be," he went on, "there's +no getting away from that. The church be a mile +away from the village, and that don't encourage +you to go to it. You see, the place were badly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +knocked about during the war, so I suppose they built +a new village here, and let the church bide there." +He spoke of "the war" as though it were of recent +date; I was mystified, till I discovered he meant +the Civil Wars when Charles I. was fighting for his +crown!</p> + +<p>I noticed nothing further on the way to Banbury +but a big mounting-block of stone standing by a +grassy margin of the road, an interesting survival, +and a somewhat unusual thing to see, so I stopped +to inspect it, and on it I discovered inscribed—</p> + +<p class="pp7 p1">Thomas High of Warden<br /> +Set up this. Ivly, 1659.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">It is still there to keep green the memory of this +Thomas High, though I should imagine that few +ever read the inscription or make use of the stone. +I wonder why he put it up in that lonely spot, +where, even in the old days, few people would be +likely to need it. Now you rarely see a horseman +on the road unless it be a huntsman; I doubt if the +mounting-block has been used for these fifty years +back.</p> + +<p>At Banbury I went to the "White Lion"; there +was also, I afterwards found, a "Red Lion" in the same +street, a cosy-looking hostelry with an ancient front +of the fifteenth century that appealed to me. In +<i>Paterson's Roads</i> I note both these inns mentioned +as existing in the coaching days. The "Red Lion" +is the more picturesque of the two, but I was very +comfortable at the "White." During the evening I +hunted up mine host and inquired of him about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +Globe Room. Alas! I had come too late to see it, for +he told me that it had already been stripped of its +panelling, its finely carved oak fireplace removed, +its enriched plaster ceiling had been taken down, +and all these had been carted away. I felt provoked +with the Banbury people; I told the landlord so. +I do not think I shall ever stay in Banbury again. +I learnt of one curious and interesting find that had +been made in the room. On pulling down the +panelling there had been discovered hidden behind +it a double-barrelled pistol with flint locks; the pistol +was inlaid with gold and had the maker's name, +"Baker, London," engraved upon it, and above +the name the Prince of Wales's feathers. The +pistol bears the following inscription: "Presented +to Dick Turpin at the White Bear Inn, Drury-lane, +February 7th, 1735." How came it there, I wonder, +and who presented it to that famous highwayman? +Of the genuineness of the pistol I think there can +be but little doubt. Dick Turpin, it may be +remembered, was hanged at York on 7th April 1739, +four years after the pistol was presented to him. +Writing of Dick Turpin reminds me of the myth +of his renowned ride to York that Harrison +Ainsworth in his <i>Rookwood</i> romanced about; now +the credit of this surprising exploit really belongs +to another of the fraternity, one Nick Nevison, +of earlier time; this knight of the road robbed a +traveller at Gad's Hill in Kent one morning at +4 <span class="smcap">A.M.</span>, and furiously riding on to York reached that +city at 8 <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> on the evening of the same day, and +so established an alibi and saved his neck, at least<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +on that occasion. The skeleton of a poor unfortunate +cat was also found behind the panelling; I +wonder if it was that of the historic cat that was +hanged as recorded by Drunken Barnaby?</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +To Banbury came I, O prophane-One!<br /> +Where I saw a Puritane-One<br /> +Hanging of his cat on Monday,<br /> +For killing of a mouse on Sunday.</p> + +<p class="p1">The landlord of "The White Lion," a pattern of +civility, called my attention to "the famous wistaria" +that is trained along the walls of the outbuildings +of his ancient inn. This wistaria, he informed me, +was the largest and finest in the kingdom, its +branches extending for over two hundred feet. +He was manifestly proud of it, and I duly admired +it, but I had seen many fine wistarias before; I +would rather have seen the Globe Room. There +is little or nothing now left in Banbury to tempt +the pilgrim to linger there. So I took my departure +the next morning, and that early.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">A gruesome carving—Architectural tit-bits—An ancient and historic +hostelry—Chipping Norton—Wychwood—A parson's story—"Timothying"—Shipton-under-Wychwood—On +the Cotswolds—"The +grey old town" of Burford—Two old manor-houses—A +new profession—Highworth—Church relics.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">I left Banbury one sunshiny morning, shaking "the +very dust" of the town from my wheels "as a +testimony against it," and driving by its modern +cross I took the road before me, letting it lead me +where it would. Out of Banbury I would go the +nearest way. The road climbed Wickham Hill and +then dropped sharply down to the quiet old-world +village of Bloxham, that boasts of one of the many +"finest parish churches" in the kingdom. How +many are there, I wonder? Certainly it is a fine +church and has a fine spire; this all must grant. +I thought it worthy of inspection. I found its +windows guiltless of stained glass excepting for two +in the chancel, but this was not a matter to grieve +about, for I much prefer plain glass to the rubbishy +modern stained variety one too often comes upon, +and that so offends the cultured eye by its garish +crudity. A peep of the blue sky, of green trees and +of even the rain, framed by the graceful tracery of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +Gothic window, is more to my mind than visions +of stiffly posed angular saints with ill-fitting halos +round their heads; I have always an uneasy feeling +that the halos may tumble off. Not that all modern +stained and painted glass is bad, but most of it is—hopelessly +bad; its drawing when rarely correct is +spiritless, it lacks inspiration; its colouring lacks +richness; so unlike the lovely medieval stained glass, +it has no gem-like qualities whatever. I honestly +find difficulty in worshipping in a church with +angular saints in ill-fitting robes and halos askew +staring at me! It seems more the idea of a sinner +doing penance than a saint glorified.</p> + +<p>I noticed in the church a carved and coloured +screen with some faded figures on it, and on the wall +of a side chapel hung two old helmets and breastplates, +somewhat rusty. I love to see ancient +armour hanging in our churches, it takes the mind +back to the days of knightly chivalry and recalls the +never-returning romance of them—not the romance +of fancy, but the romance of a past reality. Outside +the church I found some open stone steps leading to +two priests' chambers, one chamber over the other, +but what interested me most was its richly sculptured +west front; at the top of this are some good but +unfortunately much weather-worn grinning gargoyles, +for Time has been at work on these and has supplemented +the carving of the monks with his, even, it +may be, adding to their grotesqueness. Over and +round the top of the big doorway is a quaint and +gruesome representation of the resurrection, showing +dead men rising from their coffins, one man being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +represented as lifting the lid of his and peering out +with a look of genuine surprise as though he did not +realise what was happening; others had risen and +were kneeling on the ground with hands folded in +the attitude of prayer, and all looked very much +aghast. Skilful indeed was the hand of the +medieval sculptor to obtain these expressions. It +was a nightmare in carving, crudely done but +startlingly effective. I am glad I do not attend that +church and have to face each Sunday that terrible +story in stone; it is enough to wish death the end of +all. When men could not read the monks talked +to them in carving, though rarely so horribly as this; +mostly those monks were in a jovial mood, and so I +prefer them, as witness their grinning gargoyles, +their merry devils, and frequent mirthful representations +of men in the dumps; they were artists of no +mean order, and verily, I believe, in their hearts +loved a joke better than a sermon: truly they joked +far better than they preached, for their preaching +seems forced—not so their jokes! To the right of +the doorway there is a curious carving of a man +entering the jaws of some unearthly monster; the +drift of this was wholly beyond me—surely it could +not have been intended for Jonah being swallowed +by the whale, for the monster's head, and that was +all there was of him, bore no resemblance to that of +a whale or to any creature that ever walked the +earth or swam the sea, unless doubtfully in the prehistoric +ages. A local rhyme perpetuates the +character of the spire of this church with two of its +near neighbours thus:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Bloxham for length,<br /> +Adderbury for strength,<br /> +And King's Sutton for beauty.</p> + +<p class="p1">The next village of South Newington, a village +of stone-built cottages with thatched roofs, had by +way of contrast a very small and poor church with +square-headed windows, not those of the usual pointed +Gothic type. I did not trouble to inspect it, though +generally the poorest little country church can boast +of some architectural feature more or less interesting. +I came to a country church with only one point of +interest, and that was a narrow priests' doorway +gracefully designed; I presume it served the priests +of past times, but I was told there was one parson of +the good old Georgian days who could not use it +because he was too fat! So he could not enter by +the "narrow way," but had to go through the porch +like any sinner.</p> + +<p>Doorways in human habitations are often the +keynote to the character of the house, and I was +tempted in some of the country villages I passed +through to photograph a few of their ancient doorways, +for they interested me; two of these photographs, +reproduced, will be found in pages farther +on. The one of the fourteenth century is noteworthy, +for it is a rare thing for so ancient a doorway +to belong to a dwelling-house. I gathered the house +had originally been a pre-Reformation vicarage; +now it makes a quaint and picturesque home, with +its low stone-slated roof, its mullioned windows, and +its ivy-clad walls, boasting too the bloom of age that +so beautifies a building. The other shows a simple +type of Tudor doorway with steps up to it from the +village street, but, though so simple and devoid of +ornament, it is so well proportioned that it both +pleases and satisfies the eye. I am rather fond of +photographing architectural bits that take my fancy, +and the English country abounds in such bits, apart +from the larger features of buildings. It is curious +to note how different districts afford and abound in +special subjects: here you find ancient pigeon-cotes, +often centuries old, of some pretence, and frequently +most picturesque; here the minor items of sun-dials +and of artistically wrought weather-vanes are most +in evidence; at another spot you discover interesting +"lion-guarded" gateways and picturesque doorways; +again, it may be, it is the inn signs, with +their crudely painted signboards and their elaborate +scroll-work of wrought iron that surrounds them, that +attract your attention; here a gazebo, and there an +ancient roofed-in village fountain, claims your notice; +anon a quaint conceit in carving on church or house, +and so forth, not to waste space in needlessly enumerating +the many and varied architectural tit-bits the +wanderer by road constantly comes across, nor need +he keep his eyes very wide open to discover them.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-371.jpg" width="400" height="566" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">THE PRIEST'S DOORWAY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">After South Newington we had another long +stretch of very lonely road, but charming on +account of its loneliness; the country we passed +through was elevated and undulating and afforded +us many fine and far-reaching prospects. There +were wide margins of grass by the sides of our road, +so wide in places as to be almost fields; on these +multitudes of silly sheep were grazing—I say silly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +for when they heard the car approaching they would +quietly cross the road in front of us, first one, then +another, then the whole flock in slow procession, +causing us to make many a stop, for sheep and cattle +are lords of the road; they used even to stop a +king's mails in the days of yore. These sheep +really seemed to do it out of sheer perversity, and it +was the more provoking as the otherwise forsaken +road was so tempting to speed along, and occasionally, +when all is safe, a turn of speed is a very +inspiriting thing; it wipes the cobwebs from the +brain, it drives the good fresh air into the lungs, it +stimulates the mind, and braces the body. Not +that I am an advocate of speed, except as a rare indulgence +on lonely roads when there can be no hurt +in it, and so you may test the mettle of your car.</p> + +<p>Then we came to the old mail and turnpike +highway from London to Birmingham; this crossed +our road at a lonely, bleak, and elevated spot close to +which formerly stood the once flourishing "Chapel +House Inn"; the building still stands there indeed, +but it has been converted into a residence: an inn +of wide renown in the old road-travelling days, +where the Birmingham coaches changed horses and +stopped whilst their passengers dined; an inn far +famous for its fare and its wines—so good were the +latter that it has been said, and I see no reason to +doubt the saying, that "there was a strong temptation +to indulge in them which was rarely resisted, +even the king's cellars could produce nothing +better," and there over their wines our ancestors +doubtless made merry as was their wont. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +least they enjoyed their lives. It was to this inn +that Dr. Johnson and Boswell came in a postchaise +during the early summer of 1776, and it was then +when posting across country that the former, lover of +towns though he was, suddenly exclaimed, "Life +has little better to offer than this." It was on the +same day, whilst dining at the "Chapel House Inn," +that the learned doctor delivered his much-quoted +eulogy on inns: "There is no private house in which +people can enjoy themselves so well as in a capital +tavern," declared he. "You are sure of a welcome, +and the more noise you make, the more good things +you call for, the more trouble you give, the welcomer +you are. There is nothing that has been invented +by man by which so much happiness is produced +as a good tavern or inn." What road traveller will +not re-echo those sentiments?—though I grieve +for the one who can honestly say with Shenstone +he has found his "warmest welcome at an inn," +however warm the welcome at his inn may be.</p> + +<p>About Chapel House many stories, astonishing +and otherwise, truthful and untruthful, of old days +and old ways are told; but though sadly tempted +to relate some of these, I refrain, for I find I am +always writing about inns. It does not do to keep +harping on one subject, to be for ever "spinning +your own wheel." I know a man, and a very good-natured, +clubbable man is he, but even he gets bored +by listening to one tune too long; his sole crime is +that he is not a golfer—it is a serious one, I own. +Now at his club he frequently meets a golfing friend +who will talk golf and nothing else as long as any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +man will listen to him, just as some fishermen and +motorists enlarge about their hobby. Now my +friend had listened long times patiently to the +golfer's endless stories, but when one day the +golfer complained that he was suffering badly from +a "golfer's arm," my friend exclaimed, "I have +suffered from a worse disease than that, 'golfer's +jaw.'" Now I do not wish my readers to suffer +from my "jaw" about inns.</p> + +<p>From Chapel House we dropped down to Chipping +Norton, a quiet, clean, contented-looking little +town, and that I think sufficiently describes it. As +Clarendon remarked of Aldermaston, it is "a town +out of any great road," though near to one. So +perhaps on that account it has no special history.</p> + +<p>Beyond Chipping Norton the country grew +lonely again, delightfully, restfully lonely, and all +the way we went to Shipton-under-Wychwood I do +not find a single house marked on my excellent and +accurate map. We were in a bleak stone country, +where stone walls take the place of hedges, and +where the landscape bears a Cotswold look. Those +who know the Cotswolds know what that look is, a +rarely pleasant one to me in the summer time, with +a sense of openness about it; and how fresh and +free and bracing are the airs that blow over the +Cotswold hills. There you can keep cool in the +hottest weather. Is there not an old saying that at +"Stow-on-the-Wold, the wind always blows cold"? +It is a truthful one as far as my experience goes, for I +have passed through Stow on the hottest of summer +days and found it none too warm there even then.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + +<p>By degrees we descended into a valley and into +a warmer atmosphere, and crossing the little river +Evenlode (of which I had not heard before, so does +a driving tour extend one's knowledge of one's own +country) we found ourselves in the attractive and +interesting village of Shipton-under-Wychwood, but +of the once wild Wychwood forest, formerly a royal +hunting ground, there is not much to boast of left—sufficient, +however, to earn for it to-day the title of +"The Forest Country of Oxfordshire." There is +a story told of a traveller in the pre-railway days +whose road took him close by Wychwood, and he +asked of a boy the name of the wood. "Wychwood," +the boy replied. "Which wood?" the +traveller exclaimed. "Why, that wood, you fool," +pointing with his finger to it. Again he received +the same reply. Once more the traveller repeated +his query and received the same reply again; whereupon +the traveller grew wroth, and deeming the boy +was making fun of him, got down from his horse +and soundly boxed his ears. One story calls forth +another. This I had from a parson on my journey. +It appears that one of his parishioners was over-fond +of frequenting the public-house, and one day +finding him coming out of it the parson said to him, +"Williams, why do you go to the public-house so +often?" To which the non-abashed Williams made +reply, "Because they sell good ale there," and then +he quoted the Bible to the parson. "You know, sir, +the Bible tells us 'Drink no longer water, but use +a little wine for thy stomach's sake'—now I cannot +afford wine, so I drink ale"; and the parson was hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +put how to answer him. It appears that the +villagers there employ the expression "Timothying" +when they have been drinking. Still another story +of a parson I was told occurs to me; this may be +an old one, but it is one I have not heard before, +nor seen it in print. It appears that this parson +had recently lost his only son, to whom he was +devoted, and was preaching on the text of Abraham +offering up his son Isaac as a sacrifice, and during +the sermon his feelings so overcame him that thus +unknowingly he delivered himself: "And it was his +son, his only son; now if it had only been a sheep +or a daughter."</p> + +<p>I found so much to interest me in Shipton, for +there I noticed some old stone buildings, now +forming part of what I took to be a farmyard, +buildings with Gothic windows of good design and +a graceful Gothic doorway in their walls; these +could hardly be mere farm-buildings. That they +possessed some history was from their character +highly probable, but of that history, if there was +any, I could glean nothing; as usual, nobody knew +anything about them but that "they be very old." +That appears to be the stock reply of the villager +when you question him about such things. Then +I wandered to the church a little way off, and there, +for a wonder, I found the clerk within, "tidying +up," as he called it. There was not much of +interest in the church except a gruesome brass of a +figure in a shroud, dated 1548, and a gloomy priest's +chamber above the porch, reached by a dark stone +stairway. This chamber, the clerk told me, was +eight hundred years old; in truth it had an ancient +look. Hanging on the wall, though why it should +find a place there I could not understand, was a +long-winded and framed account of the life of "John +Foxe the Martyrologist born 1517," leaving no +particulars of his life untold, I gathered from a +hasty glance at it.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-380.jpg" width="400" height="270" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">DOORWAY OF THE CROWN INN, SHIPTON-UNDER-WYCHWOOD.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">In the village stands a very ancient inn with a +weather-worn aspect and a pathetic look of having +seen better days, for its architectural features +suggest it has been a house of some importance in +times past. The old inn possesses a fine, early, and +well-preserved high-pointed Tudor archway that, +with its big door below with long exterior hinges, +the quaint little two-lighted window by its side, and +the old-fashioned mounting-block in front, presents +a pleasing bit of ancient architecture. My photograph, +here reproduced, will give some idea of this +ancient doorway and of the quaint little window +shown to the right of it. On leaving the village I +caught to the left a delightful vision of a stately, +many-gabled, stone-built Elizabethan home, standing +in its pleasant park at a friendly short distance from +the road. Shipton Court was, I learnt, the name of +this picture in stone, for it is a home and a picture +in one. Very beautiful did the building look with +the warm sunshine resting upon it, for, though +ancient, the house had a cheerful countenance; +there was nothing gloomy or ghostly about it, +nothing mysterious or suggestive of legend, but the +word Home was written largely on it.</p> + +<p>Beyond Shipton we rose on to high ground and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +found ourselves in a breezy open country. Again +our road was a deserted one. Few people appear +to travel the byways of the Cotswolds, yet, within +the same distance of London, nowhere else, I think, +can such spacious solitudes be found, such wide +and glorious sweeps of uplands and valleys stretching +far away into dim and dreamy distances where the +round hills seem to melt into the sky. The Cotswolds +always delight me, for on them I realise the +sense of solitude, silence, and space—a solitude that +would satisfy an anchorite. Not that I love solitude +except as a restful and occasional change from the +burden of too much society; even when I was enjoying +my solitude that day I had still a thought for +the company I hoped to meet that night at my inn, +and a thought of home and family when I returned +to them.</p> + +<p>After a time we dropped down to the lonely, +ancient town of Burford, forgotten by the railway; +but Burford does not mind, it exists quite well without +the railway. There the little town lay before +us, hidden in a hollow, at the foot of the hill, and +we looked down upon its uneven roof-trees, and on +the silvery Windrush quietly flowing by. Of all +the old-world Cotswold towns none has a greater +charm than Burford. Thus sings one of its many +lovers:</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">O fair is Moreton in the Marsh<br /> +And Stow on the wide wold,</p> +<p class="pp3">But fairer far is Burford town<br /> +With its stone roofs grey and old.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">And he calls it "The grey old town on the lonely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +down." But Burford is not on the lonely down—far +from it; it lies sheltered, half forgotten, deep in a +hollow; a place of peace.</p> + +<p>At Burford Speaker Lenthall lived, and his home, +painted by Waller, stands there to-day a little +removed from the quiet street—a fine specimen of +Jacobean architecture. Burford church is one of +the finest of the many fine Cotswold churches raised +by the pious and prosperous wool merchants of the +country, and contains the truly magnificent tomb, in +a chapel all to itself, of Sir Lawrence Tanfelde +(deceased 1625), besides many other fine monuments. +The church was turned into a prison for his captives +by Cromwell, after his fight with the Banbury +Levellers here, who outdid Cromwell himself in zeal +and struggle against authority. At "The George +Inn" here Charles I. slept on his retreat from Oxford +to Worcester, and on the glass of a window, in the +upper room of the same inn, there was, and may be +now for aught I know, the diamond-scratched name +of Samuel Pepys below the date of 1666, though +whether this be genuine or a forgery perhaps no +man now can say; if a forgery, it is a clever imitation +of that famous Diarist's signature. So Burford, +though much out of the world to-day, was not always +so. It has witnessed stirring events, it has welcomed +and entertained many famous travellers, and people +of renown have lived within its walls. All the roads +into Burford are hilly, all the stages into the town +are long and trying for horses, so that in the past +coaching, posting, and horseback days horses coming +there were usually given an extra allowance of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +corn; hence probably arose the local proverb, "To +take a Burford bait," meaning to make a big meal.</p> + +<p>It was a steep climb out of Burford, at the top of +which we crossed the old highway from London to +Gloucester and South Wales that runs for many +miles on the undulating ridge of the hills. The +Cotswolds are little given to change, and much as +the country looks now it must have looked to our +coach-travelling ancestors, excepting that to-day +long lines of telegraph poles faithfully follow the +road in long array lessening to the horizon, and the +sound of the wind on the wires as we passed was +like the hum of innumerable bees, and it broke +pleasantly the silence of the hills.</p> + +<p>At the corner of the highway, just where our +road crossed, I noticed a large board set up with a +boldly lettered inscription on it, and this is what I +read there:</p> + +<p class="pa5 p1">Only a few yards to the North is one of the most ancient +towns to be seen in this part of the Country. It has historical +associations of the most interesting nature. Its church is renowned +for its beauty.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Thus Burford appeals to the hurrying motorists +who speed upon this fine highway. I should not +have thought Burford would have done any such +thing; it appears to me a little undignified; yet without +such a notice the motorists mentioned would +doubtless rush along heedless of the ancient, grey +old town that sleeps so peacefully in the hollow below. +Still, I trust other interesting towns off the highway +will not take this as a precedent, else we shall have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +all England turned into a sort of gigantic peep-show.</p> + +<p>Now we got on to a wilderness of lanes, mostly +narrow and rough of surface, but they took us into +an old-world land of stone-built villages, very ancient, +very grey, and past many a time-mellowed home +that hinted of legend. One rambling, neglected-looking +old home especially took my fancy, with its +great gables, clustering chimneys, and shapely stone +diamond-paned windows; it had such a look of +mystery about it, high-walled in as it was, and half +hidden from the road, and over its porch the lichens +had traced strange hieroglyphics. There appeared +to be no life about the place, though a film of smoke +uprose from one tall, solitary chimney. An ancient +manor-house fallen to decay—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +A jolly place in days of old,<br /> +But something ails it now; the place is curst.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">In its forsaken courtyard stood a tumble-down +pigeon-cote of some size, so that I knew it had been +a manor-house, for in the medieval days no lesser +personage than the lord of the manor had the right +of pigeonry, and the pigeon-cote was very ancient. +Unfortunately, owing to the high wall without and +the trees that had grown up at their own sweet will +close around it, I was unable satisfactorily to photograph +the old house. Some day I hope to re-discover +it and to see if I can trace anything of its history.</p> + +<p>Another fine old manor-house I came to I found +has also fallen on to evil days and was doing duty +as a farmhouse, the farmer and his wife inhabiting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +but a small portion of it. By happy chance I came +across the farmer in a field and I got a-chatting +with him, first diplomatically about the weather and +the crops; neither were satisfactory to him—I hardly +thought they would be—but I listened to his complaints +about both, and to his complaints about the +low price of produce. I listened patiently, and I +think my patience pleased—I had "an axe to +grind." Then I led up to the old house and ventured +to remark what a picturesque place it was. "It's all +right to look at," said he, "but it's not good to live +in. It's too big, and it's so draughty, and it's so +cold and damp in winter, it would take a fortune to +keep fires going over it to warm it properly. +There's only the wife and self lives in it, and it +would hold a large family, and they would only fill a +part of it. Would you care to take a glance inside?" +Now that is just what I wanted. I said I would. +In truth it was a rambling old house. We entered +by a large hall, with a fine old carved oak but much +damaged fireplace at one end, and dog-irons on the +wide hearth below. I could fancy that in the old +days, when the lord of the manor lived there, merry +were the doings and the dances that took place in +that now vacant hall; the very thought of such things +made it, in its bareness, look the more forsaken. +One wing, where the farmer lived, was furnished +fairly comfortably; the rest of the mansion, divided +from it by the hall, was a very picture of desolation. +Even the once strong oak staircase was shaky, and +the floors of the rooms were in places so rotten that +it was hardly safe to tread on them; in some the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +panelling was tumbling from the walls, and in others +the bare walls were adorned with cobwebs, erst +doubtless covered with tapestry. Such is the fate +of some old houses that have come down in the +world, but there are others that have fortunately +found purchasers and have been restored to something +of their ancient dignity. I know at least a +good dozen fine old houses of the Elizabethan and +Jacobean days that had fallen to decay, but which +have been so restored by loving hands that they +now form delightful and picturesque homes, and yet +have not lost the charm of their ancient look.</p> + +<p>I met a man, when house-hunting for a friend +some little time ago, who confided to me that he +made it a business of buying any ruinous old +house, if of any architectural merit and agreeably +situated, that was for sale at a low price—"and +many such houses fetch low prices," he said, "often, +the land apart, not more than the value of their +materials; sometimes these old houses possess a +bit of interesting history, but that goes for nothing"; +and purely as a speculation, though the speculation +was not without its pleasure, he skilfully restored +it, as far as possible, to its pristine estate, and he +had done this each time at a considerable profit +on the sale of the restored house. "I call myself +a house improver," he said, with a laugh, "quite +a novel and paying profession." This confession +was made to me whilst looking over an interesting +old Jacobean house that he had recently purchased +and restored, and exceedingly well had he done it. +"This," he explained, "had been let and occupied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +as a farmhouse for years, and little care was taken +of it; as you see, it is a picturesque old building, +but it was in a dreadful state when I bought it—indeed +at first I almost thought it was beyond +restoration. I have spent a lot of money on it, +but I expect to get it all back with a fair margin +of profit. Here you see an ancient house with a +formal garden to match, and even an old-fashioned +sun-dial in it, to say nothing of the Haddon Hall-like +terrace, and all this cost me a lot; but one has +to do the thing properly or you may make a failure +of it, and this house is ready for occupation. Meanwhile +I make it my home; I must live somewhere, +and here I abide till I find a purchaser. Then I +shall go in search of another old house to restore. +The idea of doing such a thing came quite accidentally +to me; originally I purchased an old house +and restored it for my own occupation, but I had +so many unsought offers for it at a big figure, +nearly double what it cost me altogether, that I +was tempted to sell it. Then I bought another +old house and restored it in the same way, and +that I sold at a substantial profit; so now I have +made a trade of doing this. Look at the panelling +of these rooms, all of seasoned oak, a careful copy +of old panelling of the period, every bit done by +adze and hand; the hinges and locks, too, are +copies of old ones I found in the house. I have +opened up all the fireplaces, and on removing +the modern grates I luckily discovered the open +hearths behind; the firebacks are all castings from +old ones, and the fire-dogs are copies too from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +fine past specimens. The whole thing has been +properly done. I have pulled down all the plaster +ceilings and revealed the old rafters. The one or +two sash windows I found I have replaced with +mullion ones, so now you have before you the +house much as it looked when first built over +two centuries ago." This was quite a new way +to me of making a living, or a fortune, but one +learns many unexpected things when travelling by +road.</p> + +<p>To some there is a potent magnetism, an irresistible +fascination about certain old houses, a subtle +influence from which there is no escape. I confess +to it myself. I have lived in them and love them. +Of course there are old houses and old houses; +not all possess this peculiar power to charm, and +only those of the Elizabethan or Jacobean period, +with their panelled halls and chambers, their beamed +ceilings, their great gables, their clustering chimneys, +their many mullioned windows and big +fireplaces, hold it over me. Those of the Queen +Anne or Georgian age leave me cold; they are +too formal; they lack the sense of mystery and +atmosphere of romance. The old moated granges +pictured in the Christmas numbers of the <i>Illustrated +London News</i> of many years back, how they charmed +me when a boy! What romances about them did not +I weave to myself! I thought they were only artists' +dreams, but since I have happily discovered them +actually existing. I shall never forget the thrill +of delightful surprise the first discovery of the +kind gave me; I could hardly believe my eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +yet there before me stood an ancient moated +home, grey, gabled, and ivy-clad, with a broken +bell-turret on its lichen-laden roof, its leaded-light +windows reflecting the sunlight, and its big chimney-stacks +rising boldly up against the sky; nor shall I +forget the special moment when I crossed the deep +moat by a moss-grown bridge and knocked at the +great oak and nail-studded door. I felt like one in +a dream, that this could not be a reality, and that +I should suddenly wake up and find myself deceived, +disenchanted, and in the commonplace world again. +Happily it was no vain imagining.</p> + +<p>But I am digressing. We were wandering on +winding lanes south of Burford when I began +this overlong digression, and on that maze of +lanes we wandered for some miles—many they +seemed to me; first in one direction, then in +another we went, without arriving anywhere. All +the same, it was very pleasant wandering through +a land purely given over to agriculture, somnolent +and restful. At last we reached a fair road, and +this took us to the little Wiltshire town of Highworth, +boldly set on a hill, so that we could see +it from afar long before we came to it, its grey +church tower and irregular roofed houses outlined +sharply against the sky. Seen thus the town +looked like those one finds in early engravings.</p> + +<p>A clean, homely, dreamy little town is Highworth, +very ancient, even quaint in parts, and this +in spite of the fact that a branch line of railway +has found it out; but so far the railway does not +appear to have disturbed its old-world tranquillity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +There I halted a while at "The Saracen's Head," +a relic of the old coaching days, and the inn, like +the town, seemed half asleep. Then I took a quiet +walk round the place, and eventually found my way +to the church; there appeared to be nothing else +noteworthy there except the old houses and old +shops, and these, though they grouped well and +made a picturesque whole, were not individually of +much interest. So it was I strolled into the church, +and there I found the clerk: twice running had +I done this unusual thing. I bade him good-morning. +He told me he was looking after a bat +that had got into the roof of the building and was +making a mess there. I have heard of owls in a +church tower, but here was a bat in the church +itself. "How are you going to catch the bat?" +queried I, for he had no ladder, and he believed +the bat was somewhere hidden in the beams above. +"That's just what I want to know," he replied. +"I'm thinking it over; meanwhile I'll show you +the church if you like." I thought he might +as well do this whilst he was thinking, so I +accepted his services. The first thing I noticed +was a cannon-ball hanging by three chains from +a bracket on the wall; there must be some story +attached to that, I thought, and there was. It +was another of Cromwell's countless cannon-balls—I +have long ago lost count of the many I have +seen. "That," said the clerk, "was fired against +the church by Cromwell, and it lodged in the +tower. I can show you the hole it made there +where it struck." Then I learnt that the church<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +had been fortified and held for Charles I., was +besieged by the Parliamentarians, who eventually +captured it, taking seventy prisoners; the earthworks +a little beyond the town, where the cannon +was mounted, are still to be made out. Those +were stirring times for the countryside; the district +between Oxford and Worcester had its full share +in them, and in some parts of it the fighting raged +furiously.</p> + +<p>"Now I think I can show you something that +will interest you," exclaimed the clerk; then he +pointed out the ancient oak and much worm-eaten +stalls (of the thirteenth century, he said they were), +and called my attention to a quaint carving on one +of them of a mermaid admiring herself in a handglass; +but what interested me more than this were +the ancient helmet and sword of the Baston family +suspended against the wall, and still of greater +interest a silk tabard belonging to the same Baston +family that was worn over the armour with a coat-of-arms +worked on it: this was needful in order to +distinguish the mail-clad warriors one from another. +The tabard, preserved now in a glass frame, is +much decayed and faded, but still a lion boldly +worked thereon is visible. I understood that this +tabard was discovered stowed away somewhere in +the church, and that the vicar had it framed and +hung up there, and I commend the action of the +vicar. Many of our old churches contain, to this +day, treasures of various kinds hidden away and +forgotten in oak chests and cupboards, and even +lost amongst lumber. There was, too, a priest-chamber<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +belonging to the church, with the usual +stone steps leading to it, but this special chamber +had the uncommon luxury of a washing place. I +noticed when leaving a curious bit of bold sculpture +over the entrance doorway; in the dim light of the +moment I could not very certainly make out what +the carving was about, but I read a notice beneath +it stating that it was probably a Norman Tympanon. +There I bade the clerk good-day. I wondered how +he was going to catch that bat!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Little country towns—The romance of the ferry—"The Bear" at +Woodstock—Curious conditions of tenure—Where the Black +Prince was born—Islip—The mystery of Joseph's Stone—An +English Holland—Boarstall Tower—The ancient town of Brill—"Acres +for Aeroplanes"—Stokenchurch—A quaint hiring +fair.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">After Highworth we had a hilly road, and this +took us without event to Faringdon, where it +chanced to be market day, and the little town was +crowded with farmers and cattle; there were crowds +in its streets, and crowds round its inns, so we +made what haste we could to get out of the place. +These little country towns, however sleepy generally, +manage to be very wide-awake once a week on +market days. A long, quiet stretch of road now +followed, with wide views on either hand over fertile +farming lands. A signpost informed us we were +bound for Abingdon; now Abingdon we knew, so +to avoid the familiar we after a time turned up a +byway and, crossing the Upper Thames on an +ancient and very narrow bridge, we presently +espied another signpost with "North Moor" upon +it; the name suggested wildness, to North Moor we +would go. We got on a rare tangle of lanes and +into a land monotonously level, but no moor did we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +find, nothing but hedge-enclosed and tame fields. +Curiously enough signposts were plentiful, but only +gave the names of villages we had never heard of, +and one name meant as much, or as little, to us as +another.</p> + +<p>Eventually we found ourselves by the side of the +river again and at Bablockhythe Ferry, of which +Matthew Arnold has sung. I asked the name of it, +and then I found it on my map, and so our whereabouts. +The old ferry boat, the quiet river that +was so still it hardly seemed to flow at all, the leafy +trees, and the road on the opposite shore winding +its white way into a distance of green woods, made +such a pretty picture that I was tempted to photograph +it. Were I a poet or a landscape painter +it is a spot that would inspire me. I waited a long +time on the chance of some cattle or sheep to be +crossing and so help my picture, but during that +time only a cyclist came, and I had to make do +with him. The ferryman pulled up his boat to the +bank thinking I was about to "go over," but when +he told me the opposite road went to Oxford, and +it was the nearest way there, I concluded I would +not cross but trust to the lanes and the chance of +coming upon a country hostel in a fresh land. +"Where be you bound for?" asked the ferryman +politely. "I might help you, for the roads about +here are not gain ones for strangers"—and this +though he lost custom for his ferry. It was an +awkward question, for I knew not myself, and was +nonplussed how to answer him. To be a traveller +without a destination seems such a silly thing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +the rural mind. I hope he did not take me for +some lunatic escaped in a car. It was cool by +the river, for the day was growing late, and I thought +it about time to search for an inn. There was +only a public-house by the ferry, and the land +around had a lonely look, so I thought it wise to +hasten on.</p> + +<p>I cannot reason why, for some things are not +open to reason, but like an old manor-house (moated +or otherwise) or a wayside inn of the Jacobean days, +of which a few are still left to us, a lonely ferry +always appeals to me with a sense of romance. +There is something so primitive and picturesque +about a lonely old-fashioned ferry, especially those +one finds in the far-away Fens, that I cannot get +away from my mind a feeling of adventure connected +with such: even the one at Bablockhythe has a +certain far-from-everywhere look about it, and I +gave myself up to the illusion of the spot, an illusion +not only of space but of time; and I verily believe +just then, when in that mood, if a gaily dressed +Cavalier had appeared on the scene fleeing in hot +haste from his pursuers with the hurried cry of +"Over," I should have taken it quite as a matter of +course. I have watched patiently by a very out-of-the-world +Fenland ferry I know, always in the vain +hope of adventure; yet so has the spirit of the place +got hold of me that I feel surely one day, when +again I am there, some strange experience will +come to me.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-397.jpg" width="400" height="282" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">BABLOCKHYTHE FERRY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Very lonely, very winding and narrow were the +lanes we got on, but if you travel far enough you +are sure to arrive somewhere, so we arrived at +Stanton Harcourt, a well-known spot to Oxford +men, and where the old home of the Harcourts +stands with its ancient and chimneyless kitchen, a +building apart from the house with a pyramidical +roof having a louvre at the top, out of which the +smoke escapes as it can. This curious detached +kitchen closely resembles the famous one at Glastonbury +Abbey, so at least I thought from a passing +glance at it. If there was an inn at Stanton Harcourt +we missed it, and so we drove on, and shortly +came to Eynsham, where I noticed its medieval stone +cross in the street by the side of the church. Finding +no inn to my liking, I consulted my map and +discovered that Woodstock was not far off. Now +at Woodstock I knew there was a good inn of the +old-fashioned sort, so to Woodstock we went; and +so in the gloaming, with the soft light of declining +day giving all the landscape a mysterious look, we +sped on the few miles to "The Bear" at that town.</p> + +<p>The great stableyard of "The Bear" is a graphic +reminder of the spacious inns of the coaching era +of which it has been said, "A regiment of cavalry +might have been housed in them, and good wine +could be had for the ordering." You may order +good wine now at country inns, and pay the price +of it, but if you think to get good wine I can only +say, I hope you may. Though I do know one or +two old inns whose cellars contain some rare old +port that has lain in them for years; in one case, +the worthy landlord told me, "since the last coach +took its last change here," which may be but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +pleasant fiction, I cannot say; still, in truth, the +wine is very old, very rare and good. I have +sampled it, and hope to sample it again as long as +the bin lasts, for such wine is not to be had every +day, not even for money.</p> + +<p>There were only two other guests at "The +Bear" that night; they came from Yorkshire, they +said—I did not ask them—and the only thing they +talked about was horses. They even dated their +remarks from the day, or year, a certain horse won +the Derby, or some other horse that had won some +other race. I stood it for an hour or two, then called +for my candle, as travellers did in the days before +gas or electricity, and "to bed," as Pepys has it.</p> + +<p>I did not visit the show-house of Blenheim, for +I had seen it before; moreover, show-houses are +not to my mind. It may, however, be interesting +to call attention to the conditions on which the +Blenheim estate is held, which estate was granted +by a grateful nation to the first Duke of Marlborough +and his heirs in recognition of the famous victory +of Blenheim, in Bavaria, on 2nd August 1704. +"A representative of the family has once a year to +convey to Windsor Castle an embroidered flag, +which is placed in the Guards' Chamber. There +it remains for a twelvemonth, till the next rental +for holding the palace and the estate falls due. It +is the only return the family have to make for the +property they enjoy."</p> + +<p>Next morning, on strolling round the town, I +saw in a shop window a picture postcard, and on it +a photograph of "The Manor-House Farm, birthplace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +of the Black Prince, Woodstock." It came as +a surprise to me to learn that the Black Prince, "that +mirror of knighthood and the greatest of heroes," +was born there; so I gleaned, as I travelled on, many +a forgotten historical happening. To take a schoolboy +a trip through England in a motor-car would be +an excellent way of increasing his knowledge of its +history. The manor-house is very old, though I +take it, except perhaps in parts, little of the original +structure can be left. The house has a pleasant +look, and possesses a curious old chimney consisting +of a stone shaft having a conical roof, the shaft being +pierced on all sides at its top with lancet openings for +the smoke to escape. The chimney looks as though +it ought not to smoke whatever the way of the wind, +and that with it a down draught should be an impossibility; +it is a picturesque device that might be +worth trying in place of the ugly cowls. Finding +nothing further to interest me in the sunny and +sleepy little town, I took my early departure whilst +yet the day was fresh and cool.</p> + +<p>Out of Woodstock I found myself on the old +highway leading to Oxford, but I did not travel it +far, taking a lane to the left with a view of exploring +that rather remote and out-of-the-way district +lying in a rough square between Oxford and Bicester, +Aylesbury and Thame—at least it looked out of the +way on my map, only served by narrow roads; and +on my map I noticed a vacant place marked "Ot +Moor," an odd name, with "Joseph's Stone" also +marked in the centre of the moor. I wondered +what that stone could be so plainly shown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +there, some "Druidical Standing Stone" perhaps; +it aroused my curiosity; and beyond these, in +the direction I was going, "Boarstall Tower" was +inscribed in bold lettering, also the forsaken little +town of Brill. I felt in an exploring mood that +day, and here was an odd corner of the land inviting +me to explore it. First I came to Islip, a bleak-looking +and tiny town of stone houses, yet a town +of some importance in its day; but that was a long +time ago, when King Ethelred had his palace there, +in which his son Edward the Confessor was born, +he who founded Westminster Abbey. Shortly +afterwards our road led us across lonely Ot Moor, +and through the quaint village of Oddington, quaint +as becomes its quaint name. Here I inquired +about Joseph's Stone, and was told that a big stone +of that name once stood on the moor, but "it has +been broken up"; nothing further of its history +could I glean, nor found I any mention of it in any +guide-book I afterwards consulted, nor in any other +likely work, nor did any of my antiquarian friends +know anything about it. I was disappointed. As +the stone is not now there, has not been there, +except in bits, for long years, why do they still mark +it on the map? It is so provoking to see places +marked on the map, and conspicuously marked, +that arouse your curiosity, only to find they do not +exist. It was the same on Salisbury Plain; there +at a spot by the roadside between Wylye and +Devizes was printed plainly on my map "St. John +á Gores Cross." I believe that a wayside stone +cross once stood there, but when that was no one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +seems to know. Now there is no vestige of it, not +even its stump in the ground. Possibly it was +destroyed by the Puritans. Now, trusting to my +map, I went miles out of my way purposely to see +it. I look upon a map as a faithful friend, and one +does not like to find a friend at fault.</p> + +<p>Now succeeded a level stretch of lowland +country that had a look of Holland, excepting that +the cottage homes by the way were distinctly not +Dutch. A land where the eye had freedom to +rove over wide spaces of green right away to a +circling horizon of blue, and a wild wind swept over +it, fresh, cool, and laden with the pungent scent of +marsh flowers—as fresh and cool as the wind that +sweeps over the sea, only without its salt savour. +The wind was making holiday; it tossed the long +grasses and reeds about, it bent down the hedges +before it, it made mimic waves and Lilliputian +tempests on the ponds that we passed. It is wind +that gives life to a scene, and the strife of it stirred +the blood in our veins. We rejoiced in the wind, +for it came from the west, with just a suspicion of +keenness, but no harshness, of greeting.</p> + +<p>In spite of the wind and the sur, sur, sur of it, +the whole countryside gave me the impression of +great quietude. I could allow for the wind—it +would not blow so every day; few people were in +the fields, and those few seemed to be taking life +easy, contentedly doing little; the hedges were +delightfully tangled, a disgrace to good farming it +may be, but that is a matter apart. Perhaps they +needed some pruning, but they best pleased my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +eye just wild as they were, growing as Nature +would have them. It was a land to laze in, to do +nothing in haste; only the wind stirred it up to a +semblance of passion. There was no flow in the +streams that one could perceive; it was a relief to +come to a land that suggested nothing but rest. +The interfering political economist might well shake +his head at all this, but I was out for my pleasure, +without a thought of what he might say. It was so +peace-bestowing, and that was its charm. It was a +land of health rather than a land of wealth—and +who shall say that health is not the better thing?—a +land that conformed to no canon of beauty, but +none the less pleasing to me. I will wager that no +one grew prematurely old from overwork in it: +why should he? Mere money-making is the bane +of the age; it gives a man no time to call his soul +his own. "If a person," says Stevenson, "cannot +be happy without remaining idle, idle he should +remain. It is a revolutionary precept." It is. I +do not go so far. I only protest against money-making +at the price of much leisure, the making of +money for money's sake only. I knew a man who +toiled hard all the week at his desk in a stuffy +city office at the cost of his health, and what for?—to +keep up a needlessly pretentious home with +gardeners and carriage. One day, he confessed to +me, the folly of all this forcibly struck him; he +had so little leisure to enjoy his family or home. +He thought the matter carefully over and for long, +and he came to the conclusion that by working half +the time he should lose half his income; on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +other hand, he would have half the week to himself +that he could devote to his wife and the pleasures +of home. So he gave up his large house, he dismissed +his gardeners, he did away with his carriage, +and took a pretty little cottage where, on his +reduced income, he could live in comfort, though +without the luxuries of gardeners and carriage; and +his wife, too, had less cares in the management of a +smaller home. So happy was he and every one in +the new conditions that, though his partners laughed +at him and deemed him a fool, he declared to me +that nothing would induce him to return to his +former slavery, as he called it. He was an infinitely +happier man, his family were happier too, and he +enjoyed such health as he had never known since +he was a schoolboy free from all but fancied care.</p> + +<p>From this leisured land a stiff climb brought us +on to high ground and into a lighter, more exciting +air. On the lowland we were content to laze along, +and desired to laze so; here we must needs speed +for a while, for the country was open and things not +seen in detail; for there is a pace at which you can +best enjoy and appreciate the type of country passed +through: here, not the foreground but the distance +allured us. When you see far ahead, and all is +revealed before you, as in a stretch of open road +over a wide moorland, your eye is ever on the horizon +that beckons you on to explore the unknown, and +you cannot, if human, resist its attraction. That is +the magic of distance.</p> + +<p>At a turn in the road, in a lonely spot, we +caught a glimpse through branching trees of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +grey old tower of Boarstall: no longer the distance +held us in thrall; its power was gone. Boarstall, +with its four flanking and embattled towers, is all +that remains of a once fortified house. There are +narrow arrow-slits in the towers that show their +ancientness, but the large front and mullioned side +windows do not suggest so early a date or a place +of much defensive strength; doubtless they were +added in later years under a feeling of greater +security. The house that stood in the moat-enclosed +ground beyond has now wholly disappeared. +Boarstall, however, was strengthened during the +Civil Wars, well garrisoned, and held for the king. +Lord Clarendon in his <i>History of the Rebellion</i> +says: "Fairfax attempted to take a poor house +near Boarstall, and was beaten from thence with +considerable loss, so that he drew off his men, little +to his credit." Before the siege the following correspondence +took place between the commanders of +the besiegers and the besieged:—</p> + +<p class="pn center p1"><span class="smcap">Sir Thomas Fairfax to Sir William Campion</span></p> + +<p class="pd1"><i>3 June 1645.</i></p> + +<p class="pa5 p1"><span class="smcap">Sir</span>—I send you this summons before I proceed to further +extremities, to deliver up to me the house of Borstall you now +hold, with all the ordinance, arms, and ammunition therein, for the +use and service of the kingdom, which if you shall agree unto, +you may expect civility and fair respect, otherwise you may draw +upon yourself those inconveniences which I desire may be +prevented. I expect your answer by this trumpet within one +hour.—Your Servant,</p> +<p class="pd1"><span class="smcap">Thomas Fairfax</span>.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">This is the spirited reply that Fairfax received to +his summons:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pn center p1"><span class="smcap">Sir William Campion to Sir Thomas Fairfax</span></p> + +<p class="pn center p1">In answer.</p> + +<p class="pa5 p1"><span class="smcap">Sir</span>—You have sent me a summons of a surrender of this +house for the service of the kingdom. I thought that cant +had been long ere this very stale (considering the King's often +declarations and protestations to the contrary), now sufficient only +to cozen women and poor ignorant people: for your civilities, so +far as they are consonant to my honour, I embrace: in this place +I absolutely apprehend them as destructive not only to my +honour, but also to my conscience. I am therefore ready to +undergo all inconveniences whatsoever, rather than submit to +any, much less those, so dishonourable and unworthy propositions, +this is the resolution of, Sir, yours,</p> + +<p class="pd1"><span class="smcap">William Campion</span>.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">So the siege began.</p> + +<p>Boarstall Tower stands a picturesque reminder +of "the brave days of old," with its embattled +towers and weather-beaten walls. Crossing the +broad and brimming moat by a stone bridge (with +the date of 1735 upon it) that replaces the drawbridge +of past times, I found the door locked, so I +inquired of a farmhouse close by if it were possible +to see the building. The maid who responded to +my summons said she thought so, and presently +returned with the key and permission to view it. +Even with the key I found some difficulty in +gaining admission, for the ancient and possibly +rusty lock was hard to turn, and the door creaked +complainingly on its hinges. Within, the building +apparently has suffered little change since the +Jacobean days: the towers contain dark circular +stairs of stone, and odd and gloomy little rooms +reached by narrow passages through the thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +walls; but there is one large, well-lighted, and even +cheerful apartment on the top. Judging from the +size of the gate-house, the original house which it +served must have been one of some importance. +Though Clarendon calls it "a poor house," I take it +this was intended in a military sense. Boarstall +must have been a thorn in the side of the Parliamentarians, +not being far from Oxford, and by the +"constant mischievous incursions of its garrison." +The old tower makes a telling subject for the +pencil, brush, or camera, as I trust my photograph +proves. I hardly think Boarstall is as well known +as it deserves to be. Situated in an out-of-the-way +corner of the land, remote from main roads, it is +not easy to find, but well worth finding.</p> + +<p>The tradition of the origin of the name Boarstall +is curious. It appears that "once upon a time"—that +convenient "once upon a time"—it was in the +centre of the royal forest of Bemwode, and that "a +tremendous wild boar, the terror of the inhabitants," +haunted it, and was eventually slain by one Nigel, +the forester, who as a reward received a grant of +land by tenure of a horn, and on the land he built +a house and called it "Borrestalle" in memory of +the slain boar.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-409.jpg" width="400" height="273" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">BOARSTALL TOWER FROM THE MOAT.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">A little beyond Boarstall the country became wild +and open again, and there before us, perched right +on the top of a bleak, isolated hill, a hill much +scarred with clay pits, stood the odd, little, out-of-date +town of Brill. Odd, little, out-of-date town—that +just describes it, there is no need for more +words: on its hill stands one of, I think, the oldest +windmills I have ever seen working, an ancient +wooden structure with canvas sails, a mill of the +kind the old masters put in their pictures, so old +must it be. Brill at one time actually tried to transform +itself into a fashionable watering-place, a spring +of mineral waters having been discovered there, said +by experts to be superior even to those of Bath. +But the attempt turned out a failure; for the success +of such an adventure a place needs something +beyond a mere mineral spring. Prosperity and +popularity require pretty or interesting surroundings, +decent roads, and, above all, reasonable accessibility. +Brill, though bracing in situation, has none of these +other needful advantages. Yet a pretentious pump-room +was built with every required accessory, including +a spacious reception-room, all in the Doric +style; these are now hastening to decay, and Brill +is left to its solitude. Possibly if you asked the +average man where Brill is, he would respond, "I +never heard of the place." So should I have done +before I discovered it and learnt the unfortunate +history of its bold and, to me, apparently hopeless +bid for popularity, of which nothing came. I am +glad it did not, for it is a quaint old town, and +deserves to remain so.</p> + +<p>Beyond Brill a winding lane brought us to Long +Crendon that possesses an interesting old Court +House of the fifteenth century, and a fine old Tudor +gateway, and shortly after this we found ourselves +at Thame, and there we took a by-road to our right +that for some miles led us through a quiet, pastoral +land, and eventually we came out on the main<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +London to Oxford road. Then we drove eastward. +This portion of the Oxford road as far as to West +Wycombe runs through very pleasant country, as +the many motorists who travel it well know, affording +in parts wide prospects over a well-wooded +country and climbing the Chilterns with many windings +through a fragrant forest of firs.</p> + +<p>At the hamlet of Tetsworth we noticed its +rambling, brick-built, and time-dimmed old coaching +inn, and on its ancient front a board inscribed +"Petrol." How times have changed—petrol in place +of corn and hay for the passing steed of many +horse power, even forty at times; machinery in place +of muscle! At another old coaching inn, on a +previous journey, I noticed a bold advertisement that +ran briefly thus, "Acres for Aeroplanes." I did not +take this seriously, though there was ample space in +the hostel's large and open field for the landing of +aeroplanes; but that an ancient inn should display +such a sign at all gave me food for thought. Twice +during my journey did I wholly unexpectedly see +an aeroplane flying overhead, on one occasion when +I was stopping in a village; and though the village +folk looked up to see it, attracted by the noise of its +engines, I hardly think they regarded it with more +curiosity, or as a thing more wonderful, than they +regarded the motor-car when it first appeared on +the road. The miracle of to-day is but the commonplace +of to-morrow, and how soon it becomes the +commonplace! "The Swan" at Tetsworth is a building +of some size, and, though it still entertains wayfarers, +has such a forlorn look that I felt quite sorry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +for the poor old place. Once it was known as "the +great inn at Tetsworth," and was the scene of much +noisy revelry; when we were there we saw no sign +of life about the place.</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">To the ancient wayside tavern<br /> +Comes the noisy throng no more.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Even the motor-car does not appear to have revived +its fortunes. There we pulled up for petrol, +not that we required it, but it was an excuse to +linger about the old inn, for, though I cannot say +exactly why, it mildly fascinated me; the building, +old and weather-stained, with its broad front to the +street, told its silent tale of past days and doings as +eloquently and plainly as though it were told on +the printed page. After much waiting I procured +the petrol I did not want, and, more to the point, +I obtained a glance within at the inn's ancient +chambers; they had a faded, antiquated look, not, +to me, altogether displeasing; I think I could have +spent the night at "The Swan" quite comfortably +had I needed. It is an inn of memories.</p> + +<p>Then followed a level stretch of open, cheerful, +and sunlit road, with extensive prospects over a rich +green land to a long line of low and undulating hills; +after this a winding ascent through fragrant woods +brought us presently to the bleak little village of +Stokenchurch, situated high up on the top of the +Chilterns, and there I caught sight of another old +decayed coaching inn, but, to my eye, this was a +hard-featured, unattractive building, wholly lacking +in that peculiar, indescribable character that suggests<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +a romantic past, for buildings have their characters +as well as men: some appeal to you, some +do not.</p> + +<p>A little beyond Stokenchurch began the long and +steep descent of the famous Dashwood Hill, at the +foot of which we found ourselves in the sleepy village +of West Wycombe, with one or two rather curious +old houses, but having nothing else to boast of. +High Wycombe succeeded to West Wycombe; there +is but a short and an uninteresting mile or two +between them. High Wycombe is an old-fashioned, +wide-streeted town, as those who travel the Oxford +road are aware, with rather a quaint, much-mellowed, +red-brick market-hall raised on stone arches. At +High Wycombe the curious custom of Michaelmas +hiring still prevails and flourishes. I think a short +account of this that I cull from a local paper of the +past year may prove interesting:—</p> + +<p class="pa5 p1">Yesterday one of the oldest Michaelmas hiring fairs in +England was witnessed in our ancient market-place. From a wide +radius, including parts of the three counties of Bucks, Berks, and +Oxon, farmers and agricultural employees in all spheres flocked +into the town early in the morning. The attendance was large, +and there was a general disposition to "change hands," though +the average terms of remuneration showed very little alteration. +Several old-time customs still prevail, both at the hiring and in +regard to the conditions upon which the farm hands are engaged +for the ensuing twelve months. For instance, ploughmen decorate +their button-holes with pieces of whipcord to denote their +distinctive calling, shepherds display tufts of wool in their forelocks +and their caps, and other farm hands utilise horsehair and fancy +ribbons and rosettes for their personal adornment.</p> + +<p class="pa5">A good deal of time was occupied in making the best terms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +and in accordance with the precedent of many years' standing, +the engagements were conditional on the supplying of beer, or +harvest money in its place.</p> + +<p class="p1">Leaving High Wycombe we followed a while +the side of the little river Wye that turns an ancient +mill on its way, and across the river rose some of +the beautiful beech-clad hills for which Buckinghamshire +is so justly famed. There is something about +the form and growth of the close-leafed beech that +causes it to clothe the hills with a graceful and +following contour that no other tree does.</p> + +<p>Now an unattractive five miles of road, with a +climb on the way and at the end of it, brought us +to the elevated and breezy little town of Beaconsfield +that, considering it is within twenty-four miles +of London, has retained its ancient air surprisingly; +for its low, old houses, that face its wide and quiet +street, still possess a pleasant and ancient look that +charms. The town seems almost as remote and +dreamy as though it were somewhere far away in +the distant shires. May it long retain its primitive +character! but I doubt it, for the railway has at last +found it out.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">An inn of the old-fashioned sort—A chat with "mine host"—A +weird experience—Ghost stories—An ancient rectory house—A +quaint interior—A haunted passage—Lost in a fog—The game +of bowls—An old posting bill—The siege of Alton church—Ants +as weather prophets.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">At Beaconsfield I put up for the night at "The White +Hart," an ancient and homely hostelry where I +found comfortable quarters, a landlord both interesting +and obliging, a waitress civil and attentive, and +excellent fare: such was my accidental good fortune. +"The White Hart" is a very ancient though much +altered building, dating, I was informed, from the +days of Elizabeth; certainly some of its big and +shaped beams upstairs testify to its ancientness. +The coaching days were the days of its prime, for +then one hundred horses were stabled there—so I +afterwards learnt. The landlord received me with +a cheery smile at the door: he knew how to welcome +a guest. I casually told him I was tired and hungry, +for I had travelled far that day; then he must needs +at once concern himself about my dinner, so that I +might not have to wait unduly for it, and promised +me the best that the town could supply. I explained +to him I was not an exacting traveller; he was far +more anxious about my comfort and my fare than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +was I. That is the sort of landlord for me: very +different his welcome to that one generally receives +from the stony-eyed manager of a modern hotel. +At these old-fashioned inns, with their friendly, good-natured +landlords (for the one seems always to go with +the other), I, but a tweed-clad, dust-stained traveller, +always feel quite at home and at ease; there is such +a charming simplicity and do-as-you-will air about +them. Were I a millionaire I would choose them +in preference to all others and desire no better. I +merely sought a night's shelter, and however humble +my chamber, if clean, it satisfied me. These inns +give you their best, and who but the surliest could +grumble at that when good is the best? I am an +unpretending road-farer, though I fare in a car. +I do not care to discuss my dinners when I get +them; some days I made do with a tea, I found it +more refreshing, but the dinner provided for me at +that little inn of no pretence consisted of soup, fish, +fowl, sweet omelette, with cheese to follow. Perhaps +my hunger, begotten of a long day in fresh air, gave +me an extra zest, but I thought at the time that +never had I sat down to a better cooked dinner—I +have certainly sat down to a worse in a wealthy +man's house. This much for my modest inn I must +say. Indeed, on the strength of its goodness I +indulged in a small bottle of wine, and the wine +was no worse than that of the same sort I have +had at expensive London hotels at double the price, +or perhaps even more.</p> + +<p>It chanced that I was the only guest there that +night, so the landlord, with kind intent, came to me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +after dinner and entertained me with a chat, and I +was well entertained. It turned out that he was +an old "'Varsity" man, a magistrate, an enthusiastic +antiquary, a churchwarden, a mason, and I know +not what else besides, a man of many parts; and if +he played his other parts as well as he played that +of "mine host," he played them well indeed. His +knowledge was wide, he talked of many things and +interestingly, so I spent a very pleasant and profitable +evening in his company over a glass and a +pipe. I quite forgot my tiredness; it was late +before I got to bed—that speaks well for mine host. +Our gossip eventually took an antiquarian turn; he +told me of a very ancient, rambling, timber-framed +rectory house that stood against the churchyard, +which he said I really ought to see, and he kindly +offered to show me over it the next morning. This +ancient rectory, I understood, was built on the site +of an old nunnery and dated from about 1525, and +is in part inhabited—I think by the town nurse, he +said. Connected with it, he told me of a most +strange experience of his, and this is the tale he +told to me after some hesitation. "I hardly like to +relate my experience," he said, "for you may possibly +not credit me, but I tell you the absolute truth." +Then he paused as though doubtful if he should +continue; indeed he needed some persuasion to do +so. But I prevailed on him. What was the strange +story he had to tell, I wondered, that he should +so hesitate to tell it? I bided my time, and at last +he went on: "I was going over the old building +one morning, as I sometimes do. Believe me, I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +a perfectly sane man, not given to fancies; I was +in perfect health at the time, thinking of nothing +special in particular. I was going over the building, +as I said, and I opened the door of one of the rooms +expecting to find it empty as usual. To my surprise +I saw a strange clergyman seated there reading a +book; being a stranger I took a good look at him, +for I wondered who he was, but he neither moved +nor spoke, so I left the room, quietly shutting the +door. In the passage outside I met an inhabitant +of the place. I described the clergyman to him, and +asked him who he could be. The man looked at +me in some astonishment; then he exclaimed, 'Why, +from your description he exactly resembles our late +rector, but he has been dead these three years.' +Then I went back to the room again; the door had +not been opened, I was close to it, and there was no +other mode of egress, yet when I entered no one +was there, the chair was vacant. For the moment +I hardly knew what to think; a queer sort of feeling +came over me, for I was suddenly conscious that it +must have been the ghost of the late rector I saw. +If not, what was it? How came that figure seated +there? to where had it disappeared? I did not +even know in the least what the dead rector was +like, yet the description of what I saw was at once +recognised for him by one who had known him +well. I had never believed in ghosts, was not at +the time thinking about them—indeed I had never +previously given them a thought. Such was my +strange experience, for which I can give no reasonable +explanation." No more could I.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<p>The landlord's story did not disturb my rest that +night, though I slept in a very ancient chamber, but +it set me a-thinking. Ghosts and ghost stories appear +to be coming into favour and fashion again, even +taken seriously, it seems, from the accounts I read +in the papers and in books. Truly astonishing are +some of these. A few years back, under the heading +of "A Haunted House," there appeared in the +<i>Standard</i> a long letter from an army officer who +confessed to having been driven out of a good house +by the ghostly manifestations that took place within +it! He begins his letter: "In this century ghosts +are obsolete, but they are costing me two hundred +pounds a year. I have written to my lawyer, but +am told by him that the English law does not +recognise ghosts." I really cannot blame the law, +indeed I commend it. Then he goes on to say: "I +am not physically nervous, I have been under fire +repeatedly, have been badly wounded in action, and +have been complimented on my coolness when +bullets were flying about. I was not then afraid of +ghosts; besides, I suspected trickery. A light was +kept burning in the upper and lower corridor all +night. A lamp and loaded revolver were by my +bedside every night. No one could have entered +the house without being detected, and probably +shot." Then he describes the different ghostly +manifestations that drove him, family, and servants +out of the house: "The governess used to complain +of a tall lady, with black, heavy eyebrows, who used +to come as if to strangle her as she lay in bed." +Footsteps were constantly heard during the night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +in the corridors. "One night, lying awake, I distinctly +saw the handle of my bedroom door turned, +and the door pushed open; I seized my revolver and +ran to the door. The lamp in the corridor was burning +brightly; no one was there, and no one could have +got away." On another occasion, when the writer +with his family returned home at midnight from a +concert, "our old Scotch housekeeper, who admitted +us, a woman of iron nerves, was trembling with +terror. Shortly before our arrival a horrible shriek +had rung through the house. To our questions she +only replied, 'It was nothing earthly.' The nurse, +who was awake with a child with the whooping-cough, +heard the cry, and says it was simply horrible," +and so forth. Then I read in <i>A Diplomatist's Wife +in Many Lands</i>, by Mrs. Hugh Fraser, how she +had frequently seen a ghost in an Italian palace +where her husband and self resided for a time. +Besides, have we not the extraordinary description +not only of ghostly people but of ghostly scenery +(the latter is quite a new departure to me) in that +astonishing book <i>An Adventure</i>, of which "the +Publishers guarantee that the authors have put down +what happened to them as faithfully and accurately +as was in their power. The signatures appended to +the Preface are the only fictitious words in the book." +In the <i>Notes from the Life of an Ordinary Mortal</i>, +by A. G. C. Liddell, C.B., I read: "In the morning +walked with Mr. Chamberlain. We talked about +ghosts." So enlightened people do talk about +ghosts! "He said that he had at one time been +interested in the subject, and had got hold of a case<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> +where the ghost had been seen by more than one +person at the same time.... Four persons were +sitting in an old hall and saw the figure of a monk +walk across the far end of the room and disappear. +The next night they fixed a rope across the track +of the phantom, but it passed through the body +without movement." So much for the papers and +books, though I have only quoted a few of the +incidents recorded; there are many others. Now, +besides the landlord of "The White Hart," three other +persons of late have declared to me positively that +they have seen a ghost. Yet till this, since I was +a boy, I have never heard them mentioned. The +first was a lady whose husband had taken a charming +old house in the Eastern Counties; it had the reputation +of being haunted, but, not believing in ghosts, +neither she nor her husband thought anything of +that; but one evening, when going upstairs to dress +for dinner, my informant told me she distinctly saw +a figure of a woman, richly attired in a quaint old-world +dress, perhaps of the Elizabethan period, +quietly walking along the landing, and she watched +it till it disappeared in the wall at the end of the +passage. All the servants and the guests were +accounted for, and "If the figure were not a ghost, +what could it have been?" I was asked. I could +not say! Moreover, the lady saw the same figure +on a further occasion walking and disappearing in +just the same astonishing manner. Another lady +told me the story of a ghost she had seen in her +house, only she said she was so frightened she could +not say how it was dressed, or whether it was a he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> +or a she ghost, so I did not trouble about further +detail. Now for my last relation, and this occurred +in my own house, not an old house by the way, and +where I have never heard or dreamt of a ghost. A +lady was left a short time in a room, when she rushed +out to me in another part of the house declaring +that, though the room was empty when she went in +and she had shut the door behind her, on suddenly +looking up from her chair she saw a bald-headed +man standing in front of the fireplace; for a moment +she wondered who he could be and how he came +there, then the thought came across her it must be +a ghost, and she asked me to come and interview it! +This I did with her at all speed, but when we returned +to the room no one was there. I merely +thought the lady must have been dozing, but she +stoutly averred she had not. Still, let people say +and write on the subject no end, and be hounded +out of their houses by ghosts, I will not believe in +one till I see it; even then, I think I should send +for a doctor to learn if my health were at fault, to +be sure that I had not imagined the thing.</p> + +<p>The old rectory house at Beaconsfield is built on +three sides of a square, and its half-timber front has a +picturesque look. Within are many ancient chambers, +some with their original panelling and Tudor fireplaces +of stone, and there are many passages +besides, for it is a rambling place: one of these +passages, I was told, is called "The Ghost Walk," +because a ghost is often heard at night, though not +seen, walking along it; her footsteps, however, are +often heard, and the rustling of her dress, for it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +supposed to be the ghost of some lady. I think the +landlord told me her story, but I have forgotten it +now. Rats suggest themselves to me as an explanation +of the footsteps, for I will wager there are rats +in that old house; imagination might account for the +rustling of a dress—it accounts for a good many +things in this world. Old houses are often full of +strange noises, for panelling is apt to creak with the +changes of the weather, and in the still night-time +all sounds appear magnified; then the creak of old +woodwork seems startlingly loud, for I have experienced +this.</p> + +<p>My landlord pointed out to me the chamber in +which he had seen the vision, but there is nothing +remarkable about it except its ancientness. The +house is certainly one that should appeal even to +the most exacting ghost; any stray ghost out of +place through his "haunt" being pulled down would +miss a rare opportunity in not taking up his abode +there. Some small niches in the sides of the walls +were pointed out to me; what use these could have +been put to puzzled my antiquarian guide—they +were too small and too shallow for statues. It +occurred to me that they might be to place lamps in +to light the dark passages; the landlord said he had +not thought of that, and deemed it a plausible and +possible explanation of their purport. I felt complimented +he should so esteem my suggestion, but I +had seen very similar niches in other old buildings +that had undoubtedly been used to contain lamps; I +told him this, and then he accepted my view as +being correct, though he said many people had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +seen the niches and were at a loss to account for +them.</p> + +<p>It was a rare foggy morning when we left +Beaconsfield, it was as though the whole country +were packed up in cotton-wool; so dense indeed +was the mist that we had to drive slowly and +cautiously, for ahead of us was a wall of white and +our vision was limited to yards. At my hotel in +the evening I found a fellow-motorist who did not +venture out at all that day, he thought it too risky. +However, it was merely a matter of pace, and at +times, when the fog thinned a little, we drove along +quite comfortably. In a way I even enjoyed the +drive, for the country looked so mysterious, and the +mist exaggerated the forms of half-hidden things +that suddenly rose up before us; even the houses and +trees by the way assumed proportions gigantic: we +might have been travellers in fabled Brobdingnag.</p> + +<p>Shortly after Beaconsfield we got on to narrow +winding lanes, then into woods, though we could +not see much of them, when we discovered we +were at Burnham Beeches, where the roads are +kept as prim as those of a park, neatly signposted +too, and this robbed the woods of their suggestion +of wildness; so on somehow to the main Bath road, +which we followed only as far as Maidenhead, where +we struck to the left over cross-country roads and +eventually turned up at Wokingham, the landscape +between being mostly hidden from view. The +horn came in useful that day. Then followed some +more cross-country roads, out of which we emerged +on to the old Exeter highway and soon reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +the hamlet of Hook with its old coaching inn—from +the notices on its front it now appears to be a +motoring inn; and after this we found ourselves back +in Odiham again, so we took a fresh road out of it. +The fog had now quite cleared away and the sun +was shining, but what with a late start and the +slow travelling for much of the way, and a long +halt for refreshment, the sun was already lowering +in the west and the sky was growing golden there. +We had a delightful drive through a more or less +hilly country into Alton, passing through South +Warnborough, a very pretty village—the prettiest +in Hampshire, its inhabitants declare. I am glad to +learn they take a pride in their village; that is the +sort of pride that profits, the pride of place and not +of person—to be a dweller in no mean village.</p> + +<p>After South Warnborough we had a hilly drive +over a down-like undulating country, and then we +descended into Alton, where I have an idea they +brew good ale. At Alton we put up at "The Swan," +an old coaching inn of some former fame, and that +still has a pleasantly prosperous look, keeps up its +ancient reputation for good cheer, and presents a +smiling front to the street. I found a fine bowling-green +in the rear, and during the course of the +evening some of the townsfolk forgathered there +and played bowls quite seriously over their pipes +and their ale. It may not be high art, but I noticed +there was an art in playing bowls, and the old men +who knew and studied it appeared mostly to win. +A good old-fashioned game is bowls, that never +seems wholly to go out of fashion, and a pleasant +one to watch; engrossing too, for even Drake, when +playing it on Plymouth Hoe with the dreaded +Armada in sight, went on with his rub undisturbed. +"There is no hurry," quoth he, and he quietly +finished his game and then went and played ball +with the Spaniards—but those were the days before +steam. Now I never look on at a game of bowls +but I think of bold Drake and those easy-going +historic old days when, if they did things slowly, +they did them very thoroughly.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-427.jpg" width="400" height="564" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">A FOURTEENTH-CENTURY DOORWAY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">Writing of the subject of inn gardens, I +remember seeing somewhere on the way boldly displayed +on the front of an inn the simple legend +"Lovely Garden." I am glad to note that innkeepers +are becoming aware of the attraction of a +garden and so proclaim it: a garden where guests +may escape from walled rooms into the fresh air, +there to loiter at ease retired from the street and +the crowd; to secure a bedroom looking over those +gardens is a further attraction to me.</p> + +<p>It may be that special good-fortune attended me, +but during the whole of my journey never once at +my inn where I stopped for the night did I fail to +find entertainment, either from host or from guest. +I think I have said so before. Now here at "The +Swan" was still another landlord both willing to +gossip and wishful to entertain a lone wanderer +in the smoke-room of his comfortable hostel. He +brought me a time-yellowed paper of the seventeenth +century having an advertisement of his inn, to show +how long it had been in existence. In the same +paper, I think it was, my eye caught the following<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> +announcement: "June 19th, 1684. The post will +go every day, to and from, betwixt London and +Epsom during the season for drinking the waters." +Then Epsom was a fashionable Spa. Also he +showed me an old posting bill of the house that was +of some interest, for it was a bill paid by the Rev. +Gilbert White for a postchaise from "The Swan" +to Meon Stoke and back, when White was on a +visit to a friend at that place; and thus the bill +runs:—</p> + + +<p class="pn center p1"><span class="smcap">Harrow.</span></p> + +<p class="pn center p1"><span class="smcap">Hampshire—Alton.</span></p> + +<p class="pn center p1">Swan.</p> + +<p class="pn center p1">Neat Post-Chaises.</p> + +<table id="t03" summary="t03"> + + <tr> + <td colspan="4"> </td> + <td class="tdc"><i>£</i></td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdc"><i>s.</i></td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdc"><i>d.</i></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>August 1st.</td> + <td> </td> + <td colspan="2">Chaise to Meon Stoke</td> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + <td class="tdr">13</td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdr">6</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> + <td class="tdc">Duty</td> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + <td class="tdr">3</td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdr">0</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td>August 6th.</td> + <td> </td> + <td colspan="2">Chaise from Meon Stoke to Alton</td> + <td colspan="2"> </td> + <td class="tdr">13</td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tdr">6</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> + <td class="tdc">Duty</td> + <td colspan="2" class="td043"> </td> + <td class="td043">3</td> + <td class="td043"> </td> + <td class="td043">0</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="4"> </td> + <td class="td043">£1</td> + <td class="td043"> </td> + <td class="td043">13</td> + <td class="td043"> </td> + <td class="td043">0</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td colspan="4"> </td> + <td colspan="5" class="td033"> </td> + </tr> + +</table> + +<p class="pn">August 27th, 1785.</p> +<p>Received the contents.</p> +<p class="pn1"><span class="smcap">H. Harrow.</span></p> +<p class="pd1">Paid by the Rev. <span class="smcap">Gilbert White.</span></p> + +<p class="p1">In the account of his Hampshire rides in this +locality Cobbett thus delightfully refers to Gilbert +White: "I forgot to mention that a man who showed +me the way told me at a certain fork, 'that road +goes to Selbourne.' This puts me in mind of a +book that was once recommended to me, but which +I never saw, entitled <i>The History and Antiquities +of Selbourne</i> (or something of that sort), written, I +think, by a parson of the name of White. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> +parson had, I think, the living of Selbourne." Now +had the "parson of the name of White" only +written about farming Cobbett might have taken a +more intelligent interest in him. Next the landlord +remarked, "You ought really to see our old church." +(How often have the landlords of inns during my +journey recommended me to see their church; even +one offered me his pew on a Sunday, such a staunch +churchman was he.) "It may interest you," he +continued, "for there are still the marks on its walls +of the cannon-balls that struck them during the +Civil War, when the church was besieged" (still +more of Cromwell's endless cannon-balls!), "and there +are the bullet marks too on the door made at the +same time." The story of this siege is sufficiently +and quaintly recorded on a brass in the church, and +this I copied as follows:—</p> + +<p class="pa6 p1">A Memoricall</p> + +<p class="pp1">For this renowned Martialist Richard Boles of ye<br /> +Right Worshipful family of the Boles. Colonell of a<br /> +Ridgment of foot of 1300. Who for his Gratious<br /> +King Charles ye First did wonders att the Battell<br /> +Of Edge Hill. His last action was at Alton in<br /> +This County of Southampton, he was surprised by<br /> +Five or six thousand of the Rebells which<br /> +Caused him, there Quartered, to fly to the Church<br /> +With near Fourescore of his men who there<br /> +Fought them six or seuen houers, and when<br /> +The Rebells Breaking in upon him, he slew<br /> +With his sword six or seuen of them and then<br /> +Was slayne himselfe with sixty of his men aboute him.</p> + +<p class="pa6 p1">1641.</p> + +<p class="pp1">His Gratious Soverayne hearing of his death<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>Give ys passionate Expression "Bring me<br /> +A Moorning Scarffe i have lost one of the<br /> +Best Commanders in this Kingdome."</p> + +<hr class="dec1" /><br /> + +<p class="pp1">Alton will tell you of that Famous Fight<br /> +Which ys man made & bade the world good night,<br /> +His Verteous life fear'd not mortalyty<br /> +His body must, his Vertues cannot die,<br /> +Because his Bloud was there so nobly spent,<br /> +This is his tombe, the Church his monument.</p> + +<p class="p1">The next morning, after seeing the church, as I +was departing the landlord exclaimed, and that in +spite of a fast-falling barometer and a plentiful +supply of suspicious clouds about: "You'll have a +fine day, for I notice the ants are throwing up their +tiny heaps on the bowling-green, and when they do +that the day is certain to be fine." I had not heard +of this method of prognosticating the weather before; +all the same it proved true, excepting for one short +shower, when from the look of the sky at the start, +and the south-westerly wind that was blowing, I +should certainly have expected little but rain; yet +even the shower we experienced I found out was +local and did not extend very far.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">The Meon Valley—Warnford—A hidden church—A house "a +million years old"!—A Saxon sun-dial—A ruined home—Corhampton +and its Saxon church—A modern "Naboth's Vineyard"—An +out-of-the-world village—A curious story—Quaint +carvings and their legend—A church tower built by servants.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">We left Alton by the Winchester road; we did not, +however, follow it for long, but turned down a by-road +and soon reached a pretty village of some +thatched cottages built round a little green, with its +pond to make the picture complete. The inn there +had on its signboard the representation of a fat +monk with the legend "The Grey Friar," a fresh +sign to me. Then passing a finely timbered park +with many wide-branching elms in it, causing grey +patches of shade on the great sweeps of sunlit +sward, we began to explore the lovely Meon Valley, +through which runs the clear and bright river Meon +between richly wooded banks and gently sloping +hills. I really do not think an artist could have +designed prettier scenery had he the designing of +it. A valley full of quiet beauty, yet so ignorant +was I of my own land I had not heard of its charms +before; many a guidebook-lauded valley is not half +so beautiful as it. No poet has been born in that +valley to sing its praises, otherwise it might have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +been famed. The day, too, was perfect, and the +soft sunshine helped to make everything pleasant; +the day and scene were attuned one to another.</p> + +<p>Up and down hill we went, then we dropped +down to West Meon, a neat, clean village. The +chief occupation of its inhabitants at the time +appeared to be in standing idly at their doorways, +or loafing in the road; it somehow reminded me of +a scene at a theatre ready set, with the minor +performers in place and awaiting the principal actors +to come on the stage and play their parts. I often +wonder how these villagers live with no local industry; +they cannot live on one another, and they +do not seem exactly the sort of people to receive +dividends on investments, though in all of them at +least the public-house appears to prosper. It is a +problem beyond me. Here we crossed the Meon +on a little stone bridge and proceeded by a delightfully +tree-shaded road, as pleasant as a road could +be, and along by the river-side to the tiny decayed +village of Warnford, a mere hamlet rather of a few +pretty and ancient cottages deep in woods where +each cottage is a picture. Yet it had a depressingly +lonely look as though the village were under some +spell, for I did not see a soul about it, not a face +at a window, not a figure at a door, no one in its +cottage gardens, not a child, nor a dog, nor a fowl +in the road. I stopped in the village for an hour, +or more, to make some sketches and to take some +photographs, yet all that while there was no sign of +life about the place, no one going or coming. I +could not but marvel at this, it was so curious an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> +experience. It looked like a deserted village, yet +the cottages appeared well cared for, and their +little gardens loved and well tended. The strange +loneliness and silence of the spot impressed me. +Why was it? I could not account for it, unless all +its inhabitants were away making holiday, but where +were the dogs and the fowls? It might almost +have been one of those picturesque model villages +one sees in an exhibition at an early hour before +the very properly dressed up and show village +maidens have arrived and when no one is there, +only it was far too real for that.</p> + +<p>There was one thing besides its loneliness that +seemed strange and incomplete about the spot, though +for a time I could not realise what I missed; then +it struck me it was the absence of a presiding church, +that is generally such a prominent feature of a +village and centres the life of it. I looked carefully +around, but nowhere could I see the church; +there was no sign of one, nor a chapel. For even +peaceful villagers cannot worship one God in one +way.</p> + +<p>As I left the village by a road that bent round +sharply by the side of a park, at last I saw a +human being, a man close at hand in a field. So I +pulled up and asked where the church was, or if +there were one. "The church," replied he, "it +be away in the park opposite, right in the woods. +You cannot see it till you come to it. You go in +at the lodge gate and follow the road over the +bridge, then when you comes in sight of the house +you turns to the right, and there be the church in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> +the woods. It be a curious old place, over a +thousand years old they do say." I thought I +would see it. A thousand years old is a fair age +for a building, and though the man might be mistaken +in that, probably the building was very +ancient. So off I set in search of the church that +I found some way off in the park, half hidden and +surrounded by trees and green in the shade of +them. A humble little church with a damp and +time-worn look, yet with a certain pathetic charm +about it that belongs to most things ancient of +man's contriving. I was surprised in so poor a +church to come upon a fine altar-tomb with the +recumbent effigies of a man and his two wives, and +the kneeling figures of their children below; and +another similar monument, both to members of the +same Neale family, the earliest one bearing date of +1599. Drops of moisture were dripping down the +sides of the monuments as though the very stones +were mourning for the forgotten dead. There is +some fine carved oak in the church going to decay, +and a curious old pillared font. But the interior +was so dim and damp I was glad to get out of it. +It certainly is an ancient church, and perhaps looks +more ancient than it really is. Some of the walls, and +certainly the small yet massive tower, are Norman, +but that would not make it over a thousand years old; +still, a century or two is nothing to rural folk. I once +asked a man in a little country town if he could tell +me the age of an interesting old house there. "I +don't rightly know just how old it be," he replied, +"but it's over a million years old, that I know for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +certain." I was astonished. "Surely you have +made a mistake?" I exclaimed. "No, I haven't," +he responded, "for there's the date carved upon it, +as you may see," and he pointed this out to me, for +it had escaped my notice, carved in Roman letters, +"MDXCII." "There, I told you it was over a +million years old. 'M' stands for a million, as you +know, and the other letters for more years, but I +cannot rightly read them." I said nothing; it was +not my business to educate the countryman. Once +I did attempt to correct a villager about some +glaring mistake in reading an inscription—he would +read it to me; he resented my correction and walked +off in a huff; now I am careful not to run the risk of +so offending again.</p> + +<p>Church clerks too, as a frequent rule, I have +found very touchy if you venture, however mildly, +to differ with them about anything they may have +to say about their church. I shall not in a hurry +forget the rare trouble I got into with a more than +usually intelligent clerk who was showing me over his +interesting old church. Now I had noticed in the +tiny town a small and cheap local handbook of the +church for sale, so I purchased this before going to +inspect the building. I had it with me as I went +round the church accompanied by the clerk; I referred +to it now and again and found it fairly correct +as far as my knowledge went, but on one minor +point of architecture I certainly thought the author +was manifestly wrong. In my innocence I pointed +this out to the clerk, with what I thought to be the +quite harmless remark that "the writer of this book<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +does not know everything." My guide was up in +arms in a moment. "What do you mean?" queried +he; "the book is absolutely correct; I never, no +never, heard any one question it before. It has +always given perfect satisfaction," and so forth and +for some time. I was fairly taken aback. Why all +this rage about nothing? thought I, and as I was +thinking it out the clerk suddenly exclaimed, "Do +you know who wrote that book?" I confessed I did +not. "Why, I did," said the clerk, "I who have +been here for over twenty long years, and there's +not a soul in the whole county knows as much about +the church as I do; I know every stone of it, and +you have only been in it ten minutes. Now what +is ten minutes to twenty years' long study?" I had +"put my hand in a hornet's nest," as the saying has +it, and I hardly remember to this day how I smoothed +matters over; indeed I am not sure if I actually did, +the clerk's feelings were wounded. I was truly sorry. +I humbly apologised, I even trebled my tip, trusting +thus to appease him; in a measure I did, but in a +measure only, for he accepted it in an off-hand +manner as though he were doing me a favour; still +he accepted it, upon doing which he remarked, +"You're a generous gentleman, that I will own, but +you really don't understand architecture; however," +now in a tone more of sorrow than anger, "it takes +a lifetime of study, it do." I was glad to get away +from that clerk. Now I am careful when reading a +book, or when having read one, that I do not talk unawares +to its author. Yet I actually blundered again +in a much similar way, though I hardly think I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +treated quite fairly that time. An artist friend took +me to look over a picture-gallery; he asked my +opinion of the different pictures as we passed along; +my opinion was not worth much, but he seemed +pleased to have it, so I gave it quite freely. Of one +picture I exclaimed, as I felt bound to make some +remarks, "Well, I don't think much of that." "No +more do I," said my friend, "for I painted it!" +But when I profusely apologised and tried to explain +I meant something quite different, even at the price +of the truth, unlike the clerk my friend laughed +aloud at the trick he had played and how he had +trapped me, then insisted on my dining with him +that night. Once on the journey I thought I saw +an opportunity to turn the tables and to score in +this way off a stranger. We were chatting in the +smoke-room of our inn after dinner, when, to my +surprise, I discovered he was reading a book I had +written; he knew not my name, nor did I know his, +and I hoped he might make some disparaging remark +about my book, then I would tell him I wrote +it, and could myself indulge in a laugh. But it never +came off, for he put down the book unconcernedly +and talked to me most of the evening; evidently he +preferred my talk to my writing.</p> + +<p>But to return to the little church of Warnford, it +depressed me with its silence and gloom; I was glad +to get out into the fresh air, for it seemed like a tomb. +As I was leaving, under the porch I caught sight of +a curious old Saxon sun-dial, a somewhat rare thing +to find, and over it was a long Latin inscription relating, +as far as I could make out, though my Latin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +is rusty, to the rebuilding of the church a long while +ago. The dial probably belonged to a still more +ancient church that once stood on the spot, but why +it was placed there where no sun could reach it I +could not understand.</p> + +<p>Just by the side of the neglected churchyard I +caught a glimpse of the ruins of an old house buried +in trees, and a grand house it must have been in its +day, for six upstanding stone pillars of what once +was its great hall testify to its size, but little else +remains but some broken and mouldering walls. Of +its history I could glean nothing, for there was no +one about to ask this. Then I returned to the car, +and once more proceeded on my pleasant way down +the wooded valley, with the musical murmuring of +the river and the song of the wind in the woods for +company; and I had all this lovely country to myself +for some miles, except for a stray farmer's gig and +a cart or two—a country where to my mind's eye +peace dwelt in lowly cottages and scattered old-time +farmhouses; truly the trail of the serpent might be +there as well as elsewhere, but I saw no sign of it. +To me it was a valley of peace and contentment. +Perhaps it was because I was an onlooker only and +had no concern in its life. It is well to be a mere +onlooker at times, then the drama of the little +world before you runs smoothly; you do not see +behind the scenes. You behold neither the tragedy +nor the comedy of life, only its sunshine and its +pleasantness. So it is wise not to abide too long in +any place, however it take your fancy, lest you risk +disillusion of finding the world is much the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> +the world over, and the earthly paradise you have +discovered is no paradise at all. I thought I had +found my paradise once in a charming old and +picturesque village far west, where all seemed so +peaceful and blest; but I stayed there too long, for +on getting to know the quiet country folk I too +quickly discovered they had their grievances one +against the other, just as much as those people who +live in less desirable spots; these grievances mostly +seemed paltry to me who had no part in them, but +they were not to be got over. Yes, I had stayed +there too long. Three weeks had I stayed, so +charmed was I with the place and its cosy old inn: +I had better have stayed for only three days, and +retained my first dream of perfection.</p> + +<p>Next we came to the adjoining villages of Corhampton +and Meon Stoke; I took them for one, but +I learnt that the little river Meon divides them and +that they really are two distinct places. On each +side of the river, almost within a stone's throw of +each other, their ancient churches stand. Two places +of worship where one might suffice—surely a waste +of Christian energy! How much energy is often +wasted in country churches! A Sussex parson once +told me that sometimes he had to preach and the +choir had to sing to three old women and an umbrella! +Both Corhampton and Meon Stoke are lovely +villages in a lovely spot enclosed by wooded hills; +you might travel for many a day and many a mile +before coming to so fair a corner of the land. It is +as fair as wooded hills, gently gliding river, with a +droning old mill by its side, green meadows, pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +cottages gracefully yet accidentally grouped, and two +grey, quaint, and ancient churches can make it.</p> + +<p>Meon Stoke church with its odd black wooden +bell-turret makes a pretty picture standing by the +side of the river where it broadens out into a pool. +Corhampton church stands on a little knoll almost +opposite, and is small and most unpretending, but +of much interest, being Saxon, though since those +far-away Saxon times it has suffered alteration. +Now Saxon churches are rare in the land, notwithstanding +that this was the second we had come +upon in out-of-the-way places during the journey. +Its walls still show the long-and-short Saxon stone-work, +and there is a good example of a Saxon +doorway on the north side, unfortunately built up. +There is to me little doubt that its walls are the +original ones, though patched here and there, and +though later windows have been inserted in them, +so that the building remains the same size and form +as when first erected, long centuries past. In the +churchyard is a large yew-tree undoubtedly ancient, +but whether it is "as old as the building itself and +the oldest in the country," as a parishioner asserted +it was, I could scarcely believe; perhaps he did not +realise the age of the church. I grant that the +tree likely flourished in the days of Queen Bess, +probably was old even then, and that takes one +back a good while. How many churchyards boast +of having the biggest and oldest yew-tree in the +land? I have quite lost count of them, and of the +"smallest church in England" I have seen not a +few. Standing at one side of the porch we noticed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> +the original altar-stone with five crosses on it, and +within the church, built into the south wall of the +chancel, is a curious stone chair. But I think +perhaps Corhampton church is of more interest to +the archaeologist than to the average tourist. I +suppose there are still trout in the Meon as there +were in Izaak Walton's past days when he fished +in that river, for as we left I observed a woman on +its banks patiently and deftly casting the fly, though +the water was so clear and the sun so bright she +could hardly hope for much sport. But anglers +live greatly on hope. Good Izaak Walton knew +when to stop fishing, for of one day he writes: "We +went to a good honest ale-house, and there played +shovel-board half the day ... and we were as +merry as they that fished." He was no slave to his +hobby, and owned it. Again I must confess that +fishing with me is more an excuse to get out in the +country with something to do than the mere +catching of fish; possibly to others its chief charm +lies in this. But it does not do to analyse one's +pleasures.</p> + +<p>After Corhampton the country grew more open +for a time, and at one spot on the top of a hill that +rose across the river I caught sight of a quaint-looking, +remote village with a fine church possessing +a noble tower that dominates the landscape. I +could not understand why so small and out-of-the-way +a village (it seemed but a hamlet) should +possess so fine a church. A sudden desire took me +to explore it, so I turned down the narrow lane +that led to the spot and climbed the opposite hill. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +pulled up at the first cottage I came to; there were +only a few, but this attracted my attention, being +creeper-covered and with a porch all overgrown +with fragrant honeysuckle just as a poet would have +it. Then I noticed its name painted over its garden +gate; this struck me as strange, for it was "Naboth's +Vineyard." As I was standing close by, its owner +came forth and bade me good-day; I think curiosity +brought him out to learn what a stranger did there, +in a motor-car too, where I should imagine strangers +or motor-cars very seldom or hardly ever appear. +We got chatting together about nothing in particular; +then I asked why he had given his pretty cottage +so strange a name. I thought there might be some +story connected with it. "Can't you guess?" said +he, smiling; "it's because so many people envy me +it and would like to possess it. I thought it a very +suitable name"—and he was simply the village +blacksmith who had conceived this conceit. "Would +you care to come into the garden and see what +a fine view I've from it?" So I went into the +garden and duly admired the view looking south +far away down the valley, then bathed in the glow +of the afternoon sun, and the garden I noticed was +a pleasant one, gay with the bright, old-fashioned, +hardy flowers so familiar to the Elizabethan poets, +flowers that Mrs. Allingham has pictured to us in +many of her charming drawings of cottage homes. +How I love those hardy flowers, never hurt by the +rain; they seem fuller of colour and far sweeter of +scent to me than the pampered, potted-out ones +that people admire or profess to admire to-day, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> +that are often ruined by a storm in an hour. I +thought at the moment I could live in that cottage +contentedly, far away from the world and its worries. +I asked the name of the village and learnt it was +Soberton.</p> + +<p>As I was quietly admiring the view, the blacksmith +pointed me out a field down below. "Some +time ago," said he, "a stone coffin was dug up +there, and in it was a skeleton of a man embedded in +cement, but no one could make anything of it." A +skeleton only, buried in cement in a coffin, not in a +churchyard—that is surely suggestive of mystery?</p> + +<p>From the garden I had a good view of the tall +flint and stone-built church tower, and I expressed +my surprise to find so fine a one there. "I expect +you don't know its history," said the blacksmith. I +confessed I did not, but would be pleased to hear it. +"Well, it's like this," he continued; "they say it was +built by the life-savings of two servants, a butler +and a dairymaid, who were in service at an old +mansion in the valley that has long been pulled +down. You can see on the tower, if you care, the +carved figures in stone of the butler and the maid, +and between them there is a skull to show, I am +told, that the tower was built after their death." +So I went to inspect the tower and see what I could +make of the carvings. How many quaint legends +you pick up on the road if you only search out +places remote where legends still linger. There, +true enough, high up in the tower, just under the +parapet, I saw plainly the two figures, opposite one +another, of a butler with a key in his hand and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +dairymaid with a pail by her side. They were +carved with much skill and boldly, and appeared +little the worse for the storms of years that must +have beaten upon them, exposed as they are to all +weathers. If sculptured stones could confirm a +story, these stones appeared to do so. Then at the +foot of the tower my eye caught this inscription:</p> + +<p class="pa4 p1"> +This tower<br /> +Originally built by Servants<br /> +Was restored by Servants<br /> +1881.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">I presume that whoever had that inscription placed +there must have felt there was some truth in the +story, though, to me, I confess it seems an improbable +one. Still, what traveller would be so +cruelly critical as to doubt every legend he hears? +In this case the curious carvings are suggestive and +certainly call for some story—else why are they +there, and not only there, but so prominently placed +right in front of the tower?</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">A tramp's story—A relic of a famous sea-fight—A tame road—Inn +gardens—New landlords and old traditions—Chichester market-cross—A +wind-swept land—"Dull and dreary Bognor"—A +forgotten poet—Littlehampton—Country sights and sounds—A +lulling landscape.</p> + + +<p class="pn p2">From Soberton we resumed our way down the +Meon Valley, which gradually widening out lost its +vale-like character and with that much of its charm; +its scenery culminated at Corhampton. We had +not gone far before we sought shelter beneath some +overhanging trees from a smart shower; already a +tramp was sheltering there. As we drove up he +received me with a military salute, or what he considered +to be such, for it was not very well done, +remarking at the same time, "Good-morning, captain." +Tramps are fond of addressing any one as "captain"; +I presume they find it pleases. I simply acknowledged +his salute out of civility, but said nothing. +"Old soldier," exclaimed the tramp laconically. +Old humbug, I thought, but still I said nothing, not +from pride, but because he looked such a dirty, worthless +tramp. But not a whit disheartened he came +close up to the car, too close for my liking, and +began to pitch a yarn how he had fought for his +country against the Boers: "Now look at me, a poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> +old soldier who has served his country, having to +tramp about in search of any odd job, and jobs is +hard to find, and wherever I goes to ask for work +there's sure to be a dog come for me. Dogs is a +terror to a poor tramp." It might have been uncharitable +of me, but I was rather pleased to hear +that; I have a good opinion of a dog's judgment. +Then he started on a long-winded story of his experiences +and hardships, real or invented—I strongly +inclined to the latter—during the war. The tale was +not badly told, I must give him credit for that, yet +I doubted the truth of it; my experience of tramps +being extensive caused me to doubt; though if I +meet with an interesting tramp, and some there are, +I am always prepared for a chat and to pay the +price of my entertainment—and cheat. Greatly +doubting the truth of the tale, a sudden idea struck +me: I asked the tramp the name of the ship he went +out in. A surprise question it proved, for he +hesitated before answering it, then he gave me a +name; I had never heard of a ship so called, still +that proved nothing; then I quite casually exclaimed, +"Why, that's an old paddle-ship." "That's the +one," he replied in some haste, not seeing the point +that sea-going paddle-ships have long been out of +date, and not one naturally was employed to convey +troops to the Cape. Such is the artless art of the +tramp; but that tramp got nothing from me. As +soon as the shower was over I went on my way. I +really do not think it kindness or wisdom to encourage +the professional tramp, it only tends to +increase the tribe who already sufficiently pester<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +our roads. The best of them are lazy fellows who +prefer their rough life to doing an hour's honest +work. A friend of mine one day offered a begging +tramp a good meal and a shilling to dig a corner in +his garden, perhaps two hours' real work. But the +tramp refused "the job," his excuse being he was +hungry and needed the meal first, which might mean +he would get the meal, then walk off.</p> + +<p>Soon we reached the pleasant little town of +Wickham, where William of Wykeham was born in +1324, and that is its only claim to fame as far as I +know. It is a tiny town with a wide market-place, +and it looked very sleepy that day. It consists of a +number of gabled houses, mostly old and of various +dates, the oldest, as usual, being the most picturesque. +The modern city architect, with some very rare +exceptions, appears to be ashamed of gables and of +chimneys that so pleasantly break and vary the skyline. +Wickham just escapes being quaint, but it +retains the slumberous calm of old times. The +charm that these quiet little unprogressive old +towns have for some people lies not alone in their +antiquity, though this has much to do with it, nor +in their picturesqueness, for they are not all +picturesque, except for an odd building here and +there, but in their rare restfulness and completeness, +for they never seem to grow or get ugly: now +prosperous towns are always growing and eating up +the green fields around, they have an unfinished +look that displeases, and their modern buildings are +hopelessly uninteresting, when not positively unsightly, +and there is no sense of repose about them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> +They go in for plate-glass and show, and for tramways +when they can. At Wickham we discovered a +water-mill, built about a century ago, though it looked +much older; the big beams within it were made +out of the timbers of the U.S. frigate <i>Chesapeake</i> +that was captured by H.M.S. frigate <i>Shannon</i> in +that famous sea-fight of 1813, and some of the +timbers bear the marks of the cannon-balls still. +So in the most unlikely places we came upon history—indeed +we never passed a day that we did not at +some spot or another.</p> + +<p>We did not patronise the inn at Wickham, for +there was still time for more wandering. I often +wonder how these little inns in the sleepy country +towns and villages pay, for their customers cannot +be many. One landlord at whose inn I stayed on +the way, a neat and even picturesque inn where I +was very well treated and served, told me he paid +£55 a year rent for it with stabling attached. It +seemed a low enough rental to me, not enough to +pay a fair interest on the building; but that was the +owner's affair, I suppose he could not get more or +he would. Mine host told me, during a chat in his +cosy bar, that his average takings were £10 a week, +"which is not all profit, of course. There are +licences to pay and rent and taxes, then there's the +providing and servants' wages, to say nothing of +the wear and tear of carpets and furniture, which is +considerable. No, sir, the innkeeper's lot is not all +cakes and ale; his hours are late, and he has much +responsibility. Yet the Government tax us unmercifully. +Our worries are many, but we always +have to greet our guests with a cheerful face as +though we had nothing to worry about and were +the happiest of men. We provide a home from +home for all travellers and at all hours. It's hard +work is innkeeping, and ought to be better rewarded." +I agreed with mine host of a smiling face, and I +drank his good health. When I paid my modest +bill for excellent entertainment, I left feeling I was +under an obligation to him for the trouble he took +to obtain me admission to see over a most interesting +half-timber Elizabethan house near by, having first +told me of it and its eventful past history.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-452.jpg" width="400" height="240" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">AN OLD-TIME HOME.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">I had intended to follow the valley of the Meon +right down to the sea, and by my map I find it +would have taken me to Lichfield, but by some +mischance at Wickham I got on the wrong road, a +road that took me to Fareham, so the rest of the +way I lost sight of the river. I was vexed with +myself at having done this, for a river is always +such cheerful company. No country, however tame, +is without charm that has a river running through +it; a river is, as a Frenchman said, "a moving road," +its destiny the sea; the birds sing best by its banks, +the cattle go down to and refresh themselves and +wade in its waters, the fisherman haunts it, often +picturesque old mills stand by its side; there is +always life by a river, and the gleam of it enlivens +the dullest of landscapes. I always make for a +river, and follow it as far as I conveniently can. +Those old monks knew a good thing, they could +be trusted for that, and be it noted how generally +they built their abbeys by the side of a stream.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> +Some say it was because they might catch fish for +their Fridays when they fasted, or feasted, on fish, +for fish is not a bad dish, washed down by good +wine—so their enemies say, in the days when the +monks became lazy and fat, and let their lands instead +of farming them, but I rather believe they selected +such sites with an eye for fair spots, and that +only.</p> + +<p>The road on to Fareham seemed tame and +hardly worth travelling. After the quiet beauties +of the valley above, I was spoilt for the ordinary. +But at Fareham, an unattractive, long-streeted +town, I again found a good inn of the old-fashioned +sort, and that reconciled me to the place; then the +inn had a little garden in its rear overlooking an +inlet of the sea where ships were harboured, and +the sight of their masts and their sails gave a sense +of romance to the view, for the sight of a ship, +however small it may be, sets my thoughts a-wandering +and voyaging in imagination all the +world over. The town was forgiven, indeed forgotten. +If an inn you rest at has only a pleasant +garden to moon in, what matters the town? If +"the finest landscape is improved by a good hotel +in the foreground," how much the more so in comparison +is a commonplace town? I know an old +country town that might have been pleasant enough +in past days, but now has been ruined picturesquely +and utterly by some rows of most assertively ugly +new buildings of staring red brick and blue slates +and plate-glass; but at the end of it stands a fine +coaching inn, a long low building with creeper-clad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +walls, a dream of old times with its swinging signboard +upheld on a post, its panelled, beam-ceilinged +chambers, its cool, cosy bar, its long out-of-date +comfortable Georgian furniture, not to mention its +big bowling-green on which our ancestors played. +In spite of its ugliness, and very ugly it is, to that +town I often repair solely for the sake of that inn, +not forgetting its worthy host, who might have +stepped out of some novel by Dickens or Ainsworth +or James. So much for sentiment and the attraction +of the picturesque. I really think that the inn +makes the host; the subtle influence of an ancient +inn, the atmosphere or a spirit of the past that +lingers about it, soon takes possession of the later +landlord and makes him one in his manner and +ways with those who preceded him, and so without +realising it he comes to conform to the old traditions +quite naturally, almost as though he were born to +them. So surely I feel this the case that I always +expect, and I find—I cannot remember a single +exception—an old inn of the kind to have a landlord +in keeping. It is the same with old houses. I +know a man of modern ideas who came into the +possession of one and determined to make alterations +in it, but somehow or other the alterations were +postponed. Meanwhile the house quietly conquered, +and now is religiously preserved as it was; the only +concession to modern ideas being that a diamond +casement window was replaced with one of plate-glass, +and this merely for the sake of a view; but +to-day the new owner regrets even that, and I fully +expect in due time to find the old lattice panes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +back in their place, for the view can be sufficiently +well seen through them.</p> + +<p>From Fareham we took the road to Chichester, +a road that follows the line of the coast though a +little inland; a road of no beauty after the first few +miles, but not without interest. Here and there on +the way we had peeps of the sea and of little landlocked +creeks that had a charm of their own, and +these redeemed the scenery from the uninteresting +succession of houses and poor villages that succeeded +one another with scant intervals for many a mile. +Presently we came in sight of Portsmouth over a +long lagoon, its waters coming right up to our road, +which is embanked to preserve it from the wash +of the tide. We caught a glimpse of the grim +ironclads in the harbour dimly seen through the +drifting dun smoke of the town, but the smoke +above where touched by the sunshine was tinged +with gold and glorified, and under such conditions +even smoke can be beautiful seen afar off. As the +road gradually rose we had a fine view across +Langstone Harbour, over which the wind blew free +towards us with a cool and refreshing salt savour. +So through Havant and Emsworth we found our +townified and dusty way and came to a land of +flat green plains, ahead of which rose, pearly-grey +against the white sky, the steeple of Chichester +Cathedral with the irregular outline of the city +below. Seen thus from our point of view it +suggested a city of romance in the days of pilgrimages. +Would that the reality could only come up +to our vision! How much truth lies in Campbell's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> +often-quoted line, "Distance lends enchantment +to the view." We almost wished we could have +avoided Chichester and so have retained that poetic +vision, for "There is a pleasure, now and then, in +giving full scope to Fancy and Imagination." But +the road led to Chichester and nowhere else; to the +south was the sea, and there was no other way. +But Chichester is a pleasant old city, though it +does not realise impossible dreams; its grey-toned +cathedral makes a fine background for its beautiful +arched market-cross. I am afraid I admire the +market-cross more than the cathedral, for the +cathedral is rather interesting than beautiful, whilst +the market-cross is wholly beautiful and interesting +besides. Never had an architect of lesser structures +a more happy inspiration than when designing that +graceful cross.</p> + +<p>We drove southward from Chichester to regain +the sea front, and the road we selected we found led +to Bognor: dull and dreary Bognor I have heard it +called; its name is against it, and it is a hard thing +to struggle against a bad name whether in man or +place. Now we found ourselves in a flat land, a +land of meadows and fields of waving corn, a land +that stretched far away, wide and open to the long +level lines of the distant horizon. Truly it was not +a beautiful country according to the accepted traditions +of beauty, for it was devoid of all character +except flatness, and that is a quality that mostly +appeals to a Dutchman or Fen dweller. Yet there +was a certain charm about that flat country to me; +I think it lay in the wide dome of sky above that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +flooded the landscape with unshadowed light, and +the bracing breeziness of it, swept as it was by +the unchecked winds from the sea. It was all so +open, free, and flushed with the freshest of airs; +then there was such a homely, friendly feeling about +it, for it was a country of modest homes, not one of +mansions or villas—a country of odd farmsteads and +cottages only. Truly there was nothing strictly to +admire in all the far prospect, only a succession of +grass and green cornfields, "one field much like +another," as I think Dr. Johnson once said of the +country; but the brightness of the vast spaces of +sunlit land, and the pronounced pureness and clearness +of the air, made for cheerfulness and were +inspiriting. If the landscape was in a measure +monotonous, the wild flowers that abounded by the +way made fair atonement for it. I knew not their +names, but what mattered that? It was their beauty +I prized, their colour and form. I pity the man +who can travel from Dan to Beersheba and cry, +"'Tis all barren." He had best stay at home and +travel by book, till he learns through other eyes +how to see. As Keats wrote of the pre-Wordsworth +poets:</p> + +<p class="pp4 p1">Ah, dismal-soul'd!</p> +<p class="pp1">The winds of heaven blew, the ocean roll'd<br /> +Its gathering waves—ye felt it not. The blue<br /> +Bared its eternal bosom and the dew<br /> +Of summer nights collected still to make<br /> +The morning precious: beauty was awake!<br /> +Why were ye not awake? But ye were dead<br /> +To things ye knew not.</p> + +<p class="p1">I think it was Stevenson who wrote an interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +article "On the Enjoyment of Unpleasant +Places"—not that the country we passed through +that day was in any way unpleasant, it simply was +somewhat uninteresting; and there is an art in +enjoying the uninteresting, or what you may deem +so, though I must confess it does not come up to +the higher art of "the enjoyment of unpleasant +places." A man who can do that can be happy +anywhere and without travelling far, but its accomplishment +needs a good deal of training and time +and trying, I should imagine—not, be it noted, to +make the best of, but actually to <i>enjoy</i> the unpleasant. +"Ay, there's the rub." That surely is +an education in itself, somewhat in the shape of a +task! Now I travel for pleasure and not to be +taught.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was because I fully expected to find +Bognor a dull and dreary spot that I was agreeably +disappointed with it. Then I confess I have a +fancy for seeing places differently from other people, +amounting almost to a confirmed opposition to prevailing +opinion. It may be just then that I was in +the unconscious humour to enjoy unpleasant places, +but I could see nothing unpleasant about Bognor to +test it. Basking in the bright sunshine it looked +quite cheerful to me; indeed I thought I should +much prefer to stay there than at fashionable and +familiar Brighton, which seems like a town where +the sea is but an accident and the shops on the +front are the real attraction—Bond Street at +second-hand. Hear what Richard Jefferies says: +"All fashionable Brighton parades the King's Road<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> +twice a day, morning and afternoon, always on the +side of the shops.... These people never look at +the sea.... The sea is not 'the thing' at Brighton, +which is the least nautical of seaside places"—and I +fear that the music at the Pavilion is more to the +liking of visitors there than the music of the waves. +Now at Bognor I noticed there were crowds by the +sea, crowds with a happy look on their faces, a sea +that was sparkling and dancing far away with joy +in its dancing, whilst the white-crested waves came +rolling in on the beach, breaking and splashing in +masses of silvery spray. I must have had my rose-coloured +spectacles on that day, for I could see +nothing dreary or dull about Bognor; all the people +I saw there seemed light-hearted and sprightly, and +it is not a bad rule to judge of a place by the people +in it. Those who read this may smile, but in spite +of its reputation and name, and reputation influences +much, I took quite a liking to the place. Truly +I must allow that the sun was shining down +gloriously, "doing its best to make all things +pleasant," and succeeding—making even Bognor +look gay.</p> + +<p>It was but a short way from Bognor to the +village of Felpham, where William Blake lived for +some time to be near his friend Hayley the poet, +who—the poet, that is—gained some repute in his +day, though his popularity has not stood Time's +trying test. Of Hayley it may be said, "Everything +was good about him but his poetry." Still he wrote +pleasant enough verse, though his thoughts were +not deep. The last lines he composed to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> +swallows on his roof may be quoted as an example, +not of his best, nor yet of his worst:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +Ye gentle birds that perch aloof,<br /> +And smooth your pinions on my roof,<br /> +Preparing for departure hence<br /> +Ere winter's angry threats commence;<br /> +Like you my soul would smooth her plume<br /> +For longer flights beyond the tomb.</p> + +<p class="p1">Hayley, who was given to writing epitaphs, also +composed the well-known and much-quoted one to +a local blacksmith that is to be found in Felpham +churchyard, which runs thus:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1"> +My sledge and hammer lie reclin'd,<br /> +My bellows too have lost their wind,<br /> +My fire's extinct, my forge decay'd,<br /> +And in the dust my vice is laid,<br /> +My coal is spent, my iron gone,<br /> +The nails are driven, my work is done.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">This epitaph has been frequently repeated elsewhere; +I have come upon it in at least a dozen +churchyards, sometimes with variations that are no +improvements. An epitaph once popular soon became +common property. Twice when touring in +the Eastern Counties did a clerk of a church declare +in effect, knowing I was in search of quaint epitaphs, +"Now I can show you a curious one to a blacksmith +that is quite original," only to find, once +again, Hayley's epitaph there; and I really do not +think I have ever been in a churchyard without +coming upon the everlasting—and irritating because +so commonplace—</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1">Afflictions sore<br /> +Long time he (or she) bore.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pn p1">Whoever originated these lines has much to answer +for. On the other hand, the man who had simply +inscribed on his wife's tombstone "Though lost to +sight to memory dear," without a thought of such +a thing has given us a classic quotation. Here, +however, are two epitaphs that strike a fresh note. +The first is at Cobham to a photographer, both +brief and to the point, for all it says is "Taken +from life." Another to John Knott, a scissor-grinder, +may be found in smoky Sheffield:</p> + +<p class="pp2 p1"> +Here lies a man that was Knott born,<br /> +His father was Knott before him,<br /> +He lived Knott and did Knott die,<br /> +Yet underneath this stone doth lie</p> +<p class="pp7">Knott christened,<br /> +Knott begot,<br /> +And here he lies<br /> +And yet was Knott.</p> + +<p class="p1">From Felpham we drove along narrow roads to +Littlehampton. I am not sure that we went the +nearest or best way, indeed I feel almost sure we +did not; even on the map it is not simple to follow. +I know we wound about a good deal, first in one +direction, then in another, but it was very pleasant +wandering, and we passed by many delightful old +homes and pretty cottages. It was a land of +pleasant homes and quiet abiding. Now and then +we caught a peep of the sea on one hand, and of +the fine rolling "hills of the South Country" on +the other, and on the level land between our road +took its devious way as though of uncertain mind +whether to make for the sea or the hills, then finally +making for the sea at Littlehampton.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now and then we heard the fussy rattle of a +mowing machine busy at work in a field. Not +only country sights but country sounds have +changed greatly during the past century. Scarcely +ever now one hears the once familiar whetting of +the scythe, or the soothing swish of it in the long +grass. Sings Tennyson:</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1"> +O sound to rout the brood of cares,<br /> +The sweep of scythe in morning dew.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">That is the value of pleasant sounds. It is long +since I have heard the beat of the flail threshing +out the grain on the barn floor; to-day in its place +we have the steam threshing-machine, and that is +the only mechanical sound that pleases my ear, the +dreamy hum of it when mellowed by distance. +Doubtless associations have much to do with the +pleasure sounds afford. Who loves not the "caw, +caw, caw" of the rook? Yet in reality it is a sound +harsh and grating, but then one always so intimately +connects it with the country, big trees, ancestral +homes and rural delights, that, though truly discordant, +the notes even gratify the ear.</p> + +<p>So we reached Littlehampton, half port half +watering-place, of no great importance as either. +From Littlehampton our road kept up much the +same pleasantly rural and uneventful character, with +hills to the north and the sea to the south, and the +same sort of level and, in parts, well-wooded land +between. "Hills," it has been said, "give hope, +wood a kind of mysterious friendliness with the +earth, but the sea reminds us that we are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> +helpless." We had all three, but the sea that +day, gleaming and bright in the glance of the sun, +looked more like a friend than a foe; it did not +suggest the helplessness of man but rather his +convenient highway over the world to distant lands +of old romance—if any be left.</p> + +<p>There is an infinite pleasure to the quiet-loving +pilgrim in driving through a lulling land like this +where all is restful to the eye and hurry a thing +unknown, a land through which you drive on in a +sort of day-dream and for a time desire nothing +better, a land</p> + +<p class="pp3 p1">Where the wind with the scent of the sea is fed,<br /> +And the sun seems glad to shine.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">In truth there was a touch of sunny Southernness +about it, a warmth and brightness suggestive of +Italy, though the scenery was essentially English.</p> + +<p>Then we came to the sea again at Worthing, +when my rose-coloured spectacles must surely have +dropped from my eyes, for I could see nothing +attractive about it: otherwise how can I account for +the fact that Bognor, "dull Bognor," appealed to +me and Worthing did not? Perhaps because, I +thought, there was more pretence of being a +watering-place about Worthing, and I heard a band +playing there, and I heard no band at Bognor but +only the surge of the sea. I was glad to escape +from Worthing; it had no interest for me beyond +its fresh air.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p class="pa3 p1">Travel in the old days—Sequestered Sussex—Country homes—A +mellow land—A gibbet post and its story—Chiddingly and its +church—The Pelham buckle—Wayside crosses—St. Dunstan's +tongs and his anvil—A curious brass—Iron stocks—Home +again.</p> + +<p class="pn p2">From Worthing our road led for three or four +miles along "the beached margin of the sea," a +straight stretch of dreary and shelterless shingly +road, looking doubly dreary after the pleasant green +lanes we had so recently travelled. At the end of +this we crossed the Arun close above where it joins +the Channel, its short race run, its life almost too +brief to grow into a real river; sea-gulls were whirling +about it, but what they did there I could not +make out; they were not catching fish, nor did they +alight on the land or the water, but kept whirling +round and round restlessly just over one spot in an +apparently purposeless manner; but it pleased me to +watch them, for the freedom of the wing is a glorious +thing. When sea-gulls do this away from the sea +I am told it is a sign of bad weather.</p> + +<p>On the other side of the river stood the old town +of Shoreham with its shipping, and above the town +rose its weather-beaten, ancient Norman church +tower; square, massive, grey and stern like its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> +builders, strangely sculptured, too, by the salt spray +and sea winds that have wrought their will upon it. +From our point of view the town had an ancient +look, though much of it is modern enough, but the +grime of its smoke had toned down the new to the +old. Beyond Shoreham lies Brighton, and to avoid +the tedious and unprofitable drive through both +towns and along a mere succession of houses we +turned up by the river-side and went northward +inland in search of old-fashioned places.</p> + +<p>We paid a toll at the bridge by which we crossed +the Arun, and that was the only toll we had on the +way. Years ago, when I was much younger and +took long driving tours, the tolls I had to pay at the +toll-gates often cost me more than my dinner, to say +nothing of the provoking fact of having frequently +to pull up, and often besides be kept waiting for +change. Those old toll-keepers were a race apart, +and in remote places would dally at the gate whilst +they asked me for the news of the day. Such trifles +seem to make those old times appear farther off than +they are. It was slow travelling then, and with tired +horses often your choice of an inn for the night was +"Hobson's choice," for you could not go farther—yet +these leisured old times make pleasant memory. +Now wherever you go you can rarely escape the +morning newspaper; to do so is a test of remoteness +indeed. What with telegraphs, telephones, railways +and motors, news travels fast and the world is made +smaller. It was the coach that brought the first +tidings of events in times past, and its arrival was +eagerly watched for in the towns and villages on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> +the way: so was the news of Trafalgar and Waterloo +spread through the land. Some of those toll-keepers, +it is said, were in league with the highwayman, and +signalled to him about any likely passing and lonely +traveller by an open or a shut window, at night by +means of a light in the same window; but this may +be scandal. At least we know that some rascally +landlords of inns were accomplices of the highwayman; +rumour indeed has it that Dick Turpin was so +indignant at a certain landlord giving information +to a rival "when under articles to him" that he +threatened to shoot that landlord. In return for his +services the toll-keeper was never robbed of his +day's takings. There is a tale told of a certain lady +of quality who in those exciting times of travel +always used to take with her a purse filled with base +coin to hand over: but how, I wonder, did that lady +become possessed of so much base coin?</p> + +<p>It was a pleasant drive by the side of the river +to the pretty village of Bramber, with its half-timber +cottages and fragment of a Norman castle on a +wooded knoll. I think it was at Bramber that a +friend told me a few years ago he visited an interesting +little museum and found the following admission +notice: "Adults twopence, Children One penny, +Ladies and gentlemen what they will." I wonder +how many extra pennies good folk were induced to +part with for the glory of being in the latter category? +A somewhat similar notice I read in an inn garden: +"People must not pluck the flowers. Ladies and +gentlemen never do." There was some art in that +notice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p> + +<p>From Bramber we drove through a fine open +country of wide prospects, the forgathering of the +hedgerow trees making the distance look like one +vast forest—a forest never reached but that always +circles the horizon. Next we came to Henfield, a +quiet and picturesque village. After Henfield we +got into a sequestered land beyond railways and on +to some pleasant by-roads and narrow lanes where +in sunny nooks hosts of wild flowers flourished, and +the hedges delighted in tangled disorder. We were +again in a land of sleepy farmsteads of the old +Sussex type, farmsteads of time-toned walls, weather-tinted +tiling, long, low, lichen-laden roofs, and great +chimney-stacks—always a great and shapely chimney-stack +of much the same pattern, but of a very good +and pleasing pattern. This type of farmhouse is +not confined to Sussex, but may be found over its +near borders both in Kent and in Surrey. Such +farmhouses are much sought after to-day, I am told, +to be converted into homes for town people, because +of their picturesque charm. This has come about, I +believe, in a measure owing to the motor-car making +accessible even remote country places; no longer do +people depend wholly on the railway as formerly; +indeed an estate agent told me that often the stipulation +of country home seekers now is "not near a +railway." People,</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">Weary of men's voices and their tread,<br /> +Of clamouring bells and whirl of wheels that pass,</p> + +<p class="pn p1">desire to get into the real country and away from +the crowd. I have just been reading in that +delightful book, <i>An Odd Farmhouse</i>, how such an +old house was found, and the charm of the life in it. +"It lay in a dimple of the Downs, all around it were +meadows.... A long, low, Jacobean building of +simple but beautiful lines.... I looked through +the dining-room windows and saw the tiled floor, +the oak cupboards built into the wall, the great +beams traversing the ceiling, the Gargantuan +chimney-place, some eleven feet long, and deep +enough to hold settles in the ingle-nook. There +was a raised platform for logs, an old Sussex iron +fire-back and a swinging crane with many hooks +and arms." Such a picture sets me longing to live +in some similar old Jacobean farmhouse: would only +such good fortune were mine. I know the picture is +true, for I have more than once, and in different old +Jacobean homes, spent a night with mine hosts in +them. I have sat in their ingle-nooks before +blazing fires of logs on their hearths, watching the +fitful flames leap up their wide chimneys, as they +threw a ruddy glow on beamed ceiling and panelled +wall whilst casting mysterious shadows around; and +I have fed my full of the poetic charm and the +romance, rare in these commonplace days, of those +nights. The builder of a house never invented a +better thing than the old-fashioned big ingle-nook: +not the poor pretence affair that the modern architect +calls one, with a cheerless, slow, combustion +coal grate in its centre; but an ingle-nook at least +ten feet wide—and many are more—with a big oak +beam above, and deep enough to hold settles to seat +comfortably four about the wide hearth, with its +fire-back and fire-dogs intended for the burning of +wood, such as they built in the Jacobean age when +men knew how to build homes to live in and joy in, +not merely houses for shelter—homes that were +pictures without and within.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-470.jpg" width="400" height="562" + alt="" + title="" /> + <div class="caption"><p class="pn center">A JACOBEAN DOORWAY.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a><br /><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p1">But I have strayed from the road. It was a quiet +land we were in, one out of the way of much traffic, +for the lanes seemed to lead nowhere in particular, +and only to exist for local convenience, but they +take you into the heart of the real country: a land +as hushed as ever it was in the distant days of +"Queen Bess," for there has nothing arisen since to +disturb its foretime tranquillity—unless, perhaps, the +rare and temporary intrusion of a motor-car whose +driver has lost his way. It is for such unpretentious, +peaceful scenery that the Englishman yearns at +times when in foreign lands far away. Just a +yearning for the sight of England's green fields, +green hedges, leafy elms, and old homes, nothing +more. Even Byron, that wanderer, sings:</p> + +<p class="pp1 p1">A green field is a sight which makes us pardon<br /> +The absence of that more sublime construction<br /> +Which mixes up vines, olives, precipices,<br /> +Glaciers, volcanoes, oranges, and ices.</p> + +<p class="pn p1">Also did not Keats, when in Italy, once tell Severn +that he lay awake one night just thinking all the +while of England's green fields and her flowers?</p> + +<p>I have often wondered how so simple a thing as +a purely English pastoral landscape can so greatly +please; wherein exactly lies its strong power to +charm? I once took an American friend for a long +drive through a beautiful corner of England. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> +selected it specially, wishing to give my visitor a +pleasant impression of the old country. There were +hills and fair woods on the way, winding streams +with ancient stone bridges across them, a lovely +ruined priory in a lonely glen, old homes, many +gabled and ivy-clad, picturesque cottages, and a +quaint, old-world village or two. These were some +of the good things we saw. When the journey was +ended—we took it by motor-car, so we went far—I +asked my friend what pleased him the most. +"Well, I think," said he, "it's the mellow, domesticated +look of the country, as though man and nature +had long been on familiar terms there; but what +really appeals to me most are just your green +meadows studded with daisies, and your beautiful +hedges." It was actually the simple sight of the +daisied meadows and the green hedges that pleased +him more than all the other good things, and the +other things were very good indeed. It is sometimes +enlightening to see our land as others see it. +Listen to what Mark Twain says in his <i>More +Tramps Abroad</i>:—</p> + +<p class="pa5 p1">After all, in the matter of certain physical patent rights +there is only one England. Now that I have sampled the globe +I am not in doubt. There is the beauty of Switzerland, and it +is repeated in the glaciers and snowy ranges of many parts of the +earth; there is the beauty of the fiord, and it is repeated in New +Zealand and Alaska; there is the beauty of Hawaii, and it is +repeated in ten thousand islands of the Southern Seas; there is +a beauty of the prairie and the plain, and it is repeated here +and there in the earth; each of these is worshipful, each is +perfect in its way, yet holds no monopoly of its beauty; but that +beauty which is England, is alone; it has no duplicate. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> +made up of very simple details—just grass, and trees, and shrubs, +and roads, and hedges, and gardens, and houses, and churches, +and castles, and here and there a ruin, and over all a mellow +dreamland of history. But its beauty is incomparable, and all +its own.</p> + +<p class="p1">There must surely be some special charm in a +country, unassuming though it may be, to cause +such praise of it to be written. Does not even +cosmopolitan Kipling pronounce his preference for +"Sussex by the sea" over all the world?</p> + +<p>We were in Sussex again, but, in spite of Kipling, +I love Sussex inland, sequestered Sussex of woodlands, +sleepy villages, ancient farmsteads and cottages, +and genuine ruralness, infinitely more than "Sussex +by the sea," with its fringe of more or less fashionable +watering-places. Inland Sussex, on the whole, +is the Sussex and the England of the long past, +delightful to see, but much of seaside Sussex is the +England of to-day, and is rather depressing to me. +The real charm of Sussex lies in its ancientness and +in its simple, good-humoured country folk, not in +its modernness. People who rush from London by +rail or by motor on the main highways to Brighton, +or other of its seaside towns, know little of rural +Sussex or the rare charms of its silvan scenes.</p> + +<p>Travelling through this peaceful land, loitering +along its lanes that tempted one to loiter because of +their pleasantness, we eventually turned up at Ansty +Cross, where we were on one of the three familiar +Brighton roads, for there is a choice of roads from +London to Brighton, all beloved of the speedy +motorist who heeds not the scenery he passes; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> +they are dusty, with much hasting traffic, and not the +roads that a quiet-loving pilgrim would choose. +For this cause we did not go far on the Brighton +road, but left it by the first promising lane, and in +time we reached a little green in an out-of-the-way +spot. I could not find it named on my map; there +was no village there, but a cottage or two faced it, +and in the centre of the green was a post with a +weathercock on the top, and the weathercock had +the date of years past pierced in it, a date I have +forgotten. The post was railed round for protection, +so I thought there might possibly be some +story connected with it, otherwise why so protected? +I asked particulars of a cottager, and he, nothing +loth to be informing, told me that the post was part +of an ancient gibbet—I do not remember having +seen such a thing before—whereon a man was hung +in chains for robbery and murder. It appears from +the tale I was told that a tramp sought food and +shelter one night at a cottage close by; the cottager +took pity on him and gave him food and a night's +lodging, and was in return robbed of the small +savings he had by the scoundrel of a tramp, who +richly deserved his fate. Such are the tales of the +road.</p> + +<p>It must have been a gruesome sight in old days, +and one not at times to be avoided, for travellers +to see a man hung up thus by the wayside, his +shrivelled body swinging, or perhaps only his bones +rattling, in the wind to the creaking of the chains. +I remember a certain church clerk telling me a +story of how in past days, at a spot near his church,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> +a poor woman's only son was exposed on a gibbet—I +think it was merely for stealing a sheep he +suffered death, stolen to provide his widowed +mother with food,—and how in after days the poor, +bereaved, broken-hearted, solitary widow used to +tramp all alone on dark winter nights to the gibbet +to pick up any bones of her boy that might have +fallen to the ground, and carry them carefully home, +so that she might secretly bury them in a quiet +corner of the churchyard. I could only hope that +the story was not true, but the clerk assured me it +was, "every word of it." Sometimes I am thankful +I live in these latter days.</p> + +<p>Then wandering over more winding lanes we +came to the top of Scaynes Hill, where the road +dropped down steeply before us, and from where +there is a fine view looking over the fair wooded +Weald to the bare but not barren downs, and just +then over their long, undulating line the sea mists +were creeping, and I thought there came wafted +inland the rare scent of the sea. The mists kept +rolling in great masses down the green sides of the +hills, then as if by magic vanished from view. I +never saw the South Downs look so glorious or so +mountainous as they looked with their crowning of +mists and their dark shadowed bases. To realise +the full beauty of the downs you must see them in +all weathers and not in sunshine alone. Sunshine is +cheerful, but sunshine is a tamer; now mists give the +downs just a suspicion of grandeur. Even Snowdon +looks tame on a clear, cloudless day.</p> + +<p>Descending Scaynes Hill we mounted again to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> +a wide open common with a big white windmill +topping it and so exposed to all the winds, a mill +boldly in evidence that surely would have tempted +Don Quixote, had he been of to-day and passed by +that way, to try a tilt or two at it. Without the mill +the common would have looked bare and have been +wholly characterless except for its openness. I +think, after an old castle or a ruined abbey, there is +more character about a windmill than in any other +building; moreover, a windmill is always a telling +and a graceful structure, so a pleasing, even a +poetic, feature in any landscape. I really think +that more than half the charm of Holland lies in its +many bickering windmills, and the life their whirling +sails give to its flat and dreamy landscapes with +their slow canals.</p> + +<p>After a time our road led us between great rocks, +so quickly in England does the scenery change its +character, for the rocks suggested a road in the +wild North Country; it was as though we had +suddenly been transported there. So we reached +steep-streeted Uckfield, and in a few more miles +the little railless town of East Hoathly, somewhat +beyond which I espied, peeping over distant woods, +a tall stone church steeple; it attracted my eye, for +it is an unusual sight in Sussex, where the churches +have mostly square towers, or steeples roofed with +oak shingles. On consulting my map I found the +steeple belonged to Chiddingly church, a little +remote village off any main road. I had indeed +some trouble in finding my way there along the +narrow lanes that alone led to it. The church<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> +proved interesting. For the village I cannot say +much. It consisted of but a few houses, not more +than half a dozen, I think, a small shop where they +appeared to sell everything from bacon to pins (it +was the post office also), and a little inn boasting of +the sign of "The Six Bells," a sign that presumably +gives one the number of bells in the steeple, for it +was an old custom to represent the number of bells +in the neighbouring church on an inn sign—one +amongst other odd bits of information I picked up +on the journey; my journey indeed provided me +with quite a storehouse of information about unimportant +matters.</p> + +<p>Chiddingly church has an ancient and time-worn +look. I noticed that the steeple was bound round +with iron chains, and I asked a man of the place +if he knew why they were there, for they were not +ornamental. "They be to keep the old steeple +together," said he. Poor old steeple, thought I, to +have to depend upon chains to hold it in place. +"It was the village blacksmith's idea," explained +the man. Now I should have thought it was an +architect's job. But iron chains exposed thus to +all storms would in no long time rust away, I should +imagine, though I dare say they will last for some +years; but never before have I seen a building so +repaired. It is truly a primitive arrangement +without even the advantage of being picturesque.</p> + +<p>The west doorway displays at either end of the +drip moulding the quaint device of the Pelham +buckle. Now this device was the crest or badge +of Sir John Pelham, that gallant knight who made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> +prisoner the King of France at the famous fight of +Poictiers, after which he assumed as his crest or +badge a representation of the sword-belt buckle of +the captured king, and on any building he founded, +or helped in its construction, he caused a carving +of that badge to be placed. This bit of information +I also picked up on the way, though on +a previous tour. On a good many churches in +Sussex you will find the Pelham buckle engraved. +Such was the pride of the Pelhams.</p> + +<p>The west window of the church is notably out +of the centre of the tower, and is but one example +of many showing how the old builders considered +not strict uniformity, and by so doing, I feel, added +a certain charm of irregularity to their structures; +they were content with eye measurements; to-day +the foot-rule settles everything with a mathematical +and eye-provoking accuracy.</p> + +<p>Within the church what first caught my eye was +the gorgeous monument, in a side building all to +itself, of "Sir John Jefferay, Knt., late Lord Chief +Baron of the Excheqvr," who "dyed the xxiii of +May 1575." This monument is somewhat mutilated, +it is said at one time by country folk who mistook +it for the tomb of the hated Judge Jeffreys. A +little away from the church stands a portion of the +wing, with its windows bricked up, of the once +stately home of the Jefferays, now converted into +the outbuildings of a farmhouse—and that and their +tomb marks the end of their glory.</p> + +<p>I noticed in the church an old-fashioned two-decker +pulpit, with a sounding-board above; you do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> +not see many of these nowadays. This reminds +me of a story of old times I heard on the way and +that was fresh to me. It appears that in a certain +country church a strange parson had taken duty one +Sunday. Now it was the custom there not to +begin the service before the squire had arrived. +But the strange parson knew nothing of this nor of +the squire, so he promptly started with "When the +wicked man," whereupon the clerk below hurriedly +stood up and in a loud whisper exclaimed, "You +must not begin yet, sir, he has not come in."</p> + +<p>From Chiddingly we proceeded over hilly and +winding lanes and roads to Cross-in-Hand, a lonely +spot with an inn and a few cottages, so named, I +presume, from a pre-Reformation cross that probably +once stood there. These at the junction of roads +(as here), where they often were placed, were +frequently provided with a hand to point out the +way, and so were the forerunners of the later +finger-posts. A few more miles brought us to +historic Mayfield, set boldly on a hill, where in the +Convent (once the palace of the Archbishops of +Canterbury) they show you the veritable tongs of +St. Dunstan, and point out the very dent made in +them caused by his Satanic Majesty's nose when he +pinched it, and his anvil also at which the saint was +at work at the time. They sell picture post-cards +of them in the town also. I thought it was a monk +of Glastonbury, and at Glastonbury, who had the +credit of this thrilling exploit; but at Mayfield they +declare the event took place there, and are not the +actual tongs proof sufficient? At Glastonbury<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> +there are no such tongs; now at Mayfield the doubting +traveller may see the tongs and the dent in +them.</p> + +<p>By the way, I heard a rather quaint story of the +palace in the troublesome old days when the roads +were infested with robbers. Late one night a loud +knock was heard at the door, whereupon the porter +opened the little iron-guarded shutter to see who +was there, and discovered a man begging in God's +name for some food; but the porter did not like the +look of the stranger and took him for a thief, so he +kept the door closed, when suddenly the big bolts +flew aside of their own accord and the door opened +of itself; it was a saint who was standing outside! +But how could the poor porter tell that, if the man +looked not the part? So I think it was hardly +fair of the saint to reprove the porter for not at +once opening the door in God's name. The +modern tramp is no saint, but he makes very free +use of God's name.</p> + +<p>From Mayfield we struck west over a wild, open +country in search of Ticehurst, that appeared, from +my map, to be a little village or small town, fairly +remote from the rail and therefore possibly interesting. +It was a fine drive through a rough-and-tumble +country, and though Ticehurst disappointed me, the +road to it did not. Ticehurst proved to be a clean, +neat, wide-streeted village, with a village well in the +centre—a village of some old houses and pleasantly +situated, but not otherwise specially attractive. The +inn there is said to be of the fourteenth century, +though it hardly looks it. Finding the village uninteresting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> +I strolled to the church, a grey and ancient +pile overlooking a vast extent of rolling and wooded +hills. It was almost worth going to Ticehurst for +that revelation of scenery. Over the church porch +I noticed a parvis chamber, and within the building +a quantity of stained glass in its many and large +windows; some of the glass is old and good, some +modern and not so good. I noticed also the curious +circular clerestory windows of singular design, a +unique feature of the church as far as my knowledge +extends. Portions of the stone steps to the former +rood-loft still exist, I observed, and there is an old +carved oak cover to the font with a worn inscription +on it that I could not decipher. The chief interest +of Ticehurst church, however, lies in a curious brass +to "John Wybarne Armigi," who died "sexto decimo +die ffebruarii Anno Rigni Regis henrici Septimi +quinto." He is represented on his brass in full +armour between his two wives, and at least four +times their size. This suggests that the brass was +originally only intended for one figure, and that +those of the two wives were added afterwards, so +there was no room to make them larger in the +remaining space available. It is, too, a curious circumstance +that the armour shown is of a considerably +earlier period than that in which this John +Wybarne lived. This further suggests to me that +it may have been a memorial to some former knight +basely appropriated, for such things were done in +times past, as many a palimpsest brass proves; to +me in the details of its armour it bears a close +resemblance to the one to Sir John D'Agentine at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> +Horseheath in Cambridgeshire, bearing date of +1382.</p> + +<p>From Ticehurst we had a glorious drive through +a rolling and well-wooded country as far as the +Hastings main road; this we followed to Robertsbridge +with a long and steep descent to that little, +old-fashioned town. I think it was Walpole, when +posting one night this way, called this descent a +precipice, but it scarcely is that. Those old travellers +often took a strangely exaggerated view of +things, some of them going so far as to call even the +modest Welsh mountains "frightful, horrid, awe-inspiring," +and so forth in superabundance.</p> + +<p>We followed the Hastings road as far as Battle, +where we turned to the right and proceeded westwards +towards Eastbourne and home. In due +course we came to Ninfield, a little village high up +in the world, and not far from "Standard Hill," as +shown on the Ordnance map, and where tradition +asserts William the Conqueror of old first raised his +banner in England, and the morrow beheld a kingdom +he had won with the aid of his armoured +knights and a ruse. The hill has a commanding +position overlooking the country all round, so there +is nothing improbable in the tradition recording a +fact, and the name of the hill, preserved through +centuries to this day, is suggestive. At Ninfield +there are some iron stocks under trees by the wayside. +I do not remember having seen stocks of iron +before. There is a tale told of these, that a man +was condemned to be placed in the wooden stocks +that preceded them, only his friends hacked them to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> +pieces overnight, and there were no stocks to put +him in; so fresh ones of iron, not readily to be +demolished, were ordered, which stand to this day +as serviceable as when they were made, and that +must be a long while ago, though I am unaware of +the date when the punishment of the stocks was +abolished.</p> + +<p>We drove on from Ninfield over winding roads +that led us along the top of the hills overlooking the +sea, sparkling in the sunshine that day, and past +time-mellowed farmsteads, many with their quaint, +conical-roofed oast-houses adjoining; then we dropped +suddenly down from the hills to the wide plain of +the Pevensey marshes, green as a land may be; we +were nearing Eastbourne and home, and the end of +our journey. So now, kind reader—I think I may +venture to call you "kind reader" as you have followed +me so far, for that surely is test enough to +admit of such an address—I here bid you a reluctant +farewell; for your company in spirit on our pleasant +journey I heartily thank you. Good-bye.<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/ill-485.jpg" width="400" height="324" + alt="" + title="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p> + +<div class="break"> + +<h2 class="p4 mid">INDEX</h2> + + +<p class="pi1 p2"> + +Abbeys—<br /> + +Buildwas, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>-<a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /> +Haughmond, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>-<a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>-<a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a><br /> +Lilleshall, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>-<a href="#Page_250">250</a><br /> +Waverley, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>-<a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +White Ladies, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262-264</a></p> + +<p class="pn p1"> + +Abbot's Bromley, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>-<a href="#Page_278">278</a><br /> +<br /> +Aberdovey, <a href="#Page_163">163-165</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176-178</a><br /> +<br /> +Abingdon, <a href="#Page_316">316</a><br /> +<br /> +Albrighton, <a href="#Page_195">195</a><br /> +<br /> +Aldbourne, <a href="#Page_115">115-117</a><br /> +<br /> +Alfriston, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17-18</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Alton, <a href="#Page_344">344-349</a><br /> +<br /> +Ansty Cross, <a href="#Page_386">386</a><br /> +<br /> +Ashdown Forest, <a href="#Page_62">62-63</a><br /> +<br /> +Atcham, <a href="#Page_222">222-223</a><br /> +<br /> +Atherstone, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281-285</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Bablockhythe Ferry, <a href="#Page_317">317-318</a><br /> +<br /> +Banbury, <a href="#Page_285">285-287</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290-293</a><br /> +<br /> +Banwy River, <a href="#Page_192">192-193</a><br /> +<br /> +Barcombe, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> +<br /> +Basingstoke, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Batemans, <a href="#Page_47">47</a><br /> +<br /> +Battle, <a href="#Page_395">395</a><br /> +<br /> +Baxter, Richard, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Beachy Head, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Beaconsfield, <a href="#Page_333">333-337</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341-343</a><br /> +<br /> +Blenheim, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> +<br /> +Bloxham, <a href="#Page_293">293-296</a><br /> +<br /> +Bognor, <a href="#Page_371">371</a><br /> +<br /> +Boscobel, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341-343</a><br /> +<br /> +Boswell, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> +<br /> +Brighton, <a href="#Page_373">373-374</a><br /> +<br /> +Broadhurst, <a href="#Page_57">57-58</a><br /> +<br /> +Broad Marston, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Broadway, <a href="#Page_139">139-140</a><br /> +<br /> +Broom, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Browne, Sir Thomas, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Bunyan, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Burford, <a href="#Page_153">153-156</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304-306</a><br /> +<br /> +Burnham Beeches, <a href="#Page_343">343</a><br /> +<br /> +Burroughs, John, <a href="#Page_174">174</a><br /> +<br /> +Burton-on-Trent, <a href="#Page_280">280-281</a><br /> +<br /> +Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Cann Office Inn, <a href="#Page_188">188-191</a><br /> +<br /> +Carlyle, <a href="#Page_101">101</a><br /> +<br /> +Carno, <a href="#Page_170">170-171</a></p> + +<p class="pi1 p1">Castles—<br /> +Boarstall Tower, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326-328</a><br /> +Bodiam, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +Bramber, <a href="#Page_381">381</a><br /> +Carreg Cennin, <a href="#Page_10">10</a><br /> +Farnham, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +Hurstmonceux, <a href="#Page_22">22</a><br /> +King John's, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +Ludlow, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +Red Castle, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a><br /> +Tong, <a href="#Page_251">251</a><br /> +Tutbury, <a href="#Page_280">280-281</a></p> + +<p class="pn p1">Cemmaes, <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br /> +<br /> +Chapel House, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>-<a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Charles I., <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Charles II., <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267-271</a><br /> +<br /> +Charwelton, <a href="#Page_289">289-290</a><br /> +<br /> +Chichester, <a href="#Page_370">370-371</a><br /> +<br /> +Chiddingly, <a href="#Page_389">389-392</a><br /> +<br /> +Chipping Norton, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Church Stretton, <a href="#Page_161">161-162</a><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pi1 p1"> + +Churches—<br /> + +Alton, <a href="#Page_347">347-348</a><br /> +Bloxham, <a href="#Page_294">294-296</a><br /> +Burford, <a href="#Page_153">153-156</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +Chiddingly, <a href="#Page_389">389-392</a><br /> +Corhampton, <a href="#Page_358">358-359</a><br /> +Culmington, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +Dane Hill, <a href="#Page_60">60</a><br /> +Fletching, <a href="#Page_31">31-40</a><br /> +Greywell, <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +Highworth, <a href="#Page_313">313-315</a><br /> +Horsted Keynes, <a href="#Page_51">51-59</a><br /> +Kingsclere, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +Lilleshall, <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /> +Odiham, <a href="#Page_96">96-99</a><br /> +Shipton-under-Wychwood, <a href="#Page_302">302-303</a><br /> +Stanton Lacy, <a href="#Page_158">158-159</a><br /> +Ticehurst, <a href="#Page_393">393-394</a><br /> +Tong, <a href="#Page_250">250-262</a></p> + +<p class="pn p1"> + +Cirencester, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128-130</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a><br /> +<br /> +Claverham, <a href="#Page_19">19-23</a><br /> +<br /> +Clifford Chambers, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Coalbrookdale, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /> +<br /> +Coate, <a href="#Page_118">118-121</a><br /> +<br /> +Cobbett, William, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62-63</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a><br /> +<br /> +Coleridge, <a href="#Page_196">196</a><br /> +<br /> +Constable, John, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Corhampton, <a href="#Page_357">357-359</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a><br /> +<br /> +Cotswolds, The, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a><br /> +<br /> +Cox, David, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Craven Arms, <a href="#Page_160">160-161</a><br /> +<br /> +Cricklade, <a href="#Page_125">125</a><br /> +<br /> +Crondall, <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Cross-in-Hand, <a href="#Page_392">392</a><br /> +<br /> +Cuckmere Valley, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Culmington, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Daglingworth, <a href="#Page_129">129</a><br /> +<br /> +Dane Hill, <a href="#Page_59">59-61</a><br /> +<br /> +Daventry, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a><br /> +<br /> +De Quincey, <a href="#Page_45">45</a><br /> +<br /> +Dickens, Charles, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Dinas Mawddwy, <a href="#Page_185">185</a><br /> +<br /> +Dovey, Valley of, <a href="#Page_171">171-172</a><br /> +<br /> +Down Apney, <a href="#Page_127">127</a><br /> +<br /> +Dyfi Valley, <a href="#Page_182">182</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Eastbourne, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +East Hoathly, <a href="#Page_389">389</a><br /> +<br /> +Eaton Constantine, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Emerson, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Emsworth, <a href="#Page_370">370</a><br /> +<br /> +Evesham, Vale of, <a href="#Page_141">141</a><br /> +<br /> +Eynsham, <a href="#Page_319">319</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Fareham, <a href="#Page_367">367-370</a><br /> +<br /> +Faringdon, <a href="#Page_316">316</a><br /> +<br /> +Farnham, <a href="#Page_93">93-94</a><br /> +<br /> +Felpham, <a href="#Page_374">374-376</a><br /> +<br /> +Fletching, <a href="#Page_31">31-40</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Frensham Pond, <a href="#Page_84">84-86</a><br /> +<br /> +Friston, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Gibbon, <a href="#Page_35">35-36</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Godalming, <a href="#Page_83">83</a><br /> +<br /> +Great-upon-Little, <a href="#Page_80">80-81</a><br /> +<br /> +Great Witley, <a href="#Page_142">142-143</a><br /> +<br /> +Greywell, <a href="#Page_142">142-143</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Hampden, John, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> +<br /> +Havant, <a href="#Page_370">370</a><br /> +<br /> +Hawkestone, <a href="#Page_200">200-201</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Hazlitt, William, <a href="#Page_5">5-6</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> +<br /> +Henfield, <a href="#Page_382">382</a><br /> +<br /> +High Ercall, <a href="#Page_210">210-211</a><br /> +<br /> +Highworth, <a href="#Page_312">312-316</a><br /> +<br /> +High Wycombe, <a href="#Page_332">332-333</a><br /> +<br /> +Hindhead, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Hook, <a href="#Page_344">344</a><br /> +<br /> +Horsted Keynes, <a href="#Page_51">51-59</a><br /> +<br /> +Huddington Court, <a href="#Page_240">240-243</a><br /> +<br /> +Hungerford, <a href="#Page_111">111-114</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ironbridge, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231-232</a><br /> +<br /> +Islip, <a href="#Page_322">322</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Jefferies, Richard, <a href="#Page_118">118-120</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_373">373</a><br /> +<br /> +Johnson, Dr., <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a><br /> +<br /> +Jonson, Ben, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Joseph's Stone, <a href="#Page_321">321-322</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Kennett Valley, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +King's Bromley, <a href="#Page_273">273-275</a><br /> +<br /> +Kingsclere, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Kipling, Rudyard, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a><br /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> + +<br /> +<br /> +Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> +<br /> +Langstone Harbour, <a href="#Page_370">370</a><br /> +<br /> +Laughton Level, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Leighton, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /> +<br /> +Leighton, Archbishop, <a href="#Page_56">56-58</a><br /> +<br /> +Lewes, <a href="#Page_23">23-24</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> +<br /> +Lichfield, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a><br /> +<br /> +Lilleshall, <a href="#Page_247">247-248</a><br /> +<br /> +Liphook, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Litlington, <a href="#Page_17">17</a><br /> +<br /> +Littlecote, <a href="#Page_115">115</a><br /> +<br /> +Littlehampton, <a href="#Page_377">377</a><br /> +<br /> +Little Stretton, <a href="#Page_161">161</a><br /> +<br /> +Llandysill, <a href="#Page_144">144</a><br /> +<br /> +Llanerfyl, <a href="#Page_191">191-192</a><br /> +<br /> +Long Crendon, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Long Mountain, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +Ludlow, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Machynlleth, <a href="#Page_174">174-176</a><br /> +<br /> +Madeley, <a href="#Page_227">227-232</a><br /> +<br /> +Madeley Court, <a href="#Page_233">233-239</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245-246</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a><br /> +<br /> +Maidenhead, <a href="#Page_343">343</a><br /> +<br /> +Malvern Hills, <a href="#Page_141">141</a><br /> +<br /> +Marton Mere, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<br /> +Mayfield, <a href="#Page_392">392-393</a><br /> +<br /> +Meon Stoke, <a href="#Page_357">357-358</a><br /> +<br /> +Meon Valley, <a href="#Page_349">349</a><br /> +<br /> +Montgomery, <a href="#Page_166">166-167</a><br /> +<br /> +Moreton Corbet, <a href="#Page_207">207-210</a><br /> +<br /> +Moseley Hall, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Muchelney, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Newbury, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> +<br /> +Newton, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174-175</a><br /> +<br /> +Ninfield, <a href="#Page_395">395-396</a><br /> +<br /> +North Moor, <a href="#Page_316">316</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Oddington, <a href="#Page_322">322</a><br /> +<br /> +Odiham, <a href="#Page_94">94-104</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a><br /> +<br /> +Ot Moor, <a href="#Page_321">321-322</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Pepys, Samuel, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Pershore, <a href="#Page_141">141</a><br /> +<br /> +Pit Down, <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +Plynlimmon, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Quennington, <a href="#Page_129">129</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Robertsbridge, <a href="#Page_395">395</a><br /> +<br /> +Ruskin, John, <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +St. Leonard's Forest, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> +<br /> +Scaynes Hill, <a href="#Page_388">388</a><br /> +<br /> +Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +Sedgemoor, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a><br /> +<br /> +Sheffield (in Sussex), <a href="#Page_40">40-48</a><br /> +<br /> +Sheriff Hales, <a href="#Page_247">247</a><br /> +<br /> +Shifnal, <a href="#Page_247">247</a><br /> +<br /> +Shoreham, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>-<a href="#Page_380">380</a><br /> +<br /> +Shrewsbury, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>-<a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221-222</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a><br/> +<br /> +Siddington, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> +<br /> +Soberton, <a href="#Page_361">361-363</a><br /> +<br /> +South Downs, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11-13</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a><br /> +<br /> +South Warnborough, <a href="#Page_344">344</a><br /> +<br /> +Standard Hill, <a href="#Page_395">395</a><br /> +<br /> +Stanton Harcourt, <a href="#Page_319">319</a><br /> +<br /> +Stanton Lacy, <a href="#Page_158">158-159</a><br /> +<br /> +Stevenson, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a><br /> +<br /> +Stipperstones, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +Stokenchurch, <a href="#Page_332">332</a><br /> +<br /> +Stow-on-the-Wold, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Swindon, <a href="#Page_121">121</a><br /> +<br /> +Syde, <a href="#Page_133">133-134</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Tal Valley, <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br /> +<br /> +Tenbury, <a href="#Page_146">146-153</a><br /> +<br /> +Tennyson, Lord, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Tetsworth, <a href="#Page_330">330-331</a><br /> +<br /> +Thame, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Thoreau, <a href="#Page_118">118-119</a><br /> +<br /> +Ticehurst, <a href="#Page_393">393-395</a><br /> +<br /> +Tilgate Forest, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> +<br /> +Tong, <a href="#Page_250">250-262</a><br /> +<br /> +Tutbury, <a href="#Page_280">280-281</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Uckfield, <a href="#Page_389">389</a><br /> +<br /> +Uffington, <a href="#Page_221">221-222</a><br /> +<br /> +Uriconium, <a href="#Page_223">223-226</a><br /> +<br /> +Uttoxeter, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Walton, Izaak, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a><br /> +<br /> +Warnford, <a href="#Page_350">350-352</a><br /> +<br /> +Watling Street, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272-273</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +Welshpool, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /> +<br /> +Wem, <a href="#Page_195">195-203</a><br /> +<br /> +Wenlock Edge, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +<br /> +West Dean, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14-17</a><br /> +<br /> +West Hoathly, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63-64</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66-80</a><br /> +<br /> +West Meon, <a href="#Page_350">350</a><br /> +<br /> +Weston, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +White Ladies, <a href="#Page_262">262-264</a><br /> +<br /> +Wickham, <a href="#Page_365">365-367</a><br /> +<br /> +Wickhamford, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Wokingham, <a href="#Page_343">343</a><br /> +<br /> +Wollaston, <a href="#Page_193">193-194</a><br /> +<br /> +Woodstock, <a href="#Page_319">319-321</a><br /> +<br /> +Wootton Bassett, <a href="#Page_121">121-125</a><br /> +<br /> +Worcester, <a href="#Page_141">141-142</a><br /> +<br /> +Worth Forest, <a href="#Page_64">64</a><br /> +<br /> +Worthing, <a href="#Page_378">378-379</a><br /> +<br /> +Wrekin, The, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="pn center p4 reduct"><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark, Limited</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</p> + +</div> + +<h2 class="p4">FOOTNOTE</h2> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="pn"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Since writing the above I noted the following paragraph in my morning +paper: "A team of draught oxen in Sussex was disposed of near Lewes. +The wooden yoke was purchased by the Mayor of Brighton for presentation +to the Brighton Museum." A future generation may need the aid of a +Commentator to understand the agricultural operations of to-day and the +recent past.</p> + +</div></div> + +<div class="sum"> + +<div class="transnote p4"> + +<p class="pn center large"><b>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</b></p><br /> + +<p class="pt"> +—Plain print and punctuation errors were corrected. +</p> + +<p class="pt"> +—The transcriber of this project created the book cover image +using the front cover of the original book. The image is placed in public domain. +</p> + +</div></div> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45712 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/45712-h/images/cover.jpg b/45712-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..208d3b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/45712-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/45712-h/images/ill-001a.jpg b/45712-h/images/ill-001a.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..198b3f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/45712-h/images/ill-001a.jpg diff --git a/45712-h/images/ill-001b.jpg b/45712-h/images/ill-001b.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ef6955 --- /dev/null +++ b/45712-h/images/ill-001b.jpg diff --git a/45712-h/images/ill-008.jpg b/45712-h/images/ill-008.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..739d752 --- /dev/null +++ b/45712-h/images/ill-008.jpg diff --git a/45712-h/images/ill-010.jpg b/45712-h/images/ill-010.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 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