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diff --git a/46716-h/46716-h.htm b/46716-h/46716-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd1236e --- /dev/null +++ b/46716-h/46716-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11209 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Great North Road: London to York, by Charles G. Harper</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Great North Road: London to York, by +Charles G. Harper + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Great North Road: London to York + The Old Mail Road to Scotland + + +Author: Charles G. Harper + + + +Release Date: August 28, 2014 [eBook #46716] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT NORTH ROAD: LONDON TO +YORK*** +</pre> +<p>This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/cover.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fp.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Starting from G.P.O. in Lombard Street" +title= +"Starting from G.P.O. in Lombard Street" + src="images/fp.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1><i>The</i><br /> +GREAT NORTH ROAD</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">The Old Mail Road to Scotland</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>By</i> CHARLES G. HARPER</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON TO YORK</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Illustrated by the Author</i>, +<i>and from old-time</i><br /> +<i>Prints and Pictures</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tp.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Title Figure (man on bicycle)" +title= +"Title Figure (man on bicycle)" + src="images/tp.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">London</span>:<br /> +CECIL PALMER<br /> +<span class="smcap">Oakley House</span>, <span +class="smcap">Bloomsbury Street</span>, W.C. <span +class="GutSmall">1</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pageii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. ii</span><i>First published in</i> 1901<br /> +<i>Second and Revised edition</i>, 1922</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">Printed in +Great Britain by C. TINLING & Co., </span><span +class="GutSmall"><span class="smcap">Ltd</span></span><span +class="GutSmall">.,</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">53, Victoria Street, Liverpool</span><br +/> +<span class="GutSmall">and 187, Fleet Street, London.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pageiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. iii</span><span class="smcap">In Loving +Memory</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OF</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Herman Moroney</span></p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>I expect to pass through this world but +once</i>. <i>Any good</i>, <i>therefore</i>, <i>I can +do</i>, <i>or any kindness that I can show to any +fellow-creature</i>, <i>let me do it now</i>. <i>Let me not +defer or neglect it</i>, <i>for I shall not pass this way +again</i>.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Attributed to</i> <span +class="smcap">William Penn</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>PREFACE.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/prefhead.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Preface heading" +title= +"Preface heading" + src="images/prefhead.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><span class="smcap"><i>When</i></span><i> the original edition +of the</i> “<span class="smcap">Great North +Road</span>” <i>was published—in</i> +1901—<i>the motorcar was yet a new thing</i>. <i>It +had</i>, <i>in November</i>, 1896, <i>been given by Act of +Parliament the freedom of the roads</i>; <i>but</i>, <i>so +far</i>, <i>the character of the nation’s traffic had been +comparatively little changed</i>. <i>People would still +turn and gaze</i>, <i>interested</i>, <i>at a +mechanically-propelled vehicle</i>; <i>and few were those folk +who had journeyed the entire distance between London and +Edinburgh in one of them</i>. <i>For motor-cars were +still</i>, <i>really</i>, <i>in more or less of an experimental +stage</i>; <i>and on any long journey you were never sure of +finishing by car what you had begun</i>. <i>Also</i>, +<i>the speed possible was not great enough to render such a long +</i><a name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vi</span><i>journey exhilarating to modern ideas</i>. <i>It +is true that</i>, <i>the year before</i>, <i>the</i> +“<i>Automobile Club of Great Britain and +Ireland</i>,” <i>not yet become the</i> “<i>Royal +Automobile Club</i>,” <i>had in its now forgotten role of +a</i> “<i>Society of Encouragement</i>” <i>planned +and carried out a</i> “<i>Thousand Miles Tour</i>,” +<i>which had Edinburgh as its most northern point</i>; <i>but it +was a very special effort</i>. <i>Those who took part in it +are not likely to forget the occasion</i>.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p><i>To-day</i>, <i>all that is changed</i>. <i>Every +summer</i>, <i>every autumn</i>, <i>sees large numbers of touring +automobiles on the way to Scotland and the moors</i>, <i>filled +with those who prefer the road</i>, <i>on such terms</i>, <i>to +the railway</i>. <i>From being something in the nature of a +lonely highway</i>, <i>the Great North Road has thus become a +very much travelled one</i>. <i>In this way</i>, <i>some of +its circumstances have changed remarkably</i>, <i>and old-time +comfortable wayside inns that seemed to have been ruined for all +time with the coming of railways and the passing of the coaches +have wakened to a newer life</i>. <i>Chief among these is +the</i> “<i>Bell</i>” <i>on Barnby Moor</i>, <i>just +north of Retford</i>. <i>The story of its revival is a +romance</i>. <i>Closed about</i> 1845, <i>and converted +into a farm-house</i>, <i>no one would have cared to predict its +revival as an inn</i>. <i>But as such it was reopened</i>, +<i>chiefly for the use of motorists</i>, <i>in</i> 1906, <i>and +there it is to-day</i>.</p> +<p><a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vii</span><i>But</i>, <i>apart from the tarred and asphalted +condition of the actual roadway in these times</i>, <i>the +route</i>, <i>all the way between London</i>, <i>York and +Edinburgh</i>, <i>looks much the same as it did</i>. +<i>Only</i>, <i>where perhaps one person might then know it +thoroughly</i>, <i>from end to end</i>, <i>a hundred are well +acquainted with the way and its features</i>. <i>It is for +those many who now know the Great North Road that this new +edition is prepared</i>, <i>giving the story of the long highway +between the two capitals</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">CHARLES G. HARPER.</p> +<p><i>April</i>, 1922.</p> +<h2><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. ix</span>THE +GREAT NORTH ROAD</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">LONDON TO +YORK</span></p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">MILES</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Islington (the “Angel”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">1¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Highgate Archway</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>East End, Finchley</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Brown’s Wells, Finchley Common (“Green +Man”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Whetstone</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Greenhill Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Barnet</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hadley Green</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Ganwick Corner (“Duke of York”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">13</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Potter’s Bar</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Little Heath Lane</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">15¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bell Bar (“Swan”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">17¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hatfield</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">19¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stanborough</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">21½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Lemsford Mills (cross River Lea)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">22¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Digswell Hill (cross River Mimram)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">23¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Welwyn</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">25¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Woolmer Green</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Broadwater</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">29½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stevenage</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">31½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Graveley</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">33½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Baldock</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">37½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Biggleswade (cross River Ivel)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">45¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagex"></a><span class="pagenum">p. x</span>Lower +Codicote</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">46¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Beeston Cross (cross River Ivel)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">48¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Girlford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">49¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tempsford (cross River Ouse)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">51</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Wyboston</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">54</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Eaton Socon</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">55¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Cross Hall</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">56¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Diddington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">60</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Buckden</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">61¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Brampton Hut</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">63¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Alconbury</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">66¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Alconbury Weston</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">67</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Alconbury Hill (“Wheatsheaf”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">68</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Sawtry St. Andrews</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">71½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stilton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">75½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Norman Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">76</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Kate’s Cabin</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">79½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Water Newton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">81¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Sibson</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">82</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stibbington (cross River Nene)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">83¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Wansford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">84</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stamford Baron (cross River Welland)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">89</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stamford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">89½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Great Casterton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">91½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stretton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">96</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Greetham (“New Inn”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">97½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>North Witham (“Black Bull”)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">100½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Colsterworth</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">102½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Great Ponton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">106¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Spitalgate Hill</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">109¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Grantham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">110¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Great Gonerby</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">112</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xi</span>Foston</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">116</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Long Bennington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">118¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Shire Bridge (cross Shire Dyke)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">120½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Balderton (cross River Devon)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">122¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Newark (cross River Trent)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">124½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>South Muskham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">127</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>North Muskham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">128</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Cromwell</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">130</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Carlton-on-Trent</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">131½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Sutton-on-Trent</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">133</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Weston</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">134¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Scarthing Moor</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">135½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tuxford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">137¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>West Markham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">139½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Markham Moor</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">140½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Gamston (cross Chesterfield Canal)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">141½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Retford (cross River Idle)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">145</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Barnby Moor</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">148</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Torworth</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">149½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Ranskill</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">150¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Scrooby</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">152</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bawtry</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">153½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Rossington Bridge (cross River Tome)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">157¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tophall</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">158¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Doncaster (cross River Don)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">162¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bentley</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">164</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Owston</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">167¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Askerne (cross River Went)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">169¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Whitley (cross Knottingley and Goole Canal)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">174</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Whitley Bridge</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">175</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Chapel Haddlesey (cross River Aire)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">175½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Burn (cross Selby Canal)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">179¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xii</span>Brayton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">180¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Selby (cross River Ouse)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">182¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Barlby</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">183¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Riccall</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">186</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Escrick</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">189¼</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Deighton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">190½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Gate Fulford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">195</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>York</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">196¾</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I</p> +</td> +<td><p>Various Notes On Roads In General.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II</p> +</td> +<td><p>Road Construction And Makers.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III</p> +</td> +<td><p>Makers Of Coaches: G.P.O. Mails.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Post Office History.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page26">26</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stage Coach Timings.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page33">33</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Travel Expenses And Difficulties.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page39">39</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Journey Stages: Islington: Holloway.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page49">49</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VIII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Highgate: Dick Whittington.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IX</p> +</td> +<td><p>Highgate: Archway.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page57">57</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">X</p> +</td> +<td><p>Highgate: Footpads.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page61">61</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Finchley: Tally-Ho Corner And Common.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Whetstone: Building Of New Road.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page72">72</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Barnet: Prize-Fighting.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Hadley Green: Potter’s Bar: Hatfield.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Digswell Hill: Welwyn: Knebworth.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stevenage: Posting Charges.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page96">96</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Baldock: Biggleswade: Tempsford.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVIII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Some Cycling Records. Eaton Socon.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIX</p> +</td> +<td><p>Buckden: Brampton: Matcham’s Bridge.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XX</p> +</td> +<td><p>Alconbury Hill: Stilton.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page121">121</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Norman Cross: Wansford: Burghley.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page129">129</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stamford: Daniel Lambert.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page145">145</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stretton: Bloody Oaks: Ram-Jam Inn.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page154">154</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Travellers. Some Road History.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page164">164</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Coming Of The Railways.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Witham Common: Great Ponton.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page175">175</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Grantham.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page180">180</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVIII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Oliver Cromwell: Gonerby Hill.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page188">188</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIX</p> +</td> +<td><p>Newark: Ringing For Gofer.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXX</p> +</td> +<td><p>North And South Muskham.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page203">203</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXXI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Retford.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page210">210</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXXII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Barnby Moor: Scrooby.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page213">213</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXXIII</p> +</td> +<td><p>Bawtry: Rossington Bridge.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page222">222</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXXIV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Tophall: Doncaster: St. Leger.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page226">226</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXXV</p> +</td> +<td><p>Askerne: Brayton: Selby.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page235">235</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXXVI</p> +</td> +<td><p>Riccall: Invaders: York.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page242">242</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>To the North in the Days of Old: Mails starting from the +General Post Office, Lombard Street</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">Frontispiece</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Old and New Swan Nicks: Vintners’ Company</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image16">16</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Modern Sign of the “Swan with Two Necks”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image17">17</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Spread Eagle,” Gracechurch Street</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image19">19</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Saracen’s Head,” Snow Hill</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image23">23</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Mails starting from the General Post Office, 1832</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image27">27</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Louth Mail” stopped by the snow</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image43">43</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Entrance to London from Islington, 1809</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image47">47</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Islington Green, 1820</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image50">50</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Old Highgate Archway, demolished 1897</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image63">63</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Great Common of Finchley: A Parlous Place</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image67">67</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Turpin’s Oak</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image70">70</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>“The Whetstone”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image72">72</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>High Street, Barnet</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image77">77</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hadley Green: Site of the Battle of Barnet</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Old Toll House, Potter’s Bar</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Ganwick Corner</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image83">83</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bell Bar</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image84">84</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Welwyn</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image89">89</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Six Hills,” Stevenage</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image95">95</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Trigg’s Coffin</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image102">102</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>At the 39th Mile</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image106">106</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Biggleswade</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image108">108</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Buckden</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image115">115</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Matcham’s Bridge</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image119">119</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Alconbury Hill: Junction of the Great North Road and the +North Road</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image123">123</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Bell,” Stilton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image127">127</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Norman Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image129">129</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>French Prisoners of War Monument, Norman Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image132">132</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Sculptured Figure, Water Newton Church</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image133">133</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Water Newton Church</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image134">134</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Edmund Boulter’s Milestone</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image135">135</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Haycock,” Wansford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image137">137</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Sign of the “Haycock”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image138">138</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Wansford Bridge</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image139">139</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Burghley House, by Stamford Town</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image143">143</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Entrance to Stamford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image147">147</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stamford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image151">151</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Daniel Lambert</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image152">152</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Highflyer,” 1840</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image155">155</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bloody Oaks</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image157">157</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Interior of a Village Inn</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image159">159</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>House, formerly the “Black Bull,” Witham +Common</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image163">163</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Foster Powell</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image168">168</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Great Ponton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image177">177</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Great Ponton Church</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image179">179</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Angel,” Grantham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image182">182</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Wondrous Sign”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image187">187</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Newark Castle</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image195">195</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Market Place, Newark</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image199">199</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Newark Castle</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image201">201</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Jockey House</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image210">210</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>An Old Postboy: John Blagg</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image212">212</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Scrooby Church</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image216">216</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Scrooby Manor House</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image217">217</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Stables, Scrooby Manor House</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image220">220</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The “Crown,” Bawtry</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image224">224</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Coach passing Doncaster Racecourse</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image229">229</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Brayton Church</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image237">237</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Market Place, Selby</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image239">239</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Micklegate Bar</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image245">245</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Micklegate Bar: Present Day</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="imageref"><a +href="#image246">246</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page1"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 1</span> +<a href="images/p1.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Old steam train" +title= +"Old steam train" + src="images/p1.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2>I.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was once an American who, +with cheap wit, expressed a fear of travelling in the little +island of Great Britain, lest he should accidentally fall over +the edge of so small a place. It is quite evident that he +never travelled the road from London to York and Edinburgh.</p> +<p>You have to perform that journey to realise that this is, +after all, not so very small an island. It is not enough to +have been wafted between London and Edinburgh by express +train—even although the wafting itself takes seven hours +and a half—for one to gain a good idea of the +distance. We will not take into consideration the total +mileage between Dover and Cape Wrath, which tots up to the +formidable figure of eight hundred miles or so, but will confine +ourselves in these pages to the great road between London and +Edinburgh: to the Great North Road, in fact, which measures, by +way of York, three hundred and ninety-three miles.</p> +<p><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>There are +a North Road and a Great North Road. Like different forms +of religious belief, by which their several adherents all +devoutly hope to win to that one place where we all would be, +these two roads eventually lead to one goal, although they +approach it by independent ways. The North Road is the +oldest, based as it is partly on the old Roman Ermine Way which +led to Lincoln. It is measured from Shoreditch Church, and +goes by Kingsland to Tottenham and Enfield, and so by Waltham +Cross to Cheshunt, Ware, and Royston, eventually meeting the +Great North Road after passing through Caxton and climbing +Alconbury Hill, sixty-eight miles from London.</p> +<p>The Great North Road takes a very different route out of +London. It was measured from Hicks’s Hall, +Smithfield, and, passing the “Angel” at Islington, +pursued a straight and continually ascending course for Holloway +and Highgate, going thence to Barnet, Hatfield, Welwyn, +Stevenage, Biggleswade, and Buckden to Alconbury; where, as just +remarked, the North Road merged into it. From London to +Hadley Green, just beyond Barnet, the Great North Road and the +Holyhead Road are identical.</p> +<p>In these volumes we shall consistently keep to the Great North +Road; starting, however, as the record-making cyclists of late +years have done, from the General Post-office in St. +Martin’s-le-Grand, to or from which, or the neighbouring +old inns, the coaches of the historic past came and went.</p> +<p>We travel with a light heart: our forbears with dismal +forebodings, leaving duly-executed and attested wills behind +them. In the comparatively settled times of from a hundred +to two hundred years ago, they duly returned, after many days: in +earlier periods the home-coming was not so sure a thing.</p> +<p>These considerations serve to explain to the tourist and the +cyclist, who travel for the love of change and the desire for +beautiful scenery, why no one in the Middle Ages travelled from +choice. From the highest to the lowest, from the king in +his palace to <a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +3</span>the peasant in his wattled hut, every one who could do so +stayed at home, and only faced the roads from sheer +necessity. No one appreciated scenery in those days; nor +are our ancestors to be blamed for their shortcomings in this +respect, for outside every man’s door lurked some danger or +another, and when a man’s own fireside is the only safe +place he knows of, it is apt to appear to him the most beautiful +and the most desirable of spots.</p> +<p>We cannot say whether the Romans appreciated scenery. If +a love of the wildly beautiful in nature is dependent upon the +safety of those who behold it, and upon the ease with which those +scenes are visited, perhaps only the later generations of Roman +colonists could have possessed this sense. The earlier +Romans who made their splendid system of roads were, doubtless, +only military men, and, well aware of their dangers, found +nothing beautiful in mountain ranges. Their successors, +however, during four hundred years had leisure and plentiful +opportunities of cultivating taste, and travel was highly +organised among them. A milliare, or milestone, was placed +at every Roman mile—4854 English feet—and +“mansiones,” or posting-stations, at distances +varying from seven to twenty miles.</p> +<p>Roman roads were scientifically constructed. The +following was the formula:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Pavimentum, or foundation. Fine earth, hard beaten +in.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Statumen, or bed of the road. Composed of large +stones, sometimes mixed with mortar.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Ruderatio. Small stones, well mixed with mortar.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Nucleus. Formed by mixing lime, chalk, pounded +brick, or tile; or gravel, sand, and lime mixed with clay.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Summum Dorsum. Surface of the paved road.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>So thoroughly well was the work done that remains of these +roads are even now discovered, in a perfect <a +name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>condition, +although buried from six to fifteen feet, or even deeper, beneath +the present surface of the land, owing to the hundreds of years +of neglect which followed the abandonment of Britain, and the +decay of Roman civilisation; a neglect which allowed storms and +the gradual effects of the weather to accumulate deposits of +earth upon these paved ways until they were made to disappear as +effectually as Pompeii and Herculaneum under the hail of ashes +and lava that hid those cities from view for eighteen hundred +years.</p> +<p>When that great people, the Romans, perished off the face of +the earth, and none succeeded them, their roads began to decay, +their bridges and paved fords were broken down or carried away by +floods, and the rulers of the nation were for over five hundred +years too busily engaged in subduing rebellions at home or in +prosecuting wars abroad to attend to the keeping of +communications in proper repair. Social disorder, too, +destroyed roads and bridges that had survived natural decay and +the stress of the elements. Even those roads which existed +in otherwise good condition were only fair-weather +highways. They were innocent of culverts, and consequently +the storm-water, which nowadays is carried off beneath them, +swept across the surface, and either carried it away or remained +in vast lakes on whose shores wayfarers shivered until the floods +had abated. Thieves and murderers were the commonplaces of +the roads, and signposts were not; so that guides—who at +the best were expensive, and at the worst were the accomplices of +cutthroats, and lured the traveller to their haunts—were +absolutely necessary.</p> +<p>To the relief of travellers in those times came the Church, +for the civil and secular power had not begun even to dream of +road-making. The Church did some very important things for +travellers, praying for them, and adjuring the devout to include +them in their prayers for prisoners and captives, the sick, and +others in any way distressed. The very word +“travel” <a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>derives from <i>travail</i>, meaning labour or +hardship. This alone shows how much to be pitied were those +whose business took them from their own firesides.</p> +<p>But to pray for them alone would not perhaps have been so very +admirable, and so the Church took the care of the roads on itself +in a very special sense. It granted indulgences to those +who by their gifts or their bodily labour helped to repair the +highways, and licensed hermits to receive tolls and alms from +travellers over roads and bridges constructed by the brethren, +those revenues going towards the upkeep of the ways. +Benefactors to the Church frequently left lands and houses, whose +proceeds were to be applied for the same purpose; and for many +years this trust was respected, and all the road and bridge +building and repairing was done by the religious. By +degrees, however, this trust was, if not betrayed, allowed to +gradually fall into neglect. False hermits set up in remote +places, away from the eyes of the bishops, and living idle and +dissolute lives on the alms they received, allowed roads and +bridges alike to fall into decay. These vicious, unlicensed +hermits were great stumbling-blocks to the godly in those +times. They were often peasants or workmen, who had +observed how fat and idle a living was that gained by those among +the licensed who had betrayed their trust and fared sumptuously +on alms unearned, and so went and set up in the eremitical +profession for themselves. They fared well on bacon, had +“fat chekus,” toasted themselves before roaring fires +in their too comfortable cells, and lived “in ydelnesse and +ese,” frequenting ale-houses and even worse places. +Accordingly many of them were eventually removed, or suffered +various punishments, and the neighbouring monasteries placed +others in their stead.</p> +<p>By this time, however, the bishops and abbots, whose broad +acres had often come to them in trust for the welfare of the +traveller, began to forget their obligations. It was, of +course, a natural process: the possessions of the religious +houses had grown <a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +6</span>enormously, but so also had their hospitality to all and +sundry. Travellers had increased, and as it was a rule of +conduct with the great abbeys to not only relieve the poor, but +also to entertain the great in those days before the rise of the +roadside hostelry, their resources must have been well +exercised. Meanwhile the statutes of the country had +gradually been imposing the care of the roads upon the laity, and +at the time when the greater and lesser monasteries were +dissolved, in the reign of Henry the Eighth, parishes and +landowners were chiefly concerned in endeavouring to comply with +their new and strange obligations in keeping their ways +passable. Of course they did not succeed, and equally of +course, because it was impossible that they could, the pains and +penalties threatened for foul and dangerous roads were not +enforced.</p> +<p>A curious pamphlet on the condition of the roads in the +seventeenth century is that written by Thomas Mace, one of the +“clerks” of Trinity College, Cambridge, and published +in 1675. Mace, there is no doubt, was a man born out of his +time. Had circumstances been propitious, he might have +become another and an earlier Macadam. His pamphlet, +written both in prose and verse, and addressed to the king, is +styled <i>The Profit</i>, <i>Conveniency</i>, <i>and Pleasure for +the Whole Nation</i>, and is “a Discourse lately presented +to His Majesty concerning the Highways of England; their badness, +the causes thereof, the reasons of these causes, the +impossibility of ever having them well mended according to the +old way of mending; but may most certainly be done, and for ever +so maintained (according to this New Way) substantially, and with +very much ease.”</p> +<p>We find here, as in other publications until the +mid-eighteenth century was well past, that the country was for +the most part unenclosed, so that when the traffic had worn the +old tracks into deep ruts, or when mud had rendered them +impassable, the wagons, carts, and laden horses were taken round +by the nearest firm spots. “Much ground,” says +our <a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>author, +“is now spoiled and trampled down in all wide roads, where +coaches and carts take liberty to pick and chuse for their best +advantages; besides, such sprawling and straggling of coaches and +carts utterly confound the road in all wide places, so that it is +not only unpleasurable, but extremely perplexing and cumbersome +both to themselves and to all horse travellers.”</p> +<p>These pickings and choosings were the original cause of the +still existing twists and turns in many of our roads. When +we see an old road winding snake-like through a flat country, +with no hills or other obvious reasons for its circuitous course, +we may, in most cases, safely attribute this apparent indecision +and infirmity of purpose to these ancient difficulties, thus +perpetuated.</p> +<p>This ancient state of things occasioned many disputes and even +fatal affrays between the packhorse men, who carried goods slung +across their horses’ backs from one part of the country to +the other, and between the market-folk and those who travelled on +horseback and coaches. Mace would himself seem to have +experienced some of these contentions as to who should take the +clean and who the muddy part of the road, for he writes with +great bitterness about “these disturbances, daily committed +by uncivil, refractory, and rude, Russianlike rake-shames, in +contesting for the way.”</p> +<p>“Hundreds of pack-horses,” he continues, +“panniers, whifflers, coaches, wagons, wains, carts, or +whatsoever others,” fought and schemed for precedence; and +a horseman, his horse already exhausted by a long and tedious +journey, might, at the entrance to a town, especially on market +day, be compelled to go out of his way twenty times in one mile, +owing to the peevishness of these whifflers and +market-folk. “I have often known many +travellers,” he continues, “and myself very often, to +have been necessitated to stand stock still behind a standing +cart or wagon, on most beastly and unsufferable wet wayes, to the +great <a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>endangering of our horses and neglect of public business: +nor durst we adventure to stirr (for most imminent danger of +those deep rutts and unreasonable ridges) till it has pleased Mr. +Carter to jog on, which we have taken very kindly.”</p> +<p>His plan was to once get the roads in good repair, and then, +he says, with the employment of “day men” to every +five miles or so, they could be easily kept in order. The +prospect induces him to rise to poetry:</p> +<blockquote><p>“First, let the ways be regularly brought<br +/> +To artificial form, and truly wrought;<br /> +So that we can suppose them firmly mended,<br /> +And in all needful points, the work well ended,<br /> +That not a stone’s amiss; but all complete,<br /> +All lying smooth, round, firm, and wondrous neat.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So far good. But then comes the heavy traffic to destroy +the good work:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Then comes a gang of heavy-laden wains<br +/> +Of carts and wagons, spoiling all our pains.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But he is ready for this. His proposed “day +men” by at once filling up the ruts would make the damage +good. All these things he commends to the notice of his +Majesty with the concluding lines:</p> +<blockquote><p>“There’s only one thing yet worth +thinking on,<br /> +Which is, to put this work in execution.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>That it was <i>not</i> “put into execution” is a +matter of history.</p> +<p>We have seen that Mace calls the road to Scotland a +“highway,” and the terms “highroad” or +“highway” are common enough; but what really is a +highroad? or rather, how did the term originate? Such a +road is usually understood to be a main artery of traffic between +important towns, but that was not precisely the original meaning, +which indicated the physical character of the road rather than +its geographical status. “High roads” were +originally in fact, causeways constructed across, and above the +level of, marshes and low-lying lands, and the term <a +name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>was therefore +excellently descriptive. The changed meaning no doubt arose +from the fact that, as it would scarcely ever have been worth +while to build embanked roads for the purpose of connecting +obscure villages out of the way of trade, consequently the +“high ways” and the “high roads” only +came into existence between important centres. But this +highly specialised meaning was destroyed when Turnpike Acts and +Highway Acts began to be passed. The first Turnpike Act, +one relating to the road to the North, referred to the +Shoreditch, Stamford Hill, Ware, and Royston route, which joined +the Great North Road at Alconbury Hill. It was passed in +1663, and authorised a toll-gate at Stilton, among other +places. In the preamble to this Act we find the road spoken +of as “the ancient highway and post-road leading from +London to York and so into Scotland.” Later Acts +providing for the collection of tolls on the main roads and for +the formation of Turnpike Trusts, whose business it was to +collect those tolls and with them keep the “turnpike” +roads in repair, named them “turnpike roads”; while +other legislation, culminating in the General Highway Act of +William the Fourth, perpetrated a delightful paradox by +especially designating by-roads “highways.” The +cardinal difference, in the eyes of the law, was that a turnpike +road was a main line of communication, to be maintained in proper +order throughout its length by taxes collected from the users of +the road; while highways were only local roads for local use and +to be maintained by the respective parishes in which they were +situated. The ways in which these parish roads were kept in +repair were sufficiently curious. “Statute +labour” preceded highway rates, and was so called from a +statute of Philip and Mary providing for parish road-surveyors, +and for men, horses, carts, and materials to be supplied by the +farmers at their orders, for repairs. “Statute +labour” survived in a fashion until the passing of the +General Highway Act of 1835, when it was wholly superseded by +rates. In later days parishes united <a +name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>and formed +Highway Boards, just as they formed Poor Law Unions; and choosing +a surveyor, levied a common highway rate. These surveyors +were not always, nor often, competent men. They were, in +fact, generally elected by the Boards or the Vestries from some +necessitous inhabitants little above the status of the +broken-down old men who were paid a trifle to break or spread +stones in order to keep them from being burdens to the parish in +the workhouse. These surveyors were appointed and work done +in fear of the parishes being indicted and heavily fined for the +dangerous condition of their roads, but it is obvious that they +must have been very badly repaired in those times. Nowadays +the roads are all highways, since the turnpikes have been +abolished, and their repair, outside the boroughs, is the +business of the County Councils.</p> +<h2>II</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Before</span> Macadam and Telford appeared +upon the scene, the office of road-surveyor was very generally +looked down upon. No self-respecting engineer, before the +time of these great men, condescended to have anything to do with +roads. It is true that a forerunner of Macadam and Telford +had appeared in Yorkshire in 1765, when “Blind Jack of +Knaresborough” began the construction of the Boroughbridge +and Harrogate road, the first of the long series for which he +contracted; but he was not an official road-surveyor, nor by +profession an engineer. He was, in fact, an engineer born +and wholly untaught.</p> +<p>John Metcalf, the famous blind roadmaker, was born in 1717, +and lost his eyesight at six years of age. <a +name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>A native of +Knaresborough, he filled in his time many parts; being fiddler, +huckster, soldier, carrier, proprietor of the first stage-wagon +between York and Knaresborough, and road and bridge maker and +contractor by turns. The marvellous instinct which served +him instead of sight is scarce credible, but is well +authenticated. He joined Thornton’s company of +Yorkshire volunteers raised at Boroughbridge to meet the Scots +rebels in the ’45, and marched with them and played them +into action at Falkirk. His marvellous adventures have no +place here, but his solitary walk from London to Harrogate in +1741 concerns the Great North Road. Being in London, and +returning at the same time, Colonel Liddell of Harrogate offered +Blind Jack a seat behind his carriage, which Metcalf declined, +saying that he could easily walk as far in a day as the colonel +could go in his carriage with post-horses. This +incidentally shows us how utterly vile the roads were at the +time. Metcalf, although blind and unused to the road, +having travelled up to London by sea, walked back, and easily +reached Harrogate before the colonel, who posted all the way.</p> +<p>Liddell, who had an escort of sixteen mounted servants, +started an hour later than Metcalf. It had been arranged +that they should meet that night at Welwyn, but, a little beyond +Barnet, on Hadley Green, where the roads divide, Metcalf took the +left hand, or Holyhead, road by mistake and went a long distance +before he discovered his mistake. Still he arrived at +Welwyn first. The next day he was balked at Biggleswade by +the river, which was in flood, and with no bridge to cross +by. Fortunately, after wandering some distance along the +banks, he met a stranger who led the way across a plank +bridge. When they had crossed, Metcalf offered him some +pence for a glass of beer, which his guide declined, saying he +was welcome. Metcalf, however, pressed it upon him.</p> +<p>“Pray, can you see very well?” asked the +stranger.</p> +<p>“Not very well,” replied Blind Jack.</p> +<p><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>“God forbid I should tithe you,” said his +guide. “I am the rector of this parish; so God bless +you, and I wish you a good journey.”</p> +<p>In the end, Metcalf reached Harrogate two days before the +colonel.</p> +<p>Metcalf made many roads around Knaresborough and in different +parts of Yorkshire, but none actually on the Great North +Road. He died, aged ninety-three, in 1810, five years +before Macadam and Telford began their work upon the roads. +Like them, he rather preferred boggy ground for road-making, and +forestalled both them and Stephenson in adopting fagots as +foundations over mires. At that time the ignorant surveyors +of roads repaired them with dirt scraped from ditches and +water-courses, in which they embedded the first cartloads of +stones which came to hand; stone of all kinds and all +sizes. This done, their “repairs” were +completed, with the result that the roads were frequently as bad +as ever and constantly in the most rugged condition. +Roads—it may be news to the uninstructed—cannot be +made with dirt. In fact, a good road through anything but +rock is generally excavated, and the native earth being removed, +its place is taken by coarse-broken granite or rock; this in its +turn receiving a layer of “macadam,” or smaller +broken granite or whinstone, which is finally bound together by a +sprinkling of red gravel, of the kind known by builders as +“hoggin,” whose binding qualities are caused by a +slight natural admixture of clay. In his insistence upon +broken stones, Macadam proved a power of observation not +possessed by the generality of road-makers, whose method was the +haphazard one of strewing any kind upon the road and trusting in +the traffic to pack them. With rounded pebbles or gravel +stones thus chafing against one another, they never packed into a +solid mass, but remained for all time as unstable as a shingly +beach. Generations of road-making had not taught wisdom, +but Macadam perceived the readiness of the angularities in broken +stones to unite and form a homogeneous <a name="page13"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 13</span>mass, and in introducing his system +proved himself unwittingly a man of science, for science has in +these later days discovered that ice is compacted by the action +of ice-crystals uniting in exactly this manner.</p> +<p>A great scheme for laying out the whole of the Great North +Road between London and Edinburgh on a scientific basis was in +progress when the successful trial of the competing locomotives +at Rainhill, near Liverpool, cast a warning shadow over the +arrangements, and finally led to the project being entirely +abandoned. Had the work been done, it is quite possible +that the railways to the north would have taken another +direction; that, in fact, instead of land having to be surveyed +and purchased for them, the new, straight, and level road would +have been given up to and largely used by the railways. +Telford was the engineer chosen by the Government to execute this +work, of which the portion between Morpeth and Edinburgh was +actually constructed. The survey of the road between +London, York, and Morpeth was begun as early as 1825, and had +been not only completed, but the works on the eve of being +started, when the Rainhill trials in 1829 stopped them short, and +caused the utter waste of the public money spent in the +surveying.</p> +<h2>III</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> were vain, nowadays, to seek any +of the old starting-points from London. The late Mr. +Frederick Locker-Lampson asked in 1896, “Are ‘The +Bull and Mouth,’ ‘The Spread Eagle,’ The Swan +with Two Necks,’ and ‘The Green Man and Still,’ +yet in existence?” With <a name="page14"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 14</span>some little research he would have +discovered that—with the sole exception of the +last-named—they are not. The “Bull and +Mouth” in later years became the “Queen’s +Hotel,” and was demolished only when the site was required +for an extension of the General Post Office in 1887. At the +same time as the “Queen’s” disappeared, the +street at the side of it, called from the old inn “Bull and +Mouth Street,” was stopped up. In this street was the +entrance to the famous old coaching-stables which were in the +last years of their existence used as a railway receiving-office +for goods. On their being pulled down, the grotesque +plaster sign, representing a giant face with yawning mouth in +which stood a bull, was removed to the Guildhall Museum, where it +may still be seen, together with the yet larger and more +elaborate sign which decorated the frontage of the +“Queen’s.” This also included a mouth and +a bull, set amidst a frame of plaster fruits and flowers, with +the inscription:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Milo the Cretonian,<br /> +An ox slew with his fist,<br /> +And ate it up at one meal,<br /> +Ye gods! what a glorious twist.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The origin, however, of the curious sign had nothing to do +with this hungry person. Precisely what was that origin is +never likely to be known; for although the legend that it derived +from the capture of “Boulogne +Mouth”—<i>i.e.</i> Boulogne Harbour—in the +reign of Henry the Eighth is in general acceptation, it has been +shrewdly suspected that this was a tale wickedly invented by +George Steevens, a literary practical joker, who palmed off many +similar stories upon unsuspecting antiquaries at the end of last +century. A perhaps more likely story is that the sign was +originally the “Bowl and Mouth.”</p> +<p>Under Sherman’s rule the “Bull and Mouth” +became a mighty resort of coaches to and from all parts, but more +especially the north, and his <a name="page15"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 15</span>underground stables formed one of the +sights of London.</p> +<p>Edward Sherman was a man of many parts, and had a varied +career. Originally a stockbroker, he followed Willans at +the “Bull and Mouth” in 1823, and rebuilt it as the +“Queen’s” in 1830, continuing the stables under +the old name, and eventually reconstructing them. The money +for these enterprises came from three old and wealthy ladies whom +he married in succession. If the stranger, unversed in the +build and colour of coaches, could not pick out the somewhat +old-fashioned, bright-yellow vehicles as Sherman’s, he was +helped in identifying them by the pictorial sign of the inn +painted on the panels—rather a startling one, by the way, +to the rustics. Sherman, however, had not the prescience of +Chaplin or of Horne, who clearly foresaw the success of railways, +and he kept his coaches on the roads for some time after they +were opened to their destinations. He was sufficiently +ill-advised not to come to terms with the railway companies, and +actually attempted, with the “Red Rover,” to run the +Manchester trains off. Of course this could not last very +long, and Sherman withdrew after having lost seven thousand +pounds in a gallant, but futile, competition with steam.</p> +<p>In its prime the “Bull and Mouth” sent forth the +Edinburgh and Aberdeen Royal Mail by York; the Edinburgh, +Glasgow, and Aberdeen coach by Ferry-bridge to Newcastle, where +the Glasgow passengers changed; the Glasgow and Carlisle Royal +Mail; the Newcastle “Wellington”; Shrewsbury and +Holyhead “Union” and “Oxonian”; +Birmingham “Old Post Coach” and “Aurora”; +Leeds Royal Mail and “Express”; and Leicester +“Union Post Coach.”</p> +<p>The site of the “Swan with Two Necks” is now +occupied by the London and North-Western and South-Western Joint +Goods Depot, in Gresham Street. Modern sculptured keystones +may be seen over the <a name="page16"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 16</span>entrances, bearing the effigy of a +double-headed swan. This sign, like that of the “Bull +and Mouth,” is a corruption of a widely different term; +originally, indeed, the “Swan with Two Nicks,” from +the particular “nicks” with which the bills of the +swans belonging to the Vintners’ Company on the Thames were +marked. The City Companies each had their swans on the +river, and even nowadays they are maintained on the upper +reaches. The young cygnets were marked at the annual +festival of “swan-upping,” at which the City magnates +used hugely to enjoy themselves. The old and the new +“nicks” of the Vintners’ Company are pictured +here.</p> +<p> +<a name="image16" href="images/p16.jpg"> +<img class='floatright' alt= +"Old And New Swan Nicks" +title= +"Old And New Swan Nicks" + src="images/p16.jpg" /> +</a>So far back as 1556, the “Swane with ij Nekes at Mylke +Street End” was known, and was then the property of the +Vintners. In the coaching era it is best remembered as the +headquarters of the great William Chaplin’s huge coaching +business. Chaplin succeeded William Waterhouse, who had +established himself here in 1792, issuing a curious token bearing +the representation of a mail-coach on one side and that of the +Double-Necked Swan on the other, with the legend, “Speed, +Regularity, and Security. Payable at the Mail Coach Office, +Lad Lane, London, W.W.”</p> +<p>Lad Lane was until recent years the name by which this part of +Gresham Street was known, while the inn itself was generally +called by the coaching fraternity the “Wonderful +Bird.”</p> +<p>Chaplin had in early days been a coachman himself. His +career would have delighted that sturdy moralist, Hogarth, +painter of the successful career of the Industrious Apprentice, +for from that useful but humble position he rose to be the +largest coach-proprietor in England, Deputy-Chairman of the +London <a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>and +Southampton (now London and South-Western) Railway, and Member of +Parliament for Salisbury. He is said to have accumulated +half a million of money. Twenty-seven mails left London +every night, and of these Chaplin horsed fourteen for various +distances. Very many stage-coaches were in his hands, and +at the height of the coaching era he is said to have owned nearly +two thousand horses. He was an entirely level-headed man, +and, seeing at an early stage that railways must succeed, threw +in his lot with them. Railway directors were exceedingly +anxious to win over the coaching proprietors, and to induce them +to withdraw from the road, so that with no coaches running the +public should of necessity, whether they liked it or not, be +compelled to travel by rail. Chaplin sold off his stock +before the oncoming railways depreciated it, and, joining +Benjamin Worthy Horne, of the “Golden Cross,” Charing +Cross, founded the great carrying firm of Chaplin and Horne, +which enjoyed the exclusive agency for the London and Birmingham +Railway. There can be little doubt, although it was <a +name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>denied by the +early officials of that line, that Chaplin and Horne were really +bought off the road, and the sum of £10,000 has been +mentioned as the price of their withdrawal. Before that +time had come, coaches issued from Chaplin’s yard for many +places on the north-western roads: the Carlisle Royal Mail; the +Birmingham Royal Mail, “Courier,” and “Balloon +Post Coach”; the Chester “New Coach”; Coventry +“Light Post Coach”; Liverpool Royal Mail; Holyhead +“New Mail” and a stage-coach without any particular +name; and the Manchester Royal Mail, “Defiance,” +“Regulator,” and “Prince +Saxe-Cobourg.” The “Spread Eagle” in +Gracechurch Street has also disappeared. It was at one time +a house of Chaplin’s, and was afterwards owned in +succession, together with the “Cross Keys” next door, +by Mrs. Nelson and Mrs. Mountain.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image17" href="images/p17.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Modern sign of the “Swan with Two Necks”" +title= +"Modern sign of the “Swan with Two Necks”" + src="images/p17.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The “Green Man and Still,” the last of the quartet +of inns inquired after by Mr. Locker-Lampson, is the only one now +standing, and may be seen at the corner of Oxford and Argyll +Streets, close by Oxford Circus. It was not a coaching +hostelry in the fullest sense, being only a place of call for the +Oxford “Age,” and for the Harrow and other +north-westerly “short stages,” running between London +and the suburbs. It is now a railway +receiving-office. This curious sign probably alludes to the +old profession of the “herb-doctors,” who distilled +medicines from wild or cultivated herbs. There were other +inns whence Great North Road coaches set out, but they have all +vanished. The “George and Blue Boar,” Holborn, +whence the famous “Stamford Regent” started, has long +since been pulled down, and the “Inns of Court Hotel” +stood on its site. The hotel building remains, but about +1912 it ceased to be a hotel, and has since been converted into +offices for an Insurance Company. The “Regent” +originally left London at six o’clock in the evening, but +in 1822 the hour was altered to six in the morning, an unearthly +time for those who had to go some distance <a +name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>to reach +Holborn, and necessitating, perhaps, getting up at three +o’clock. The announcement by the proprietors that +this alteration was for the “more perfect +convenience” of their patrons seems ironical:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">SIX O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING</span><br /> +From London.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">THE +PROPRIETORS OF</span><br /> +THE REGENT COACH</p> +<p>Respectfully inform the public and their friends in +particular, that, for their more perfect convenience, and to keep +pace with the daily improvements in travelling, the hour of its +leaving London will be altered on Monday, the 13th of May (and +continued during the summer months),</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">TO SIX +O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING,</span><br /> +<i>Instead of Night</i>.</p> +<p>The arrangements that are forming in furtherance of this +long-desired alteration will ensure a steady and punctual +conveyance of Passengers to Stamford by a Quarter before Six +o’clock, and to Melton by a Quarter before Nine +o’clock in the Evening.</p> +<p>The hours of leaving Melton and Stamford will NOT be +altered.</p> +<p>The proprietors take this opportunity to acknowledge their +sense of the decided patronage shown to the <span +class="smcap">Regent Coach</span> under their several +regulations, and to repeat their promise that no exertion shall +be wanting to make it one of the most desirable conveyances to +and from London.</p> +<p>Passengers and Parcels booked at Mr. Weldon’s, and the +Bull and Swan Inn, Stamford; and at Mr. Sharp’s, Bell Inn, +Melton.—<i>Stamford</i>, <i>May</i> 1, 1822.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image19" href="images/p19.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Spread Eagle,” Gracechurch Street" +title= +"The “Spread Eagle,” Gracechurch Street" + src="images/p19.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The “Saracen’s Head,” Snow Hill, which must +not he confounded with the other and equally celebrated +“Saracen’s Head” in Aldgate High Street, was +another very notable coaching establishment, and a galleried inn +of picturesqueness and antiquity. Alas! that it has long +since disappeared. Its history went back beyond the +fifteenth century, and a reference made to it in 1522, when the +suite of the Emperor Charles the Fifth lay here, speaks of the +house as of <a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span>some importance:—“The signe of the Sersyns +hed: xxx beddes, a stable for xl horses.”</p> +<p>The sign, of course deriving from the Crusades, itself gives +the inn a very high antiquity. It was a sign of a gruesome +and savage aspect, and had its origin in the pictures the +returning Crusaders drew of their adversaries. As Selden +says:—“Our countrymen pictured them with huge, big, +terrible faces, when in truth they were like other men. But +this,” he adds slyly, “they did for their own +credits.” The inn owed its later celebrity to +Dickens, who made it the London inn of Mr. Squeers. Thus he +describes it:—“Near to the jail, and by consequence +near to Smithfield, on that particular part of Snow Hill where +omnibus horses going eastward seriously think of falling down on +purpose, and where horses in hackney cabriolets going westward +not unfrequently fall by accident, is the coachyard of the +Saracen’s Head Inn; its portal guarded by two +Saracens’ heads and shoulders frowning upon you from each +side of the gateway. The inn itself, garnished with another +Saracen’s head, frowns upon you from the top of the +yard. When you walk up this yard you will see the +booking-office on your left and the tower of St. +Sepulchre’s Church darting abruptly up into the sky on your +right, and a gallery of bedrooms upon both sides.”</p> +<p>There is a “Saracen’s Head” on Snow Hill to +this day, but it is a modern building. From the old house +went the “Lord Nelson,” York, Newcastle, and +Edinburgh coach; the “Post,” despite its name, a +slow-coach, for Carlisle and Penrith, by Doncaster, Ferrybridge, +and Greta Bridge, doubtless the one by which Mr. Wackford Squeers +took his “dear pupils” to Dotheboys Hall; and coaches +to Hull, Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, and Shrewsbury, +besides others for the western roads. The +“Saracen’s Head” was kept by Mrs. Mountain, in +succession to her husband and her husband’s father. +Her son, Peter, managed the business for her, but it must not be +supposed that she took no active part in it. To the <a +name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>contrary, +Mrs. Sarah Ann Mountain, like her contemporary, Mrs. Nelson, of +the “Bull,” Aldgate, possessed the most brilliant +business capacity. She built coaches, as well as horsing +them, and earned a profit by charging her partners down the road +the mileage which in the usual course of business would have been +paid over to a coach-builder. There was no more expressive +sight in the London of the beginning of the nineteenth century +than the simultaneous starting of the mails every evening from +the General Post Office. Londoners and country-cousins +alike were never weary of the spectacle of the smart coaches, the +business-like coachmen, and the resplendent, scarlet-coated +guards preparing to travel through the night, north, south, east, +or west, with his Majesty’s mails. Even the +passengers shone with a reflected glory, and felt important as, +one after the other, the twenty-seven mails began at the stroke +of eight o’clock to move off from the double file that +lined the street.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image23" href="images/p23.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Saracen’s Head,” Snow Hill" +title= +"The “Saracen’s Head,” Snow Hill" + src="images/p23.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>That street was not the broad thoroughfare of St. +Martin’s-le-Grand, but the narrow one of Lombard Street, in +which the General Post Office was situated for many years, until +1829, when what is now called the “old” General Post +Office, but was then the newly completed building of +Smirke’s, was occupied. The old headquarters can +still be seen, in the Lombard Street Post Office of to-day. +It is from here that the picture of the mails starting, forming +the frontispiece of this volume, was taken. To our eyes, +accustomed to the crowded thoroughfare of modern times, the +street appears supremely dull and desolate, but that is only a +retrospective way of looking at it.</p> +<p>Here is a testimony to the beauty of the scene. It is +eloquent testimony, for it is De Quincey’s:—“On +any night the spectacle was beautiful. The absolute +perfection of all the appointments about the carriages and the +harness, their strength, their brilliant cleanliness, their +beautiful simplicity—but, more than all, the royal +magnificence of the horses—were what <a +name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>might first +have fixed the attention. Every carriage, on every morning +of the year, was taken down to an official inspector for +examination—wheels, axles, linchpins, poles, glasses, +lamps, were all critically probed and tested. Every part of +every carriage had been cleaned, every horse had been groomed, +with as much rigour as if they belonged to a private gentleman; +and that part of the spectacle offered itself always. . . . +Every moment are shouted aloud by the post-office servants, and +summoned to draw up, the great ancestral names of cities known to +history through a thousand years—Lincoln, Winchester, +Portsmouth, Gloucester, Oxford, Bristol, Manchester, York, +Newcastle, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Perth, Stirling, +Aberdeen—expressing the grandeur of the empire by the +antiquity of its towns, and the grandeur of the mail +establishment by the diffusive radiation of its separate +missions. Every moment you hear the thunder of lids locked +down upon the mail-bags. That sound to each individual mail +is the signal for drawing off, which process is the finest part +of the entire spectacle. Then came the horses into +play. Horses! Can these be horses that bound off with +the action and gestures of leopards? What stir! what +sea-like ferment! what a thundering of wheels! what a trampling +of hoofs! what a sounding of trumpets!”</p> +<h2>IV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Now</span> for Post Office history. +Much has been made at the “old” General Post Office +in St. Martin’s-le-Grand; and although the building was not +in existence until 1829, it has sent forth and received many +mail-coaches. Its disappearance in 1912, we say, therefore +severs the last link by which this busy quarter was connected +with the old days.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image27" href="images/p27.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Mails starting from the General Post Office, 1832" +title= +"The Mails starting from the General Post Office, 1832" + src="images/p27.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The story of the Post Office goes back long before the G.P.O. +was situated either here or at Lombard Street. The original +Post Office was off Eastcheap. <a name="page29"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 29</span>When it was there, the course of post +between London and Edinburgh took three days. The first +regular service was established in 1635, when Charles the First, +to end the inefficiency of the communications between the two +capitals, inaugurated “a running post or two, to run night +and day, between Edinburgh and London, to go thither and come +back again in six days.” We may suppose that this did +not work very well, for in 1649 we find the city of London +establishing a post of its own with a regular staff of runners +and postmasters between London and the North.</p> +<p>But with the Restoration came the establishment of the General +Post Office and an instantaneous decline in the efficiency of the +post, six days instead of three being taken for the single +journey to or from Edinburgh. This roused the towns on the +way to indignant protests, and the post was accelerated to +“three and a half or four days,” the acceleration +being slower than the original time.</p> +<p>But however keenly the intermediate towns may have felt this, +it could not have mattered much to Edinburgh, whose mail-bag was +very scanty. One day in 1745, we are told, the mail brought +only one letter, for the British Linen Company; and on another +day in the same year only one was despatched to London, for Sir +William Pulteney, the banker.</p> +<p>In 1750 things were no better, but eight years later an +Edinburgh merchant, George Chalmers, procured an +improvement. Before 1758 the Great North Mail set out three +times a week and took eighty-seven hours in going north, and not +fewer than one hundred and thirty-one from Edinburgh to +London. This last itinerary was lengthened so greatly in +time on account of stoppages made at Berwick and at Newcastle, +ranging from three hours at one to twenty-four at the +other. These delays Chalmers, in corresponding with the +officials, proved to be quite needless. He also induced +them to avoid the old and longer route through Thorne and York +and to take the alternative road by Boroughbridge, <a +name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>thus +shortening the journey by twelve miles. The times were then +fixed at eighty-two hours for the northward-bound mail, and +eighty-five for the south. For his services the Government +made Chalmers a grant of £600. Some years afterwards +he induced the Post Office to run the mails six days a week.</p> +<p>But a greater than Chalmers was at hand in Palmer, the +organiser of the mail-coach service. Palmer accomplished, +according to De Quincey, “two things very hard to do on our +little planet, the earth, however cheap they may be held by +eccentric people in comets: he had invented mail-coaches, and he +had married the daughter of a duke. He was therefore just +twice as great a man as Galileo, who did certainly invent (or, +which is the same thing, discover) the satellites of Jupiter, +those very next things extant to mail-coaches in the two capital +pretensions of speed and keeping time; but, on the other hand, +who did not marry the daughter of a duke.” Palmer +married, in point of fact, Lady Madeline Gordon, daughter of the +Duke of Richmond, but De Quincey does not lay the stress he +should have done on his having fought his postal scheme to +success against the obstinacy and red-tapeism of the Post Office +officials, itself an enterprise sufficient to daunt any but the +stoutest heart. Government officials have a wonderful power +of passive resistance and an insensibility to argument and proof +which might be envied by a lamp-post. It was thought a +brilliant rejoinder when one of these Post Office dunderheads +replied to Palmer’s scheme for supplanting the slow and +uncertain post-boys by fast coaches with the observation that +there was no reason why the post should be the swiftest +conveyance in England! No doubt this witty gentleman +resigned in an access of mortification when Palmer actually +succeeded in being appointed Controller-General of the Post +Office, with a salary of £1,500 a year and a two and a-half +per cent. commission on a rise of the income above the +£240,000 at which it stood when he was placed at the head +of affairs. The first mail-coach was put upon <a +name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>the Bath Road +on the 8th of August 1784, and its success was so great and +immediate that the chief towns of the kingdom presently began to +petition for similar facilities to be accorded them. York +was the first successful applicant, and a mail was put on the +road between London, York, and Edinburgh in October of the same +year, taking three nights and two days to perform the +journey. This was not a very remarkable rate of speed, to +be sure, but the times were not so hurried then. A greater +speed was attained when the roads began to be reorganised by +Telford and Macadam. Macadam’s method of metalling +the existing roads and Telford’s reconstruction of steep +and winding highways produced great results. To Macadam was +due the greater speeds attained at last on the mail route between +London and Edinburgh; for, although Telford’s improved road +was begun in 1824, it was never completed owing to the +introduction of railways. Government had, in fact, by this +time recognised the necessity of good roads, and, fresh from the +reorganisation of the mail route between London and Holyhead, had +determined on an improved communication between England and +Scotland. This road, already referred to, was to be +straight and as flat as engineering science could contrive it, +and a portion—that between Edinburgh and Morpeth—was +constructed about 1824, going by way of Soutra Hill, Lauderdale, +Coldstream, and Wooler. The route between London and +Morpeth was also surveyed and authorised, and portions between +London and York actually begun, when the opening of the Stockton +and Darlington Railway in 1825 convinced the authorities that the +days of the road were numbered.</p> +<p>But although it was long apparent that a change was impending, +coaches were not entirely run off the Great North Road for +another twenty years, and Post Office surveyors were still busy +expediting the mails over short cuts and roads of more favourable +gradients. Thus in 1832 we find the Scotch mail <a +name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>going by way +of Selby. Here is the official time-bill for that +year:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">MILES</span></p> +</td> +<td colspan="3"><p> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">London</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">dep.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">8.00 <span +class="GutSmall">P.M.</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Waltham Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9.25 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">22</p> +</td> +<td><p>Ware</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10.26 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">35½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Buckland</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11.52 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">45½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Arrington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12.57 <span +class="GutSmall">A.M.</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">60</p> +</td> +<td><p>Huntingdon</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2.30 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">65¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Alconbury Hill</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3.03 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">72¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stilton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3.45 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">87</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stamford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5.15 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">95</p> +</td> +<td><p>Stretton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6.03 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">108½</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Grantham</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7.23 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">dep.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">8.03 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">115½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Long Bennington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">8.53 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">122¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Newark</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9.30 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">132¾</p> +</td> +<td><p>Scarthing Moor</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10.34 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">145½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Barnby Moor</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11.49 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">155¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Rossington Bridge</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12.47 <span +class="GutSmall">P.M.</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">159½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Doncaster</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">1.12 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">166¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Askerne</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">1.55 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">179¾</p> +</td> +<td><p>Selby</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3.21 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">194</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">York</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4.54 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">dep.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5.34 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">207¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Easingwold</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6.54 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">218</p> +</td> +<td><p>Thirsk</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7.58 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">227</p> +</td> +<td><p>Northallerton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">8.52 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">243</p> +</td> +<td><p>Darlington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10.28 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">261½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Durham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12.23 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">276</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Newcastle-on-Tyne</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">1.50 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">dep.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">1.53 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">290½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Morpeth</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3.22 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">300½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Felton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4.23 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">309¾</p> +</td> +<td><p>Alnwick</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5.17 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">324½</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Belford</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6.47 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">dep.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7.17 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">329¾</p> +</td> +<td><p>Berwick-on-Tweed</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">arr.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">8.47 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">353½</p> +</td> +<td><p>Houndswood</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10.09 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">369¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Dunbar</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11.41 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">380¼</p> +</td> +<td><p>Haddington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12.45 <span +class="GutSmall">P.M.</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">397¼</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2.23 ,,</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="4"><p style="text-align: +center"><i>Time</i>—42 hours 23 minutes</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>The +“up” mail was timed considerably slower, 45 hours 39 +minutes.</p> +<p>The punctuality of the mails was so great that the Glasgow and +the Edinburgh mails, which went by Shoreditch and Islington +respectively, and took different routes as far as Alconbury Hill, +where their roads met, could always be depended upon to keep the +official interval of four minutes which divided them at that +point. Their route was identical between Alconbury Hill and +Doncaster, where the Glasgow mail branched off to the left to +Ferrybridge and Greta Bridge.</p> +<p>This was the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of Post Office enterprise on +the Great North Road, and closes an era.</p> +<h2>V</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> have seen with what +extraordinary speed letters were carried in the time of Charles +the First between London and Edinburgh; but how did folk +travel? They rode horseback, from kings, to nobles, and +down to merchants; princesses, madam, or my lady riding +pillion. Private carriages—“coaches,” +they were called—had been introduced in 1553, when Queen +Mary rode in one, as a novelty, from London to Westminster, drawn +by six horses. In 1556 Sir Thomas Hoby had one of these +strange machines, and just because the fact is expressly +mentioned we see how rare they were. In fact, they went out +of use altogether for a time, and were reintroduced by William +Boonen, Queen Elizabeth’s Dutch coachman, in 1564. On +this occasion they came into better favour, and their numbers +must have greatly increased, for a Bill “to restrain their +excessive use” was introduced to Parliament, and rejected, +in 1601. But both their make and the fearful condition of +the roads forbade them being used in the country. Moreover, +they had only shutters in place of windows, the first +“glass coach” being that used by the Duke of York in +1661.</p> +<p>It was in 1658 that the first stage-coach between <a +name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>London and +Edinburgh was put on the road. It set out once a fortnight, +but the length of the whole journey and just what kind of vehicle +it was are unknown. Four days, however, and two pounds were +consumed in travelling between London and York. The cost of +the whole journey was four pounds.</p> +<p>In 1734 things do not seem to have been much better, John Dale +advertising in the May of that year that a coach would take the +road from Edinburgh for London “towards the end of each +week, to be performed in nine days, or three days sooner than any +coach that travels that road.” After this matters +went from bad to worse, and speed was slower twenty years later +than it had been for a long time.</p> +<p>The <i>Edinburgh Courant</i> of 1754 contained the following +advertisement:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">THE EDINBURGH STAGE +COACH,</p> +<p>for the better accommodation of passengers, will be altered to +a new genteel, two-end, glass coach machine, being on steel +springs, exceeding light, and easy to go in ten days in summer +and twelve in winter; to set out the</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">First Tuesday +in March</span>,</p> +<p>and continue it from <span class="smcap">Hosea +Eastgate’s</span>, the <span class="smcap">Coach and +Horses</span> in <span class="smcap">Dean Street</span>, <span +class="smcap">Soho</span>, <span class="smcap">London</span>, and +from <span class="smcap">John Somerville’s</span> in the +<span class="smcap">Canongate</span>, <span +class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>, every other Tuesday, and meet at +<span class="smcap">Burrow Bridge</span> on Saturday night and +set out from thence on Monday morning, and get to <span +class="smcap">London</span> and <span +class="smcap">Edinburgh</span> on Friday. In winter to set +out from <span class="smcap">London</span> to <span +class="smcap">Edinburgh</span> every other (alternate) Monday +morning, and to go to <span class="smcap">Burrow Bridge</span> on +Saturday night. Passengers to pay as usual.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Performed, if God permits, by</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Your dutiful servant,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Hosea Eastgate</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Even Hosea Eastgate’s conveyance stands forth as a +miracle of swiftness and frequency when compared with the coach +of 1763, which set out once a month and took a <i>fortnight</i>, +<i>if the weather was favourable</i>! Probably this +degeneracy of coaches was due to the practice of travellers +clubbing together to hire a post-chaise for the journey. +This was a plan eminently <a name="page35"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 35</span>characteristic of the Scottish +mind. It both secured quicker travelling and saved +expense. The Edinburgh papers of that time often contained +advertisements inquiring for a fellow-passenger to share these +costs and charges.</p> +<p>Edinburgh, as a matter of fact, even now a far cry, was beyond +the ken of most Londoners in those times, and London was to +Edinburgh folks a place dimly heard of, and never to be visited, +save perhaps once in a lifetime. York, half-way, was better +known, and was well supplied with coaches. The “Black +Swan” in Coney Street, York, received and sent forth a +coach—in after years known as the “York Old +Coach”—so early as 1698. This appears to have +always laid up for the winter and come out again in April, like +the cuckoo, as a harbinger of spring. One of these spring +announcements was discovered, some years since, in an old drawer +at the “Black Swan.” It runs:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">York</span> Four Days</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Stage-Coach.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Begins on Friday the</i> +12<i>th</i> <i>of April</i> 1706.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">All</span> that are defirous to pafs from +<i>London</i> to <i>York</i>, or from York to London, or any +other Place on that Road; Let them Repair to the <i>Black +Swan</i> in <i>Holbourn</i> in <i>London</i>, and to the <i>Black +Swan</i> in <i>Coney Street</i> in <i>York</i>.</p> +<p>At both which Places they may be received in a Stage Coach +every <i>Monday</i>, <i>Wednefday</i>, and <i>Friday</i>, which +performs the whole Journey in Four Days (<i>if God +permits</i>). And fets forth at Five in the Morning.</p> +<p>And returns from <i>York</i> to <i>Stamford</i> in two days, +and from <i>Stamford</i> by <i>Huntingdon</i> to <i>London</i> in +two days more. And the like Stages on their return.</p> +<p>Allowing each Paffenger 14lb. weight, and all above 3d. a +Pound.</p> +<p>Performed By</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Benjamin Kingman</i>.<br /> +<i>Henry Harrifon</i>.<br /> +<i>Walter Bayne’s</i>.</p> +<p>Alfo this gives Notice that Newcaftle Stage Coach fets out +from York every Monday and Friday, and from Newcaftle every +Monday and Friday.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>It is +singular that this coach should have had a “Black +Swan” at either end of its journey. The London house +was in later years the well-known “Black Swan +Distillery” in Holborn.</p> +<p>To display the many coaches, their names and times of arrival +and departure in these pages would afford but dull reading. +Besides, Paterson and Cary, those encyclopædic old +road-books, contain lists of them in interminable array: the +“Highflyers,” “Rockinghams,” +“Unions,” “Amitys,” +“Defiances,” “Wellingtons,” +“Bluchers,” “Nelsons,” +“Rodneys,” and what not. There was so +extraordinary a run upon these popular names that they are often +triplicated—and sometimes occur six times—on the +local and byroad coaches; with the result that if the traveller +desired to travel by the “Highflyer,” let us say, to +Edinburgh, he had to carefully sort it out from other +“Highflyers” which flew not only to Leeds but to all +kinds of obscure places.</p> +<p>The early stage-coaches must have been terribly trying. +They were, as Byron says of the “kibitka,” “a +cursed kind of carriage without springs.” As time +went on they were not only provided with glass windows, +but—as duly set forth in the advertisements—were +furnished with springs and cushions. The resources of +civilisation were not exhausted at this point, for it was gravely +announced that the guards were armed, and the coaches were +bullet-proof!</p> +<p>The life of a coach-proprietor was all hard work, with no +little anxiety attached. Up early and to bed late—for +on however large a scale his business might be, it was one +peculiarly dependent upon the master’s eye—he knew +the inner meaning of the primeval curse, and earned his living by +the sweat of his brow. And, lest that was not sufficient, +the Government sweated him in a financial sense. The +coaching business was the especial prey of Chancellors of the +Exchequer, and yielded huge returns. If it be argued that +coach-proprietors, unlike railway companies, had no parliamentary +powers to obtain, <a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>and no enormous expenses for purchase of land and +construction of lines, this can be met by setting forth the heavy +duties and taxes, the great outlay on turnpike tolls, and the +relatively high cost of haulage by horses. The initial +expenses of a railway are immense, the upkeep of lines and +buildings large; but the actual cost of steam-power as against +horse-traction is absurdly little. Railways, of course, pay +passenger duty, and immense sums in the aggregate for rates and +taxes; but they are not burdened as the coaches were. If it +cost from £3 10s. to £6 15s. to travel +“outside” or “inside” by ordinary +stage-coach between London and Edinburgh, those high figures were +the necessary results of Government exactions and turnpike +imposts. Duties and taxes varied from time to time, but a +stage-coach licensed, about 1830, to carry fifteen passengers +paid a duty of threepence a mile, whether the coach carried a +full load or not. Thus, for every single journey, a coach +licensed to that extent paid £4 19s. 3d. A coach +could be licensed to carry a smaller number, when the duties +would be proportionately lighter, and coaches licensed for +fifteen or so during the summer would take out a licence for +perhaps six or eight in winter, when travellers were few and far +between.</p> +<p>Suppose, now, that we roughly add up the working expenses of a +stage-coach to Edinburgh. We start with the passenger-duty +of £4 19s. 3d. To this we add, say, £4 for hire +of coach at the rate of 2½d. a mile; £4 19s. 3d. for +horsing, at 3d. a mile; and £6 12s., turnpikes, at +4d. This gives a total of £20 10s. 6d. But we +have not yet done with expenses, including wages for coachmen, +guards, ostlers, and helpers; advertising, rent, oil for lamps, +greasing, washing, etc.</p> +<p>There would be six, or perhaps seven, coachmen, one driving +about sixty miles, when he would be relieved by another; and +perhaps four guards, because guards, not having the physical +exertion of driving, could go longer journeys. The +proportion of their <a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>week’s wages must be added to the debit account +for the one journey, together with the proportion of the £5 +yearly tax payable for every coachman and guard employed, and a +similar annual sum for the coach itself. Any more +items? Oh yes! Office expenses, clerks, etc., and +incidentals. If we lump all these items together, they will +mean an additional £12 cost on every journey to or from +Edinburgh, bringing the cost to the proprietors to over +£32.</p> +<p>Now for the other side of the account. Our coach is +licensed for fifteen, and if we carry our four insides and eleven +outsides all the way, it holds £65 10s. at the fares named +above—about 4d. and 2d. a mile respectively. But how +often were those fifteen “through” passengers? +Not more, perhaps, than half would be bound for Edinburgh. +Others might alight at York, or even at Grantham or +Stamford. Others, again, might go to Newcastle. For +fares thus lost, the proprietors looked to chance passengers; but +the shillings and perhaps the two shillings taken on the way for +short distances went, by common consent, into the +coachmen’s and guards’ pockets, and were never +entered on the way-bill. In this manner, and by their +“tips,” the men added to their somewhat meagre wages, +which, rightly considered, were retaining-fees rather than full +payment. This practice was generally known as +“shouldering.” Some proprietors, however, were +stricter than others, and did not allow it. Of course it +went on all the same, and the standing toast which they were +compelled to give at annual coaching dinners, “Success to +shouldering,” with the proviso, “but don’t let +me find you at it,” was a tacit acknowledgment of the +custom. In later days, when proprietors paid slightly +higher wages and tried to forbid tips, the coachmen were loth to +give up these odd sums, for the diminution of tips was greater +than the increase of wages. They then pocketed larger +fares, and called the practice “swallowing.” A +tale is told of a coach approaching town, and the coachman asking +his box-seat passenger <a name="page39"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 39</span>if he had any luggage. +“No,” said the passenger. “Then,” +rejoined the coachman, “do you mind getting down here, sir, +because I mean to swallow you.” The passenger got +down, and was “swallowed” accordingly.</p> +<p>The average takings of the coach would certainly never, at the +best of it, come to more than £50 a journey, leaving a +balance of £15 10s. profit. Now, taking a year of +three hundred and thirteen days, and coaches “up” and +“down,” this gives a profit of +£9,702—not, be it borne in mind, going to one +man. The “end men” had the greatest share, as +they had also the heaviest expenses, and the “middle-ground +men” got little beyond the mileage on which they horsed the +coaches; but with twenty-five stages or so, and twenty-five +participants in the profits, it will be seen that the individual +earnings on one coach could not be classed very high.</p> +<h2>VI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a costly as well as a +lengthy business to travel from London to Edinburgh. Not so +lengthy, of course, by mail as by stage-coach, but much more +expensive. If you wished to take it comfortably during the +forty-two hours and a-half or so of travelling, you went inside, +especially if it happened to be in winter; but an inside place +cost eleven guineas and a-half, which was thought a much larger +sum in 1830 than it would be nowadays. Accordingly, the +stalwart and the not particularly well-to-do, who at the same +time wanted to travel quickly, went outside, whereby they saved +no less than four guineas.</p> +<p>But let not the reader think that these respective sums of +eleven and a-half and seven and a-half guineas comprised the +whole of the traveller’s expenses in the old days. +There were numerous people to tip, such as porters, waiters, and +last, but certainly not the least of them, the coachmen and +guards, who at the <a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>end of their respective journeys, when they left their +seats to a new guard or a new Jehu, “kicked” the +passengers, as the expressive phrase went, for their respective +two shillings or so. To be kicked at intervals in this +figurative manner, all the way between London and Edinburgh, was +not physically painful, but it came expensive; and what with the +necessary meals and refreshments during those forty-two hours or +so, it could scarce have cost an “inside” less than +fifteen guineas, or an “outside” less than +eleven.</p> +<p>Now let us take the mazy “Bradshaw” or the simpler +“A B C” railway guides, and see what it will cost us +in time and pocket to reach the capital of Scotland. A vast +difference, you may be sure. It is possible to go by three +different routes, but the distance is much the same, and the +times vary little, whether you go by Midland, London and +North-Western, or by the Great Northern Railway. The +last-named has, on the whole, the best of it, with a mileage of +395 miles, and a fast train performing the journey in seven hours +and twenty-five minutes. It costs by any of these routes +for first-class travelling, which answers to the +“inside” of old times, fifty-seven shillings and +sixpence, and thirty-two shillings and eightpence by third-class, +equivalent to the “outside.” <a +name="citation40"></a><a href="#footnote40" +class="citation">[40]</a> You need not tip unless you like, +and even then but once or twice, and assuredly no one will ask +you for one. Whether you travel “first” or +“third,” a dining-saloon and an excellent dinner are +at your service for a moderate sum, and the sun scarce rises or +sets with greater certainty than that the Scotch express or its +London equivalent will set out or reach its destination at its +appointed minute.</p> +<p>Accidents—when they happen—are beyond comparison +more fearful on the railway than ever they were on the coaches; +but they are rare indeed when it is considered how many trains +are run. Coaching accidents were frequent, but just because +they seldom ended fatally they do not figure so largely in +coaching <a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>annals as might be expected. A dreadful accident, +however, happened in 1805 to the Leeds “Union” coach, +owing to the reins breaking and the horses dashing the vehicle +against a tree. This occurred at a point about half a mile +from Ferrybridge. William Hope, the coachman, and an +outside passenger were killed, and many others seriously +injured. The jury imposed a deodand of £5 on the +coach and £10 on the horses.</p> +<p>In later years, an almost equally serious disaster happened to +another Leeds coach, the “Express.” It was +racing with the opposition “Courier,” which had been +stopped at the bottom of the hill for the purpose of taking off +the drag, and in the effort to pass was upset, with the result +that a woman was killed on the spot, another was laid up for a +year with a broken leg, and other passengers were more or less +injured. Probably because of the evident recklessness +displayed by the coachman, a deodand of £1,400 was laid on +the coach. The mail-coaches were not so often involved in +disasters as the stages. They had not the incentive to +race, and smashes arising from this form of competition were +infrequent. But other forms of accident threatened them and +the stage-coaches alike. There were, for instance, fogs, +and they were exceedingly dangerous. Penny, an old driver +of the Edinburgh mail, was killed from this cause. Starting +one foggy night, he grew nervous, and asked the guard, a younger +and stronger man, to take the reins. He did so, and drove +up a bank. The mail was upset, and Penny was killed.</p> +<p>Snow and frost were the especial foes of the mails on the +northern stretches of the Great North Road, just as widespread +floods were in the Huntingdonshire and Nottinghamshire levels, by +Ouse and Trent; so that no mail-coach was completely equipped +which did not in the winter months carry a snow-shovel.</p> +<p>But it was not always the north-country coaches that felt the +fury of the snowstorms. The famous storm of December 1836 +blocked all roads impartially. <a name="page42"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 42</span>The Louth mail, which left the Great +North Road at Norman Cross, had to be abandoned and the mails +transferred to the lighter agency of a post-chaise, while +numerous others were buried in the snow as far south as St. +Albans.</p> +<p>The earlier and later periods of coaching were productive of +accidents in equal degrees. Stage-coaches may be said to +date, roughly, from 1698, and continued as lumbering, +uncomfortable conveyances until competition with the mails began +to smarten them up, soon after 1784, when their second period +dawned. Stage-coachmen of the first period were well +matched with their machines, and not often fit to be trusted with +any other cattle than a team of tired plough-horses. Their +want of skill generally caused the accidents in those days, and +the efficiency of others was affected by the conditions of their +employment. The “classic” age had not arrived, +and bad roads, ill-made coaches, and poor horses, combined with +long hours of driving to render travelling quite dangerous +enough, without the highwaymen’s aid. Coachmen drove +long distances in those days, and sometimes fell asleep from +sheer weariness—a failing which did not conduce to the +safety of the passengers. But the old coach-proprietors did +not do the obvious thing—make the stages shorter and change +the coachman more frequently. No; they contrived a hard, +uncomfortable seat for him which rested on the bed of the +axletree in such a manner as to shake every bone in his body, and +to render repose quite out of the question.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image43" href="images/p43.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Louth Mail stopped by the snow" +title= +"The Louth Mail stopped by the snow" + src="images/p43.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>To these clumsy or worn-out fellows succeeded the dashing +charioteers of the palmy age of coaching, which we may say came +into full being with the year 1800, and lasted for full thirty +years. Many broken heads and limbs, and bruises and +contusions innumerable, can be laid to the account of these gay +sportsmen. Washington Irving has left us a portrait of the +typical stage-coachman of this time, in this delightful literary +jewel:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“He cannot be mistaken for one of any other +craft. <a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +45</span>He has commonly a broad full face, curiously mottled +with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into +every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly dimensions by +frequent potations of malt liquors, and his bulk is still further +increased by a multiplicity of coats in which he is buried like a +cauliflower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears +a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, a huge roll of coloured +handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at +the bosom, and has in summer-time a large bouquet of flowers in +his buttonhole—the present, most probably, of some +enamoured country lass. His waistcoat is commonly of some +bright colour, striped; and his small-clothes extend far below +the knees, to meet a pair of jockey-boots which reach about +half-way up his legs.</p> +<p>“All this costume is maintained with much precision; he +has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials, and, +notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, there is +still discernible that neatness and propriety of person which is +almost inherent in an Englishman. He enjoys great +confidence and consideration along the road; has frequent +conferences with the village housewives, who look upon him as a +man of great trust and dependence, and he seems to have a good +understanding with every bright-eyed country lass. The +moment he arrives where the horses are to be changed, he throws +down the reins with something of an air, and abandons the cattle +to the care of the ostler; his duty being merely to drive from +one stage to another. When off the box, his hands are +thrust into the pockets of his great-coat, and he rolls about the +inn-yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness. Here +he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of ostlers, +stable-boys, shoe-blacks, and those nameless hangers-on that +infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kinds of odd +jobs for the privilege of battening on the drippings of the +kitchen and the leakings of the tap-room. These all look up +to him as an oracle, treasure up his cant <a +name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>phrases, echo +his opinions about horses and other topics of jockey-lore, and, +above all, endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every +ragamuffin that has a coat to his back thrusts his hands in the +pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an embryo +coachey.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But how different the last years of this gorgeous +figure! When railways were projected, the coachman laughed +at the idea. He thought himself secure on his box-seat, and +witnessed the preparations for laying the iron rails with an +amused confidence that his horses could run the +“tin-kettles” off the road with little trouble. +He kept this frame of mind even until the opening of the line +that competed with him; and even when it was proved to +demonstration that railways could convey passengers at least +three times as swiftly as coaches, and at about a quarter of the +cost, he generally professed to believe that “it +couldn’t last long.” His was the faith that +should have moved mountains—to say nothing of blighting +locomotives; but it was no use. His old passengers deserted +him. They were not proof against the opportunities of +saving time and money. Who is? Nor did they come back +to him, as he fondly thought they would, half-choked with cinders +and smoke. He was speedily run off the road. There +were those who liked him well, and, unwilling to see him brought +low, made interest with railway companies to secure him a post; +but he indignantly refused it when obtained; and, finding a +cross-country route to which the railway had not yet penetrated, +drove the coachman’s horror—a pair-horse +coach—along the by-ways. Gone by now was his lordly +importance. He had not even a guard, and frequently was +reduced to putting in the horses himself. He grew slovenly, +and was maudlin in his drink. “Tips” were +seldom bestowed upon him, and when he received an infrequent +sixpenny-piece, he was known to burst into tears. The +familiar figure of Belisarius begging an obolus is scarce more +painful. The last of him was generally in the driving of +the omnibus between the railway station and the hotel; a <a +name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>misanthropic +figure, consistently disregarded by his passengers, lingering, +resolutely old-fashioned in dress, and none too civil, +superfluous on the stage.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image47" href="images/p47.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Entrance to London from Islington, 1809" +title= +"Entrance to London from Islington, 1809" + src="images/p47.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2>VII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">These</span> long preliminaries over, we +may duly start for the North from the General Post Office, coming +to Islington by way of Goswell Road. Here, at the +“Peacock” or the “Angel,” travellers of a +century and a-half ago were one mile from London, or from +Hicks’s Hall, which was the same thing. A milestone +proclaimed the fact, and its successor, with a different legend, +stood until quite recently opposite the Grand Theatre, on +Islington Green. Here stood the first toll-gate as you went +out of London. Here also was the village pound for strayed +horses and cattle. Here again, according to those who do +not know anything at all about it, the bailiff’s daughter +of Islington might have met her lover; only, unhappily for this +Islington, the old ballad refers to quite another Islington, away +in Norfolk.</p> +<p>The usual suburban perils awaited wayfarers to Islington at +any time during the eighteenth century, and those bound for it +from the city were accustomed to wait at the Smithfield end of +St. John Street until a number had collected, when they were +convoyed outwards by the armed patrol stationed there for that +purpose. But the footpads were quite equal to the occasion, +and simply waited until those parties dispersed for their several +homes, and then, like skilful generals, attacked them in +detail. The Islington Vestry were obliged to make a +standing offer of £10 to any one who should arrest a +robber; but that this failed seems certain, for at a later period +we find the inhabitants subscribing a fund for rewards to those +who arrested evildoers.</p> +<p><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>Time +has wrought sad havoc with Islington’s once rural aspect, +and with its old coaching inns. That grand coaching centre, +the “Peacock,” has utterly vanished, and so has the +picturesque “Queen’s Head,”—gabled, +Elizabethan—wantonly destroyed in 1829; while the +“Angel,” pulled down in 1819 and rebuilt, and again +rebuilt in 1900, has since retired from business as a +public-house, and is now a tea and lunch place, in the hands of a +popular firm of caterers. In early days, and well on into +the nineteenth century, the Green was really a pleasant spot, +with tall elms shading the footpaths, and a very rustic-looking +pound for strayed cattle. Near by stood for many years a +little hatter’s shop, bearing the legend in large +characters, “Old Hats Beavered,” and it is curious to +note how, in a long succession of old prints, this shop and its +now curiously sounding notice kept their place while all else was +changing.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image50" href="images/p50.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Islington Green, 1820" +title= +"Islington Green, 1820" + src="images/p50.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Islington was once a Cockney paradise, and to it <a +name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>retired, as +into the country, the good citizens and shopkeepers of London, +setting up miniature parks and pleasances of their own. So +favourite a practice was this that the witlings of that period, a +hundred and fifty years ago, used to publish absurd notices +supposed to have been found displayed at the entrances of these +haunts. “The New Paradise,” ran one of them, +“Gentlemen with Nails in their Boots not +Admitted.” Perhaps also “Serpents Warned +Off.” At that time, and long before, Islington was +resorted to on account of some alleged mineral waters existing +here. “Islington,” according to M. Henri +Misson, who travelled in England, and wrote a book about us and +our country in 1718, “is a large village, half a league +from London, where you drink waters that do you neither good nor +harm, provided you don’t take too much of +them.” This is decidedly a “palpable +hit,” and may be commended to those who take medicinal +waters in our own time.</p> +<p>“It is not much flock’d to by People of +Quality,” he goes on to observe. Here, at least, he +is not out of date. People of Quality do not flock to +Islington. The medicinal waters are all gone; and that +Islington is, even now, not in any great degree a resort of +fashion is an incontrovertible fact.</p> +<p>Between this and Highgate, the road leading to what the poets +call the “true and tender North” is by no means +happy. Any other of the classic highways of England begins +better, and however delightful the Holloway Road may have been in +the coaching age, it is in these crowded days a very commonplace +thoroughfare indeed. The long reaches of mean streets and +sordid bye-roads combine with the unutterably bad road surface to +render the exit from London anything but pleasurable.</p> +<p>Sir Walter Scott, on his way down to Abbotsford in 1826, calls +the Great North Road “the dullest road in the world, though +the most convenient,” and the description, minus the +convenience, might well stand for its suburban portion +to-day. In Sir Walter’s time, <a +name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>however, +these first few miles were only just emerging from a condition in +which dulness could have had no part. In fact, it may well +be supposed that the travellers, who up to that time went by +coach to York, well armed, found the journey a thought too +lively. Indeed, the Holloway Road, into which they came, +from the last outposts of civilisation, was, as it were the +ante-chamber into that direful territory of highwaymen and +footpads, the veritable Alsatias of Finchley Common and +Whetstone. In fact, a few years earlier still, when there +were no houses at Holloway at all, and no district known by that +name, what is now called the Holloway Road was a lonely track, +full of mud and water, through which the coach route ran, +infested all the while by the most villainous characters, +compared with whom the gay highwayman in ruffles and lace, and +mounted on a mettlesome horse, was a knight indeed—a +chevalier without fear or reproach. This stretch of road +lay then between high banks, and considerably below the level of +the surrounding fields. It was a “hollow” road, +as such roads are called wherever they exist in the +country—the actual, original Hollow Way from which, in the +course of time, a whole residential district has obtained its +name. Such roads, worn down through the earth by constant +traffic, are always very ancient, and though the story of the +Holloway Road at a period from a hundred and fifty to eighty +years ago was a disgraceful one, the inhabitants of that part can +console themselves by the soothing thought that, although it +cannot claim the Roman ancestry of the route by Shoreditch, +Waltham Cross and Cheshunt, which was the Ermine Way, the road in +question probably dates back to the respectable antiquity of +mediæval times.</p> +<h2><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>VIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> road has been ascending ever +since the General Post Office was left behind, and now we come to +the beginning of Highgate Hill, where the old way over the +hill-top, and the more recent one, dating from 1813, divide left +and right. Here, at the junction of Salisbury Road with +Highgate Hill, stands the Whittington Stone, marking the +traditional spot where Dick rested on his flight, and heard the +bells inviting him to</p> +<blockquote><p>“Turn again, Whittington,<br /> +Thrice Lord Mayor of London.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is a pretty story, and one which, let us hope, will never +be forgotten or popularly discredited; how the boy, running away +from ill-treatment at his master’s house in the city, +halted here in his four-miles’ flight, and resting on the +slope of Highgate Hill, saw the clustered spires of London and +the silvery Thames—it <i>was</i> silvery then—down +below, and heard the prophetic message of Bow Bells inviting him +to return. If we can believe that he had his favourite cat +with him, let us believe with joy, because it goes far to +complete the tender story which has always held captive the +hearts of the children; and God forbid we should grow the less +tender towards the beautiful legends of our forbears as we grow +older.</p> +<p>Bow Bells fulfilled their prophecy in full measure and running +over, for Dick Whittington was chosen to complete the year of +Mayor—Adam Bamme—who died in 1397, and was Mayor on +three separate occasions as well; in 1397, 1406, and 1420. +He was knighted, of course, and, moreover, he became one of the +richest men of his time. Perhaps the most dramatic thing +recorded of his prosperous career as Mayor and a member of the +Mercers’ Company, is that splendid entertainment which he +gave to Henry the Fifth and <a name="page54"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 54</span>his Queen at Guildhall in his last +year of office, when he threw into the fire bonds equal to +£60,000 of our money, due to him from the king—a +generous, nay, a princely gift.</p> +<p>But he was not “Lord” Mayor. The tradition +is wrong in that respect. There were “Mayors,” +but no “Lord Mayor” until 1486.</p> +<p>Who was Richard Whittington? We know him well in his +later career as a Mercer, and as a pious and patriotic citizen; +but whence came he? Was he the poor and friendless lad of +legend? Well, not quite that. Poor, perhaps, because +he was the youngest of three brothers; but not friendless, for +his family was of no mean descent. His father, Sir William +Whittington, had an estate on which he lived, at Pauntley, in +Gloucestershire, and other possessions of the family were at +Sollers Hope, Herefordshire. Misfortunes fell upon Sir +William, who seems to have died not long after Dick was born; but +the family had friends in the FitzWarrens, of whom one, Sir John, +was a prominent Mercer in London. Dick’s brothers +had, as elder brothers have nowadays, the best chances, as it +seemed, and remained in the country, enjoying the family +property, or following rural employments. Dick we may +readily picture as being sent to FitzWarren, to learn a +trade. The great man probably took him for old +acquaintance’ sake, and, having received the lad of +thirteen, and turned him over to one of his many underlings, +promptly forgot him. It is a way with the great, not yet +obsolete. We may with a good conscience reject that part of +the legend which tells how Dick was found, an obscure waif and +stray, on FitzWarren’s doorstep, and taken, in compassion, +to serve as a scullion. The pantomimes always insist on +this, and on the ferocious cook’s ill-treatment of him; but +pantomime librettists have many sins to answer for.</p> +<p>No; Dick was an apprentice, a poor one, and doubtless taken +without a premium; but not scullion. There can be little +doubt that the country <a name="page55"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 55</span>lad, thus thrown into the midst of +many other apprentices in FitzWarren’s house, must have +been an object of sport. They would taunt him with his +country ways, and, superior in their clothes of London cut, +ridicule, with the cruel satire of boys, his homely duds. +Possibly his flight had some such origin as this.</p> +<p>But it is chiefly on the legend of the cat that more or less +learned antiquaries have so savagely fallen, with intent to +explain it away. The cat, they assure us, was a fable, and +they go on to say that it was from coal vessels called +“cats,” in which Whittington embarked his money, that +the story grew. Another school of commentators, eager to +reduce the pretty tale to commonplace, tell us that it originated +in the old French word for a purchase, <i>achat</i>. To +what shifts will they not proceed in this hunt for an ignoble +realism! Whittington is not known to have engaged in the +ownership of colliers, or in the carrying of coal. A Mercer +has no commerce with such things. Then, that derivation +from the French <i>does</i> smell of the lamp, does it not?</p> +<p>Now for the truth of his embarking his favourite cat as a +venture, to be sold at a profit in some foreign port. The +story, regarded with a knowledge of those times, is by no means +an improbable one. Indeed, to go further, it is quite +likely. Cats were in that era comparatively rare. +They had a high value at home; were even more valuable in Europe, +and in the darkly-known countries on the confines of the known +world—a small world, too, before the discovery of +America—they were almost priceless.</p> +<p>Many childish searchings of heart have arisen over +Dick’s parting with his cat for love of gain. Did +Dick, like the Arab who sold his steed, repent with tears? +Perhaps Dick was the happy possessor of two cats, and his +favourite was a “tom.” If the other was a +she-cat, and as prolific as are our own, no doubt Dick would have +been glad to have got rid of her; except that the progeny +themselves were marketable. To <a name="page56"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 56</span>this, then, we are reduced: that Dick +Whittington as a boy bred cats for exportation, and that his +black-and-white Tom, as the progenitor of them all, was the +founder of his fortunes. The legend tells us of only one +cat, which, when the vessel was driven out of her course to the +coast of Barbary, was sold for immense riches of gold and +precious stones to the Sultan, whose palace was infested with +mice. That may do for the pantomimes; but, unhappily, the +ships that were so unfortunate in those times as to be driven on +those shores were plundered and their crews slain. It was +cheaper than buying.</p> +<p>But whatever the details, it is certain that Whittington owed +his first successes to his cat. Several things, despite all +destructive criticism, point to the essential truth of the +popular story. Firstly, original portraits, painted from +the life, testify to it by showing Whittington’s hand laid +caressingly on a black and white cat. Then, Whittington was +the rebuilder of the old New Gate, and his effigy, with a cat at +his feet, stood in one of its niches until the building was +pulled down hundreds of years afterwards. Finally, a very +remarkable confirmation of the story came from Gloucester in +1862, when, on a house occupied by the Whittington family until +1460 being repaired, the fragment of a carved chimney-piece of +that century was discovered, bearing the sculpture of a boy +carrying a cat in his arms. It may reasonably be claimed +that these evidences, together with the popular belief in the +story, which can be traced back almost to Whittington’s own +day, confound unbelievers.</p> +<p>The present Whittington Stone is the degenerate and highly +unornamental descendant of quite a number of vanished memorials +to the great Lord Mayor which have occupied this spot since his +day. It is not by any means a romantic spot to the sight +nowadays, but for those who can bring romance with them in their +own minds, it matters little that the heights just here are +crowned with suburban villa roads, that a public-house—the +“Whittington Stone <a name="page57"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 57</span>Tavern”—stands by, or +that the whole neighbourhood reeks vulgarity. The present +stone is dated 1821, and succeeded one which had disappeared +shortly before, itself the successor in 1795 of a cross. +The existing inscription was recut, and railings enclosing the +stone put up in 1869; a public-house gas-lamp now crowning and +desecrating the whole.</p> +<h2>IX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is a far cry from the London +County Council, the present highway authority at Highgate, to the +first roadmaker here, in 1364. A hermit, William Phelippe +by name, at that time lived in a little cell on the lower slope +of Highgate Hill, looking down upon London. From that +remote eyrie, had he been a man of imagination, he might have +beheld prophetic visions of London’s future sprawling +greatness, when the tide of life should rise to the crest of his +hill and bring with it bricks and mortar, wood-pavements, +cable-tramways, and other things of equal use and beauty. +He foresaw none of these things, possibly because he did not +sufficiently mortify the flesh. Certainly he was a hermit +not without wealth, and perhaps therefore not one of your +sad-eyed ascetics. He had a goodly balance in some old +earthenware crock under the floor, or at the bank—the road +bank of the Hollow Way, very old-established—and he had +ample leisure, unencroached upon by toilette requirements, for +which hermits had no use. Lazing in his cell commanding the +road—it stood near where the Whittington Stone stands +now—he had often noticed how wet, miry, and full of sloughs +was the Hollow Way, and with what difficulty travellers ascended +by it. Accordingly he devised a scheme by which he +conferred benefits alike upon the travellers along the road and +the farmers of Highgate. He directed and paid for the +digging of gravel and the laying of it along the road, and in <a +name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>the work +presently expended all his money. But in so doing he had +made an excellent investment; much better than leaving it on +deposit at the bank mentioned above, where, in the nature of +things, it accrued no interest; for he procured a decree from +Edward the Third, authorising “our well-beloved William +Phelippe, the hermit,” to set up a toll-bar, and licensing +him to levy tolls and keep the road in repair for “our +people passing between Heghgate and Smethfelde.” Thus +were the first toll-bar and the first turnpike-keeper +established, and we may judge that the undertaking was profitable +from the records that show how very largely the roadside hermits +throughout the country went into the business of road and bridge +making or mending shortly afterwards. There were hermits of +sorts: some authorised, and some not; some who did good work in +this wise and some who did nothing at all, and yet continued to +live substantially on the mistaken gifts of wayfarers. The +profession of the eremite was not without its jealousies. +An industrious road-maker might have a cell placed in a position +outside a town favourable for the collection of dues, when +another would set up business, say a quarter of a mile further +out, and so intercept the money; so that travellers having paid +once, had nothing for the real Simon Pure. Having satisfied +Codlin, they disregarded Short; whereupon it not infrequently +happened that if Short were the more muscular of the two he would +go and have it out with his rival, while the world went by, +scandalised at the apostolic blows and knocks these holy men were +dealing one another.</p> +<p>William Phelippe’s licence was renewed every year. +His tariff of tolls is still extant, and we read that for every +cart carrying merchandise, its wheels shod with iron, twopence +per week was paid; if not shod with iron, one penny. Every +horse carrying merchandise was charged one farthing per +week. Pedestrians and horsemen without goods went +free. These charges seem absurdly small until we multiply +them by twenty, which gives results representing the present +value of <a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>money, and then it will be found that those ancient +tolls were on much the same scale as those which existed until +July 1st, 1864, when all turnpikes on public highways within +fifty miles of London were abolished by Act of Parliament.</p> +<p>A great gap stretches between the time of our road-making +hermit and that of Telford—a gap of four hundred and fifty +years. Yet, although Highway Acts were from time to time +devised for the betterment of the roads, their condition remained +bad, and there was always, since 1386, the crest of Highgate Hill +to surmount.</p> +<p>Unless we take this hill-top route to the left we shall not +have seen Highgate; nor, in truth, is there much to see, now that +the old Gatehouse Tavern is gone, and with it the last outward +and visible connection with the days of yore. The tavern +marked the site of the old turnpike-gate that stood here, the +lineal successor of the hermit’s original pitch lower down, +when the old route to Barnet by Tallingdon Lane, Crouch End, +Hornsey Great Park, Muswell Hill, Friern Barnet, and Whetstone +was superseded by the new one through the Bishop of +London’s estate, by Finchley and Whetstone, in 1386. +It is in the existence at that time of the Bishop’s park +that we may perhaps seek with success the origin of the name of +“Highgate,” which does not necessarily allude to the +very obviously “high” gate situated here—more +than 350 feet above sea-level. No; it was the +“haigh” gate, the portal which gave access through +the enclosure (<i>haia</i>) with which my Lord Bishop’s +domain was presumably surrounded. Through his land all +traffic passed until it emerged on the other side of Whetstone, +where, commanding the entrance to Barnet, stood another gate in +receipt of tolls, swelling the income of that very business-like +ecclesiastic and his successors for hundreds of years.</p> +<p>At the Highgate end dues were collected on horned cattle, +among other things, and here originated the practice of being +initiated into the freedom of Highgate, <a +name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>a mock +ceremonial founded upon Roman Catholic rites at the time of the +Reformation. For three hundred years this farcical +observance was continued at the tavern by the gate, and only fell +into disuse with the decay of coaching. Those who had not +previously passed this way were “sworn in on the +horns,” a practice traced to the unwillingness of the +cattle drovers who frequented the tavern to allow strangers to +mix with them. This exclusiveness no doubt originated in +the fear of trade secrets being divulged, a feeling which may +still be met with among commercial travellers of the older +school, who resent the appearance of the mere tourist in their +midst. The stranger who in olden times happened upon these +drovers at Highgate was discouraged from taking bite or sup here, +and only permitted to join them after having kissed the horns of +one of their beasts. This speedily became elevated (or +degraded, shall we say?) into a sort of blasphemous ritual +parodying the admission of a novice into the Church, and this +again, with the lapse of time and the dying of religious hatreds, +developed into the merely good-natured farce played during the +last hundred years of the existence of the custom.</p> +<p>When the coaches pulled up here, it was soon discovered, by +judicious questioning, who were the strangers who had not been +made “free.” They were made to alight, and, +having removed their hats and kissed a pair of horns mounted on a +pole, “the oath” was administered by the landlord in +this wise:—“Upstanding and uncovered: silence. +Take notice what I now say to you, for <i>that</i> is the first +word of the oath; mind <i>that</i>. You must acknowledge me +to be your adopted father. I must acknowledge you to be my +adopted son. If you do not call me father you forfeit a +bottle of wine; if I do not call you son I forfeit the +same. And now, my good son, if you are travelling through +this village of Highgate, and you have no money in your pocket, +go call for a bottle of wine at any house you may think proper <a +name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>to enter and +book it to your father’s score,” and so forth.</p> +<p>An initiate had to swear never to drink small beer when he +could get strong (unless he preferred small); never to eat brown +bread when he could get white (unless he preferred brown); never +to kiss the maid when he could kiss the mistress (unless he +preferred the maid, and in case of doubt he might kiss both); +after which he had to kiss the horns or the woman in the company +who appeared the fairest, as seemed good to him, the ceremony +concluding with the declaration of his privileges as a freeman of +Highgate. Among the well-known privileges were—that +if he felt tired when passing through Highgate and saw a pig +lying in a ditch, he might kick the pig away and take its place, +but if he saw three lying together he must only kick away the +middle one and lie between the other two!</p> +<h2>X</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was on Highgate Hill that the +great Francis, Lord Bacon, whom some believe to have written +Shakespeare’s dramas, fell a martyr to his scientific +enthusiasm. Driving up this chilly eminence one +winter’s day when the snow lay on the ground, it occurred +to him that, from its chemical constituents, snow must possess +admirable preservative properties, and he accordingly resolved +immediately to put this theory to the proof. Stopping his +carriage at a neighbouring farmhouse, he purchased a fowl and +stuffed it carefully with snow. Being in weak health at the +time, he took a chill, and before he could be driven home, became +so alarmingly ill that he was obliged to be carried to Lord +Arundel’s house at Highgate. There a damp bed +aggravated his seizure, so that in a few days he died, in +1626.</p> +<p>Farmhouses are far to seek from Highgate Hill nowadays, new +roads and streets of shops being more <a name="page62"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 62</span>general. With the end of the +eighteenth century, Highgate became a populous little town, but +its outskirts did not altogether lose their terrors for +travellers. Suburban villas had begun to sparsely dot these +northern heights of London with the coming of the new era, but +the New Police had not yet been brought into being; and so +belated dwellers in these wilds afforded fine sport for the +footpads, who, hunting in couples, and armed with horrible +pitch-plasters, attacked the mild citizen from behind, and, +clapping a plaster over his mouth, reduced him to an enforced +silence, while they emptied his pockets at leisure. It was +late one night in 1807 that Grimaldi, the most famous of all +clowns, was robbed on Highgate Hill by two footpads. They +spared him the usual plaster, perhaps because there was no one +else about, and so it did not matter in the least how loudly he +might shout for help. Among minor articles of spoil, they +secured a remarkable watch which had been given him two years +before as a testimonial by his many admirers. The dial +represented his face in character when singing his popular comic +song, “Me and my Neddy.” The robbers, seeing +this, immediately recognised him. Looking at one another, +they could not make up their minds to rob him of his treasure, +and so they gave it back, Grimaldi goggling and grinning at them +the while, as on the stage. So, with a vivid recollection +of Sadler’s Wells, and bursting with laughter, they left +him.</p> +<p>It is peculiarly unfortunate for those who are uncertain about +their aspirates that London and its neighbourhood should abound +in place-names beginning with the letters “A” and +“H.” Cockneys have ever—or ’ave +hever, shall we say?—been afflicted with this difficulty; +but they are overcoming the tendency of their forbears to speak +of “’Ornsey, ’Ampstead, ’Igit, +’Arrow, ’Omerton, ’Ackney, ’Endon or +’Atfield.” The classic anecdote in this +connection is that of the City Alderman who lived at Highgate, +praising his locality to a distinguished guest at a Mayoral +banquet.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page63"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 63</span> +<a name="image63" href="images/p63.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Old Highgate Archway, demolished 1897" +title= +"Old Highgate Archway, demolished 1897" + src="images/p63.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +64</span>“Don’t you think ’Iget pretty?” +he asked.</p> +<p>“Really,” the guest is supposed to have replied, +“I haven’t known you long enough to say.”</p> +<p>“I’m not talking of meself,” returned the +Alderman, “but of ’Iget on the ’Ill.”</p> +<p>Until 1813 coaches and foot-passengers alike toiled over the +Hill, through Highgate village, and by a roundabout road into +East End, Finchley, which, with its adjoining hamlets, was until +quite recently so greatly cut off from London by these +comparatively Alpine heights and the lack of suburban railways, +that it was, for all practical purposes, as distant as many other +places fifty or sixty miles away, but situated on more level +roads or on direct railway routes. To remedy this the +Archway Road was cut direct from the Upper Holloway Road to East +End, saving half a mile in the distance to be travelled and a +hundred feet in the height to be climbed.</p> +<p>The Archway and the Archway Road were constructed about 1813, +following upon the failure of the original idea of driving a +tunnel through the hill-top. The Hill is a great +outstanding knob of London clay, a substance both difficult and +dangerous to pierce; but it was not until the work was nearly +completed that it fell in, one day in 1812, happily before the +labours of the day had been begun. The present open cutting +of the Archway Road, rather over a mile in length, took the place +of the projected tunnel, and the Archway was constructed for the +purpose of carrying Hornsey Lane across the gap. If an +unlovely, it was in its way an impressive, structure, even though +the impression was, rather of the nightmare sort. It was +scarcely necessary, for Hornsey Lane has been at no time a place +of great resort, and the traffic along it could have been +diverted at small cost, and with little inconvenience made to +cross the Archway Road by a circuitous route. Highgate +Archway has now disappeared, giving place to a lighter structure, +spanning the road without the support of the cumbrous old piers +which, until the summer of 1900, continued to block three-fourths +of <a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>the +way. It has gone because the road-traffic has grown with +the suburbs and the way was not wide enough; but its +disappearance removes a landmark proclaiming where town and +country met.</p> +<p>The making of the Archway and the road was no public-spirited +act, but the commercial undertaking of a Company, whose total +expenses were very large, and, by consequence, the tolls exacted +extremely high. Pedestrians were not chargeable at ordinary +toll-gates, but here they had to pay a penny, or go the tedious +way over the Hill. Sixpence was levied on every laden or +draught horse.</p> +<p>It was not a profitable undertaking, even at these rates, and +the tolls had a very decided effect in stemming the advance of +Suburbia in this direction. In 1861, when the abolition of +tolls within fifty miles of London was a burning question, the +Company owed the Consolidated Fund no less than +£13,000. The Government bought it out for +£4,000, receiving £9,000 by instalments spread over +fifteen years, after which period the road was to be declared +free. It was accordingly opened free of toll in 1876. +And thus it remained, as in the illustration, until 1897, when it +was demolished and the roadway widened. The present Archway +was opened in 1900.</p> +<h2>XI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">East</span> End, Finchley, to which we now +come, is one of the many straggling settlements built upon +Finchley Common. Stretches of fields alternate with rows of +new shops and tiny old-world cottages. Here stands the +“Bald-Faced Stag,” with the effigy of a stag +surmounting the appropriately bald elevation of that huge and +ugly public-house. The yards of monumental masons jostle it +on either hand; a grim and unpleasing conjunction, and a prelude +to those vast townships of <a name="page66"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 66</span>London’s dead, the St. +Marylebone, Islington, and St. Pancras Cemeteries, which with +other properties of the Cemetery Companies render the road dismal +and people these northern heights with a vast population of +departed citizens. The merry market-gardener has betaken +himself and his cabbages to other parts, and the builder builds +but sparely.</p> +<p>Just where the Great Northern Railway bridge crosses over the +road at East End stands the “Old White Lion,” in a +pretty wooded dip of the road. The house was once known, +and marked on the maps as the “Dirt House,” from its +having been the house of call of the market-wagons on the way to +London with produce, and on the way back with loads of dirt and +manure. The wood was also known as “Dirt House +Wood.” It was here also that Horne the +coachmaster’s stables were situated.</p> +<p>To this succeeds North Finchley, beginning at the junction of +a road from Child’s Hill with the Great North Road, known +as Tally Ho Corner. North Finchley, called by the genteel +“Torrington Park,” is yet another settlement, +filched, like the cemeteries, from Finchley Common by successive +iniquitous Acts of Parliament at the beginning of the nineteenth +century. Could the gay highwaymen who, a hundred years ago, +were gathered to their fathers at the end of a rope down Tyburn +way revisit Finchley, the poor fellows would sadly need a +guide. Where, alas! is Finchley Common, that wide-spreading +expanse of evil omen on which these jovial spirits were so +thoroughly at home? Finchley Common, once second only to +the far-famed Hounslow Heath, has long since been divided up +between the many who, more than a hundred years ago, conspired to +cheat the people of their birthright in this once broad expanse +of open space. The representatives of the people at +Westminster allowed it, and my Lord Bishop of London profited by +it, together with lesser folk, each in their several +degrees. The Common then extended to considerably over two +thousand acres. Of this vast <a name="page68"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 68</span>tract only a few acres are left, +beyond North Finchley. The rest was sold quietly, and by +degrees, for absurdly small sums.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image67" href="images/p67.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Great Common of Finchley: a parlous place" +title= +"The Great Common of Finchley: a parlous place" + src="images/p67.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Between 1700 and 1800 the great Common of Finchley was a +parlous place, and not one of the better-known highwaymen but had +tried his hand at “touching the mails” as they went +across this waste; or patrolled the darkest side of the road, +ready to spring upon the solitary traveller. Indeed, the +childlike simplicity of the lonely travellers of those days is +absolutely contemptible, considering the well-known dangers of +the roads. For instance, on the night of the 28th August, +1720, a horseman might have been observed in the act of crossing +Finchley Common. He had fifteen guineas in his pocket, and +ambled along as though he had been in Pall Mall instead of on +perhaps the most dangerous road in England. At a respectful +distance behind him came his servant, and just in front of him, +midway of this howling wilderness, stood three figures. +“There is an eye that notes our coming,” says the +poet, and three pairs of eyes had perceived this wayfarer. +They belonged to an enterprising individual named Spiggott and to +two other ruffians, whose names have not been handed down to +posterity. The weirdly named Spiggott was apparently above +disguising himself; his companions, however, might have stood for +stage brigands, for one of them had the cape of his coat buttoned +over his chin, and the other wore a slouched hat over his +eyes. In addition to this, he kept the ends of his long wig +in his mouth—which seems rather a comic opera touch. +It is to be hoped, rather than expected, that the traveller with +the guineas saw the humour of it. In the twinkling of an +eye one brigand had seized his horse and made him dismount, while +the others covered him with their pistols. The servant also +was secured, the guineas transferred with the dexterity of a +practised conjurer, the horses turned loose, and then the three +rode away, leaving the traveller and his servant to get on as +best they <a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>could. Spiggott eventually paid the penalty of his +rashness in not disguising himself in accordance with the canons +of the hightoby craft, for when, a little later in his career, he +was caught, with some others, in an attempt on the Wendover wagon +at Tyburn, he was identified by the Finchley traveller. The +end of him was the appointed end of all his kind. The moral +of this story seems to be “Wear a mask when engaged in +crime.”</p> +<p>In 1774, Edmund Burke, travelling to Malton, in Yorkshire, was +stopped here by two highwaymen, who robbed him of ten guineas, +and his servant of his watch, in the most easy way. Some of +these highwaymen were, indeed, persons who took their calling in +an earnest and whole-hearted manner, and doubtless regarded Jack +Sheppard as a mere scatterbrain, quite unfitted to be in business +for himself. Thoroughly business-like men were Messrs. +Everett and Williams, who entered into a duly drawn and properly +attested deed of partnership, by which it was agreed that they +should work together on Finchley Common and elsewhere and divide +the profits of their labours into equal shares. Their +industry prospered, and the common fund soon reached the very +respectable total of £2,000. But when required to +render accounts and to pay over half this amount, Mr. Williams +refused; whereupon his partner brought an action-at-law against +him, in 1725. A verdict for £20 was actually +obtained, and appealed against by the defendant. The court +then very properly found the matter scandalous, and sentenced +Everett to pay costs, the solicitors engaged on either side being +fined £50 each for their part in this discreditable +affair. One partner was executed, two years later, at +Maidstone, and the other at Tyburn, in 1730.</p> +<p>There still exists an ancient oak by the road at a place +called Brown’s Wells, at the corner of a lane nearly +opposite the “Green Man,” and in the trunk of this +last survival of the “good old days” there have been +found, from time to time, quite a number of <a +name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>pistol +bullets, said to have been fired by passing travellers at the +trunk to frighten the highwaymen who might chance to be hiding +behind it, under cover of the night. The tree itself has +long borne the name of Turpin’s Oak, no less celebrated a +person than the re-doubtable Dick himself having once frequented +it. History fails to inform us who was the Brown after whom +the Wells were named. I suggest they should be, and were in +the first place “Brent Wells”; a source of the river +Brent. Nor are those Wells—whatever they may have +been—now in existence, while the name itself is only +perpetuated by two or three old stuccoed villas beside the +road.</p> +<p> +<a name="image70" href="images/p70.jpg"> +<img class='floatright' alt= +"Turpin’s Oak" +title= +"Turpin’s Oak" + src="images/p70.jpg" /> +</a>Turpin, of course, is the greatest of all the rascals who +made the name of the Great North Road a name of dread. +Before him, however, the redoubtable Jack Sheppard figured here, +but not, it is sad to relate, in an heroic manner. In fact +that nimble-fingered youth, after escaping from the Stone Jug (by +which piece of classic slang you are to understand Newgate to be +meant) had the humiliation to be apprehended on Finchley Common, +disguised in drink and a butcher’s blue smock. That +was the worst of those roystering blades. The drink was the +undoing of them all. If only they had been Good Templars, +and had sported the blue ribbon, it is quite certain that they +had not been cut off untimely; and might, with reasonable luck, +even have retired with a modest competence in early years. +It was in 1724 that Jack Sheppard was arrested by Bow Street +runners on the Common, and <a name="page71"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 71</span>the fact somewhat staggers +one’s belief in the wild lawlessness of that place. +To capture a highwayman in his own peculiar territory! One +might just as soon expect to hear of the Chief Commissioner of +Police being kidnapped from Scotland Yard. And yet it is +quite certain that Finchley was no safe place for a good young +man with five pounds in his pocket and a mere walking-stick in +his hand, whether he proposed to cross it by night or day. +Even sixty-six years later this evil reputation existed; for, in +1790, the Earl of Minto, travelling to London, wrote to his wife +that instead of pushing on to town at night, he would defer his +entry until morning, “for I shall not trust my throat on +Finchley Common in the dark.” Think of it! And +Dick Turpin had been duly executed fifty years before!</p> +<p>Of the many names in the long and distinguished roll of road +agents who figured here at some time or another in their meteoric +careers, it is not possible to say much. There was the +courageous and resourceful Captain Hind, the whimsically +nicknamed “Old Mob,” burly Tom Cox, Neddy Wicks, and +Claud Duval. Duval’s proper territory is, however, +the Bath Road.</p> +<p>The palmy days of the highwayman were before 1797, the year of +Pitt’s Act for Restricting Cash Payments. Before +then, travellers carried nothing but gold, and as they required +plenty of that commodity on their long and tedious journeys, the +booty seized by these gentry was often considerable. Bank +notes then came into favour, and were issued for as low a +denomination as one pound. These would have been a perilous +kind of plunder, and accordingly as they grew popular, so did the +certainty of a good haul from coaches and post-chaises diminish, +until panics came, banks failed, and paper money became for a +time a discredited form of currency. By that time the roads +were better patrolled, and coin was to be conjured from the +pockets of the lieges with less safety than before. From +these causes, and from the new law <a name="page72"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 72</span>which made it penal to receive stolen +goods as well as to steal them, we may date the decadence of a +great industry, now utterly vanished from the roads.</p> +<h2>XII</h2> +<p> +<a name="image72" href="images/p72.jpg"> +<img class='floatleft' alt= +"“The Whetstone”" +title= +"“The Whetstone”" + src="images/p72.jpg" /> +</a><span class="smcap">Whetstone</span>, coming next after the +Finchleys, is held in local legends to have acquired its name +from the battered old stone still to be seen embedded in the +ground by the signpost of the “Griffin” inn. On +it the men-at-arms are said to have whetted their swords and +spears before the battle of Barnet. The sceptical smile at +this antiquity, and for their benefit there is a rival legend +which gives the date as that of 1745, when King George’s +army marched down to meet Prince Charles and his +Highlanders. Antiquaries have often demolished this +derivation of the place-name; but the hoary (and quite +unveracious) tale survives, and is doubtless immortal. You +may explain it away, but the stone is there, and your local +patriot is ever a materialist in such a resort.</p> +<p>It is a straggling, broad-streeted village, with a breadth +implying the originally small value of the land, and +encroachments here and there upon the old building-line proving +both the implication and the fact that, many years ago, there +were those who, having the foreknowledge of a coming betterment, +<a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>and more +daring than their neighbours, grabbed while they might. +Many inns, laundries, dairy-farms, great black-timbered barns, +and a few rotting hoardings and unfinished houses make up the +long street and tell alike of a vanished rusticity and of an +arrested development.</p> +<p>Chaplin, the great coach-proprietor, had large stables here, +his first stage out of London on the northern roads. They +were placed here, rather than at Barnet, in order to avoid +expenses at Whetstone Gate, situated down the road, near +Greenhill Cross. Whetstone Gate gave travellers going north +the welcome intelligence that they had finally passed Finchley +Common and come to the better roads and more reputable society of +Barnet, where they were safe from highwaymen.</p> +<p>The road across Finchley Common was in passive alliance with +these gentry. When Pepys visited Barnet, in 1660, partly +for sake of its now forgotten medicinal waters, he found the +highway “torne, plowed, and digged up,” in +consequence of the heavily laden wagons and their long struggling +teams of horses and oxen, which had made havoc with what had been +a fairly good roadway. Progress was difficult, even in the +best circumstances, and when stress of weather made it almost +impossible, the highwaymen robbed with impunity, and absolutely +at their leisure.</p> +<p>The road remained more or less in this condition up to the +early years of the nineteenth century. This was partly +owing to the mistaken local patriotism which had prevented the +remodelling of it in 1754, when the rustics of Whetstone routed +the surveyor and his labourers at the point of the +pitchfork. Better counsels prevailed in the first decade of +the new era, and the eight miles of highway under the control of +the Whetstone and Highgate Turnpike Trust rose in 1810 to be +considered as good as any in the kingdom. It then became +possible, for the first time in its history, for the Barnet stage +to leave for London and to reach <a name="page74"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 74</span>its destination without the necessity +of stopping on the way for tea. The Trustees were naturally +pleased with their road, and so in 1823 received with some +surprise, under the new Act for the improvement of the line of +road from London to Holyhead, a demand for the reconstruction of +the highway between Prickler’s Hill and the southern end of +Barnet town. They pointed out how greatly superior their +portion of the road was to others, but to no purpose. The +Government admitted the excellence of the surface, but boggled at +the severity of the gradient, and practically insisted on its +being reduced.</p> +<p>The Trustees were dismayed. Telford and Macadam supplied +rival plans, and both foreshadowed heavy expense. +Telford’s idea was to slice off the top of Barnet Hill, and +to run the road through a more or less deep cutting through the +street; a plan which, if adopted, would have left the houses and +the footpaths in the position of buildings overhanging a +cliff. Fortunately for Barnet the scheme drawn up by +Macadam prevailed. It was for the partial filling up of the +dip in the road between Prickler’s Hill and the excessively +steep entrance into the town, an entrance even now by no means +easily graded. What it must originally have been may +readily be judged by looking down from the present embanked road +to the old one, seen going off to the left, in the hollow where +the old roadside houses still stand, among them the “Old +Red Lion,” on the site of the inn where Pepys stayed. +The end one of a row of ten or twelve cottages, at the corner of +May’s Lane, was once a toll-house.</p> +<p>The work of making the new road, begun in 1823, was not +completed until four years later, at a cost of +£17,000. A large portion of this heavy sum went in +compensation to the Sons of the Clergy Corporation, for land +taken. The cost of these improvements came eventually, of +course, out of the pockets of travellers along the road. On +this Trust they were mulcted severely, for the Trustees, finding +the existing tolls to be utterly inadequate to their expenses, +obtained <a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +75</span>powers in 1830 to increase them. They considered +themselves hardly treated in being obliged to undertake such +costly works on the eve of the London and Birmingham Railway +being constructed—a railway which would have the effect of +withdrawing traffic from the road, and reducing receipts at the +toll-gates to a minimum; but the end, although not far off, was +not yet, and on the 3rd of July they succeeded in letting the +tolls by auction for one year at the handsome sum of +£7,530. Accordingly they commenced to pay off their +debts, and succeeded in liquidating the whole of them by the +beginning of 1842, notwithstanding two successive reductions of +tolls in 1835 and 1841.</p> +<p>It was in 1833 that the London and Birmingham Railway obtained +its Act, and it was opened throughout on September 7, 1838, the +first of the railways which were to contribute to the ruin of +Barnet’s great coaching and posting trade. The annual +takings at Whetstone Gate immediately fell to £1,300, but +it lingered on until the Trust expired, November 1, 1863.</p> +<p>It is interesting, as showing the growth of road traffic, to +compare the figures still available, giving the annual sums at +which the tolls at this gate were let in the old days. +Thus, in Queen Elizabeth’s time, they were farmed at +£40 per annum, and in 1794 they fetched only +£150. But few vehicles passed then. Forty years +later, no fewer than ninety coaches swept through Whetstone Gate +every twenty-four hours!</p> +<h2>XIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Barnet</span>, or Chipping Barnet, or High +Barnet, as it is variously called, stands on the summit of a +steep and high ridge running east and west. On the east the +height of Muswell Hill, now suburban and crowned conspicuously +with that unfortunate place of entertainment, the Alexandra +Palace, is prominent; and on the west are Totteridge and the +range of hills stretching <a name="page76"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 76</span>away to Elstree. Other Barnets, +old and new, are plentiful: East and Friern Barnet, and the +modern suburb of New Barnet. Chipping Barnet derives the +first part of its name from its ancient chepe, or weekly market, +granted by Henry the Second, and its more common prefix of +“High,” from its situation on the ridge just +mentioned.</p> +<p>Barnet was, to many coaching proprietors, the first stage out +of London, and the town prospered exceedingly on the coaching and +posting traffic of those two great thoroughfares—the Great +North Road and the Holyhead Road. When the Stamford +“Regent,” the York “Highflyer,” and the +early morning coaches for Shrewsbury, Birmingham, Manchester, or +Liverpool arrived, the passengers, who had not found time for +breakfast before starting, were generally very sharp-set indeed, +and the viands already prepared and waiting in the cosy rooms of +the old hostelries, disappeared before their onslaught “in +less than no time.” The battle of Barnet was fought +over again every morning, but they were not men-at-arms who +contended together, nor was the subject of their contention the +Crown of England. They were just famished travellers who +struggled to get something to eat and drink before the guard made +his appearance at the door, with the fateful cry, +“Time’s up, gentlemen; take your seats +please.” When the horn sounded in the yard, desperate +men would rush forth with hands full of food, and finish their +repasts as best they might on the coach.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image77" href="images/p77.jpg"> +<img alt= +"High Street, Barnet" +title= +"High Street, Barnet" + src="images/p77.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The two principal inns were the “Red Lion” and the +“Green Man.” It was, and is now in some degree, +a town of inns, but these were the headquarters of the two great +political parties. Neither was a “coaching” +inn, for they despised trafficking with ordinary travellers, and +devoted themselves wholly to the posting business. The +“Red Lion” was originally the +“Antelope.” Standing in the most favourable +position for intercepting the stream of post-chaises from London, +it generally secured the pick <a name="page78"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 78</span>of business going that way, unless +indeed the political bias of gentlemen going down into the +country forbade them to hire post-horses at a Tory house. +In that case, they went to the “Green Man,” further +on, which was Whig. And perhaps, in sacrificing to +politics, they got inferior horses! The “Green +Man” placed in midst of the town, was in receipt of the up +traffic, and was the largest establishment, keeping twenty-six +pairs of horses and eleven postboys, against the eighteen pairs +and eight postboys of the “Red Lion”; and it is +recorded that between May 9th and 11th, when, on May 10th, 1808, +two celebrated prizefighters, Gully and Gregson, fought at +Beechwood Park, Sir John Sebright’s place down the road, +near Flamstead, no fewer than one hundred and eighty-seven pairs +were changed. Those three days formed a record time for the +“Green Man,” according to these figures:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Posting</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">£141</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">17</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bills in the house</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">54</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">19</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Bills in the yard</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">£211</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10½</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>The “boys” of the “Green Man” wore +blue jackets; those of the “Red Lion,” yellow jackets +and black hats.</p> +<p>An inn called the “Green Man” stands on the site +of that busy house, but it is of more recent date than the old +Whig headquarters. It may be seen at the fork of roads +where the “new” road to St. Albans, driven through +the yard of the old “Green Man” in 1826, branches +off.</p> +<p>Thus the “Red Lion” remains, long after the +eclipse of its rival. Its frontage is impressive by size +rather than beauty. With a range of fifteen windows in +line, and its fiercely-whiskered red lion balancing himself at +the end of a prodigiously long wrought-iron sign, it is eloquent +of the old days. The lion turns his <a +name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 79</span>head north, +gazing away from the direction in which his chief customers +came.</p> +<p>But this white-stuccoed frontage does not hide anything of +antiquity, for this is not that original “Red Lion” +to which Samuel Pepys resorted. The house he refers to in +his diary is the “Old Red Lion”; down the hill, at +the approach to Barnet. There he “lay” in +1667. “August 11th, Lord’s Day,” he +writes: “Up by four o’clock . . . and got to the +wells at Barnet by seven o’clock, and there found many +people a-drinking.” After “drinking three +glasses and the women nothing,” the party sojourned +“to the Red Lion, where we ’light and went up into +the great room, and there drank, and ate some of the best +cheesecakes that ever I ate in my life.”</p> +<p>The keenness of the innkeepers who let post-horses during the +last few years of the coaching age is scarcely credible. It +was a fierce competition. The landlord of the “Red +Lion” at Barnet thought nothing of forcibly taking out the +post-horses from any private carriage passing his house, and +putting in a pair of his own, to do the next stage to St. +Albans. This, too, free of charge, in order to prevent the +business going to the hated rival. Mine host of that hotel +also had his little ways of drawing custom, and gave a glass of +sherry and a sandwich, gratis, to the travellers changing +there. But things did not end here. The landlord of +the “Red Lion,” finding, perhaps, that the sherry and +sandwich at the “Green Man” was more attractive than +his method, engaged a gang of bruisers to pounce upon passing +chaises, and even to haul them out of his rival’s +stable-yard. Evidently a man of wrath, this licensed +victualler! After several contests of this kind, the +authorities interfered. The combatants were bound over to +keep the peace, the punching of conks and bread-baskets, and the +tapping of claret ceased, and people travelling down the road +were actually allowed to decide for themselves which house they +would patronise!</p> +<h2><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>XIV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">From</span> Barnet the road runs across +Hadley Green, a broad and picturesque expanse, cursed nowadays +with the ubiquitous golfer. Here, where the road +divides—the Great North Road to the right and the old +Holyhead Road to the left—stands the obelisk known as +Hadley Highstone, which serves both as a milestone and as a +memorial of the great battle of Barnet, fought here on that cold +and miserable Easter Day, April 14, 1471, when Edward the Fourth +utterly defeated the Lancastrians under the Earl of Warwick, the +“King Maker.” Warwick fell, and the Red Rose +was finally crushed. Hadley Green was then a portion of a +wide stretch of unenclosed country known as Gladsmoor Heath, +extending up to Monken Hadley church, away on the right. +The obelisk was erected by Sir Jeremy Sambrooke in 1740 on the +spot where Warwick is said to have been slain. There is, +however, another spot which aspires to the honour, at Rabley +Park, near South Mimms. This also has its monumental +pillar, but without inscription. Among the guileless youth +of the neighbourhood it is said to mark “the place where a +soldier was knocked down,” which is a commonplace way of +stating the fact. But who knocked him down, or why, or +when, is beyond them when questioned.</p> +<p>Past the lodge gates of Wrotham Park and by Ganwick Corner, +where stands the “Duke of York” inn with its bust of +that wonderful strategist. He is looking enquiringly south, +from his alcove over the front door, as though wondering what has +become of all the post-chaises and coaches of old. He is +that great commander who managed, according to the well-known +rhyme, to march his ten thousand men to the top of a hill and +then down again—but he never otherwise distinguished +himself—except by the magnitude of his debts.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image81" href="images/p81.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Hadley Green: Site of the Battle of Barnet" +title= +"Hadley Green: Site of the Battle of Barnet" + src="images/p81.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Potter’s Bar marks where the counties of Middlesex and +Hertford join. It is not a place of delirious <a +name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>delights, +consisting of stuccoed villas fondly supposed to be Italian, and +unfinished roads, and streets in a state of suspended +animation. Until 1897, when it was pulled down, an old +toll-house, the last in a long succession of toll-houses and +toll-bars which had stood here from the earliest times and had +given Potter’s Bar its name, occupied the fork of the roads +at the north end of the village, commanding the high-road and the +road on the right to Northaw. +<a name="image82" href="images/p82.jpg"> +<img class='clearcenter' alt= +"Old Toll-House, Potter’s Bar" +title= +"Old Toll-House, Potter’s Bar" + src="images/p82.jpg" /> +</a> It was not a beautiful building, but it hinted of old +times, and its disappearance is to be regretted. It was +taken down because already, in the first twelve months of the new +automobile era a car had dashed into it and done most of any +demolition necessary. A War Memorial now stands on the +site. Between this and Hatfield the road goes in undulating +fashion, with the Great Northern Railway on the left hand nearly +all the way, but chiefly downhill. Down Little Heath Hill +and then half-way up the succeeding incline we come to a cutting +which affords a newer and easier road than the hilly route to the +left. +<a name="image83" href="images/p83.jpg"> +<img class='clearcenter' alt= +"Ganwick Corner" +title= +"Ganwick Corner" + src="images/p83.jpg" /> +</a> Where this joins the <a name="page84"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 84</span>old road again, nearly two miles +onward, at Bell Bar, stands the pretty “Swan” +inn. The “bar” has, of course, long since +disappeared. Immediately ahead is Hatfield Park, stretching +away for over three miles. Through the park, by where the +present south lodge stands, the highway used to run in former +times, and brought wayfarers between the wind and the nobility of +the Cecils. Accordingly the road was diverted at the +instance of the then Lord Salisbury, and the public no longer +offend him, his heirs, executors, or assigns. And now, for +ever and a day, those who use the road between Potter’s Bar +and Hatfield village must go an extra half mile. This is +indeed a free and happy country.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image84" href="images/p84.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Bell Bar" +title= +"Bell Bar" + src="images/p84.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Hatfield village touches the extremity of wretchedness, just +as Hatfield House marks the apogee of late feudal +splendour. And yet, amid its tumbledown hovels there are +quaintly beautiful old-gabled cottages with bowed and +broken-backed red-tiled roofs, delightful to the artistic eye, if +from the builder’s and decorator’s point of view +sadly out of repair. Motor repair-shops and garages, with +their squalid <a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +85</span>advertisements, have helped to ruin Hatfield, and the +railway does its share, running closely to the main road, and, +with the station directly opposite the highly elaborate modern +wrought-iron gates that lead to Hatfield House, detracting not a +little from that state of dignified seclusion by which, as we +have just seen, a former Marquis of Salisbury set such +store. Let us hope his pale ghost does not revisit his old +home. If it does, it must be sorely vexed.</p> +<p>But at any rate, that Marquis who was one of Queen +Victoria’s Prime Ministers, sits there in bronze +portrait-effigy. He gazes mournfully, directly at the +railway booking-office, as one who has long been waiting, without +hope, for a train. It is a fine statue, by Sir George +Frampton, R.A., and bears the inscription:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">ROBERT ARTHUR +TALBOT,<br /> +Marquess of Salisbury, K.G., G.C.V.O.,<br /> +Three times Prime Minister of<br /> +Great Britain and Ireland,<br /> +1830–1903.<br /> +Erected to his memory by his Hertfordshire friends<br /> +and neighbours in recognition of a great life devoted<br /> +to the welfare of his country.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Hatfield House, that great historical museum and ancient +repository of State secrets, is little seen from the village, nor +have we, as wayfarers along the road, much to do with it. +It is by the parish church, its characteristic Hertfordshire +extinguisher spire so prominent above the tumbled roofs of +Hatfield, that we may glimpse the older parts of the house. +In that church lies its builder, the great Robert Cecil, his +effigy, with the Lord Treasurer’s wand of office, recumbent +on a slab uplifted by statues emblematic of Fortitude, Justice, +Prudence, and Temperance, and a skeleton below, to show that even +Lord Treasurers, possessed though they be of all the virtues, are +mortal, like less exalted and less virtuous men.</p> +<p>The house that he built seems sadly out of repair. The +history of it is romantic to a degree. Originally the +palace of the Bishops of Ely, whose delicate <a +name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>constitutions +could not stand the fen-land vapours which enwrapped the +neighbourhood of their glorious Cathedral (but perhaps were not +harmful to the less dignified clergy!), it remained in their +possession until it was coveted by Henry the Eighth, who gave +some land at Ely in exchange. So the bishops had, doubtless +with an ill grace, to go back to that fertile breeding-ground of +agues and rheumatism, and one can well imagine the resident +inferior clergy, between their aches and pains, chuckling +secretly about this piece of poetic justice.</p> +<p>And so in Royal possession the old palace continued until +James the First in his turn exchanged it for the estate of Sir +Robert Cecil at Theobalds. Previously it had been the +home—the prison, rather of the Princess Elizabeth during +her sister Mary’s reign. The oak is still shown in +the park under which she was sitting when the news of +Mary’s death and the end, consequently, of the surveillance +to which she was subjected, was brought her, November 17, +1588. (But is tradition truthful here? Would she have +been sitting under an oak in November?) “It is the +Lord’s doing, it is marvellous in our eyes,” she +exclaimed, quoting from the Psalms. Three days later she +held her first council in the old palace, and then on the 23rd +set out for London.</p> +<p>There are relics of the great queen at Hatfield House: a pair +of her stockings and the garden hat she was wearing when the +great news came to her. But the house is nearly all of a +later date, for when Sir Robert Cecil obtained it in exchange for +Theobalds, he pulled down the greater part of the old palace and +built the present striking Jacobean building, magnificent and +impressive, and perhaps not the less impressive for being also +somewhat gloomy. This is no place to recount the glories of +its picture-galleries and its noble state-rooms, or of the long +line of the exalted and the great who have been entertained +here. Moreover, the great are not uncommonly the dullest of +dull dogs. It is rather with those of less estate, <a +name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>and with +travellers, that in these pages we shall find our account. +Pepys, for instance, whom we need not object to call the natural +man (for does not Scripture tell us that the human heart in a +natural state is “desperately wicked”? and Samuel was +no Puritan), who was here lusting to steal somebody’s dog, +as he acknowledged in that very outspoken <i>Diary</i> of +his:—“Would fain have stolen a pretty dog that +followed me, but could not, which troubled me.”</p> +<p>There was a tragical happening at Hatfield, November 27, 1835, +when the house was greatly injured by fire, and the old and +eccentric Dowager Marchioness of Salisbury burnt to death, in her +eighty-fifth year. The pious declared it to be a +“judgment” for her playing cards on Sunday; but what +a number of conflagrations we should have if that were true and +Providence consistent in its vengeance!</p> +<h2>XV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Leaving</span> Hatfield and its memories +behind, we come, past the tree-shaded hamlet of Stanborough, to +the long gradual rise of Digswell Hill, beautifully engineered +over the uplands rising from the marshy banks of the little river +Lea. Off to the left, at the foot of the hill, goes the old +road at a wide tangent, and with a decidedly abrupt plunge down +into the water-meadows, crossing the Lea by Lemsford Mills, and +rejoining the newer road on an equally abrupt and difficult rise +half-way up the hill, by the wall of Brockett Hall Park. It +was here that Brickwall turnpike gate was situated in the old +days. The brick wall of the park that gave the gate its +name is still there and a very old, substantial, and beautifully +lichened red-brick wall it is—but the gate and the +toll-board and the toll-house have all vanished. Digswell +Hill is beautiful, and so is Ayot Green, at the summit, with its +giant trees and humble cottages stretching away on the left to +the Ayot <a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>villages. Not so the “Red Lion” close +by. More beautiful still—and steeper—is the +descent into Welwyn, beneath over-arching trees and rugged banks, +down from which secluded rustic summer-houses look upon the +traffic of the highway.</p> +<p>Welwyn lies in a deep hollow on the little river—or, +more correctly speaking, the streamlet—of the Mimram. +Street and houses face you alarmingly as you descend the steep +hillside, wondering (if you cycle) if the sharp corner can safely +be rounded, or if you must needs dash through door or window of +the “White Hart,” once one of the two coaching inns +of the village.</p> +<p>The “White Hart” at Welwyn was kept in the +“twenties” by “old Barker,” who horsed +the Stamford “Regent” a stage on the road, and was, +in the language of the coachmen, a “three-cornered old +beggar.” That is to say, he kept a tight hand over +the doings of coachmen and guards, did not approve of +“shouldering,” and objected to the coachmen giving +lessons to gentlemen coachmen, or allowing amateurs to +“take the ribbons.” From the passengers’ +point of view this was entirely admirable of “old +Barker,” for many an inoffensive traveller’s life had +been jeopardised by the driving of unqualified persons. +Colonel Birch Reynardson tells a story of him and of Tom Hennesy, +the best known of the “Regent” coachmen—one who +could whistle louder, hit a horse harder, and tell a bigger lie +than any of his contemporaries. Hennesy had resigned the +reins to him one day between London and Hatfield, but when they +neared Welwyn, the accomplished Tom thought he had better resume +them. “It would never do for old Barker to see you +driving,” said he. The words were scarcely out of his +mouth before the “three-cornered old beggar” himself +appeared, walking up the hill, with the double object of taking a +constitutional and of seeing if any “shouldering” was +going on.</p> +<p>“Don’t look as if you seed him,” said +Tom. “We’ll make the best of it we +can.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page89"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 89</span> +<a name="image89" href="images/p89.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Welwyn" +title= +"Welwyn" + src="images/p89.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>Down +they went to the inn door, where the fresh team was +standing. By the time the horses had been got out of the +coach, old Barker, who had turned back, looking anything but +pleasant, was upon them.</p> +<p>“Good morning, Mr. Barker, sir,” said Tom, with +all the impudence he could command. “Did you ever see +a young gentleman take a coach steadier down a hill? +’Pon my word, sir, he could not have done it better. +He’s a pupil of mine, sir, and I’m blessed if he did +not do it capital; don’t you think he did, sir, for you +seed him?” “Hum,” said old Barker; +“you know it’s all against the laws. Supposing +anything happened, what then?” “Well, sir, I +did not expect anything <i>would</i> happen, with such horses as +these of yours; there’s no better four horses, sir, betwixt +London and Stamford; and as for those wheelers, why, +they’ll hold anything.” This, of course, was +pouring balm into old Barker’s wounds, which seemed to heal +pretty quickly, and he put on a pleasanter face, and said, +“Well, Hennesy, you know I don’t like +‘gentlemen coachmen,’ and, above all things, very +<i>young</i> ones. Don’t you do it again.”</p> +<p>Was Hennesy grateful? Not at all; for, when they had +driven away, he said, “Well, he was wonderful civil for +<i>him</i>,” and added that if he could only catch him +lying drunk in the road, he would run over his neck and kill him, +“blessed if he wouldn’t!”</p> +<p>This bold and independent fellow, like many another coachman, +came down in the world when railways drove the coaches off the +main roads, and was reduced to driving a pair-horse coach between +Cambridge and Huntingdon.</p> +<p>More picturesque than the “White Hart” is the +“Wellington,” which composes so finely with the +red-brick tower of the church, at the further end of the village +street, where the road abruptly forks. It is a street of +all kinds and sizes of houses, mostly old and pleasingly +grouped.</p> +<p>But Welwyn has other claims upon the tourist. It was the +home for many years of Young, author <a name="page91"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 91</span>of the once-popular <i>Night +Thoughts</i>. Who reads that sombre work now? He was +rector here from 1730 until 1765, when he died, but lives as a +warning to those who inevitably identify an author with his +books. His work, <i>The Complaint</i>, <i>or</i>, <i>Night +Thoughts on Life</i>, <i>Death</i>, <i>and Immortality</i>, is +dour reading, but he was so little of a sombre man that we find +him not infrequently in the company of, and a fellow spirit +among, the convivial men of his time. This was only a +product of his “sensibility,” that curious quality +peculiar to the eighteenth century, and did not necessarily prove +him a weeping philosopher. He had, indeed, a mental agility +which could with ease fly from the most depressing disquisitions +on the silent tomb, to the proper compounding of a stiff jorum of +punch. Young, on his appointment to Welwyn, married Lady +Elizabeth (“Betty”) Lee, daughter of the Earl of +Lichfield. He found the rectory too small (or perhaps not +good enough for her ladyship), and so purchased a more imposing +house called the “Guessons”—anciently the +“Guest House” of some abbey. With it he bought +land, and planted the lime-tree avenue which still remains a +memorial of him. There is a votive urn here, erected by Mr. +Johnes-Knight, a succeeding rector; but probably the most +enduring memorial of Young is the very first line of the <i>Night +Thoughts</i>, the fine expression:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Tired Nature’s sweet restorer, balmy +sleep.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>No one reads Young nowadays, and so every one who sees this, +one of the most hackneyed of quotations, ascribes it to +Shakespeare. Alas, poor Young!</p> +<p>Young erected a sundial in his garden here, with the motto, +“<i>Eheu</i>, <i>fugaces</i>!” “Alas, how +fleeting!” It was not long before some midnight +robbers came, and, carrying it off, justified the +inscription. Nowadays, besides the avenue and the votive +urn, all that remains to tell of him is the tablet to his memory +on the south wall of the aisle.</p> +<p><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +92</span>Knebworth Park, with mansion and an ancient parish +church full of monuments to Strodes, Robinsons and Lyttons, is +just off to the left. There is no Lytton blood in the Earls +“of” Lytton, who are not of Litton, near Tideswell, +in Derbyshire, whence came the now extinct Lytton family. +The whole assumption is romantic rather than warranted by +facts.</p> +<p>Knebworth is a place of much combined beauty and historic +interest, together with a great deal of vulgar and uninteresting +sham. It has been described as “a sham-old house, +with a sham lake, sham heraldic monsters, and sham-ancient +portraits.” Bulwer, the first Lord +Lytton—“Bulwig,” as someone, to his intense +annoyance, called him—was intensely fond of Gothic +architecture and ornamentation; fond of it in an +undiscriminating, Early Victorian, uninstructed way, and he stuck +his house of Knebworth all over with gimcrackery that he fondly +thought to be mediæval. Crockets, tourelles, +pinnacles and grotesque gargoyles were added in wholesale +fashion, and in a very carpenterish way. One might almost +say they were <i>wafered</i> on. They were not carved out +of stone, but moulded cheaply in plaster, and in his son’s +time were always falling. As they fell, they were relegated +to the nearest dustheap, and their places remained vacant. +A visitor to the second Lord Lytton tells, apropos of these +things, how he was walking on the terrace with his host, when the +gardener came up and said, “If you please, my lord, another +of them bloody monkeys has fallen down in the night.” +It was, of course, one more of “Bulwig’s” +quasi-Gothic abominations come to its doom.</p> +<p>The Earls Lytton are neither baronial Bulwers nor ancient +lordly Lyttons. Their real name is the very much more +plebian one of Wiggett. So far back as 1756, William +Wiggett assumed the name of Bulwer on his marriage with a Sarah +of that ilk. His youngest son, the novelist, the child of +another wife, who had been an Elizabeth Warburton, added the name +of Lytton to his own on succeeding to his mother’s property +of Knebworth.</p> +<p><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>But +that does not at once bring us to the Lytton connection. +For that, we must quote the late Augustus J. C. Hare, who was an +adept at relationships to the remotest degree. He had +hundreds of cousins of his own, and knew who was everybody +else’s twentieth or thirtieth cousin. He tells us +that this Elizabeth Warburton’s very remote connection with +the real Lyttons lay in the fact that “her grandfather, +John Robinson, was cousin (maternally) to Lytton Strode, who was +great-nephew of a Sir William Lytton, who died childless in +1704.” It will be allowed that the connection +<i>is</i> remote; practically indeed, non-existent.</p> +<p>Nor is the name of Bulwer as distinguished as the novelist +wished it to appear. He sought to range it with +Bölver, one of the war-titles of the Norse god, Odin; but it +really derived from some plebian cattle-driver, or Bullward.</p> +<p>The road rises steeply out of Welwyn, in the direction of +Stevenage. Here some of the coaches had a narrow escape +from destruction at the hands of unknown miscreants, ancestors of +the criminal lunatics who place obstacles upon the railways in +our times. Our murderous larrikins had their counterparts +in the old days, in those who placed gates across the roads, so +that the coaches should run into them in the darkness. An +incident of this kind happened here on the night of June 5, 1805, +when two gates were found set up in the main road, and another at +Welwyn Green. Fortunately, no accident resulted, and the +ruffians, who doubtless were waiting the result of their work, +must have gone home disappointed.</p> +<p>From the beautiful expanse of gorsy and wooded hillside common +above the village may be glimpsed the great red-brick viaduct of +Welwyn, carrying the main line of the Great Northern Railway +across the wide and deep valley of the Mimram, an insignificant +stream for such a channel. Woolmer Green and Broadwater, +between this point and Stevenage, are modern and uninteresting +hamlets, created out of nothingness by the speculative builder +and the handy <a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>situation of Knebworth station, beside the road, which +now begins to give another example of its flatness.</p> +<p>Leisurely wayfarers will notice the old half-timbered cottage +at the entrance to the churchyard. On its side wall are +hung two stout long poles with formidable hooks attached. +These are old fire-appliances, used in the days of thatched +roofs, for pulling off the whole of the blazing thatch. +Travellers, leisured or otherwise, will scarce be able to miss +seeing the great and offensive boards hereabouts, advertising a +new suburban or “Garden Suburb” settlement in course +of building away to the right, since 1920; blessed and boomed by +Lord Northcliffe, and apparently to be given the name of +“Daily Mail.” Horrible!</p> +<p>The entrance to Stevenage is signalised by a group of new and +commonplace cottages elbowing the famous Six Hills, a series of +sepulchral barrows of prehistoric date, beside the highway. +These six grassy mounds might not unreasonably be passed +unthinkingly by the uninstructed, or taken for grass-grown heaps +of refuse. Centuries of wear and weather have had their +effect, and they do not look very monumental now; but they were +once remarkable enough to give the place its name, Stevenage +deriving from the Saxon “<i>stigenhaght</i>,” or +“hills by the highway.”</p> +<p>To coachmen, who were adepts in the art of what the slangy +call “spoofing,” and were always ready—in +earlier slang phrase—to “take a rise out of” +strangers, the Six Hills afforded an excellent opportunity of +practising a diluted form of wit, and often brought them a glass +of brandy or rum-and-milk at the next pull-up, in payment of the +bets they would make with the most innocent-looking passenger, +that he could not tell which two of the hills were furthest +apart. They are, as nearly as possible, equi-distant; but +strangers would select one couple or another, according to their +fancy; whereupon the coachman would triumphantly point out that +the first and the last were, as a matter of fact, the most widely +divided. This <a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>perhaps does not exhibit coaching wit in a strikingly +robust light; but a very weak kind of jocularity served to pass +the weary hours of travel in our grandfathers’ days.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image95" href="images/p95.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Six Hills,” Stevenage" +title= +"The “Six Hills,” Stevenage" + src="images/p95.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2>XVI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Stevenage</span> is the first of the many +wide-streeted towns and villages whose emptiness proclaims the +something missing that was provided for by all this vast +roominess. Its one street, lining the old road, was +originally laid out so spaciously for the purpose of affording +room for the traffic for which, once upon a time, it was not too +spacious. It is all too wide now that the intercourse of +two nations proceeds by rail, and many of the old inns that once +did so famous a trade are converted into private +residences. Prominent among them was the +“Swan,” which may now be sought in the large +red-brick house on the right-hand side of the forking roads, as +the town is left for Baldock. It may readily be identified +by its archway, which formerly led to the spacious stables.</p> +<p>The “Swan” at Stevenage, kept in pre-railway days +by a postmaster named Cass, was one of those exclusive houses +which, like the “Red Lion” and the “Green +Man” at Barnet, did not condescend to the ordinary +coach-traveller. Cass kept post-horses only, and his +customers ranged from princes and dukes down to baronets and +wealthy knights.</p> +<p>“Posting in all its branches,” as the postmasters +used to say in the announcements outside their establishments, +was at the beginning of the nineteenth century essentially +aristocratic; but it had many changes, from its beginning, about +the dawn of the seventeenth century, to its end, before the +middle of the nineteenth. Originally “posting” +meant the hire of horses only, and the traveller rode horseback +himself, accompanied perhaps by a mounted guide. <a +name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>Thus Fynes +Morison, in his <i>Itinerary</i>, published in 1617, speaks of +the early days of posting:—“In England, towards the +south, and in the west parts, and from London to Barwick upon the +confines of Scotland, post-horses are established at every ten +miles or thereabouts, which they ride a false gallop after some +ten miles an hour sometimes, and that makes their hire the +greater; for with a commission from the chief postmaster or +chiefe lords of the councell (given either upon publike +businesse, or at least pretence thereof), a passenger shall pay +twopence halfpenny each mile for his horse, and as much for his +guide’s horse; but one guide will serve the whole company, +though many ride together, who may easily bring back the horses, +driving them before him, who ‘know the waye as well as a +beggar knowes his dishe.’ This extraordinary charge +of horses’ hire may well be recompensed with the speede of +the journey, whereby greater expences in the innes are avoided; +all the difficultie is, to have a body able to endure the +toyle. For these horses the passenger is at no charge to +give them meat onely at the ten miles, and the boy that carries +them backe will expect some few pence in gift.”</p> +<p>When carriages were introduced, the very great personages of +the realm “progressed” in them, and had their love of +display gratified thereby. But what they gained in pomp +they lost in speed, for at the best of it they rarely travelled +at a greater pace than seven miles an hour.</p> +<p>An odd institution with the noble and the wealthy families of +that bygone age was the “running footman.” It +has sometimes been supposed that these deer-footed servitors were +for town service, perhaps because “old Q,” the +profligate Marquis of Queensberry, who was the last to keep one, +lived in town during his last years and necessarily kept his +lackey running London streets. The unique sign of the +“running footman,” with the portrait of such an one +in costume, is also in London, and may be seen any <a +name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>day on a +little public-house, still chiefly frequented by men-servants, in +Charles Street, Berkeley Square. He wears a uniform +consisting of blue coat and breeches, trimmed with gold +lace. Round his waist is a red sash, on his head a cap with +a nodding plume, and in his hand the long staff carried by all +his tribe. This is an outfit somewhat different from that +usually worn, for we are told that they wore no breeches, but a +short silk petticoat kept down by a deep gold fringe.</p> +<p>The function of a running footman was to run ahead of his +employer’s carriage, to point out the proper turnings to +take, or to arrange for his reception at the inns; but as time +went on and accommodation increased, he was not of any practical +use, and became simply a kind of unnecessary fore-runner, who by +his appearance advertised the coming of my lord and upheld my +lord’s dignity. It is said that these ministers to +senseless pomp and vanity usually ran at the rate of seven miles +an hour, and frequently did sixty miles a day. The long and +highly ornamented staff they carried had a hollow silver ball at +the end containing white wine. Unscrewing it, the footman +could refresh himself. More white wine, mixed with eggs, +was given him at the end of his journey, and he must have needed +it! Over the bad and hilly roads of a hundred and fifty +years ago, the running footman could readily keep ahead of a +carriage; on the flat the horses, of course, had the +advantage.</p> +<p>Post-chaises were unknown in England until after the middle of +the eighteenth century had come and gone. Thus we find +Horace Walpole and Gray, taking the “grand tour” +together in 1739, astonished to laughter at the post-chaises +which conveyed them from Boulogne towards Paris. This +French vehicle, the father of all post-chaises, was two-wheeled, +and not very unlike our present hansom-cab, the door being in +front and the body hung in much the same way, only a little more +forward from the wheels. The French <i>chaise de-poste</i> +was invented in 1664, and the first used in England were of this +type; but they <a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>proved unsuitable for use in this country, and English +carriage-builders at length evolved the well-known post-chaise, +which went out only with the coaching age. But it was long +before it began to supplant the post-horses and the feminine +pillion.</p> +<p>Every one is familiar with the appearance of the old +post-chaise, which, according to the painters and the +print-sellers, appears to have been used principally for the +purpose of spiriting love-lorn couples with the speed of the wind +away from all restrictions of home and the Court of +Chancery. A post-chaise was (so it seems nowadays) a rather +cumbrous affair, four-wheeled, high, and insecurely hung, with a +glass front and a seat to hold three, facing the horses. +The original designers evidently had no prophetic visions as to +this especial popularity of post-chaises with errant lovers, nor +did they ponder the proverb, “Two’s company, +three’s none,” else they would have restricted their +accommodation to two, or have enlarged it to four.</p> +<p>It was an expensive as well as a pleasant method of +travelling, costing as it did at least a shilling a mile, and, in +times when forage was dear, one shilling and threepence. +The usual rates were chaise, nine-pence a mile, pair of +post-horses, sixpence; four horses and chaise, supposing you +desired to travel speedily—say at twelve miles an +hour—one-and-ninepence. But these costs and charges +did not frank the traveller through. The post-boy’s +tip was as inevitable as night and morning. Likewise there +were the “gates” to pay every now and again. +One shudders to contemplate the total cost of posting from London +to Edinburgh, even with only the ordinary equipment of two +horses. There were thirty post-stages between the two +capitals, according to the books published for the use of +travellers a hundred years ago. Those books were very +necessary to any one who did not desire to be charged for perhaps +a mile more on each stage than it really measured, which was one +of those artful postmasters’ little ways. Here is a +list of these stages with the measurements, to <a +name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>which +travellers drew the attention of those postmasters who commonly +endeavoured to overcharge:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">Miles</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">Furlongs</p> +</td> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">Miles</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">Furlongs</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Barnet</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +<td><p>York</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hatfield</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">8</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4</p> +</td> +<td><p>Easingwold</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">13</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stevenage</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7</p> +</td> +<td><p>Thirsk</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Biggleswade</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">13</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5</p> +</td> +<td><p>Northallerton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Buckden</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">15</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7</p> +</td> +<td><p>Darlington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">16</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stilton</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">13</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7</p> +</td> +<td><p>Durham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">18</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Stamford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2</p> +</td> +<td><p>Newcastle</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Witham Common</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2</p> +</td> +<td><p>Morpeth</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Grantham</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5</p> +</td> +<td><p>Alnwick</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">18</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">6</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Newark</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +<td><p>Belford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tuxford</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">13</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2</p> +</td> +<td><p>Berwick</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">15</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Barnby Moor</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4</p> +</td> +<td><p>Press Inn</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">5</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Doncaster</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +<td><p>Dunbar</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Ferrybridge</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">15</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">2</p> +</td> +<td><p>Haddington</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tadcaster</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">7</p> +</td> +<td><p>Edinburgh</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">16</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">0</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>Nearly four hundred miles by these measurements. This, +at a shilling a mile for the posting, gives £20; but, +including the postboys’ tips, “gates,” and +expenses at the inns on the road, the journey could not have been +done in this way under £30, at the most modest +calculation. This list of post-stages was one drawn up for +distances chiefly between the towns, but nothing is more +remarkable along the Great North Road than the number of old +posting-houses which still exist (although of course their +business is gone) in wild and lonely spots, far removed from +either town or village.</p> +<p>Another “branch” of posting was the horsing alone, +by which a private carriage could be taken to or from town by +hiring posters at every stage. This was a favourite +practice with the gentry of the shires, who thus had all the +<i>éclat</i> of travelling in private state, without the +expense and trouble of providing their own horses. It is +probably of this method that De Quincey speaks in the following +passage:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“In my childhood,” says he, +“standing with one or two of my brothers and sisters at the +front window <a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>of my mother’s carriage, I remember one unvarying +set of images before us. The postillion (for so were all +carriages then driven) was employed, not by fits and starts, but +always and eternally, in quartering, <i>i.e.</i> in crossing from +side to side, according to the casualties of the ground. +Before you stretched a wintry length of lane, with ruts deep +enough to fracture the leg of a horse, filled to the brim with +standing pools of rain-water; and the collateral chambers of +these ruts kept from becoming confluent by thin ridges, such as +the Romans called <i>lirae</i>, to maintain the footing upon +which <i>lirae</i>, so as not to swerve (or as the Romans would +say, <i>delirare</i>), was a trial of some skill, both for the +horses and their postillion. It was, indeed, next to +impossible for any horse, on such a narrow crust of separation, +not to grow <i>delirious</i> in the Roman metaphor; and the +nervous anxiety which haunted me when a child was much fed by +this image so often before my eyes, and the sympathy with which I +followed the motion of the docile creatures’ legs. Go +to sleep at the beginning of a stage, and the last thing you +saw—wake up, and the first thing you saw—was the line +of wintry pools, the poor off-horse planting his steps with care, +and the cautious postillion gently applying his spur whilst +manoeuvring across the system of grooves with some sort of +science that looked like a gipsy’s palmistry—so +equally unintelligible to me were his motions in what he sought +and in what he avoided.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>XVII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Before</span> we leave Stevenage, we must +pay a visit to the “Old Castle” inn, in whose stable +the body of the eccentric Henry Trigg is deposited, in a coffin +amid the rafters, plain for all to see; somewhat dilapidated and +battered in the lapse of two centuries, and with a patch of tin +over the hole cut in it by some riotous <a +name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>blades long +ago, but doubtless still containing his bones. His Will +sufficiently explains the circumstances.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">IN THE NAME OF GOD, +AMEN.</p> +<p>I, <span class="smcap">Henry Trigg</span>, of Stevenage, in +the County of Hertford, Grocer, being very infirm and weak in +body, but of perfect sound mind and memory, God be praised for +it, calling into mind the mortality of my body, do now make and +ordain this my last Will and Testament, in writing, hereafter +following: that is to say:—Principally I recommend my soul +into the merciful hands of Almighty God that first gave me it, +assuredly believing and only expecting free pardon and +forgiveness of all my sins, and eternal life in and through the +only merits, death, and passion of Jesus Christ my Saviour; and +as to my body I commit it to the <a name="page103"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 103</span>West end of my Hovel, to be decently +laid there upon a floor erected by my Executor, upon the purlin, +for the same purpose; nothing doubting but at the general +Resurrection I shall receive the same again by the mighty power +of God; and as for and concerning such worldly substance as it +hath pleased God to bless me with in this world, I do devise and +dispose of the same in manner and form here following.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image102" href="images/p102.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Trigg’s Coffin" +title= +"Trigg’s Coffin" + src="images/p102.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><i>Imprimis</i>. I give and devise unto my loving +brother Thomas Trigg, of Letchworth, in the County of Hertford, +Clerk, and to his Heirs and Assigns for ever, all those my +Freehold Lands lying dispersedly in the several common fields in +the parish of Stevenage aforesaid, and also all my Copyhold +Lands, upon condition that he shall lay my body upon the place +before mentioned; and also all that Messuage, Cottage, or +Tenement at Redcoats Green in the Parish of Much Wymondly, +together with those Nine Acres of Land (more or less) purchased +of William Hale and Thomas Hale, Jun.; and also my Cottage, +Orchard, and barn, with four acres of Land (more or less) +belonging, lying, and being in the Parish of Little Wymondly, and +now in the possession of Samuel Kitchener, labourer; and all my +Cottages, Messuages, or Tenements situate and being in Stevenage, +aforesaid: or, upon condition that he shall pay my brother, +George Trigg, the sum of Ten Pounds per annum for life: but if my +brother shall neglect or refuse to lay my body where I desire it +should be laid, then, upon that condition, I will and bequeath +all that which I have already bequeathed to my brother Thomas +Trigg, unto my brother George Trigg, and to his heirs for ever; +and if my brother George Trigg should refuse to lay my body under +my Hovel, then what I have bequeathed unto him, as all my Lands +and Tenements, I lastly bequeath them unto my nephew William +Trigg and his heirs for ever, upon his seeing that my body is +decently laid up there as aforesaid.</p> +<p><i>Item</i>. I give and bequeath unto my nephew William +Trigg, the sum of <i>Five Pounds</i>, at the age of Thirty years; +to his sister Sarah the sum of <i>Twenty Pounds</i>; to his +sister Rose the sum of <i>Twenty Pounds</i>; and lastly to his +sister Ann the sum of <i>Twenty Pounds</i>; all at the age of +Thirty Years: to John Spencer, of London, Butcher, the sum of +<i>One Guinea</i>; and to Solomon Spencer, of Stevenage, the sum +of <i>One Guinea</i>, Three Years next after my decease; to <a +name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>my cousin +Henry Kimpton, <i>One Guinea</i>, One Year next after my decease, +and another <i>Guinea</i> Two Years after my decease; to William +Waby, <i>Five Shillings</i>; and to Joseph Priest, <i>Two +Shillings and Sixpence</i>, Two Years after my decease; to my +tenant Robert Wright the sum of <i>Five Shillings</i>, Two years +next after my decease; and to Ralph Lowd and John Reeves, <i>One +Shilling</i> each, Two Years next after my decease.</p> +<p><i>Item</i>. All the rest of my Goods and Chattels, and +personal Estate, and Ready Money, I do hereby give and devise +unto my brother Thomas Trigg, paying my debts and laying my body +where I would have it laid; whom I likewise make and ordain my +full and sole Executor of this my last Will and Testament, or +else to them before mentioned; ratifying and confirming this and +no other to be my last Will and Testament, in witness whereof I +have hereunto set my hand and seal this Twenty-eighth day of +September, in the year of our Lord One Thousand Seven Hundred and +Twenty-four</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Henry +Trigg</span>.</p> +<p>Read, signed, sealed, and declared by the said Henry Trigg, +the Testator, to be his last Will and Testament, in the presence +of us who have subscribed our names as witnesses hereto, in the +presence of the said Testator.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">John +Hawkins</span>, Sen.<br /> +<span class="smcap">John Hawkins</span>, Jun.<br /> +× The mark of <span class="smcap">William +Sexton</span>.</p> +<p>Proved in the Archdeaconry of Huntingdon, the 15th day of +October, 1724, by the Executor Thomas Trigg.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The inn-signs of Stevenage afford some exercise for the +contemplative mind. As the town is approached from London, +the sign of “Our Mutual Friend” appears, nearly +opposite a domestic Gothic building of red and white brick, +originally a home for decayed authors, founded by Charles Dickens +and the first Lord Lytton. The decayed authors did not take +kindly to the scheme. Perhaps they did not like being <a +name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>patronised +by authors of better fortunes than their own. The +institution was a failure, and the building is now put to other +uses. No doubt the sign of “Our Mutual Friend” +derives from those times when Dickens and Lytton foregathered +here and at Knebworth. At quite the other end of the town +appears the obviously new sign of the “Lord +Kitchener,” almost opposite that of another military hero, +the “Marquis of Granby.”</p> +<p>Passing through the little old-world village of Graveley, +succeeded by the beautifully graded rise and fall of Lannock +Hill, we come into the town of Baldock, with its great church +prominent in front, and its empty streets running in puzzling +directions. It was at Baldock that Charles the First, being +conducted as a prisoner to London, was offered wine in one of the +sacramental vessels by the vicar, Josias Byrd, and it was on the +road outside the town, near where the old turnpike gate stood, +that the Newcastle wagon, on its way to London, was plundered of +£500 in coin by three mounted highwaymen, on a February +morning in 1737.</p> +<p>Our old friend Mr. Samuel Pepys, journeying on August 6th, +1661, from Brampton, came into Baldock, and stayed the night, at +some inn not specified. He says, “Took horse for +London, and with much ado got to Baldwick. There lay, and +had a good supper by myself. The landlady being a pretty +woman, but I durst not take notice of her, her husband being +there.”</p> +<p>Always some spoil-sport in the way!</p> +<p>Baldock, from its stunted extinguisher spire to its fine old +brick houses and nodding plaster cottages, is characteristically +Hertfordshire. Among other things of general interest, it +has a row of almshouses, duly inscribed:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“Theis Almes +Howses are<br /> +the gieft of Mr. John Wynne<br /> +cittezen of London, Latelye<br /> +Deceased, who hath left a<br /> +Yeareley stipend to everey<br /> +poore of either howses to<br /> +the Worldes End. September<br /> +Anno Domini 1621.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 106</span>The +worthy citizen reckoned without the Charity Commissioners, who +may confidently be expected to propound a “scheme” +some day long anterior to the final crash, by which his wishes +will be entirely disregarded.</p> +<p>Away to the left of Baldock will be noticed a new town, and +the factory chimneys of it. This is Letchworth, the +“Garden City,” developed out of Letchworth, the +little village of old. This “First Garden +City,” founded in 1902, on a nominal capital of +£300,000 actual £125,000, by the Garden City +Association, itself founded in June, 1899, with a capital of +about thirty shillings, represents a passionate quest of the +ideal life on a 5 per cent. basis of profit. The problem of +how to create an earthly paradise (plus industrial factories) was +here to be tackled. The beginnings of such things are +always the most charming; and Letchworth began ideally. But +the factories and the five per cent. always have a way of +overcoming ideals; and we shall see.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image106" href="images/p106.jpg"> +<img alt= +"At the 39th mile" +title= +"At the 39th mile" + src="images/p106.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The stone outside Baldock, marking the thirty-ninth mile is +milestone and upping-block as well.</p> +<p><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>Midway between Baldock and Biggleswade, at +Topler’s Hill, the Bedfordshire border is crossed. We +may perhaps be excused if we pass Topler’s Hill +unwittingly, for the rises called “hills” on the +Great North Road would generally pass unnoticed elsewhere. +Biggleswade town and neighbourhood are interested wholly in +cabbages and potatoes and other highly necessary, but essentially +unromantic, vegetables. The surrounding country is in +spring and summer one vast market-garden; at other times it is +generally a lake of equal vastness, for the Ivel and the Ouse, +that run so sluggishly through the flat lands, arise then in +their might and submerge fields and roads for miles around.</p> +<p>As for Biggleswade itself, it is a town with an +extraordinarily broad and empty market-place, a church with a +spire of the Hertfordshire type, and two old coaching +inns—the “White Swan” and the +“Crown”—facing one another in an aggressive +rivalry at a narrow outlet of the market-place. The +“White Swan” was the inn at which the up +“Regent” coach dined. It was kept at that time +by a man named Crouch, “that long, sour old beggar,” +in the words of Tom Hennesy. Here “the process of +dining on a really cold day in winter,” to quote Colonel +Birch Reynardson, “was carried on under no small amount of +difficulty. Your hands were frozen, your feet were frozen, +your very mouth felt frozen, and in fact you felt frozen all +over. Sometimes, with all this cold, you were also wet +through, your hat wet through, your coat wet through, the large +wrapper that was meant to keep your neck warm and dry wet +through, and, in fact, you were wet through yourself to your very +bones. Only twenty minutes were allowed for dinner; and by +the time you had got your hands warm enough to be able to untie +your neck wrapper, and had got out of your great-coat, which, +being wet, clung tenaciously to you, the time for feeding was +half gone. By the time you had got one quarter of what you +could have consumed, had your mouth been in eating trim and <a +name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>your hands +warm enough to handle your knife and fork, the coachman would put +his head in, and say: “Now, gentlemen, if you please; the +coach is ready.” After this summons, having struggled +into your wet greatcoat, bound your miserable wet wrapper round +your miserable cold throat, having paid your two and sixpence for +the dinner that you had the will, but not the time, to eat, with +sixpence for the waiter, you wished the worthy Mr. Crouch good +day, grudged him the half-crown he had pocketed for having dined +so miserably, and again mounted your seat, to be rained and +snowed upon, and almost frozen to death before you reached +London.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image108" href="images/p108.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Biggleswade" +title= +"Biggleswade" + src="images/p108.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Leaving Biggleswade, the Ivel is crossed and Tingey’s +Corner passed. Tingey’s Corner marks the junction of +the old alternative route from Welwyn, by Hitchin to Lower +Codicote, the route adopted by record-breaking cyclists. +The hamlets of Lower Codicote and Beeston Green open up a view of +Sandy, <a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +109</span>away to the right, with its range of yellow sand-hills +running for some three miles parallel with the road, and seeming +the more impressive by reason of the dead level on which they +look. The canal-like, bare banks of the Ivel are passed +again at Girtford, and the roadside cottages of Tempsford +reached; the village and church lying off to the left, where the +Ouse and the Ivel come to their sluggish confluence, and form a +waterway which once afforded marauding Danes an excellent route +from the coast up to Bedford. Even now the remains of a +fortification they constructed to command this strategic point +are visible, and bear the name of the “Dannicke”; +that is to say, the “Danes’ work,” or perhaps +the “Danes’ wick,” “wick” meaning +“village.”</p> +<p>An infinitely later work—Tempsford turnpike-gate, to +wit—has disappeared a great deal more effectively than +those ancient entrenchments, and the way is clear and flat, not +to say featureless, over the Ouse, past the outlying houses of +Wyboston, and so into Little End, the most southerly limit of +Eaton Socon.</p> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Past</span> Tempsford some of the coaches, +notably the Stamford “Regent,” turned off into the +loop road by St. Neots and Huntingdon. In the winter time, +or when the spring rains were falling, they did this at some +risk, for the low-lying land by the river Ouse was often +awash. Two old ladies were on one occasion given a terrible +fright, the road being deeply flooded and the water coming into +the coach, so that they had to stand on the seats. They +quite thought they were going to be drowned, and perhaps they +would have been had the “Regent” been driven by one +unused to the road. Had the coachman driven into a +ditch—as he might easily have done with the floods covering +all the landmarks—it would have been “all up” +with <a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 110</span>the +“insides” for certain and perhaps for the +“outsides” as well.</p> +<p>The most prudent coachmen in winter time kept to the main +road, which lies somewhat higher, and passed through Eaton +Socon. Once—to judge by its name—a place of +importance, this is now only a long village of one straggling +street. At some undetermined period the head of a +“soke,” or separate legal jurisdiction, all memories +of the dignity implied are gone, save only the empty title, which +Dickens makes fun of by calling the village in <i>Nicholas +Nickleby</i> “Eton Slocomb.” The “White +Horse,” a picturesque roadside inn, may be looked upon with +interest by those keen on identifying Dickens landmarks. In +later days it became a favourite resort of the North Road Cycling +Club, and witnessed the beginning and ending of many a road race +in the “eighties” and early “nineties,” +when such things were.</p> +<p>The story of the London to York cycling record is fitly to be +told in this page. It is not so long a tale as that of the +famous one from London to Brighton and back, but it stands for +greater efforts and for a vast amount of pluck and +endurance. There have been those unsportsmanlike souls who, +not finding sport an end in itself, have questioned the use of +record making and breaking. But it has had its use, and +even from this point of view has amply justified itself, for the +continually increasing speed required out of cycles for these +purposes has led to the perfecting of them within what is, after +all, a comparatively short time; so that the sporting clubman +has, after all, while strictly occupied within the range of his +own ambitions, contributed to the general good by bringing about +the manufacture of a vehicle which, used by many hundreds of +thousands of people who never raced in their lives, and are +probably incapable of a speed of more than twelve miles an hour, +has brought the roads and lanes of the country within the +knowledge of many to whom rural life was something new and +strange.</p> +<p>The first recorded cycle ride to York in which <a +name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>speed was +an object was that of C. Wheaton, September 1872. That +pioneer took two days to perform the journey, making Stamford, a +distance of eighty-nine miles, the end of his first day’s +adventure, in 15½ hours, and on the second day reaching +York in a further 26 hours 40 minutes: total, 42 hours 10 +minutes. This, with the front-driving low cycle of those +days, was an achievement. Wooden wheels and iron tyres did +not conduce to either speed or ease, and that now historic +figure, painfully crawling (as we should now think his progress) +to York is heroic.</p> +<p>Perhaps this tale of hardship was calculated to deter others +from trying their mettle, but at any rate it was not until July +9, 1874, that two others, Ian Keith-Falconer and J. H. Stanley +Thorpe, followed, and they failed in the effort. After +another two years had almost passed, on June 5, 1876, Thorpe made +another attempt. Leaving Highgate Archway at 11.10 <span +class="GutSmall">P.M.</span>, he arrived the next day at York at +9.40 <span class="GutSmall">P.M.</span> = 22 hours 30 minutes; +chiefly, of course, by favour of that then “improved” +form of bicycle, the tall “ordinary.”</p> +<p>Thirteen years passed before this record was lowered, and the +one that replaced it was not a remarkable performance, +considering the further great improvements in cycles. This +ride, in the summer of 1889, performed on a solid-tyred +“safety,” took 21 hours 10 minutes, and was beaten in +the same year by six minutes by H. R. Pope, riding a tricycle; +himself displaced, shortly after, by F. T. Bidlake, also mounted +on a tricycle, who did the 197 miles in 18 hours 28 minutes.</p> +<p>In 1890, and for several years following, records came and +went with increasing rapidity. In 1890 J. M. James put the +safety record at 16 hours 52 minutes, and T. A. Edge soon +followed, reducing it to 14 hours 33 minutes, James regaining the +record again in 1891 by a bare thirteen minutes. In the +following year, S. F. Edge, on a front-driving safety, made a +splendid record of 12 hours 49 minutes, but <a +name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 112</span>had the +mortification to see it beaten the next day, June 27, by F. W. +Shorland, in 39 minutes less. In this year there were +several rival tricycle records: that of W. J. A. Butterfield, of +18 hours 9 minutes being lowered by F. T. Bidlake by nearly three +hours, and beaten again, on September 29, Bidlake’s figures +on this occasion being 13 hours 19 minutes. On the same day +M. A. Holbein and F. W. Shorland rode to York on a tandem +tricycle in exactly the same time.</p> +<p>C. C. Fontaine went for the safety record on August 29, 1894, +when he put the figures down to 11 hours 51 minutes. +Fontaine lowered his own record in the following year, on October +18, by 21 minutes 45 seconds, and this was disposed of by George +Hunt on May 7, 1896, when he got well within the eleven hours, at +10 hours 48 minutes.</p> +<p>This was lowered by F. R. Goodwin on July 19, 1899, his time +being 10 hours 16 minutes; the speed on this occasion averaging +rather over nineteen miles an hour. Even this could not +have been accomplished without the aid of the most perfect motor +pace-making arrangements. Goodwin smashed all these +previous records on his way to establish the London to Edinburgh +record of 25 hours 26 minutes, in which the average was somewhat +higher; nearly twenty miles an hour.</p> +<p>The next, and latest, safety cycle record to York was made, +unpaced, in 1900; when H. Green performed the journey in 10 hours +19 minutes.</p> +<p>The tandem safety London to York records should be +mentioned. The first two were set up on July 24, 1895, and +October 2, 1896, respectively: by G. P. Mills and T. A. Edge; and +T. Hobson and H. E. Wilson, the times being 12 hours 33 minutes, +and 11 hours 35 minutes.</p> +<p>These were followed by:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Hrs.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Mins.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1901.</p> +</td> +<td><p>A. H. and P. S. Murray (unpaced)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">59</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1905.</p> +</td> +<td><p>R. L. I. Knipe and S. Irving (unpaced)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">52</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1907.</p> +</td> +<td><p>F. H. Wingrave and R. A. Wingrave (unpaced)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">9</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">30</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>The +London to Edinburgh records are:</p> +<p style="text-align: center">SAFETY BICYCLE.</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Hrs.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Mins.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1889.</p> +</td> +<td><p>F. W. Shorland</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">44</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">49</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1891.</p> +</td> +<td><p>P. A. Ransom</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">43</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">25</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1892.</p> +</td> +<td><p>R. H. Carlisle</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">32</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">55</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1894.</p> +</td> +<td><p>G. P. Mills</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">29</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">28</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p>C. C. Fontaine</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">28</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1895.</p> +</td> +<td><p>W. J. Neason</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">38</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1897.</p> +</td> +<td><p>J. Hunt</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">26</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">47</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1899.</p> +</td> +<td><p>F. R. Goodwin (motor-paced)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">25</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">26</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1903.</p> +</td> +<td><p>F. Wright (unpaced)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">31</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">48</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1904.</p> +</td> +<td><p>E. H. Grimsdell</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">28</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">3</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p>G. A. Olley</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1905.</p> +</td> +<td><p>E. H. Grimsdell</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">26</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">,,</p> +</td> +<td><p>R. Shirley</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">23</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">43</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>A tricycle record, unpaced, made by F. W. Wesley in 1905, at +32 hours 42 minutes yet stands.</p> +<p>Tandem safety records:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Hrs.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Mins.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1894.</p> +</td> +<td><p>E. Oxborrow and H. Sansom</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">33</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>1905.</p> +</td> +<td><p>E. Bright and P. H. Miles (unpaced)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">54</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2>XIX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Eaton</span> Socon, its long straggling +street and beautiful church-tower, left behind, the road descends +to the “river Kym,” as the guidebooks call the tiny +stream which, bordered by marshes, crosses under the road at a +point known as Cross Hall. The “river Kym” +certainly is, or was, important enough to confer its name upon +the neighbouring townlet of Kimbolton, but the country folk now +only know it as Weston Brook. The descent to it has of late +years acquired the name of “Chicken Hill,” given by +the North Roaders, racing cyclists, who must often have run over +the fowls kept by the people of a cottage at the bottom. +This is succeeded by Diddington Bridge, a picturesque, +white-painted timber structure spanning the little Diddington +Brook, which has eaten its way deeply into the earth, and is +romantically shaded by tall trees and bordered by the undergrowth +that fills the pretty hollow.</p> +<p><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>The +slight rise from this spot is succeeded by an easy descent into +narrow-streeted Buckden, one of those old +“thoroughfare” coaching villages which imagined +themselves on the way to becoming towns in the fine, free-handed +old days. The huge bulk of the “George” is +eloquent of this, with its fifteen windows in a row, and the +signs still noticeable in the brickwork, showing where the house +was doubled in size at the period of its greatest +prosperity. Nowadays the “George” is all too +large for its trade, and a portion of it is converted into +shops. As for the interminable rooms and passages above, +they echo hollow to the infrequent footfall, where they were once +informed with a cheerful bustle and continuous arrival and +departure. There was a period, a few years ago, when the +North Road Club’s road-racing events brought crowds of +cyclists and busy times once more to the “George,” +but they are irretrievably gone.</p> +<p>To and from Buckden and Welwyn in coaching times drove every +day the notable Cartwright, of the York “Express”; a +day’s work of about seventy miles. Cartwright was +something more than a coachman, being himself landlord of the +“George” at Buckden, and horsing one or two of the +stages over which he drove. “Peter Pry,” one of +the old <i>Sporting Magazine’s</i> coaching critics, waxes +eloquent over him. It was a vile day when, to sample +Cartwright’s quality, he set out by the York +“Express” from London for Grantham; but neither the +weather nor the scenery, nor anything in Heaven or Earth drew his +attention from Cartwright. He starts at once with being +struck at Welwyn with Cartwright’s graceful and easy way of +mounting the box, and then proceeds to make a kind of admiring +inventory of his person. Thus, he might have been +considered to be under fifty years of age, bony, without fat; +healthy looking, evidently the effect of abstemiousness; not too +tall, but just the size to sit gracefully and powerfully. +His right hand and whip were beautifully in unison; he kept his +horses like clock-work, and to see the refinement <a +name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 116</span>with which +he managed the whip was well worth riding many hours on a wet +day. But the occasions on which he used the whip were rare, +although the tits were only fair, and not by any means +first-rate. No dandy, but equipped most respectably and +modestly, and with good taste, he was the idol of the road, both +with old and young; while his manners on the box were respectful, +communicative without impertinence, and untarnished with +slang. Acquainted with everybody and every occupation +within his sphere, he was an entertaining companion even to an +ordinary traveller; but he enchanted the amateur of coaching with +his perfect professional knowledge, which embraced all +niceties. His excellent qualities, we are glad to notice, +in conclusion, had gained their reward; he was well-to-do, lived +regularly, had a happy family, and envied neither lord nor +peasant.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image115" href="images/p115.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Buckden" +title= +"Buckden" + src="images/p115.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Welwyn, the road to Buckden, and Buckden itself seem quite +lonely without this figure of all the virtues and the graces.</p> +<p>Spelt “Bugden” in other times, the inhabitants +still pronounce its name in this way. There is a +well-defined air of aristocracy about this village, due partly to +the ruined towers of the old palace of the Bishops of Lincoln, +and to the sturdy old red-brick walls that enclose the grounds in +which they stand. They are walls with a thickness and +lavish use of material calculated to make the builder of +“desirable villa residences” gasp with dismay at such +apparently wanton extravagance. But the Bishops of Lincoln, +who built those walls in the fifteenth century, had not obtained +their land on a building lease; and, moreover, they were building +for their own use, which makes a deal of difference, it must be +conceded.</p> +<p>You cannot help noticing these walls, for they run for some +distance beside the road. Through a gateway is seen a +pleasant view of lawns and the front of a modern mansion. +The Bishops have long left Buckden, and have gone to reside at +their palace at Lincoln, Buckden Palace having been wantonly +demolished <a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>when the Order in Council, authorising these Right +Reverend Fathers in God to alienate the property, was +obtained. The church adjoins their roofless old gatehouse, +and is a fine old place of worship, with a stone spire of the +Northants type.</p> +<p>In this church will be found a singular example of +modesty. It is an epitaph without the name of the +person:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“Sacred to the +memory of<br /> +AN OFFICER,<br /> +who sincerely regarded this<br /> +his native village<br /> +and caused an asylum to be erected, to protect<br /> +Age, and to reward Industry.<br /> +Reader, ask not his name.<br /> +If thou approve a deed which succours<br /> +the helpless, go and emulate it.<br /> +Obiit 1834, aet 65.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The tiny hamlet of Hardwick, dignified with mention on the +Ordnance map, is passed without its existence being noticed, and +the road, flat as though constructed with the aid of a +spirit-level, proceeds straight ahead for the town of Huntingdon, +swinging acutely to the left for York. Beyond, at the +cross-roads, stands Brampton Hut, the modern vivid red-brick +successor of the old inn of that name. Brampton village +lies down the cross-road to the right, and is the place where +Samuel Pepys, it is thought, was born in 1632. <a +name="citation117"></a><a href="#footnote117" +class="citation">[117]</a> The registers afford no +information, for they do not begin until twenty-one years later, +and the old gossip himself makes no mention of the fact. +His father and mother lived here, and both lie in the +church. Their home, his birthplace, stands even now, but so +altered that it is practically without much interest. It +was in its garden, in October, 1666, that Samuel caused his +£1,300 to be buried when the Dutch descent upon London was +feared. A timorous soul, poor Samuel! sending his father +and his wife down from London to Brampton with the gold, and with +£300 in a girdle round where his waist should have been, +but was not, for Samuel <a name="page118"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 118</span>was a man of “full +habit,” as the elegant phrase, seeking to disguise the +accusation of exceeding fatness, has it. Great was his +anxiety when, the national danger over, he came down to disinter +his hoard. “My father and I with a dark lantern, it +being now night, into the garden with my wife, and there went +about our great work to dig up my gold. But Lord! what a +tosse I was for some time in, that they could not justly tell +where it was; but by and by, poking with a spit, we found it, and +then begun with a spudd to lift up the ground.”</p> +<p>But they had not been cautious in their work. +“Good God!” says he, “to see how sillily they +hid it, not half a foot under ground, in sight of passers-by and +from the neighbours’ windows.” Then he found +the gold all loose, and the notes decaying with the damp, and all +the while, routing about among the dirt for the scattered pieces, +he was afraid lest the neighbours should see him, and fancy the +Pepys family had discovered a gold mine; so he took up dirt and +all, and, carrying it to his brother’s bedroom, washed it +out with the aid of several pails of water and some besoms, with +the result that he was still over a hundred pieces short. +This “made him mad.” He could not go out in the +garden with his father, because the old man was deaf, and, in +shouting to him, all the neighbours would get to know. So +he went out with W. Hewer, and by diligent grubbing in the mould, +made the sum nearly tally. The day after, leaving his +father to search for the remainder, we find him setting out for +London, with his belongings; the gold in a basket in the coach, +and he coming to look after it every quarter of an hour.</p> +<p>Something over a mile distant from Brampton cross-roads, and +passing over two little bridges, we come to a third bridge, +spanning one of the lazy rivulets that trickle aimlessly through +the flats. It is just an old red-brick bridge, braced with +iron and edged with timber; an innocent-looking, although dull +and lonely spot, with the water trickling along in <a +name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>its deeply +worn bed, and no sound save the occasional splash made by a +frightened water-rat. Yet this is “Matcham’s +Bridge,” and the scene of an infamous murder.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image119" href="images/p119.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Matcham’s Bridge" +title= +"Matcham’s Bridge" + src="images/p119.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Matcham’s Bridge, spanning the little river Wey, +obtained its name from the murder of a drummer-boy here by +Gervase (or Jarvis) Matcham, on the 19th of August 1780. +The murder was a remarkable one, and is made additionally +memorable by the after-career of the murderer, whose bloody deed +and subsequent confession, six years later, form the subject of +the <i>Dead Drummer</i>, one of Barham’s <i>Ingoldsby +Legends</i>.</p> +<p>Gervase Matcham, the son of a farmer living at Frodingham, in +Yorkshire, had a varied and adventurous career. When in his +twelfth year, he ran away from home and became a jockey. In +the course of this employment he was sent to Russia in charge of +some horses presented by the Duke of Northumberland to the +Empress, and returning to London well supplied with money, +dissipated it all in evil courses. He then shipped as a +sailor on board the <i>Medway</i> man-of-war, but after a short +experience of fighting, managed to desert. He had no sooner +landed in England than he was seized by one of the prowling +pressgangs that then scoured the seaports, and was shipped aboard +the <i>Ariadne</i>, fitting out on an expedition to destroy the +pirate, Paul Jones. Succeeding in an attempt to escape when +off Yarmouth, he enlisted in the 13th Regiment of Foot, and +deserting again, near Chatham, set out to tramp through London to +York, visiting Huntingdon on the way. The 49th Regiment was +then recruiting in the district, and Matcham promptly enlisted in +it.</p> +<p>From Huntingdon, on the 19th of August 1780, he was sent to +Major Reynolds at Diddington, to draw some subsistence-money, +amounting to between £6 and £7. With him was a +drummer-boy, Benjamin Jones, aged about sixteen years, the son of +the recruiting sergeant. The boy having drawn the money, +they <a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +121</span>returned along the high road, Matcham drinking on the +way. Instead of turning off to Huntingdon, Matcham induced +the boy to go on with him in the direction of Alconbury, and +picking a quarrel with him at the bridge, seized him and cut his +throat, making off with the money. He then fled across +country to the nearest seaport, and shipped again to sea. +For six years he continued in the Navy and saw hard fighting +under Rodney and Hood, being at last paid off H.M.S. +<i>Sampson</i> at Plymouth, on June 15, 1786. From Plymouth +he set out with a messmate—one John Shepherd—to walk +along the Exeter Road to London. Near the “Woodyates +Inn” they were overtaken one afternoon by a thunderstorm in +which Matcham startled his shipmate by his abject terror of some +unseen apparition. Eventually he confessed his crime to +Shepherd, and begged his companion to hand him over to the +nearest magistrate, so that Justice might be satisfied. He +was accordingly committed at Salisbury, and, inquiries as to the +truth of his confession having been made, he was brought to trial +at Huntingdon, found guilty, and executed on the 2nd of August +1786, his body being afterwards hanged in chains on Alconbury +Hill.</p> +<h2>XX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> summit of this convenient +Golgotha is the place where the North Road and the Great North +Road adjust their differences, and proceed by one route to the +North. Not a very terrible hill, after all, despite the way +in which it figures in the letters and diaries of old travellers; +but nowadays a very lonely place, although it is the +meeting-point of two main roads and that of a branch one. +It was once different indeed, and the great +“Wheatsheaf” inn and posting-house, which stood a +hundred yards or so away from the junction, used commonly to send +out thirty pairs of post-horses <a name="page122"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 122</span>a day. This establishment was +kept in its prime by John Warsop, who lived long enough to see +his business ruined by railways. Let no one imagine the +“Wheatsheaf” public-house, standing where the roads +meet, to be the representative of that old posting-house. +Face north, and you will see a private house of considerable size +standing on the east side of the road, behind a hedge and +lawn. Not a beautiful house; in fact, an ugly house of a +dingy whitey-buff brick, the colour of pastry taken out of the +oven before it is properly baked. Approaching nearer, it +will be observed that this building is now divided into two +private residences. This was once the +“Wheatsheaf.” In the bygone days it possessed a +semicircular approach from the road, and afforded all the year +round, and round the clock of every day and night, a busy scene; +with the postboys, whose next turn-out it was, sleeping with spur +on heel, ready to mount and away at a minute’s notice, +north, south, east, or west. Those times and manners are as +absolutely vanished as though they never had existed, and even +although there are yet living those who remember the old +“Wheatsheaf” of their youthful days, perhaps not one +wayfarer in a hundred has any idea of that once busy era on +Alconbury Hill. How many of all those who pass this way +have ever noticed that pathetic relic of the +“Wheatsheaf’s” bygone prosperity, the old post +from which its sign used to hang? It is still to be seen, +by those who know where to look for it, facing the road, a +venerable and decrepit relic, now thickly covered with ivy, and +somewhat screened from the casual glance by the shrubs and trees +growing close beside it.</p> +<p>Travellers coming south could have a choice of routes to +London from Alconbury Hill, as the elaborate old milestone still +standing at the parting of the ways indicates, showing sixty-four +miles by way of Huntingdon, Royston, and Ware, and four miles +longer by the way we have come. This monumental milestone, +now somewhat dilapidated, railed round, <a +name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>and with +some forlorn-looking wall-flowers growing inside the enclosure, +is a striking object, situated at a peculiarly impressive spot, +where the left-hand route by Huntingdon is seen going off on the +level to a vanishing-point lost in the distant haze, rather than +by any dip or curve of the road to right or left; the right-hand +road diving down the hill to Alconbury Weston and Alconbury at +its foot.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image123" href="images/p123.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Alconbury Hill Junction" +title= +"Alconbury Hill Junction" + src="images/p123.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The descent, going north, is known as Stangate Hill, and leads +past the lonely churchyard of Sawtry St. Andrews, whose church +has disappeared as utterly as Sawtry Abbey, which, less wealthy +than the great abbeys of Ramsey, Thorney, Crowland, or +Peterborough, stood beside the road, and was besieged by +mediæval tramps:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Sawtry-by-the-Way, that old Abbaye,<br /> +Gave more alms in one day than all they.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Thus ran the old rhyme. To-day, the only vestiges of +that vanished religious house are in the names of Monk’s +Wood, to the right of the road, descending the hill, and of the +Abbey Farm.</p> +<p>The foot of Stangate Hill is no doubt the place called by +Thoresby and others “Stangate Hole,” where highwaymen +were confidently to be expected. De Foe, writing about 1720 +of this road, says: “Some Parts are still paved with stone, +which strengthens the conjecture that the Name Stangate was given +it from thence. It traverses great woods between the Two +Saltries.”</p> +<p>In his spelling of “Sawtry,” in that last line, +although he does not follow the invariable form, he has hit upon +the original. For “Sawtry” was in the beginning +“Salt Reeth.” Salt marshes and creeks crept +inland even as far as this, past Ely and Ramsey.</p> +<p>Stilton lies some three miles ahead, and, two miles before +reaching it, the old “Crown and Woolpack,” a very +large red-brick posting-house, part of it still occupied as an +inn, the rest used as cottages, while the stables are given over +to spiders and lumber.</p> +<p><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>Passing this, the road presently begins to rise gently, +and then, level again, widens out to almost treble its usual +width, where a long street of mingled old houses and cottages, a +medley of stone, brick, and plaster, stands, strangely +silent. This is Stilton, dreaming of bygone busy +times. Had the railway touched here, things would have worn +a very different aspect at Stilton to-day. Let us, +therefore, thank the shades of that Marquis of Exeter, and of the +others who resisted the railway, and by causing it to describe a +wide loop instead of hugging the road, unwittingly contributed to +the preservation in a glass case, as it were, of this old +coaching centre.</p> +<p>Night and day the coaches kept Stilton awake, and if for a few +minutes there was no coach, the post-chaises at one end of the +social scale, and the fly-wagons at the other, kept the inns +busy. Stilton buzzed with activity then. From the far +North came the drovers, doing twenty miles a day, with their +sheep and cattle, their pigs and geese; animal creation marching, +martyrs in their sort, to Smithfield. At Stilton they shod +the cattle, like horses, and one blacksmith’s business here +consisted of nothing else than this.</p> +<p>The glory of Stilton has departed, and the “Bell” +and the “Angel” face one another, dolefully wondering +in what channels the tide of business now flows. The +“Bell” is more racy of the soil than the +“Angel,” just as it is also much older. We are +here in a stone district, and the “Bell” is a +building of that warm yellowish stone characteristic of these +parts. Built at the very beginning of the seventeenth +century, it was already of a respectable age when the brick +“Angel” opposite began to rise from its +foundations. The older house is the feature of Stilton, its +great sign, with the mazy quirks and curls of its wrought-iron +supports, projecting far out towards the road, and arresting the +eye on first entering the street. The sign itself is +painted on copper, for the sake of lightness, but has long been +supported by a crutch, in the shape <a name="page126"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 126</span>of a post. With this +ornamental iron-work, incomparably the finest sign on the road, +it was in the old days the subject of many wagers made by +coachmen and guards with unwary strangers who did not, like those +artful ones, know its measurements. It measures in fact 6 +ft. 2¾ inches in height.</p> +<p>The old “Talbot” inn still has its coach gallery, +or balcony, in front.</p> +<p>The “Angel,” in the best days of posting, became +the principal house at Stilton, and the little public-house of +that name next door to the commanding brick building which is now +a private residence was only the tap of the hotel. But the +“Bell,” that has seen the beginning and the end of +the “Angel,” still survives, with memories of the +days when the delicacy which renders the name of Stilton +world-famous had its origin. Allusion is hereby +made—need one explain it?—to “Stilton” +cheese. They say those old stagers who knew it when its +local reputation first began to be dispersed throughout the +country—that Stilton cheese is not what it was. What +is? The “English Parmesan,” they called it +then, when their palates first became acquainted with it, but it +deserved better of them than that. It was a species of +itself, and not justly comparable with aught else. But +Stilton cheese is not, nor ever was, made at Stilton, or anywhere +near it. It originated with Mrs. Paulet of Wymondham, near +Melton Mowbray, who first supplied it to Cooper Thornhill, the +once celebrated landlord of the “Bell,” for the use +of the table provided for the coach passengers and other +travellers who dined there. Mrs. Paulet’s cheeses +immediately struck connoisseurs as a revelation, and they came +into demand, not only on Thornhill’s table, but were +eagerly purchased for themselves or friends by those who +travelled this way. Thornhill was too business-like a man +to give away the secret of the make, and he did very well for +himself, charging as he did half-a-crown a pound. Then the +almost equally famous Miss Worthington, of the +“Angel,” began to supply <a name="page128"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 128</span>“Stilton” cheeses, so +that scarce any one came through the place but was asked to buy +one. Nor did travellers usually wait to be asked. If +it happened that they did not want any for themselves, they were +usually charged by friends with commissions to purchase as they +passed through. Smiling waiters and maidservants, Miss +Worthington herself, rosy, plump, benevolent-looking, asked +travellers if they would not like to take away with them a real +Stilton cheese. Miss Worthington, the kindly, whose +lavender-scented beds were famed along the whole length of the +Great North Road—there she stood, declaring that they were +real Stilton cheeses! Nor were travellers for a long while +any the wiser. Stilton folks kept the secret well. +But it gradually leaked out. A native of those parts, too, +was the traitor. “Pray, sir, would you like a nice +Stilton cheese to take away with you?” asked the +unsuspecting landlady, as the coach on whose outside he was +seated drew up.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image127" href="images/p127.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Bell, Stilton" +title= +"The Bell, Stilton" + src="images/p127.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>“Do you say they are made at Stilton?” he asked in +reply.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” said she.</p> +<p>Then came the crushing rejoinder. “Why, Miss +Worthington, you know perfectly well that no Stilton cheese was +ever made at Stilton; they’re all made in Leicestershire, +and as you say your cheeses are made at Stilton, they cannot be +good, and I won’t have one.” The secret was +then, of course, exploded.</p> +<p>Which of these two inns could it have been to which Mrs. +Calderwood of Coltness refers in her diary when, travelling from +Scotland to London in the middle of the eighteenth century, she +mentions at Stilton a “fine large inn,” where the +linen was “as perfit rags as ever I saw: plain linen with +fifty holes in each towell.” It would be interesting +to know, but it is hopeless now to attempt to identify it.</p> +<h2><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +129</span>XXI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Up-hill</span> from Stilton, +three-quarters of a mile away, but well within sight, stands the +Norman Cross inn, where the Peterborough, Louth, Lincoln, and +Hull coaches turned off to the right.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image129" href="images/p129.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Norman Cross" +title= +"Norman Cross" + src="images/p129.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Norman Cross! how many have been those old-time cyclists who +have partaken of the hospitality of the inn here! Not +always, though, has it been a place of welcome memories. +For years, indeed, during the long struggles between England and +France, this was the site of one of the largest of the prisons in +which captured French soldiers were incarcerated. Over +three thousand were placed here, officers and privates, some +remaining captive for more than ten years. Happy those who, +through influence or by mere luck, were selected to be exchanged +for our soldiers, prisoners in France.</p> +<p>It was a weary time for those poor fellows. Many of them +died in the great insanitary sheds in which <a +name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>they were +confined, and others lost their reason. Desperate men +sometimes succeeded in escaping to the coast, where friends were +awaiting them. Others, wandering over the lonely flats, +perished miserably in the dykes and drains into which they fell +when the mists shrouded the countryside. There were, again, +those who stabbed the sentries and made off. Such an one +was Charles François Marie Bonchew, an officer, who had +wounded, but had not killed, a sentry named Alexander +Halliday. Being captured, he was sentenced to death at +Huntingdon, and was brought back to Norman Cross to be executed, +September 1808. All the prisoners were turned out to +witness the execution, and the garrison was under arms.</p> +<p>But it was not all savagery and horror here among those +military captives, for they were often allowed out on parole, +within certain hours and well-defined bounds. It was +understood that no prisoner out on parole should leave the +highroad, nor was he to be at large after sunset. If he +disregarded these rules he was liable to be shot at sight by any +one who had a gun handy. He was an Ishmael against whom +every hand was turned, and, indeed, the Post Office offered a +reward of £5 to any mail guard who, seeing a prisoner +breaking parole, should shoot him. After several +inoffensive farm-labourers, going home after dusk, had been +peppered with shot in mistake by guards anxious to secure this +reward, the village streets and roads adjacent became singularly +desolate when a coach was heard approaching.</p> +<p>There were exceptions to these strict rules, and officers of +high rank—and consequently assumed to have a nicer sense of +honour than that obtaining among subalterns and the rank and +file—were permitted to take private lodgings at +Stilton. Those were the fortunate ones. Most of the +prisoners, unhappily, were penniless, and after a time even their +own Government refused supplies for their maintenance. +Accordingly, they obtained some few little luxuries, and employed +the time that hung so heavily on their <a +name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>hands, by +carving toys and artistic nick-nacks out of fragments of wood, or +from the bones left from their rations, and selling them to the +crowds of country folks who came to gaze at them on certain +days. Straw-plaiting, too, was a prisoners’ industry, +until it was stopped by some of the military in charge.</p> +<p>In March, 1812, Sergeant Ives, of the West Essex Militia, was +stopped on the highway between Stilton and Norman Cross by a +number of persons unknown, who, after having knocked him down and +robbed him of his money and watch, wrenched open his jaws, and +with savage cruelty, cut off a piece of his tongue. It was +supposed that this outrage was in revenge for his having been +concerned in suppressing the plait trade at Norman Cross +barracks.</p> +<p>The prisoners were not entirely without spiritual consolation, +for the good Bishop de Moulines appointed himself their chaplain, +and, of his own free will leaving France, took up residence at +Stilton. He attended them in sickness, and helped them out +of his own resources.</p> +<p>The officers in charge of these prisoners were often brutal, +but that there were some who sympathised with their sorrows is +evident from the tablet still to be seen in Yaxley Church, a mile +distant, which tells of the gratitude of the prisoners for the +kindness shown them by Captain John Draper, R.N., who died after +being in charge of the prison for only eighteen months.</p> +<p>Norman Cross Prison, or “Yaxley +Barracks”—Norman Cross being in the parish of +Yaxley—built in 1796; was demolished in 1816, and no +vestige of it is left.</p> +<p>And so all recollection of these things might in time have +faded away had it not been for the monument erected by the +wayside in the fateful year 1914. Let us pause to consider +that moment. Events were hurrying towards the beginning of +the Great War of 1914–18, and the nation in general was +wholly ignorant of what was coming. Stupidly ignorant, for +there were <a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>many omens. It was at this moment, afterwards +seen to be so full of tragedy, that the memorial pillar on, or +near, the site of Yaxley Barracks, to the memory of those French +prisoners of war, was unveiled, July 28th, 1914, by Lord +Weardale. A gilded bronze French Imperial eagle stoops on +the crest of a handsome pillar, and on the plinth is a tablet +stating that this is a memorial to 1770 French prisoners who died +in captivity.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image132" href="images/p132.jpg"> +<img alt= +"French Prisoners of War Monument, Norman Cross" +title= +"French Prisoners of War Monument, Norman Cross" + src="images/p132.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>These incidents, “picked from the wormholes of long +vanished days,” give romance to the otherwise featureless +road onwards to Kate’s Cabin and Water Newton. The +“Kate’s Cabin” inn is mentioned by every +road-book of coaching-times, but no one ever <a +name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +133</span>condescended to explain the origin of this curious +sign, and the inn itself, once standing in the receipt of custom +at the cross-roads, three miles and a half from Norman Cross, is +now a pretty cottage.</p> +<p> +<a name="image133" href="images/p133.jpg"> +<img class='floatleft' alt= +"Sculptured figure, Water Newton Church" +title= +"Sculptured figure, Water Newton Church" + src="images/p133.jpg" /> +</a>Nearly two miles onward, Water Newton comes in sight, +standing, dry and secure, on its knoll above the water-meadows on +the river Nene. On the western face of its church tower, +which originally, before Wansford bridge was built and the road +diverted, faced the highway, may yet be seen a tabernacle +containing an ancient effigy of a man in semi-ecclesiastical +attire, his hands clasped in prayer. An inscription in +Norman French may with some difficulty be deciphered beneath it, +inviting the passer-by to pray for the soul of Thomas +Purden:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“VOVS KE PAR<br /> +ISSI PASSEZ<br /> +POVR LE ALME<br /> +TOMAS PVR<br /> +DEN PRIEZ.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Read aloud, we perceive this to be intended for rhyme.</p> +<p>No one prays for the soul of Thomas Purden nowadays, for these +two very excellent and individually sufficient reasons—that +prayers for the dead are not customary in the Church of England, +and that, since the road has been diverted, there are no +passers-by.</p> +<p>This brings us to the reason why Thomas Purden should have +expected wayfarers to intercede for his soul. That he +expected them to do this out of gratitude seems obvious; but it +is not at first evident for what <a name="page134"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 134</span>they should be so grateful. We +are, however, to bear in mind that a road passed down beside this +church tower in those days, where no road—only a +meadow—exists to-day. The meadow slopes steeply to +the river, and doubtless a ford, a ferry, or some primitive +bridge was established here by Thomas Purden long before even a +wooden bridge existed at Wansford. In providing some safe +method by which travellers might pass this river, even now +subject to dangerous floods, Purden would have been a benefactor +in the eyes alike of men and of Holy Church, and fully entitled +to the prayers and intercessions of all.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image134" href="images/p134.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Water Newton Church" +title= +"Water Newton Church" + src="images/p134.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>For many years the head of the figure had disappeared, but +when the church was restored, some years since, an ingenious +mason fitted him with another which had, in the usual careless +fashion of <a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>restorers, been knocked off something else. And +it is a simple truth that since its “restoration,” +Water Newton church is sadly bare.</p> +<p>By the wayside, on the left, against the wall of a farm-house +residence, will be noticed an old milestone and horseman’s +upping-block combined. It marks the 81st mile from London, +and bears the initials “E. B.,” together with the +date, 1708. This is perhaps the only survivor of a series +which, according to De Foe, in his “Tour through the Whole +Island of Great Britain,” a Mr. Boulter was projecting +“to London, for the general benefit.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image135" href="images/p135.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Edmund Boulter’s Milestone" +title= +"Edmund Boulter’s Milestone" + src="images/p135.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Edmund Boulter was one of the family who were then seated at +Gawthorp Hall, near Leeds, and who, not much later, sold that +property to Henry Lascelles, father of the first Lord +Harewood.</p> +<p><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 136</span>At +the hamlet of Sibson, on the left hand in descending toward the +level-crossing at Wansford station, may still be seen the stocks +and whipping-post beside the road. To the right flows the +winding Nene, through illimitable oozy meadows, its course marked +in the far distance by the pollard willows that line its +banks. The Nene here divides the counties of +Huntingdonshire and Northants, Wansford itself lying in the +last-mentioned county and Stibbington on the hither side of the +river. The famous Wansford Bridge joins the two, and helps +to render Wansford and Stibbington one place in the eyes of +strangers. Both places belong to the Duke of Bedford, +Stibbington bearing the mark of its ownership distinctly visible +in its severe and uncomfortable-looking “model” +modern-gothic stone houses, with the coroneted “B” on +their gables. In this manner the accursed Russells have +bedevilled many of the villages and townlets unhappily owned by +them, and the feelings of all who live in their earmarked houses +must be akin to those of paupers who inhabit workhouses and +infirmaries, with the important exception that the Duke’s +tenants pay rent and taxes. Wansford, fortunately, has not +been rebuilt, and it is possible for the villagers to live +without an uncomfortable sense of belonging, body and soul, to +the Dukes of Bedford.</p> +<p>The famous “Haycock” inn, usually spoken of as at +Wansford, is, in fact, on the Huntingdonshire side of the bridge, +and in Stibbington. Its sign alludes to the supposed origin +of the curious nick-name of “Wansford-in-England,” +first mentioned in that scarce little early eighteenth-century +book, <i>Drunken Barnaby’s Four Journeys to the North of +England</i>. In its pages he describes being carried off by +a flood:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“On a haycock sleeping soundly,<br /> +Th’ River rose and took me roundly<br /> +Down the current: People cry’d;<br /> +Sleeping, down the Stream I hy’d:<br /> + ‘Where away,’ quoth they, ‘from +Greenland?’<br /> + ‘No, from Wansforth-brigs in +England.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>This +“in England” has puzzled many. It really refers +to the situation of Wansford in Northamptonshire, near, but not +in, “Holland”—the Holland division of +Lincolnshire.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image137" href="images/p137.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Haycock,” Wansford" +title= +"The “Haycock,” Wansford" + src="images/p137.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Wansford’s peculiar fame is thus more than local. +Perhaps the queer picture-sign of the grand old inn, representing +Drunken Barnaby on his haycock, helped to disperse it over +England in days when it could not fail to be seen by every +passing traveller. The “Haycock” ceased to be +an inn, and is now occupied as a hunting-box. It affords a +pleasing relief from the Duke of Bedford’s +almshouse-looking cottages, and is a building not only of +considerable age, but of dignified architectural character. +Stone-built, with handsome windows and steep slated roof, and +carefully designed, even to its chimneys, it is, architecturally +speaking, among the very finest of the houses ever used as inns +in England, and has more the appearance of having been originally +designed as a private mansion than as a house of public +entertainment. The sign is now hung in the hall of the +house, the corbels it rested on being still visible beside the +present door, replacing the old archway by which the coaches and +post-chaises entered and left the courtyard of the inn of +old.</p> +<p><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>The +“Haycock,” even in its days as an inn, was a noted +hunting centre. Situated in the country of the Fitzwilliam +Hunt, it afforded, with its splendid accommodation for guests and +for horses, headquarters for those who had not a hunting-box of +their own, and in those days stabled as many as a hundred and +fifty horses.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image138" href="images/p138.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Sign of the “Haycock.”" +title= +"Sign of the “Haycock.”" + src="images/p138.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>“Young Percival” kept the “Haycock” +from about 1826, and drove the “Regent” between +Wansford and Stamford, in place of “old John +Barker.” At that time he had more valour than +discretion in driving, and on one occasion at least nearly +brought disaster upon the coach at the famous bridge by +“punishing” a spirited team which had given some +trouble at starting. At the steep and narrow entrance to +the bridge they took it in their heads to resent his +double-thonging, the leaders turning round, and the whole team +presently facing towards London instead of <a +name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>Stamford. They had to be driven back to the +“Haycock,” and Barker took them on to Stamford.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image139" href="images/p139.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Wansford Bridge" +title= +"Wansford Bridge" + src="images/p139.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>That bridge would have been an exceedingly awkward place for a +coach accident. It is picturesqueness itself, and by +consequence not the most convenient for traffic. Originally +built in 1577, with thirteen arches, it was repaired in 1674, as +a Latin inscription carved midway on it informs the inquiring +stranger. In the winter of 1795 an ice-flood destroyed some +of the southernmost arches, which were replaced the following +year by two wider spans, so that Wansford Bridge has now only ten +openings. The northern approach to it from Stamford leads +down in a dangerous, steep, sudden, and narrow curve, intersected +by a cross-road. Now that there is no longer a turnpike +gate at this point to bring the traffic to a slow pace, this +descent is fruitful in accidents, and at least one cyclist has +been killed here in an attempt to negotiate this sharp curve on +the descent into the cross-road. An inoffensive cottage +standing at the corner opposite the “Mermaid” inn has +received many a cyclist through its window, and the new masonry +of its wall bears witness to the wreck caused by a heavy wagon +hurtling down the hill, carrying away the side of the house.</p> +<p>The five miles between Wansford and Stamford begin with this +long rise, whose crest was cut through in coaching days, the +earth taken being used to fill up a deep hollow which succeeded, +where a little brook trickled across the road, the coaches +fording it. Thence, by what used to be called in the old +road-books “Whitewater Turnpike,” past the few +cottages of Thornhaugh, and so to where the long wall of Burghley +Park begins on the right hand. Here the telegraph poles, +that have hitherto so unfailingly followed the highway, suddenly +go off to the right, and into Stamford by the circuitous Barnack +road, in deference to the objections, or otherwise, of the +Marquis of Exeter, against their going through his park.</p> +<p><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>The +famous Burghley House by Stamford town is not visible from the +road, and is indeed situated a mile within the park, only the +gate-house to the estate being passed in the long descent into +that outlying portion of the town known as Stamford Baron.</p> +<p>There is, amid the works of Tennyson, a curiously romantic +poem, “The Lord of Burleigh,” which on the part of +the literary pilgrim will repay close examination; and this +examination will yield some astonishing results. It is, +briefly stated, the story of an Earl masquerading as a landscape +painter and winning the heart and hand of a farmer’s +daughter. He takes her, after the wedding, to +see—</p> +<blockquote><p>“A mansion more majestic<br /> + Than all those she saw before;<br /> +Many a gallant gay domestic<br /> + Bows before him at the door.<br /> +And they speak in gentle murmur<br /> + When they answer to his call,<br /> +While he treads with footstep firmer,<br /> + Leading on from hall to hall.<br /> +And, while now she wonders blindly,<br /> + Nor the meaning can divine,<br /> +Proudly turns he round and kindly,<br /> + ‘All of this is mine and thine.’<br /> +Here he lives in state and bounty,<br /> + Lord of Burleigh, fair and free,<br /> +Not a lord in all the county<br /> + Is so great a lord as he.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The original person from whose doings this poem was written +was, in fact, Henry Cecil, tenth Earl, and afterwards first +Marquis, of Exeter. He was the lord of Burghley House (not +“Burleigh Hall”), by Stamford town, and his +descendants are there yet.</p> +<p>Not a landscape painter, but a kind of London man about town +and Member of Parliament for Stamford, 1774–1780, +1784–1790, and then plain Mr. Henry Cecil (for he did not +succeed his uncle in the title until December, 1793), he is found +rather mysteriously wandering about Shropshire in 1789, calling +himself (there is never any accounting for taste) “Mr. +Jones.” He was then a man who had been married +fourteen years, and was thirty-six years of age.</p> +<p>The scene opens (thus to put it in dramatic form) <a +name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 142</span>on an +evening towards the end of June, 1789, when a stranger knocked at +the door of Farmer Hoggins at Great Bolas in Shropshire, and +begged shelter for the night. He was obviously a gentleman, +but called himself by the very plebian name of “John +Jones.” He made himself so agreeable that his stay +“for the night” lasted some weeks, and he returned +again in a month or so, taking up his residence in the +village. The attraction which brought him back to Great +Bolas was evidently Sarah Hoggins, the farmer’s daughter, +at that time a girl of sixteen, having been born in June, +1773. He proposed for Sarah, and on April 17th, 1790, they +were married in Great Bolas Church, the register showing that he +married in the name of “John Jones.” Meanwhile +he had purchased land in the village, and built a house which he +called “Bolas Villa.” Gossip grew extremely +busy with this mysterious stranger who had thus descended upon +the place, and it was generally suspected that he was a +highwayman in an extensive way of business, especially as some +notable highway robberies happened coincidently with his +appearance.</p> +<p>Early in 1794, “Mr. John Jones,” living thus at +Great Bolas, learnt that his uncle, the ninth Earl of Exeter, had +died in December. Telling his wife they must journey into +Northamptonshire, where he had business, they set out and arrived +at “Burghley House, by Stamford town,” and there he +disclosed to her for the first time that he was not “John +Jones,” but Henry Cecil, and now Earl of Exeter.</p> +<p>At what time he broke the news to her that he was already a +married man there is no evidence to show. Strictly +speaking, he had made a bigamous marriage, because, although his +wife, one of the Vernons of Hanbury, in Worcestershire, had +eloped on June 14, 1789, with the Reverend William Sneyd, curate +of that place, he had at the time taken no steps to obtain a +divorce.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image143" href="images/p143.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Burghley House, by Stamford Town" +title= +"Burghley House, by Stamford Town" + src="images/p143.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>But he had every excuse. He had honestly fallen in love +with Sarah Hoggins after thus meeting her while wandering about +the country a few days after <a name="page144"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 144</span>his wife’s flight; and he +obtained a divorce by Act of Parliament in March, 1791. +Having done this, he married Sarah Hoggins secondly some six +months later (October 3) in the City of London Church of St. +Mildred, Bread Street, in whose register his name appears as +“Henry Cecil, bachelor.”</p> +<p>Tennyson’s poem is, therefore, rather more romantic than +truthful; and the lines which tell us how she murmured—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “Oh! +that he<br /> +Were again that landscape painter<br /> +Who did win my heart from me,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>have no authority. Nor is there any evidence to warrant +the statement that—</p> +<blockquote><p>“A trouble weighed upon her<br /> + And perplexed her, night and morn,<br /> +With the burthen of an honour<br /> + Unto which she was not born.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The poet continues—</p> +<blockquote><p>“So she droop’d and droop’d +before him,<br /> + Fading slowly from his side;<br /> +Three fair children first she bore him,<br /> + Then before her time she died.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Countess of Exeter, in fact, died on January 18, 1797, not +quite twenty-four years of age; but not from “the burthen +of an honour unto which she was not born.” Happily, +accession to the ranks of the titled nobility is not fatal, as +the marriage of many distinguished ornaments of the musical +comedy stage assure us; and so we must charge the Poet Laureate +with the flunkey thought that blue blood is a kind apart, and not +to be admixed with other strains. This from the poet who +wrote—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Kind hearts are more than coronets,<br /> +And simple faith than Norman blood.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>is unexpected.</p> +<p>She left two sons and one daughter. Her eldest <a +name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 145</span>son became +second Marquis of Exeter, his father, the Earl, having been +raised a step in the peerage in 1801.</p> +<p>The enterprising Earl married, thirdly, in 1800, the divorced +wife of the eighth Duke of Hamilton, and died May 1, 1804, aged +fifty; but his third wife survived until January 17, 1837. +In the billiard-room of Burghley House is a portrait-group of +“the Lord of Burleigh” and his wife, Sarah Hoggins, +by Sir Thomas Lawrence.</p> +<p>“Bolas Villa” was given by the Earl to his +godson. It has since been enlarged, and is now styled +“Burghley Villa.” The church of Great Bolas is +a grim-looking brick building of the eighteenth century, when +many of the Shropshire churches in that district were +rebuilt.</p> +<h2>XXII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Stamford</span> compels enthusiasm, from +the first glimpse of it on entering, to the last regretful +backward glance on leaving. It is historic, picturesque, +stately, aristocratic, and cleanly, all at once. Its +stone-built mansions and houses are chiefly of the Renaissance +period, from Elizabeth onwards to the time of George the First, +and it is in this sort the most beautiful town in England, after +Oxford and Cambridge, and even in some aspects surpassing +them.</p> +<p>Apart from its lovely churches, one seeks not Gothic +architecture at Stamford but the stateliness of classic methods +as understood in the sixteenth and seventeenth century +revival. It is this especial architectural character which +gives the town such an air of academic distinction and leads the +stranger to compare it with the great university towns, even +before the fact comes to his knowledge that Stamford itself was +once the seat of a University.</p> +<p>The entrance is of a peculiar stateliness, the broad quiet +street descending, lined with dignified private houses, to where +the river Welland flows beneath the <a name="page146"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 146</span>bridge, dividing the counties of +Northampton and Lincoln, and Stamford Baron from Stamford +town. On the right hand rises the fine tower of St. +Martin’s, its perforated battlements showing, lace-like, +against the sky, just as when Turner painted his view. +Lower down across the street straddles the sign of the great +“George” inn, and a few steps forward serve to +disclose the exquisite picture of St. Mary’s tower and +spire soaring from the rising ground on the other side of the +river. The “distracting bustle of the +‘George,’ which exceeded anything I ever saw or +heard,” as the Reverend Thomas Twining wrote, in 1776, has +long since become a thing of the past, and a certain quiet +dignity now belongs to it, as to Stamford in general.</p> +<p>The “George” is an inn with a history. +Charles the First slept there, August 23, 1645, and a whole train +of dignitaries at one time or another. “Billy the +Butcher,” too, returning from Culloden, stayed in the +house, and with his officers celebrated that victory. +“Billy the Butcher,” one regrets to say, was the +vulgar nickname by which the people called William, Duke of +Cumberland.</p> +<p>Distinguished foreigners without number have rested here and +wondered at the habits of Englishmen. The foreigner, it is +to be feared, never, with every advantage, really understands us; +sometimes, too, he is so perverse that we find a difficulty in +understanding him. Thus, Master Estienne Perlin, who +travelled the roads and sampled the inns of England so far back +as 1558, says we were great drunkards then. He wrote an +account of his travels, and of England, as it appeared to him; +and the way in which he wrestles with the pronunciation of the +language is amusing enough. Thus, according to this +traveller, if an Englishman would treat you, he would say in his +language: “Vis dring a’ quarta uin oim gasquim oim +hespaignol oim malvoysi.” This is merely maddening, +and it is a positive relief to know that the meaning of it is, +“Will you drink a quart of Gascony wine, another of +Spanish, and another of <a name="page149"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 149</span>Malmsey?” According to +this, the Englishman of three hundred years ago mixed his drinks +alarmingly. “In drinking,” continues this +amusing foreigner, “they will say to you, a hundred times, +‘Drind iou,’ which is, ‘I drink to you’; +and you should answer them in their language, +‘Iplaigiou,’ which means ‘I pledge +you.’ If you would thank them in their language, you +say, ‘God tanque artelay.’ When they are +drunk,” he concludes, “they will swear by blood and +death that you shall drink all that is in your cup, and will say +to you thus: ‘Bigod sol drind iou agoud +uin.’”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image147" href="images/p147.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Entrance to Stamford. (After J. M. W. Turner R.A.)" +title= +"Entrance to Stamford. (After J. M. W. Turner R.A.)" + src="images/p147.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Such customs as these must have been excellent business for +the “George” and its contemporaries.</p> +<p>To this inn belongs an incident not paralleled +elsewhere. The daughter of one of its landlords, Margaret, +daughter of Bryan Hodgson, married a bishop! Or, more +exactly, one who became a bishop: the Reverend Beilby Porteous, +who at the time of his marriage, in 1765, was vicar of Ruckinge +and Wittersham, in Kent. In 1776 he became Bishop of +Chester, and eleven years later Bishop of London. This was +long years before Whincup kept the house. He reigned here +in the full tide of the coaching age, and was one of the +proprietors of the “Stamford Regent.”</p> +<p>Much history has been made at Stamford, from the time when it +was the “stone ford” of the Romans across the +Welland, through the long ages of blood and destruction, +stretching, with little intermission, from the days of Saxon and +Danish conflicts to that final clash of arms in 1643, when +Cromwell held the town and besieged Burghley House; and to that +Monday in the first week of May, 1646, when Charles the First, +having slept the night before at the residence of Alderman Wolph +(descended from Wulph, son of King Harold) slipped through a +postern-gate in the town wall, and so escaped for a final few +hours as a free man. The gate is there yet, in the grounds +of Barn Hill House, a mansion which, in 1729, was purchased by +Stukeley, the antiquary, vicar of All Saints.</p> +<p><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>Here +is no place to tell of the Councils and Parliaments held at +Stamford; but, as justifying the academic air the town still +holds, it must be said that it was indeed the home of a +University, long centuries ago. It was following the early +quarrels of Oxford University and Oxford town that a body of +students left that seat of learning, in 1260, and set up a +temporary home at Northampton. Political troubles drove +them, six years later, to Stamford, where they founded several +Colleges and Halls, which were already flourishing when, in 1333, +the northern students at Oxford, disgusted with the alleged +favouritism shown to the southerners, left in a body and found a +welcome at Stamford. Liberty in those days was construed as +permission given the strong to oppress the weak, and so when +Oxford University and Oxford town jointly petitioned the king to +forbid the seceders learning where they listed, those unhappy +students were promptly arrested and sent back to suck wisdom from +<i>alma mater</i> on the Isis. Oxford and Cambridge both +agreed not to recognise degrees conferred by Stamford, and at +length, by 1463, this University was strangled.</p> +<p>The actual relics of those times are few. Chief in point +of interest is the old Brasenose Gate, the only fragment of the +College of that name, said to have been founded by students from +Brasenose College, Oxford. Here remained until recent years +the ancient bronze knocker, in the form of a lion’s head +with a massive ring in its mouth, brought, according to the +legend, from the Oxford college. This knocker certainly +belongs to a period not later than the thirteenth century, and +may have been conveyed away. Whether it was the original +“brazen nose,” said to have originated the odd name +of the College, or whether that name arose from the +<i>brassen-huis</i>, or brew-house, whose site the original +College was built upon, is one of those mysteries of derivation +never likely to be solved. During the last years of its +stay at Stamford, the knocker was kept in a house adjoining, +until it and the house were purchased by <a +name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 151</span>Brasenose +College, Oxford, in whose Common Room the ancient relic now +occupies a place of honour.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image151" href="images/p151.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Stamford" +title= +"Stamford" + src="images/p151.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Stamford was attached to the Yorkist cause in the Wars of the +Roses, and had occasion to regret the fact; for it offered an +especial mark to the victorious Lancastrians in 1461, after the +battle of St. Albans, when Sir Andrew Trollope, with the triple +ferocity of the <i>trois loups</i> from which the name derives, +fell upon the town and pillaged and burnt it. Eight +churches, two castles, and the town walls, together with many <a +name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>hundreds of +houses, were destroyed, and Stamford has never recovered its +ancient importance since then. It is enough for us that it +is among the stateliest of towns, stone-built and dignified; with +its beautiful churches of St. Mary, All Saints, and St. Martin; +its old almshouses and mansions, not exactly matched in all +England.</p> +<p>The histories tell of a long list of famous men, natives of +Stamford; but the mere mental capacity or personal bravery shown +by these great ones is sardonically overshadowed by the physical +greatness of quite another kind of person, who, although not even +a native of Stamford, has, by his dying here, shed an especial +lustre upon the town.</p> +<p> +<a name="image152" href="images/p152.jpg"> +<img class='floatright' alt= +"Daniel Lambert" +title= +"Daniel Lambert" + src="images/p152.jpg" /> +</a>Far transcending the fame of all other personages is that of +Daniel Lambert, the Fat Man. In the computation of +avoirdupois and of the tape-measure, this was the greatest figure +that ever travelled the Great North Road. No king or noble +can vie with him, nor are saintly shrines more zealously visited +than his grave in the old churchyard of St. Martin’s. +While the tomb of that great Cecil, the Lord Treasurer Burghley, +within the church, remains often unvisited, photographs of Daniel +Lambert and of his epitaph meet the traveller at every turn.</p> +<p><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>Although destined to this undying fame, and to pothouse +canonisation, Daniel’s career was short, as that epitaph +tells us:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“In Remembrance +of<br /> +That Prodigy in Nature<br /> +DANIEL LAMBERT<br /> +who was possessed of<br /> +An exalted and convivial mind<br /> +And in personal greatness<br /> +Had no Competitor<br /> +He measured three feet, one inch, round the leg<br /> +Nine feet, four inches, round the body<br /> +And Weighed<br /> +Fifty-two stone Eleven pounds<br /> +He departed this life<br /> +On the 21st of June<br /> +1809<br /> +Aged 39 years.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>His diet is said to have been plain, and the quantity +moderate, and he never drank anything stronger than water. +His countenance was manly and intelligent, and he had a melodious +tenor voice. For some years before his death he had toured +the country, exhibiting himself, and visited London on two +occasions. The weights and measurements quoted on his +tombstone were taken at Huntingdon only the day before his +death. In the evening he arrived at the “Waggon and +Horses,” Stamford, in good health, in preparation for +“receiving company” during Stamford Races, but before +nine o’clock the next morning was dead in the room on the +ground floor which he had taken because of his inability to go +upstairs. For many years two of his suits were shown at the +inn, seven men often succeeding in squeezing themselves within +the mighty embrace of his waistcoat, without bursting a +button. The “Waggon and Horses” has long since +given place to a school, and so here is a place of pilgrimage the +less; but Daniel’s fame is immortal, for he lives as the +sign of many an inn and refreshment-house, whose proprietors use +him as an advertisement of the plenteous fare to be obtained +within, regardless of the fact that his immense bulk was due +rather to a dropsical habit than to much eating or drinking.</p> +<h2><a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +154</span>XXIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> road, mounting steeply out of +Stamford, reaches a fine, elevated track commanding wide +views. This is the spot chosen by Forrest for his painting +of the old “Highflyer” London, York, and Edinburgh +coach which ran from 1788 to 1840. In less than two miles +the road crosses the border of Lincolnshire, traversing for six +miles an outlying corner of little Rutland, the smallest county +in England, and entering Lincolnshire again on passing +Stretton. Great Casterton, at the foot of the hill two and +a quarter miles from Stamford, is in Rutland. It is said to +be situated on the Guash, but that stream and the bridge over it, +from which the old road-books often called the village +“Bridge Casterton,” are not readily glimpsed.</p> +<p>It is a pretty stone-built village, with a well preserved +Early English church beside the road. +“Greatness,” either as a village or as the site of a +Roman “castrum” (whence derives the +“Caster”-ton) has long ceased to be a characteristic +of this pleasant spot, and the ancient Roman camp is now visible +only in some grassy banks where the rathe primrose grows.</p> +<p>Just beyond Casterton, coyly hiding down a lane to the left, +is the little village of Tickencote, preserving in its name some +prehistoric goat-farm, “Tyccen-cote” meaning in the +Anglo-Saxon nothing more nor less than +“goat’s-home.” Of more tangible interest +is the splendid Norman church, of small size but extraordinary +elaboration; a darkling building with heavy chancel arch covered +with those zigzags, lozenges, birds’ heads, and +tooth-mouldings so beloved by Norman architects, and with a +“Norman” nave built in 1792 to replace that portion +of the building destroyed many years before. The +pseudo-Norman work of our own day is, almost without exception, +vile, and that of the eighteenth century was worse, but here is +an <a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>example of such faithful copying of existing portions +that now, since a hundred years and more have passed and the +first freshness of the new masonry gone, it is difficult to +distinguish the really old work from the copy.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image155" href="images/p155.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Highflyer,” 1840 (After Forrest)" +title= +"The “Highflyer,” 1840 (After Forrest)" + src="images/p155.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Returning to the highroad, a further two miles bring us to +Horn Lane, the site of a vanished turnpike gate, and to the +coppices and roadside trees of Bloody Oaks, where the battle of +Empingham was fought, March 13, 1470, between the forces of +Edward the Fourth and the hastily assembled Lincolnshire levies +of Sir Robert Welles and Sir Thomas de la Launde, fighting, +<i>not</i> for the Lancastrian cause, as so often stated, but in +an insurrection fomented by the Earl of Warwick, whose object was +to raise Edward’s brother, the Duke of Clarence, to the +throne. It was a massacre, rather than a battle, for +Edward’s army was both more numerous and better equipped, +and the rebels soon broke and fled. Flinging away their +weapons, and even portions of their clothing, as they went, the +fight <a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +158</span>was readily named “Losecoat Field.” +The captured leaders paid for their ineffectual treason with +their blood, for they were executed at Stamford.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image157" href="images/p157.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Bloody Oaks" +title= +"Bloody Oaks" + src="images/p157.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The country folks have quite forgotten Losecoat Field, and +think the woodlands of Bloody Oaks were so named from the +execution of John Bowland, a highwayman who was gibbeted at +Empingham Corner in 1769.</p> +<p>Greetham spire now rises away to the left, and shows where +that village lies hid. Here, away from the village and +facing the highroad, stood, and stands still, the “Greetham +Inn.” It is now a farmhouse, and has lost its +stables, its projecting bar-parlour, and its entrance +archway. Once, however, it was one of the foremost inns and +posting-houses on the road. Marked on old Ordnance maps as +the “Oak,” it seems to have been really named the +“New Inn,” if we may judge from an inscription cut on +stone under the eaves: “This is the New Inn, +1786.” However this may have been, it was known to +travellers, coachmen, and postboys along the road only as +“Greetham Inn.” Towards the last it was kept by +one of the Percivals of Wansford. At that time no fewer +than forty-four coaches—twenty-two up and the same number +down—changed here and at the “Black Bull,” +Witham Common, every twenty-four hours.</p> +<p>Less than a mile down the road is that humble little +public-house whose strange sign, the “Ram Jam,” has +puzzled many people. Its original name was the +“Winchilsea Arms,” and it bore no other sign than the +armorial shield of the Earls of Winchilsea until long after +coaching days were done; but in all that time it was known only +as the “Ram Jam House,” and thereby hangs a tale, or +several tales, most of them untrue. All kinds of wild +legends of the house being so crammed with travellers that it was +called “Ram Jam,” from that circumstance, have been +heard. But travellers, as a matter of fact, never stayed +there, for the inn never had any accommodation for them. It +was more a beer-house than anything else. It’s <a +name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 161</span>fame began +about 1740, when the landlord was an officer’s servant, +returned from India. He possessed the secret of compounding +a liqueur or spirit which he sold to travellers down the road, +this eventually becoming as well-known a delicacy as Cooper +Thornhill’s “Stilton” cheeses. He called +this spirit “Ram Ján,” which seems to be an +Indian term for a table servant, and sold it in small bottles, +either singly, for consumption on the journey, or in cases of +half-dozens or dozens. The secret of this liqueur was +imparted to his son, but afterwards died out, and it is said that +“Ram Jam” ceased to be sold before the beginning of +the nineteenth century.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image159" href="images/p159.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Interior of a Village Inn. (After Morland)" +title= +"Interior of a Village Inn. (After Morland)" + src="images/p159.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Although the “Ram Jam” was never more than a +tavern of a very humble description, and probably never sheltered +guests above the rank of cattle-drovers, it is noted as having +been the house where Molyneux, the black, slept before his fight +with Tom Cribb at Thistleton Gap, three and a half miles away, on +September 28, 1811. Cribb, who was easily the victor, had +his quarters at the “Blue Bull,” another small +roadside house, which stood, until the beginning of 1900, at the +cross roads on Witham Common, where roads go right and left to +Bourn and Melton Mowbray. It has now been demolished.</p> +<p>Here we have passed the little Rutlandshire village of +Stretton on the right, which obtained its name of +“Street-town” from having been on the ancient road +called the Ermine Way. Here we come again into +Lincolnshire.</p> +<p>For some twenty miles the Great North Road runs through this +broad county, the land of the “yellow-bellies,” as +Lincolnshire folk are named, from the frogs and eels that inhabit +their fens and marshes. North and South Witham, giving a +name to Witham Common, lie unseen, off to the left, and the once +famous old “Black Bull” stands, as it always has +stood, solitary beside the road, out of sight from any other +house. It consists of two separate buildings, at right +angles to one another and erected at different times. <a +name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 162</span>The +original house is a structure of rag-stone, placed a little way +back from the road, and facing it. The second building, +which bears a more imposing architectural character, and with its +handsome elevation of red brick and stone, bears witness to the +once extensive business of the “Black Bull,” stands +facing south, with its gable-end to the road, thus forming two +sides of a courtyard. Long ranges of stables extend to the +rear. The place is now in use as a farmhouse and +hunting-box, and a screen of laurels and other evergreen shrubs +is planted on the site of the old coach-drive. Sturtle, who +kept the house in the old days, is gathered to his fathers, and +the railway whistle sounds across country, where the +guards’ horns once aroused the echoes of Morkery Woods or +Spittle Gorse.</p> +<p>How different the outlook now from the time when Sir Walter +Scott made entries in his <i>Journal</i>. “Old +England,” he writes, from his hotel at Grantham, “is +no changeling. Things seem much the same. One race of +red-nosed innkeepers are gone, and their widows, eldest sons, or +head waiters exercise hospitality in their room, with the same +bustle and importance. The land, however, is much better +ploughed; straight ridges everywhere adopted in place of the old +circumflex of twenty years ago. Three horses, however, or +even four, are often seen in a plough, yoked one before the +other. Ill habits do not go out at once.”</p> +<p>A few years later, and these things, which had changed so +little, were revolutionised. The railway carried all the +traffic and the roads were deserted, the “red-nosed +innkeepers” so rarely seeing a guest, that when a stray one +arrived they almost fell on his shoulder and wept. +Agriculture, too, converted even Witham Common into a succession +of fertile fields, and thus banished wayfaring romance to the +pages of history or of sensation novels.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page163"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 163</span> +<a name="image163" href="images/p163.jpg"> +<img alt= +"House, formerly the “Black Bull,” Witham Common" +title= +"House, formerly the “Black Bull,” Witham Common" + src="images/p163.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>XXIV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Let</span> us rest awhile by this sunlit +stretch of road, where the red roofs of distant farmsteads alone +hint of life; always excepting the humming telegraph wires +whispering messages to Edinburgh and the Far North, or perhaps +the summer breeze bringing across country the distant echo of a +train. If it does, why then the sound renders our solitude +the more complete, and gives flight to a lagging +imagination. It reminds us that it was here, and not there, +three miles away over the meadows in a railway cutting, that the +traffic of two kingdoms went, sixty years ago.</p> +<p>These green selvedges of grass that border the highway so +delightfully were not then in existence. They were a part +of the road itself, which was, for all that, not too wide for the +mail-coaches, the stages, the fly-wagons, private chariots, +post-chaises, and especially the runaway couples <i>en route</i> +for Gretna Green, who travelled along it. “The +dullest road in the world, though the most convenient,” +quoth Sir Walter Scott, in his diary, when journeying to +Abbotsford in 1826. Dull scenically, but not +historically. Had it been an unlettered cyclist who had +made this criticism, a thousand critical lashes had been his +portion—and serve him right; but what shall we say of the +author of <i>Waverley</i>? Dull! why, the road is thronged +with company. One can—any one can who has the will to +it—call spirits from the vasty deep with which to people +the way. No need to ask, “Will they +come?” They cannot choose but do so; they are +here.</p> +<p>A strange and motley crowd: the pale ghosts of the ages. +From Ostorius Scapula and the Emperors Hadrian, Severus, and +Constantine the Great, down through the Middle Ages, they come, +mostly engaged in cutting one another’s throats. York +and Lancaster, as their fortunes ebbed or flowed, setting up or +taking <a name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +165</span>down the heads of traitors; obscure murderers +despatching equally obscure victims by the way, and in later +times—the farcical mingling with the more tragic +humours—we see James the First journeying to his throne, +confirmed in his good opinion of himself as a second Solomon by a +sycophantic crowd of courtiers; Lord Chancellor Littleton, +fleeing from Parliament to Charles the First at York, carrying +with him that precious symbol of Royal authority, the Great Seal +(the third Great Seal of that reign), made in the year the Long +Parliament began to sit; Charles the First, a few years later, +conducted by the victorious Parliament to London, and, at the +interval of another century, the Rebel Lords. “The +’45,” indeed, made much traffic on this road: the +British army going down, with Billy the Butcher at its head, to +crush the rebellion, and the prisoners coming up—their last +journey, as they knew full well. They were pinioned on the +way, for their better custody, and so that Hanoverian heads might +sleep the sounder at St. James’s. The Hanoverians +themselves rarely came this way, nor would their coming have +added greatly to the romance of the road. George the Third +passed once. He was a stay-at-home king, and of roads knew +little, save of those that led from London to Windsor, or to that +western <i>Ultima Thule</i> of his, Weymouth. Indeed, it is +said, on what authority it is difficult to determine, that the +third George never voyaged out of the kingdom. Even +Hanover, beloved of his forbears, he never knew, although the +Jacobites ceased not with their brass tokens, to wish him there. +<a name="citation165"></a><a href="#footnote165" +class="citation">[165]</a> His furthest journey is said to +have been to York.</p> +<p>His son, afterwards George the Fourth, had occasion to +remember this road, for he was upset on it in 1789, when +returning from a visit to Earl Fitzwilliam at Wentworth +Woodhouse. Two miles from Newark, a cart overturned his +carriage in a narrow part of the <a name="page166"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 166</span>highway. It rolled over three +times down an incline, and fell to pieces like a box of tricks, +but the prince was unhurt.</p> +<p>Of bygone sporting figures with which, in imagination, to +people the way we have a crowd. There has always been +something in the great length of the road to York, and of its +continuation to Edinburgh, that has appealed to sportsmen and all +those interested in the speeds of different methods of +progression. Pedestrians, horsemen, and coaches—and +in recent times cyclists—have competed in their several +ways, from an early period until our own day, and the rival +railways even have had their races to Edinburgh.</p> +<p>Of these feats, that of Sir Robert Cary, son of Lord Hunsdon, +is not the least remarkable. He carried the news of Queen +Elizabeth’s death to James at Edinburgh, and was the first +to hail him King of England. Riding in furious haste, and +with fresh horses wherever he could obtain them, he succeeded in +covering the distance in the sixty hours between a Thursday +morning and a Saturday night. Again, a very few years +later—in May 1606—a certain esquire of James the +First’s, John Lepton of York, undertook for a wager to ride +on six consecutive days between that city and London. He +started from Aldersgate on the 20th of May, and accomplished his +task every day before darkness had fallen; “to the greater +praise of his strength in acting than to his discretion in +undertaking it,” as Fuller remarks. He also, of +course, had relays of horses. Among the pedestrians is Ben +Jonson, who walked to Scotland, on his visit to Drummond of +Hawthornden, starting in June 1618; but he footed it less for +sport than from necessity.</p> +<p>When Charles the First was at York, according to Clarendon, it +was a frequent occurrence for gentlemen couriers to ride with +despatches between that place and London, completing the double +journey—400 miles—in thirty-four hours. Thus, a +letter sent by the Council in London on the Saturday, midnight, +was answered on its arrival at York by the king, and the <a +name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>answer +delivered in London at ten o’clock on the Monday +morning.</p> +<p>Then there was Cooper Thornhill, landlord of the +“Bell” at Stilton, who for a wager rode to London and +back again to Stilton, about 1740. The distance, 154 miles +in all, was done in eleven hours thirty-three minutes and +forty-six seconds. He had nineteen horses to carry him, and +so is no rival of Turpin’s mythical exploit in riding to +York on his equally mythical Black Bess; but he was evidently +considered a wonderful person, for there was a poem published +about him in 1745, entitled “The Stilton Hero: O +Tempora! O Mores:” a sixpenny quarto of fourteen +pages.</p> +<p>Foster Powell is easily first among the pedestrians. He +was an eighteenth century notability, a native of Horsforth, near +Leeds, and born in 1734. Articled to an attorney, he +remained a solicitor’s clerk, undistinguished in the law, +but early famed for his walking powers. In 1764 he backed +himself for any amount to walk fifty miles on the Bath Road in +seven hours, and having accomplished this, despite his wearing a +heavy greatcoat and leather breeches at the time, he visited +France and Switzerland, and fairly walked the natives off their +legs. It was in 1773 that he performed his first walk from +London to York and back, doing the 400 miles in five days and +eighteen hours. This was followed by a walk of 100 miles, +out and home, on the Bath Road, done in twenty-three hours and a +quarter. His three great pedestrian records on the Great +North Road in 1788 and twice in 1792 are his most remarkable +achievements. Although by this time he had long passed the +age at which athletics are commonly indulged in, he performed the +London to York and back walk of 1788 in five days twenty hours, +and its repetitions of 1792 in five days eighteen hours and five +days fifteen hours and a quarter, respectively. The +starting and turning-points were Shoreditch Church and York +Minster. This last effort probably cost him his life, for +he died, <a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +168</span>aged fifty-nine, early the following year. Powell +figures—rightly enough—as one of Wilson and +Caulfield’s company of “Remarkable Characters,” +in which he is described as about five feet nine inches in +height, close-knit body, of a sallow complexion, and of a meagre +habit. He lived on a light and spare <a +name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 169</span>diet, and +generally abstained from drink, only on one of his expeditions +partaking of brandy. He took but little sleep, generally +five hours.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image168" href="images/p168.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Foster Powell" +title= +"Foster Powell" + src="images/p168.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Robert Barclay of Ury, born 1731, died 1797, walked from +London to Ury, 510 miles, in ten days. He is described as +having been well over six feet in height. He married, in +1776, Sarah Ann Allardice, and was the father of the next notable +pedestrian.</p> +<p>Captain Barclay of Ury, an eighteenth century stalwart, born +in 1779 and living until 1854, walked the whole way from +Edinburgh to London and back. He was at the time Member of +Parliament for Kincardineshire. Another of his feats of +endurance was driving the mail for a wager from London to +Aberdeen. He then offered to drive it back for another +wager, but Lord Kennedy, who had already lost, was not inclined +to renew. Barclay started the “Defiance” coach +between Edinburgh and Aberdeen in July 1829. He only once +upset it, and thus described the event:—“She fell as +easy as if she had fallen on a feather bed, and looking out for a +soft place, I alighted comfortably on my feet.” A +favourite axiom with him was that no man could claim to be a +thoroughly qualified coachman until he had +“floored”—that is, upset—his coach; +“for till he has done so he cannot know how to get it up +again.” Barclay was the claimant of the Earldom of +Monteith and Ayr, and it was a source of genuine anxiety with him +whether, in the event of his proving his claim, he would have to +give up the reins. He consulted his friend the Duke of +Gordon on this point. “Why,” replied his Grace, +“there is not much difference between an earl and a +marquis, and as the Marquis of Waterford drives the Brighton +‘Defiance,’ I see no reason why you may not drive its +Aberdeen namesake. At all events, if there be any objection +to your being the coachman, there can be none to your being the +guard.” Barclay was snubbed!</p> +<p>As for the many great people who were furiously driven back +and forth, up and down the road, the <a name="page170"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 170</span>historian is dismayed at the +prospect of chronicling their whirling flight. Let us +respectfully take the most of their performances on trust. +There was no occasion for all this haste, save the spirit of the +thing, as Byron hints:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Now there is nothing gives a man such +spirits,<br /> +Leavening his blood as cayenne doth a curry,<br /> +As going at full speed—no matter where its<br /> +Direction be, so ’tis but in a hurry,<br /> +And merely for the sake of its own merits;<br /> +For the less cause there is for all this flurry,<br /> +The greater is the pleasure in arriving<br /> +At the great end of travel—which is driving.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Thus there was Lord Londonderry, who made a speech in the +House one night, and the next evening was at his own place in +Durham, 250 miles or so away, having travelled down in his +“chariot and four.”</p> +<p>There were those, however, who scorned these effeminate +methods. Like Barclay of Ury, they walked or rode +horseback, long after the introduction of coaches. +Foul-mouthed old Lord Monboddo, for instance, a once famous Scots +Lord of Session, persisted in the use of the saddle. He +journeyed between the two capitals once a year, and continued to +do so until well past fourscore years of age. On his last +journey to London he could get no further than Dunbar, and when +his nephew asked him why he gave up, “Eh, George,” +said he, “I find I am noo auchty-four.” He was, +in fact, suffering from the incurable disease of “Anno +Domini.” He held it unmanly “to sit in a box +drawn by brutes.” Would that we could have his shade +for a companion on a ’bus ride from Charing Cross to the +Bank!</p> +<p>At that period the stage-wagons performed the journey in +fourteen days, carrying passengers at a shilling a day.</p> +<h2><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>XXV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> list of equestrians is long and +distinguished. Lord Mansfield rode up from Scotland to +London when a boy, on a pony, and took two months over the +enterprise. Dr. Skene, who left town in 1753 in the same +fashion, reached Edinburgh in nineteen days. His expenses, +having sold his mare on arrival for eight guineas—exactly +the sum he had given for her—amounted to only four +guineas.</p> +<p>This, indeed, was the usual plan to purchase a horse for the +journey and to sell it on arrival; a method so canny that it must +surely be of Scots invention. It had the advantage that, if +you found a good market for your nag, it was often possible to +make a profit on the transaction.</p> +<p>But it behoved the purchaser to make some inquiry as to the +previous owners, as no doubt the Scotsman, leaving London with +one of these newly bought mounts, discovered, after some +embarrassing experiences. He went gaily forth upon his way, +and nothing befell him until Finchley Common was reached. +On that lonely waste, however, he met another horseman; whereupon +his horse began to edge up to the stranger, as though to prevent +him from proceeding. The Scotsman was at a loss to +understand this behaviour, but the other traveller, thinking him +to be a highwayman, was for handing over his purse +forthwith. This little difficulty explained away, our +friend resumed his journey, presently meeting a coach, when the +performance was repeated. This time, however, blunderbusses +were aimed at him, and, the nervous passengers being in no mood +to hear or understand explanations, he had a rather narrow escape +of his life. At Barnet he sold this embarrassing horse for +what he could get, and continued his journey by coach.</p> +<p>It was in 1756 that Mrs. Calderwood of Coltness travelled to +London from Edinburgh in her own <a name="page172"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 172</span>post-chaise, her sturdy serving-man, +John Rattray, riding beside the vehicle on horseback, armed with +pistols and a broadsword by his side. She set out from +Edinburgh on the 3rd of June and reached London on the evening of +the 10th—an astonishing rapid journey, it was +thought. Let it not be supposed that the armed serving-man, +or the case of pistols the good dame carried with her inside the +vehicle, showed an excess of precaution. Not at all; as was +instanced near that suspicious place, Bawtry, in whose +neighbourhood a doubtful character whom they took to be a +highwayman made his appearance. However, when John Rattray +began talking ostentatiously about powder and ball to the +post-boy, the supposed malefactor was nonplussed; and on John +Rattray furthermore “showing his whanger,” the fellow +made off. And so Cox—and Box—were +satisfied. Strangest of all travellers, however, was Peter +Woulfe, chemist, mineralogist, and eccentric, whose specific for +illness was a journey by mail-coach. He indulged this whim +for years, riding from London to Edinburgh and back, until 1803, +when the remedy proved worse than the disease, for he caught cold +on these bleak miles and died.</p> +<p>John Scott, afterwards Earl of Eldon and created Lord +Chancellor, left a record of his early travels along this +road—surely it were better named the Road to Fortune! +He left school at Newcastle in 1766 to proceed to London on the +way to Oxford, and travelled in a “fly,” so called +because it did the journey in the previously unheard-of time of +three days and four nights. This “fly” had +probably once been a private carriage, for it still bore the +motto, “<i>Sat cito</i>, <i>si sat +bene</i>”—that is to say, “Quick enough, if +well enough”—exquisitely appropriate, however, to +that slow pace. Young Scott had noticed this, and made an +impudent remark to a fellow-traveller, a Quaker, who, when they +halted at Tuxford, had given sixpence to a chamber-maid, telling +her that he had forgotten to give it her when he had slept at <a +name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 173</span>the inn two +years before. “Friend,” said he to the Quaker, +“have you seen the motto on this coach?”</p> +<p>“No,” said his companion.</p> +<p>“Then look at it,” he rejoined, “for I think +giving her sixpence now is neither sat cito nor sat +bene.”</p> +<p>It is astonishing, indeed, how many future Lord Chancellors +came from the North. Lord Chancellor Campbell, who as a boy +came up to London from Fife in 1798, was among the early arrivals +by mail-coach. At that time his father was the admiration +of his Fifeshire village, for he was the only one in the place +who had been to London. Every one, accordingly, looked up +to, and consulted, so great a traveller. He had seen +Garrick, too, and was used to boast of the fact, although, it is +to be supposed, with discretion and amid the inner circle of his +friends, for play-actors were not yet favourites in the dour +Scottish mind. Great was the excitement when young Campbell +left home. The speed of the coaches had been accelerated, +and they now began to reach London from Edinburgh in two days and +three nights. Friends advised him to stay in York and +recuperate for a day or two after a taste of this headlong speed, +lest he—as it was rumoured had happened to +others—should be seized with apoplexy from the rush of air +at that rate of travelling. But, greatly daring, he +disregarded their advice, and came to town direct and in +safety.</p> +<p>When railways were introduced, they meant much more than cheap +and speedy travelling; they prefigured a social revolution and an +absolute reversal of manners and customs. The “great +ones of the earth” were really great in the old days; +to-day no one is great in the old exclusive sense. Every +one can go everywhere—and every one does. Dukes +travel in omnibuses and go third-class by train because there is +no fourth. If there <i>were</i>, they would go by it, and +save the difference.</p> +<p>The judges kept up the practice of going on circuit in their +carriages for some little while after railways had rendered it +unnecessary; and barristers who used <a name="page174"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 174</span>to post to the assizes were for a +few years unwilling to be convinced that it was quite respectable +and professional to go by train. The juniors were the +readiest converts, for the difference in cost touched them +nearly. The clergy soon embraced the opportunity of +travelling cheaply, for the cloth has ever had, at the least of +it, a due sense of the value of money.</p> +<p>Dignified and stately prelates therefore speedily began to +look ridiculous by contrast, and the old picture in <i>Punch</i>, +once considered exquisitely humorous, of a bishop carrying a +carpet-bag, has lost its point. Samuel Wilberforce, when +elevated to the Bishopric of Oxford in 1845, was probably the +first Bishop to give up his coach and four and his gorgeous +lackeys. He rode, unattended, on horseback, and scandalised +those who saw him. How much more scandalised would they +have been to see bishops ride bicycles: a sight not uncommon in +our time.</p> +<p>In the vanished era, only those who could afford it travelled; +in the present, only those who <i>cannot</i> afford it go +“first.” Jack is as good as his +master—“and a d—d sight better,” as the +Radical orator said. Caste, happily, is breaking down, and +their privileges are being stripped from the governing cliques +who for centuries have battened on the public purse. +Perhaps it was because they had a prophetic fore-knowledge of all +this that the titled and other landowners so strenuously +withstood railways at their beginning. They sometimes +opposed railways so successfully that great trunk routes, planned +to go as direct as possible between two points, were diverted and +made circuitous. When the Great Northern Railway was +projected it was proposed to follow the highway to the North as +nearly as possible, and to go through Stamford; but the Marquis +of Exeter opposed the Bill as far as it concerned his own +property, and procured a deviation which sent the main line +through Grantham, with the results that Stamford languishes while +Grantham is made to flourish, and that the <a +name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +175</span>short-sightedness of the then Marquis has wofully +affected the value of his successor’s property. If +the thing were to do again, how eagerly would the Company be +invited to take the route it was once forbidden!</p> +<h2>XXVI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span>, none of us, who read the story +of the roads, or who make holiday along them, would really like +those old times back, when railways were undreamt of, and +travelling for the pleasure of it was unknown. It is +sufficient to read the old travellers’ tales, to realise +what discouragements from leaving one’s own fireside +existed then. There was, for instance, toward the close of +the seventeenth century, and well on into the eighteenth, an +antiquary of repute who lived at Leeds, and journeyed very +frequently in the Midlands, Ralph Thoresby was his name. He +travelled much, and in all weathers, and knew the Great North +Road well. In his day the coaches were often, through the +combined badness of the roads and the severity of the weather, +obliged to lay up in the winter, like ships in Arctic seas. +Like his much more illustrious contemporary, Pepys, he not +infrequently lost his way, owing to the roads at that period +having no boundary, and once, he tells us, he missed the road +between York and Doncaster, fervently thanking God for having +found it again. Indeed, all his journeys end with more or +less hearty thanksgivings for a safe return. On one +occasion we find him missing his pistols at an inn, and darkly +suspecting the landlord to be in league with thieves and +murderers; but he finds them, after a nerve-shaking search, and +proceeds, thanking the Lord for all his mercies. At another +time, journeying to London, he passes, and notes the +circumstance, “the great common where Sir Ralph Wharton +slew the highwayman.” This was doubtless Witham +Common, but, although he alludes to the <a +name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>subject as +though it were in his time a matter of great notoriety, all +details of this encounter are now sadly to seek, and Sir Ralph +Wharton himself lives only in Thoresby’s diary.</p> +<p>Thoresby was a very inaccurate person. He mentions +“Stonegate Hole, between Stamford and Grantham,” but +he is out of his reckoning by forty miles or so, Ogilby’s +map of 1697 marking the spot near Sawtry. Accordingly when +we find him, going by coach, instead of by his usual method, on +horseback, in May 1714, and noting “we dined at Grantham: +had the usual solemnity (this being the first time the coach +passed in May), the coachman and horses being decked with ribbons +and flowers, the town music and young people in couples before +us,” we shrewdly suspect he was referring to the +festivities of this kind held at Sutton-on-Trent, twenty-three +miles further north.</p> +<p>Witham Common passed, we come to the village of Colsterworth, +built on a rise, with fine views from it of the upland copses and +gentle hills and dales of this hunting country, where the +Cottesmore, the Atherstone, and the Quorn overrun one +another’s boundaries. Colsterworth is the last of the +stone-built villages for many a mile to come, red brick reigning +from Grantham onwards, to far beyond York. It is a +narrow-streeted village, with an old church, closely elbowed by +houses beside the road; the church where Sir Isaac Newton and his +ancestors worshipped, and where, on the wall of the Newton +Chapel, may yet be seen one of the sundials he carved with a +penknife when only nine years of age. In a secluded nook, +nearly two miles to the left of the highroad, lies Woolsthorpe +Manor House, the Newtons’ ancestral home, now a small +farmhouse, with a tablet built into the wall of the room where +the philosopher was born. The famous apple-tree whose +falling fruit suggested the Law of Gravitation has long since +disappeared.</p> +<p>Lincolnshire now begins to thoroughly belie its <a +name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 178</span>reputation +for flatness, the road descending steeply from Colsterworth and +rising sharply from Easton Park to the park of Stoke Rochford, +with another long sharp descent beyond, and a further rise of +some importance into Great Ponton, another of the very small +“Great” villages.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image177" href="images/p177.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Great Ponton" +title= +"Great Ponton" + src="images/p177.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Great Ponton, or Paunton Magna, as it was formerly called, was +in early days the site of a Roman camp, and of a turnpike gate in +latter times. Both have gone to a common oblivion. If +the ascent to the tiny village by the highroad is steep, the +climb upwards to it by the country lanes from the lowlands on the +east, where the Great Northern Railway takes its easeful course, +is positively precipitous. Overlooking the pleasant vale +from its commanding eyrie stands the beautiful old church, in a +by-way off the main road; the church itself strikingly handsome, +but the pinnacled and battlemented tower its peculiar +glory. It is distinctly of the ornate Somersetshire type, +and a very late example of Perpendicular work. Having been +built in 1519, when Gothic had reached its highest development, +and Renaissance ideals were slowly but surely obtaining a hold in +this country, we find in its lavish ornamentation and abundant +panelling an attempt to combine the florid alien Renaissance +conventions with that peculiarly insular phase of Gothic, the +Perpendicular style. The result is, as it chances, happy in +this instance, the new methods halting before that little further +development which would have made this a debased example. +The building of this tower was the work of Anthony Ellys, +merchant of the staple, and of his wife, as a thank-offering for +a prosperous career, and of an escape from religious persecution; +and his motto, “Thynke and thanke God of all,” is +still visible, carved on three sides. His house, a +crow-stepped old mansion next the church, is still standing, and +recalls the legend of his sending home a cask from his warehouses +in Calais, labelled “Calais sand.” Arriving +home, he asked his wife what she had done with the +“sand.” <a name="page179"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 179</span>She had put it in the cellar. +He then revealed the fact that it contained, not sand, but the +greater part of his wealth.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image179" href="images/p179.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Great Ponton Church" +title= +"Great Ponton Church" + src="images/p179.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Prominent on the south-east pinnacle of this tower is a +curious vane in the shape of a fiddle. The legend told of +it says that, many years ago, there wandered amid the fenland +villages of Lincolnshire a poor fiddler who gained a scanty +livelihood by playing at fairs and weddings, and not infrequently +in the parlours of the village inns on Saturday nights. +After some years of this itinerant minstrelsy, he amassed a +sufficient sum of money wherewith to pay his fare <a +name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 180</span>as a +steerage passenger to the United States, to which country his +relatives had emigrated some time before. In course of +time, this once almost poverty stricken fiddler became rich +through land speculation in the backwoods; and, revisiting the +scenes of his tuneful pilgrimages in the new character of a +wealthy man, offered to repair this then dilapidated church, as +some sort of recognition of the kindnesses shown him in bygone +years. Only one stipulation was made by him, that a vane +representing his old fiddle should take the place of the +weathercock. This was agreed to, and, as we see, that +quaint emblem is there to this day.</p> +<p>Candour, however, compels the admission that this pretty +legend has no truth in it; but the story has frequently found its +way into print, and so is in a fair way to become a +classic. The original fell in 1899 and was broken. +The then rector would have replaced it with another vane of +different character, but the old folk were attached to their +fiddle, and so a replica was made by subscription, and fixed; and +there it is to-day: the first fiddle, said the rector, that ever +he heard of in the guise of a wind-instrument!</p> +<p>Among the many curious inn-signs along the road, that of the +“Blue Horse,” at Great Ponton, is surely one of the +most singular, and is a zoological curiosity not readily +explained.</p> +<h2>XXVII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Grantham</span>, one hundred and ten and a +quarter miles from London by road, and five miles less by rail, +is three miles and a half distant from Great Ponton. +Entered down the very long and steep descent of Spitalgate Hill, +the utterly modernised character of the town becomes at once +apparent, and all pleasurable anticipations based upon memories +of the lettered ease of Stamford are instantly dispelled. +The expectant traveller comes to Grantham hopeful of a fine old +town with streets and buildings befitting its <a +name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 181</span>historic +dignity; but these hopes are soon dispelled by grimy engine-shops +and roads gritty with coal-dust, giving earnest of an aggressive +modernity fully unfolded when the level is reached and the town +entered at Spitalgate and St. Peter’s Hill. Grantham +is a red-brick town, and modern red brick at that. A +cruelly vulgar Town Hall, all variegated brick, iron crestings, +and general spikiness, fondly believed to be +“Italian,” testifies at once to the expansive +prosperity of Grantham and to its artlessness. This +monument of Grantham’s pride faces the grass-plots that +border the broad thoroughfare of St. Peter’s Hill (which is +flat, and not a hill at all) where stand bronze statues of Sir +Isaac Newton, Grantham’s great man, and of a certain +Frederick James Tollemache, M.P. for Grantham, who departed this +life in 1888, after having probably achieved some kind of local +celebrity which, whatever it may have been, has not sent the +faintest echo to the outer world. It is an odd effigy, +representing the departed legislator in an Inverness cloak, and +holding in his right hand a something which looks curiously like +a billiard-cue, but is probably intended for some kind of +official wand. The untutored might be excused for thinking +this a monument to a champion billiard-player.</p> +<p>Great are the Tollemaches in Lincolnshire, great +territorially, that is to say; for the Earls of Dysart, at the +head of the family, own many manors and broad acres; from Witham +and Buckminster, away along the road to Foston and Long +Bennington, and so to where the Shire Dyke divides the counties +of Lincolnshire and Nottingham, on the marches of the Duke of +Newcastle’s estates.</p> +<p>To an Earl of Dysart, Grantham owes the ugly polished granite +obelisk in the market-place, with a lying inscription which +purports to mark the spot where the ancient Eleanor Cross +formerly stood, before it was utterly demolished by Puritan +fanatics in 1645. That spot was really on St. Peter’s +Hill, at quite the other end of the town!</p> +<p><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +182</span>Grantham owes its name to the river on which it stands, +now the Witham, but once called the Granta, and its ancient +prosperity to its position on the road to the North. To +this circumstance is due also its long reputation as a town of +many and excellent inns, from those early times when the Church +was the earliest inn-keeper, to those others when the coaches +were at their best and “entertainment for man and +beast” a merely secular business. The +“Angel” and the “George” at Grantham have +a long history. The “Angel” still survives as a +mediæval building, and, like the equally famous +“George” at Glastonbury, contrives to please alike +the antiquary and the guest whose desire for modern creature +comforts takes no account of Gothic architecture. Anciently +a wayside house of the Knights Templar, the existing building +belongs to the mid-fourteenth <a name="page183"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 183</span>and fifteenth centuries. On +either side of its great archway now appear the carved stone +heads of Edward the Third and the heroic Queen Philippa, and at +the crown of the arch, serving the purpose of a supporting corbel +to the beautiful oriel window above, is an angel, supporting a +shield of arms; not the old sign, indeed, but an architectural +adornment merely. This, and all the numerous +“Angels” and the several “Salutations” on +the road, derived from the religious picture-sign of the +Annunciation, of which the saluting angel in the “Hail +Mary” group in course of time alone remained.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image182" href="images/p182.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Angel,” Grantham" +title= +"The “Angel,” Grantham" + src="images/p182.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Before coaches or carriages were, kings and courtiers on their +way north or south made the “Angel” their +headquarters, coming to it, of necessity, on horseback. +Thus, John held his Court here in the February of 1213, in the +building which preceded even this old one, and Richard the Third +signed Buckingham’s death-warrant in 1483 in the great +room, now divided into three, and that once extended the whole +length of the frontage on the first floor. Perhaps it was +in the bay of this oriel window that he “off’d with +his head!” in the familiar phrase mouthed by many +generations of gory tragedians and aspiring amateurs; and +exclaiming “So much for Buckingham!” turned on his +heel, in the attitude of triumphant villainy we know so +well. But, unhappily for the truth of this and similar +striking situations, it is to be feared that Richard, +unappreciative of the situation—the +“situation,” that is to say, in the theatrical +sense—signed the warrant in a businesslike way, and neither +mouthed nor struck attitudes. He left that scene to be +exploited by Shakespeare or Colley Cibber as authors, and by +Charles Kean and many another as actors. Between them, +<i>they</i> could have shown him how to play the part.</p> +<p>But let us to less dramatic—and safer—times. +The “Angel” divided the honours in coaching days with +the “George,” a house with a history as long, but not +so distinguished, as this old haunt of bloody minded +monarchs. The old “George,” burnt down in 1780, +was an equally beautiful house, and was <a +name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 184</span>rebuilt in +the prevailing Georgian taste—or want of taste—that +raised so many comfortable but ugly inns toward the close of the +eighteenth century. “One of the best inns in +England,” says Dickens, in describing the journey from +London to Yorkshire in <i>Nicholas Nickleby</i>, and there is not +wanting other testimony to its old-time excellence.</p> +<p>“At the sign of the ‘George’ you had a +cleaner cloth, brighter plate, higher polished glass, and a +brisker fire, with more prompt attention and civility than at +most other places,” says one who had occasion to know; and +so the local proverb, current among towns and villages adjacent +to Grantham, “Grantham gruel; nine grots and a gallon of +water,” was evidently no reflection upon the quality of +this inn. The “George” was busy with the +coaches, early and late. First to arrive was the Edinburgh +mail, at twenty-three minutes past seven in the morning. +Three lengthened blasts of the horn announced its arrival, and +out stepped night-capped passengers, half asleep and surly, but +fresh water and good spirits dispelled the gloomy faces, and down +went, for the allotted period of forty minutes, hot rolls, boiled +eggs, and best Bohea; good fare after weary wayfaring, and +calculated to make the surliest good-tempered.</p> +<p>Francis, Lord Jeffrey, writing from his hotel (doubtless the +“George”) at Grantham, when journeying to London in +January 1831, is not so enthusiastic on old-time travel as he +might have been, considering the high character of +Grantham’s inns. “Here we are,” says he, +“on our way to you; toiling up through snow and darkness, +with this shattered carcase and this reluctant and +half-desponding spirit. You know how I hate early rising; +and here have I been for three days, up two hours before the sun, +and, blinking by a dull taper, haggling at my inflamed beard +before a little pimping inn looking-glass, and abstaining from +suicide only from a deep sense of religion and love to my +country. To-night it snows and blows, and there is good +hope of our being blocked <a name="page185"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 185</span>up at Wytham Corner or Alconbury +Hill, or some of these lonely retreats, for a week or so, or +fairly stuck in the drift and obliged to wade our way to some +such hovel as received poor Lear and his fool in some such +season. Oh, dear, dear! But in the meantime we are +sipping weak black tea by the side of a tolerable fire, and are +in hopes of reaching the liberties of Westminster before dark on +Wednesday.” He was writing on Monday evening!</p> +<p>At any rate such as he could afford to take his ease and +partake of the best. Those who needed pity were the poor +folk who had just enough for the journey, and could not afford to +stay at expensive inns, waiting until better weather came. +But, however much we may read in novels of the charm of winter +travelling in the old coaching days, if we turn to contemporary +accounts, by the travellers themselves, we shall always find that +even those who could afford the best did not like it.</p> +<p>Henry St. George Tucker, afterwards Chairman of the East India +Company, travelled from Edinburgh to London in 1816, in the depth +of winter. He wrote:—</p> +<p>“Throughout the whole journey, as far as Newcastle, we +had a violent storm of snow, rain and sleet; and the cold was +more severe than I had felt it before. The coach was not +wind-tight at the bottom; and as I was obliged to keep my window +open to allow the escape of certain fumes, the produce of whisky, +rum, and brandy, I felt the cold so pinching that I should have +been glad of fur cap and worsted stockings. To aggravate +the evil, I had not a decent companion to converse with. We +picked up sundry vagabonds on the road, but there was only one, +between Edinburgh and York, who bore the ‘slightest +appearance of being a gentleman.’” He, however, +we learn was “effeminate and affected.”</p> +<p>In Mozley’s <i>Reminiscences</i> we find a horrid story +of the endurance practised by a woman travelling by coach from +Edinburgh to London. “I once travelled,” he +says, “to London <i>vis-à-vis</i> with a thin, pale, +elderly <a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +186</span>woman, ill-clad in black, who never once got down, or +even moved to shake off the snow that settled on her lap and +shoulders. I spoke to the guard about her. He said +she had come from Edinburgh and had not moved since changing +coaches, which she would have to do once; she feared that if she +once got down she would not he able to get up again. She +had taken no food of any kind.”</p> +<p>There the picture ends, and this tragical figure is +lost. Who was she who endured so much? Had she come +to London to purchase with her few savings the discharge of an +only son who had enlisted in the army? Had she made this +awful journey to bid good-bye to a husband condemned to death or +transportation? Surely some such story was hers, but we can +never know it, and so the gaunt figure, pathetic in its +endurance, haunts the memory and the baffled curiosity like an +enigma.</p> +<p>Grantham, it is true, has few things more interesting than its +inns. This is not the confession of a <i>bon vivant</i>, +suspicious though it sounds, but is just another way of stating +the baldness of Grantham’s street. One of these few +things is the tall steeple of the parish church, which has a fame +rivalling that of some cathedrals miles away. Journeying by +road or rail, that lofty spire is seen, even while Grantham +itself remains undisclosed. If this were a proper place for +it much might be said of the church and spire of St. +Wulfran’s: how the tower rises to a height of one hundred +and forty feet, and the slim crocketed spire to one hundred and +forty feet more; being sixth in point of measurement among the +famed spires of England. Salisbury is first, with its four +hundred and four feet, followed by Norwich, three hundred and +fifteen feet, Chichester, and St. Michael’s, Coventry, +three hundred feet, and Louth, two hundred and ninety-two +feet. But generalities must serve our turn here. If +the spire is only sixth in point of measurement it is first in +date, being earlier than Salisbury’s. Sir Gilbert +Scott held it to be second only to Salisbury in beauty, but <a +name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +187</span>Scott’s reputation in matters of taste had slight +foundations, and, beautiful though Grantham’s spire is, +there are others excelling it. The majesty of +Newark’s less lofty spire is greater than this of Grantham, +and indeed it may be questioned whether a Decorated spire, +comparatively so attenuated and with its purity of outline broken +and worried by an endless array of crockets is really more +admirable as a thing of beauty, or as a daring and successful +exercise in the piling up of fretted stones in so apparently +frail a fashion.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image187" href="images/p187.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Wondrous Sign”" +title= +"The “Wondrous Sign”" + src="images/p187.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>We cannot get away from the inns, and even the church is +connected with them, the town being annually edified by the +so-called “Drunken Sermon” preached at it in the +terms of a bequest left in the form of an <a +name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 188</span>annual +rent-charge of forty shillings on the “Angel” by one +Michael Solomon.</p> +<p>But among the popular curiosities of Grantham, few things are +more notable than the unpretending inn at Castlegate known +variously as the “Beehive” or the “Living +Sign.” Immediately in front of the house is a small +tree with a beehive fixed in its branches, and a board calling +attention to the fact in the lines:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Stop, traveller, this wondrous Sign +explore,<br /> +And say, when thou hast viewed it o’er and o’er,<br +/> +‘GRANTHAM, now two rareties are thine,<br /> +A lofty Steeple and a living Sign.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It may fairly be advanced that the suggestion to +“explore” an inhabited beehive is an unfortunate +choice of a word.</p> +<p>There is (unless it has lately been abolished) another +curiosity at Grantham. It is a custom. When the +time-expired Mayor vacates his office, what has aptly been called +a “striking” ceremony takes place. His robe is +stripped off, his chain is removed from his shoulders, and with a +small wooden hammer the Town Clerk takes the ex-Chief Magistrate +on the head to typify the end of his authority. There is +only one possible method more derogatory than this humiliating +treatment, but it need not be specified.</p> +<h2>XXVIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> history, Grantham and its +immediate neighbourhood are notable as having witnessed the rise +of Oliver Cromwell. At the outbreak of hostilities in March +1643, the town was taken and its fortifications demolished by the +Royalists, but was retaken shortly afterwards by the +Parliamentary troops under a hitherto undistinguished Cornet of +Horse, after some fighting at Gonerby. The rise of this +cornet is picturesquely described by De Foe. “About +this <a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +189</span>time,” he says, “it was that we began to +hear of the name of Oliver Cromwell, who, like a little cloud, +rose out of the East, and spread first into the North, until it +shed down a flood that overwhelmed the three +kingdoms.” It was on May 22, 1643, that, with twelve +troops, Cromwell defeated at Gonerby twenty-four troops of the +opposing forces, and thus commenced this meteorological +career.</p> +<p>The ascent of Gonerby Hill, where these events took place, is +a part of the journey to the North. It begins at the +distance of a mile and a quarter beyond Grantham, shortly before +reaching the hundred and twelfth milestone from London. For +this part of the world it is a remarkable eminence, but although +a long continuous climb, it does not come up to the impressive +old descriptions of it, and cannot compare with such hills as +Reigate Hill, or with Boughton Hill on the Dover Road. The +village of Great Gonerby, a poor, out-at-elbows kind of a place, +stands on the crest of the hill, with its great spired church as +a landmark, a wide, bare street, a little inn with the curious +sign of the “Recruiting Sergeant,” and an old posting +inn, the “Rutland Arms,” its principal +features. Passing through the cutting by which the gradient +of the northern side of the hill has been eased, a remarkable +view is unfolded of that flat region, fertile as a land of +promise, the Vale of Belvoir.</p> +<p>We shall hear presently what Sir Walter Scott has to say of +Gonerby Hill, but in the meanwhile let us see how the view from +it struck another traveller, the Reverend Thomas Twining, an +amiable clergyman of Colchester, who in the eighteenth century +was in the habit of taking holidays along the roads, mounted on +his horse “Poppet,” and writing letters to his +friends, describing what he saw. He was here in 1776.</p> +<p>“You have a view,” says he, “somewhat +sublime and striking from its mere extent and suddenness but it +is flat as a pancake. The road is through level, moorish, +unpleasant ground from the bottom of that hill to Newark, but, as +road, excellent.” No <a name="page190"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 190</span>guide-book ever pictured a view so +vividly as this description, which may stand unaltered +to-day.</p> +<p>Gonerby Hill—“Gunnerby” is the correct +pronunciation of the word—is something more to us in these +pages than merely a hill. It is a place of literary +eminence, whose terrors are enshrined in the pages of Scott and +Ainsworth. Jeanie Deans, of all the romantic and historic +characters that people this historic and romantic road the most +prominent, is especially to be identified with this height. +Historic she is because there is a substantial basis of truth in +the character of Sir Walter Scott’s heroine, and of Effie +and many another figure in the <i>Heart of Midlothian</i>. +They have fictitious names, but some were real persons. +Helen Walker, who died in 1791 and was buried in the churchyard +of Irongray, near Dumfries, is the prototype of Jeanie. She +had in 1737 walked to London and sought a pardon for her sister, +Isabella, condemned to death by the ferocious Scots law on a +<i>presumption</i> of having murdered her child. She +actually did (as Scott’s heroine is described as having +done) seek the Duke of Argyle and through his interest obtain the +object of her journey; but Scott is responsible for the +embroidery of this simple and affecting story; for he never saw +Helen Walker, and she, with Scottish closeness, never described +her adventures, being only too anxiously concerned that the story +of her sister’s shame should be forgotten.</p> +<p>It is a curious and (admirable or not, as one may personally +think it) unusual conscience that would hesitate to stretch a +point in evidence when to do so would be to save the life of a +loved sister; and more strange still to find so unbending a +moralist enduring the toils and dangers of a four-hundred +miles’ tramp with the bare possibility of preserving the +life of the sinner in view at the end; but to understand the +workings of the Scottish conscience is beyond the mental reach of +any one who does not chance to be either a Scot or a +Presbyterian.</p> +<p>And here let it be said that the Jeanie Deans of the <a +name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 191</span>novel is by +no means so attractive a heroine as Scott wished to make +her. There is heroism in her walk from Scotland to London, +and we rejoice when she is fortunate enough to obtain a +“cast in a wagon,” or pity her when she falls in with +thieves and murderers at Gonerby Hill foot; but when we find her +“conforming to the national (that is to say, the English) +extravagance of wearing shoes and stockings for the whole +day,” we can scarce subdue a snort of contempt at the very +superior manner in which she thus yields to the popular prejudice +in favour of this extravagance in shoe-leather. Nor is she +a particularly lovable figure when she disputes theology with the +rector of Willingham, with all the assurance of a Doctor of +Divinity and all the narrow-minded bigotry of a Covenanter; +coming in these things perilously near the ideal of the perfect +prig.</p> +<p>We must here quote the landlord of the “Saracen’s +Head” at Newark on Gonerby Hill. He spoke of it as +though it were some beetling eminence, resembling at the very +least a Snowdon or an Helvellyn. He called it a “high +mountain,” and indeed Scott has in putting this phrase into +mine host’s mouth made him characteristic of his age.</p> +<p>The year of Jeanie Deans’ romantic expedition was 1737, +and then, and for long afterwards, travellers and all who had +business with the roads magnified hills in this manner. +They disliked hills, and so for that matter did most people, for +the appreciation of scenery was not yet born. “When I +was young,” said Wordsworth, many years later, “there +were no lakes nor mountains,” and it was Thomas Gray, the +author of the <i>Elegy</i>, who really was the first to discover +beauty instead of terror and desolation in them.</p> +<p>Jeanie Deans, on the other hand, was pleased to hear of +Gonerby Hill. Not, mark you, that she was educated up to an +appreciation of the picturesque. We know, in fact, that she +was not, because when she and the Duke of Argyle stood looking +down upon the lovely expanse of woods, meads, and waters seen <a +name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>from +Richmond Hill, all she could find to say was that +“It’s braw feeding for the cows.” No, +when she learned with pleasure of the “mountain” she +was to cross, it was only for association’s sake: +“I’m glad to hear there’s a hill, for baith my +sight and my very feet are weary o’ sic tracts o’ +level ground—it looks a’ the way between this and +York as if a’ the land had been trenched and levelled, +whilk is very wearisome to my Scotch een. When I lost sight +of a muckle blue hill they ca’ Ingleboro’, I thought +I hadna a friend left in this strange land.”</p> +<p>“As for the matter of that, young woman,” said +mine host, “an you be so fond o’ hill, I carena an +thou couldst carry Gunnerby away with thee in thy lap, for +it’s a murder to post-horses. But here’s to thy +journey, and mayst thou win well through it, for thou is a bold +and a canny lass.”</p> +<p>Gonerby Hill was reputed the steepest bit between London and +Edinburgh. It was, at the time when Scott wrote, a great +deal steeper than nowadays, now that the road has been cut deeply +through it, instead of climbing painfully over the crest. +Then also, as he remarks, the open ground at its foot was +unenclosed and covered with copses and swampy pools. Also, +as Jeanie discovered, there was “bad company” where +the “bonny hill lifted its brow to the moon.” +But surely never did such odd company as Sir Walter has invented +lurk in these recesses. The <i>Heart of Midlothian</i>, +indeed, is a fantastic novel quite unworthy of the Wizard of the +North, and its wildly improbable characters and marvellous +rencounters are on a par with Harrison Ainsworth at his +worst. Syston, two miles away to the right, is, they say, +the original of the Willingham village in the novel, and +Barkston, close by, is doubtless the “Barkston +town-end” where Mother Murdockson was put in the stocks; +but the references to them are of the haziest.</p> +<p>It was not inadvisedly that Ainsworth was just mentioned, for +Gonerby Hill is named in Turpin’s Ride. Ainsworth +always resorted to the gibbet when <a name="page193"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 193</span>he wanted to make a point in the +gruesome. Accordingly, when Turpin mounts the rise, what +does he find but “two scarecrow objects covered with rags +and rusty links of chain,” depending from “the +tree.” “Will this be my lot, I wonder?” +asks the hero with a shudder. We need only to be slightly +acquainted with Ainsworth’s methods to know that a +melodramatic answer was immediately forthcoming. Springing +from the briars and tussocks of rank grass between the foot of +the gallows and the road, a gaunt figure exclaimed, “Ay, +marry will it!” These “gaunt figures” +never failed the novelist; but the plain man wants to know what +they were doing on these inclement spots, and by what unfailing +instinct they were always there at the precise moment demanded in +the interests of fiction.</p> +<p>The descent of Gonerby Hill accomplished, and the level +reached, a singularly featureless and flat twelve miles leads +into Newark, past Marston cross-roads, where a turnpike gate used +to trouble travellers, past Foston, a forlorn village on a knoll, +Long Bennington, a larger and still more forlorn village on the +flat, and thence, with the graceful spire of Claypole far on the +right, over the Shire Dyke, into Nottinghamshire, and through +Balderton.</p> +<h2>XXIX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> approach to Newark is long and +dull, by way of the suburban “London Road” and past +the decaying Beaumond Cross, but this leads at length to the +great open square of the Market-place, the most striking of all +such centres of public resort to be found on the way to the +North. Newark-“upon-Trent” is a misnomer, for +neither the town nor the castle, which was once the “new +work” that gave the place its name, are on that river, but +only on a branch of it—the Devon—which falls into the +Trent at Crankley <a name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +194</span>Point, some miles below the town. The “new +work” was only new some eight hundred years ago, when +Edward the Confessor’s castle on the banks of the Devon was +built, or when it was rebuilt or enlarged by Bishop Alexander of +Lincoln, 1123–47. Bishops and other mighty +castle-builders in those times not infrequently built their own +prisons when piling up their grim fortresses, and so the Bishop +of Lincoln found, when King Stephen seized him and kept him in +durance within his own stronghold. A judiciously low diet +of bread and water, and confinement in an unhealthy dungeon below +the level of the river, soon broke the haughty Churchman’s +spirit, and he transferred the castle to the Crown.</p> +<p>But Newark Castle has better claims to notice than as the +dungeon of one of those old bloody-minded prelates. As the +place where King John ended his evil life, we may well look upon +its ruined walls with interest. His rebellious barons +scattered on his approach in that year of 1216, and England +seemed in danger of a long continuance of its troubles under the +profligate king. But a surfeit of peaches brought that +wicked life to a hasty conclusion, and here, on the banks of the +sluggish Devon, one of the worst of English monarchs died. +We need not regard peaches with apprehension because John is said +to have died of them. We must consider whence they came; +from the monks of Swineshead Abbey, where the king had stayed on +his journey to Newark. Now, Holy Church had the very best +of reasons for hating that monarch, and from hatred to murder was +not a far cry in those days. So of peaches King John +doubtless died; but of peaches subtly flavoured with poison, +there is little doubt.</p> +<p>The castle was again seized by the barons, in the succeeding +reign, but they surrendered, after a week’s siege, and by +the gift of the king, the Bishops of Lincoln received their own +again. Under Edward the Sixth it again became the property +of the crown, and when James the First “progressed” +through <a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +196</span>England to his throne, these walls sheltered him during +a week of festivity.</p> +<p>A lawless and discourteous, as well as a weak-minded king, as +we shall see. Crowds assembled during the festivities set +apart by the corporation, and a fellow was caught in the act of +pocket-picking. By order of the king, the unfortunate +wretch was strung up, instanter, without the veriest semblance of +a trial! There’s your lawlessness, and here follows +the discourtesy.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image195" href="images/p195.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Newark Castle" +title= +"Newark Castle" + src="images/p195.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>There was a certain Dame Eleanor Disney, who, to do honour to +this strange kind of king, came, splendidly dressed, with her +husband, Sir Henry, to one of the receptions. James’s +eye lighted upon all this finery, and his frugal mind was +shocked. “Wha,” he asked, “be that lady +wi’ a lairdship to her bock?”</p> +<p>But the most stirring of Newark’s historic days were yet +to come. Newark to the last was loyal to Charles the +First. Three times was the town besieged by the Parliament, +and never taken. All the inhabitants armed and did +excellent service, making sorties and capturing troops of +Parliamentary horse; and had not the royal cause failed +elsewhere, Newark must have emerged, triumphant, at the +end. But at last all that remained were some few outlying +garrisons throughout the country. Newark was especially +commanded by the king to discontinue a hopeless resistance, and +accordingly the town laid down its arms in 1646. It was +then that the castle was ruined.</p> +<p>It is a highly picturesque ruin to-day, and lacking nothing in +itself of grandeur, only needs a more effective site. As it +stands, only slightly elevated above the river and the +surrounding levels, this historic castle has not the advantages +that belong to fortresses like Ludlow and Harlech, perched on +their rocky heights. But it has done its duty and still +serves to give a note of dignity to Newark town, as one +approaches it by the long straight levels of the road from the +north. It looks much the same to-day as when Rowlandson +made his sketch of it, with the <a name="page197"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 197</span>coach dashing over the bridge, more +than a hundred years ago; the projecting Tudor oriel windows +still looking forth upon the sullen tide from the more ancient +walls, their crumbling stones scarce more decayed than +then. The old wooden bridge, however, that formerly spanned +the Devon, was pulled down and rebuilt in 1775.</p> +<p>The great glory of Newark is its beautiful church, with that +soaring spire which is visible for miles away, before the town +itself is glimpsed. Not so tall as Grantham spire, it is as +beautiful in its simpler style, and the church is better placed +in the town than that of Grantham. Especially striking is +the view across the great market-place, the grey Early English +and Decorated spire, with its numerous belfry-lights, and the +fine windows and bold arcading of the tower forming a splendidly +effective contrast with the seventeenth and eighteenth century +red-brick houses facing the square. Newark and Grantham +spires are really the products of an old-time rivalry between the +two towns. Either town is satisfied that it possesses the +best, and so the peace is kept throughout the ages.</p> +<p>A relic of old times is found in the custom at Newark known as +“Ringing for Gofer.” On six successive Sunday +evenings, beginning twelve Sundays before Christmas, the old +parish church bells are rung for one hour, complying with the +terms of a bequest left by a merchant named Gofer, over two +centuries ago. He had on one occasion lost his way at night +in Sherwood Forest, then infested by robbers of no very +chivalrous instincts, who required, not “your money or your +life,” but both. Just as he had given up hope, he +heard these bells of Newark, and by their sound he made his way +to safety. In memory of his deliverance he left a sum of +money for this bell-ringing.</p> +<p>The market-square has always been the centre of Newark’s +life. It is singularly like the great market-square of +Nottingham, on a smaller scale, and, like it, is partly +surrounded by houses with a colonnaded <a +name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>piazza. An empty void now, save on the weekly +market-day, that occasion finds its broad, cobble-stoned space +thickly covered with stalls, while groups of farmers throng the +pavements, and with their samples of corn displayed in the palms +of their hands sell and buy in immense quantities. In the +old times this vast empty square was peopled every day with +arriving or departing coaches, and its pavements beset with +passengers mounting or alighting, for the celebrated inns of +Newark were mostly situated here, and the chief of them are here, +even now, on the opposite side from the church, and adjoining one +another. Newark is said to have once had no fewer than +fifty inns. The classical Town Hall, built in 1773, on the +west side of the square, stands on the site of two of them, and +many others have been converted to different uses. Here on +the south side are the “Clinton Arms,” so called in +honour of the Duke of Newcastle’s family, powerful in these +parts; the “Saracen’s Head,” with a bust of an +alleged (but very pallid and mild-looking) Saracen on its +frontage; and the “White Hart,” most ancient of all +these existing hostelries. An inn of this name is spoken of +as existing here in 1113. A “Saracen’s +Head” stood here, certainly as far back as 1341, but +unhappily the existing house only dates from 1721. This +house is the one mentioned by Sir Walter Scott, who says, +“The travellers who have visited Newark more lately will +not fail to remember the remarkably civil and gentlemanly manners +of the person who now keeps the principal inn there, and may find +some amusement in contrasting them with those of his more rough +predecessor.”</p> +<p>Let us put on record the name of this remarkable person: +William Thompson, landlord from 1784 to 1819. His +“more rough predecessor” was perhaps the landlord who +dispensed such open-handed and free hospitality to Jeanie Deans, +when that somewhat priggish young woman stayed there, and on +leaving asked for her “lawing.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page199"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 199</span> +<a name="image199" href="images/p199.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Market-Place, Newark" +title= +"Market-Place, Newark" + src="images/p199.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +200</span>“Thy lawing!” exclaimed that “more +rough” person; “Heaven help thee, wench! what +ca’st thou that?”</p> +<p>“It is—I was wanting to ken what was to +pay.”</p> +<p>“Pay? Lord help thee!—why, nought, +woman—we hae drawn no liquor but a gill o’ beer, and +the “Saracen’s Head” can spare a mouthful +o’ meat to a stranger like thee, that cannot speak +Christian language.”</p> +<p>Alas! whatever your language, the more smooth innkeepers of +Newark, in our times, do not do business on this principle.</p> +<p>The “Clinton Arms” has seen many changes of +name. It was originally the “Talbot,” and as +such is mentioned in 1341. At a later date it became the +“Kingston Arms.” Byron often stayed there, and +writes from London in 1807, “The ‘Kingston +Arms’ is my inn.” It was also the inn, during +the election contest of 1832, of Mr. Gladstone, soliciting for +the first time the suffrages of “free and +independent” electors, who duly returned him, in the Tory +interest. Newark thus gave him an opportunity in Parliament +of defending his father as a slave-owner, and of whetting his +youthful eloquence to a keen edge in extolling the principle of +slave-owning. The Newarkers were long proud of having +returned the “statesman” to the House, but history +will perhaps deny him that title. It has been denied, and +the term of “egotistical politician” found to fit +better. He set a fashion in surrender, and his country +reaped shame while he lived; but the bitterest harvest-home of +his methods has come, after his death, in the red vintage of +English blood. It was when standing for this pocket-borough +of the Duke of Newcastle’s that Gladstone gave an early and +characteristic specimen of his peculiarly Jesuitical ways of +thought. He took the mail-coach on a Sunday from Newark for +London, and beguiled the tedium of the journey and the Sabbath by +discussing the question of Sunday travelling with a Tory +companion. Not <a name="page203"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 203</span>merely did he severely condemn the +practice, but he also gave some tracts to his +fellow-traveller! He gives the facts himself: it is no +outsider’s satire. Thus, in one moment of confidence, +he reveals not only what he is, but what he will be. He +implicitly announces that he is a law unto himself and that those +things are permitted to him which in others must be deadly +sins. In the very moment of crime he can present an +accomplice with a tract, and glow with all the fervour of one +helped to save a lost soul.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image201" href="images/p201.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Newark Castle (After Rowlandson)" +title= +"Newark Castle (After Rowlandson)" + src="images/p201.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>The “Ram,” another old inn, is still standing, +opposite the castle, on Beast Market Hill. George Eliot +stayed here in September 1868, “seeing some charming quiet +landscapes” along the Trent. Quiet, undoubtedly.</p> +<p>Ridge, the printer and bookseller, Byron’s first +publisher, who issued his <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, carried on +business in a fine old house still standing at a corner of the +square, and the house-door and the brass knocker at which the +new-fledged poet knocked exist to-day.</p> +<h2>XXX</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">By</span> Beast Market Hill, past the +castle and over the bridge, one leaves Newark for the +north. Level crossings of the railways now and again +bedevil the way, which is flat so far as the eye can +reach—and much farther, and the meadows on either side are +intersected by runlets and marshes, the road carried over them by +a succession of red-brick bridges. At a distance of one and +a half miles, the true Trent is crossed by a wooden bridge, and +South Muskham reached, where the level-crossing gates take the +place of the old turnpike.</p> +<p>The act of looking backwards at this point is a more pleasing +physical exercise than the mental retrospect is ever likely to +be, anywhere. Sir Walter <a name="page204"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 204</span>Scott perceived the beauty of the +view, for he introduces it in Jeanie Deans’ journey south, +and says, in a fine passage: “The hundred-armed Trent and +the blackened ruins of Newark castle, demolished in the great +Civil War, lay before her.”</p> +<p>“Hundred-armed” is a good and eloquent figure, +although on a prosaic calculation likely to be found an +exaggeration. Milton, indeed, writing a hundred and ninety +years or so before, gives the Trent but thirty arms, on which, it +must be allowed, Sir Walter’s computation is a great +advance. But here is Milton’s version:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Trent, which like some earth-born giant +spreads<br /> +His thirty arms along the indented meads.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Even Drayton, in his <i>Polyolbion</i>, does not more nearly +approach to Sir Walter’s computation, in the +couplet:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The bounteous Trent, that in herself +enseams,<br /> +Both thirty sorts of fish and thirty sundry streams.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Shakespeare rather shirks the calculation, and contents +himself with describing it as the “smug and silver +Trent.” As for mere travellers, who did not happen to +be poets or to be engaged in the exploitation of scenery, they +regarded this stream merely with apprehension, and they did right +so to look upon it, for Trent often overflowed its thirty or +hundred arms, as the case might be, and converted the flats for +miles around into the semblage of a vast lake. Then, +indeed—if at no other time—Newark was +“upon” Trent, if not actually “in” it, +and all the many other towns and villages, which bear a similarly +composite title, were in like case. Doubtless it was on one +of these occasions in 1739, before the river was bridged here, +that the Newcastle wagon was lost at the ford, when the driver +and the horses all perished. Nearly thirty years later, on +the 6th of June 1767, the poet Gray, writing from London, before +starting on a <a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>journey in these parts, says:—“Pray that +the Trent may not intercept us at Newark, for we have had +infinite rain here.” Nor are floods infrequent, even +now, and many a boating-party has voyaged down the Great North +Road between Newark and Carlton-upon-Trent.</p> +<p>North and South Muskham lie off the road to the right, and are +not remarkable, except perhaps for the fact that a centenarian, +in the person of Thomas Seals of Grassthorpe, who died in 1802, +age 106, lies in North Muskham churchyard. Cromwell, on the +other hand, which now comes in sight, although now a commonplace +roadside village of uninteresting, modern, red-brick cottages, +with an old, but not remarkable, church, has a place in +history. According to Carlyle, “the small parish of +Cromwell, or Crumwell (the well of Crum, whatever that may be), +not far from the left bank of the Trent, simple worshippers still +doing in it some kind of divine service every Sunday,” was +the original home of the Cromwell family, from which the great +Protector sprang. “From this,” he adds, +“without any ghost to teach us, we can understand that the +Cromwell kindred all got their name.” But the +hero-worshipper will look in vain for anything at Cromwell to +connect the place with that family. Not even a tablet in +the church; nothing, in fact, save the name itself survives.</p> +<p>Here is a blacksmith’s forge, with the design of a huge +horseshoe encompasing the door, and this inscription:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“F. NAYLOR<br /> +Blacksmith</p> +<p>Gentlemen, as you pass by,<br /> +Upon this shoe pray cast an eye.<br /> +I’ll make it wider,<br /> +I’ll ease the horse and please the rider.<br /> +If lame from shoeing, as they often are<br /> +You may have them eased with the greatest care.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Hence to Carlton-upon-Trent, Sutton-upon-Trent, Scarthing +Moor, and Tuxford is an easy transition of nearly eight miles, +with little scenery or history on <a name="page206"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 206</span>the way. An old posting-house, +now retired into private life, the level-crossing of Crow Park, +and an old roadside inn, the “Nag’s Head,” +beside it are all the objects of interest at Carlton; while +Sutton is scarce more than a name, so far as the traveller along +the road is concerned.</p> +<p>Weston, a village at a bend and dip of the road, stands by +what was once Scarthing Moor, whose famous inn, the “Black +Lion,” is now, like the old-time festivities of +Sutton-on-Trent, only a memory. The farmers and cottagers +of Sutton-on-Trent long preserved the spring-time custom of +welcoming the coaches, and freely feasting guards, coachmen, and +passengers. It was an annual week’s merrymaking, and +young and old united to keep it up. Coaches were compelled +to stop in the village street, and every one was invited to +partake of the good things spread out upon a tray covered with a +beautiful damask napkin on which were attractively displayed +plum-cakes, tartlets, gingerbread, exquisite home-made bread and +biscuits, ale, currant and gooseberry wines, cherry-brandy, and +sometimes spirits. These in old-fashioned glass jugs, +embossed with figures, had a most pleasing effect. As to +the contents, they were superlative. Such ale! such +currant-wine! such cherry-brandy! Half a dozen damsels, all +enchanting young people, neatly clad, rather shy, but courteously +importunate plied the passengers.</p> +<p>“Eat and drink you must,” says one who partook of +these <i>al fresco</i> hospitalities. “I tasted +all. How could I resist the winning manners of the rustics, +with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes? My poor stomach, not +used to such luxuries and extraordinaries at eleven o’clock +in the morning, was, however, in fine agitation the remainder of +the ride, fifty miles. Neither time nor entreaties can +prevent their solicitations; they are issued to reward the men +for trifling kindnesses occasionally granted.”</p> +<p>“Scarthing Moor” is a name of somewhat terrifying +sound; but, as with all the “moors” met with on <a +name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 207</span>the Great +North Road, enclosure and cultivation have entirely changed its +character, and the “moor” is just a stretch of fields +undistinguishable from the surrounding country. It leads +presently to the little town of Tuxford-in-the-Clay, approached +up a steep rise passing under the bridge of the Lincolnshire and +East Coast Railway, and in view of Tuxford’s Great Northern +Station, away on the right, perched on a windy and +uncomfortable-looking ridge. A red rash of recent brick +cottages has broken out at the foot of the rise, but Tuxford +itself, on the crest of the hill, seems unchanged since coaching +days, except that the traffic which then enlivened it has +gone. It is a gaunt, lifeless place, in spite of its three +railway stations, and stands where the roads cross on the height, +and the church, the “Newcastle Arms,” another inn +which arrogates the title of “The Hotel,” and the +private houses and shops of the decayed town face a wide open +street, and all shiver in company. But Tuxford has seen +gorgeous sights in its time. Witness the gay and lengthy +cavalcade that “lay” here in the July of 1503, when +the Princess Margaret was on her way to her marriage with the +king of Scotland. The princess stayed at the +“Crown,” demolished in 1587 by one of the storms +which hill-top Tuxford knows so well, and leaving us the poorer +by one ancient hostelry. Not that it would have survived to +this day had there been no storm, for the town itself was +destroyed by fire at a much later date, in 1702.</p> +<p>The “Newcastle Arms” is one of those old houses +built for the reception of many and wealthy travellers in the +Augustan age of the road, and is by consequence many sizes too +large for present needs, so that a portion of the house is set +apart for offices quite unconnected with hotel business. +Even the roomy old church away on the other side of the broad +road seems on too large a scale for Tuxford, as it is, and the +stone effigies of the Longvilliers and the mouldy hatchments of +later families hanging on the walls of its bare chapels tell a +tale of vanished greatness. <a name="page208"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 208</span>There is a curious and clumsy +carving in this church, representing the martyrdom of St. +Lawrence. The Saint is shown on his gridiron (which +resembles nothing so much as a ladder) and wears a pleased +expression, as though he rather liked the process of being +grilled, while one tormentor is turning him and another blowing +up the fire with a pair of bellows.</p> +<p>After the church, the old red-brick grammar-school, founded by +“Carolo Read” in 1669, is the most interesting +building in Tuxford. “What God hath built, let no man +destroy,” says the inscription over the entrance, placed +there, no doubt, by the donor with a vivid recollection of the +destruction wrought in the Civil War of some twenty years +before.</p> +<p>The road leaves Tuxford steeply downhill and facing another +hill. Descending this, the villages of East and West +Markham are just visible, right and left; West Markham with a +hideous church like a Greek temple, its green copper dome +conspicuous for a long distance. At the foot of Cleveland +Hill, as it is called, is, or was, Markham Moor, for it was +enclosed in 1810, with the great “Markham Moor Inn,” +now looking very forlorn and lonely, standing at the fall of the +roads, where the turnpike gate used to be, and where the Worksop +road goes off to the left, and a battered pillar of grey stone +with a now illegible inscription stands. This may or may +not be the “Rebel Stone,” spoken of in old county +histories as standing by the wayside, bearing the inscription, +“Here lieth the Body of a Rebel, 1746.”</p> +<p>Beyond this, again, is Gamston, a still decaying village, its +red-brick houses ruined or empty, the wayside forge closed and +the handsome old church on a hillock but sparsely attended; the +whole a picture of the failure and neglect which descended upon +the roadside villages fifty years ago. Many have found +other vocations, but Gamston is not of them.</p> +<p>For some one hundred and fifty years the Great North Road has +gone through Tuxford to East Retford <a name="page209"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 209</span>and Barnby Moor; but this is not the +original road. That has to be sought, half-deserted, away +to the left. There is much romance on that old way, which +is one of several derelict branching roads just here. The +time seems to be approaching when this original road will be +restored, to effect a relief to the heavy traffic through +Retford.</p> +<p>We may branch off for the exploration of the old road either +at Markham Moor or at Gamston. Either turning will bring us +in two and a half miles to Jockey House, now a farmhouse, but +once an inn at what were cross-roads. Two of these roads +are grass tracks, but the old Great North Road on to Rushy Inn +and Barnby Moor is quite good, although very little used.</p> +<p>A substantial stone pillar stands at the corner of the +cross-roads opposite the Jockey House, inscribed:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">From<br /> +London 142<br /> +Miles<br /> +and a half<br /> +Coach Road<br /> +Work/op Mannor<br /> +Hou/e<br /> +7 Miles 3 qrs<br /> +176 —<br /> +The Keys<br /> +in the Jockey<br /> +House.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The “keys in the Jockey House” means that here was +a turnpike-gate with no turnpike keeper. The taking of toll +seems to have been conducted from the inn.</p> +<p>In the churchyard of Elkisley, a mile or so distant, there is +a tombstone which refers to a tragedy in the Jockey House two +hundred years ago. It reads:—</p> +<p style="text-align: center">“Here lieth the body of<br /> +JOHN BARAGH,<br /> +gentleman, who was murdered by<br /> +Midford Hendry, officer of the Guards,<br /> +on the 24th day of June, 1721.<br /> +Age 29 years.”</p> +<p>Hendry, it seems, was in command of a company of <a +name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 210</span>Guards +travelling south on the Great North Road. They had halted +for refreshment at Jockey House, and Hendry got into a violent +political discussion in the inn with Baragh, who was sitting +there, a complete stranger to him. In the course of their +high words, Hendry drew his sword and stabbed Baragh to the +heart.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image210" href="images/p210.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Jockey House" +title= +"Jockey House" + src="images/p210.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2>XXXI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Retford</span>, on the main road, is over +three miles distant from Gamston, past the more cheerful-looking +little hamlet of Eaton, and the outlying settlement by the +“White House Inn,” at the beginning of the long +approach to the town.</p> +<p>Retford is a town of varied industries, situated on either +bank of the river Idle, and by it divided into East and West +Retford. Engineering works, brick <a +name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>and tile +making, and agricultural pursuits combine to render it +prosperous, if not progressive, for when Retford built its +elaborate Town Hall in 1867 it probably exhausted itself with the +effort. In this Square, on a plinth, stands the +“Bread Stone,” or “Broad Stone,” a +seventeenth century Plague Stone with a hollow at that time +filled with vinegar and water for the immersion of coins passing +in the market against infection. The town centres in its +Market Square, in which the old Town Hall stood. When that +building was pulled down a great amount of additional room was +obtained at the cost of a certain picturesqueness, to which +quality the town can now scarcely lay claim. The +“White Hart,” standing at this corner of the Market +Square, is the only relic of old coaching days. Its +modernised frontage does not give the house credit for the +respectable age which it really owns, and it is only when we +explore the stableyard, a picturesque and narrow passage, +extending from the Market Square to Bridgegate, that we see the +old-time importance of the “White Hart.” It is +perhaps unique in one respect. Nowadays, the old innkeepers +are, of course, all dead. In some instances their families +carried on the business for a while, but soon afterwards all +these old coaching-houses passed into other hands. Even the +Percival family, innkeepers and coach-masters for some +generations at Wansford and at Greetham, no longer have the +“Haycock” or the “Greetham Inn,” but the +“White Hart” is still in the Dennett family, and has +been since 1818, when William Dennett took it over. He +reigned here until 1848, and was succeeded by his son, Joseph +Dennett, who, dying in 1890, was in his turn followed by Arthur +Dennett, the present landlord. An old +coaching-house—the coaching-house of Retford—it +occupied a particularly favourable position on the main and +cross-country coach-routes: those of Worksop and Chesterfield on +the one hand, and Gainsborough, Market Rasen, and Boston on the +other. Besides being in receipt of the local coaching +business <a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +212</span>between Stamford and Doncaster, Joseph Dennett horsed a +stage of the Doncaster and Stamford Amity Coach and the Stamford +and Retford Auxiliary Mail, among others.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image212" href="images/p212.jpg"> +<img alt= +"An Old Postboy: John Blagg" +title= +"An Old Postboy: John Blagg" + src="images/p212.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Although overshadowed by the neighbouring “Bell” +on Barnby Moor, kept by the mighty George Clark, this house did a +good posting business. For one <a name="page213"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 213</span>thing, the story of the “White +Hart” as a posting-house does not go back so far as that of +the “Bell,” for when Clark came to Barnby Moor he +found a fine business already developed, but the rise of the +“White Hart” into prominence dates only from the +coming of the Dennetts. Twelve post-horses and three boys +formed its ordinary posting establishment, and among them the +name of John Blagg is prominent. He left the +“Bell” at an early period and entered the service of +the “White Hart” in 1834, remaining for forty-five +years, and dying, at the age of seventy-five, in October +1880. The old posting-books of the house still show one of +his feats of endurance, the riding post from Retford to York and +back in one day, a distance of a hundred and ten miles. +When posting became a thing of the past, John Blagg was still in +request, and his well-remembered figure, clad in the traditional +postboy costume of white breeches, blue jacket, and white beaver +hat, was seen almost to the last at weddings and other +celebrations when riding postillion was considered +indispensable. Here he is, portrayed from the life, a +characteristic figure of a vanished era.</p> +<p>There are still some relics of that time at the “White +Hart”: the old locker belonging to the Boston coach, in +which the guard used to secure the valuables intrusted to him; +and in the sunny old booking-office looking out upon the Market +Square there are even now some old posting-saddles and +postboys’ whips.</p> +<h2>XXXII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Leaving</span> Retford by Bridgegate, the +road rises at once to the long five-miles’ stretch of +Barnby Moor, home of howling winds and whirling snow-wreaths in +winter, and equally unprotected from the fierce glare of the +midsummer sun. At the further end of this trying place, +just past a huddled group of cottages at the bend of the road, +stands the famous old <a name="page214"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 214</span>“Blue Bell” inn. +But no one was ever heard to talk of this old coaching hostelry +as the “Blue Bell.” The “Bell,” +Barnby Moor, was the title by which it was always known.</p> +<p>For the beginning of the well-earned fame of the +“Bell” we must go back a long way. Not, indeed, +to ancient times, for there was never a mediæval hostel +here, but to very old coaching days. Already, in 1776, when +the Rev. Thomas Twining was ambling about the country on +“Poppet,” making picturesque notes, it was a +“gentlemanlike, comfortable house,” and Sterne knew +it well. “I am worn out,” says he in one of his +letters, “but press on to Barnby Moor +to-night.” Even the “worn-out” would make +an effort, you see, to reach this hospitable roof-tree.</p> +<p>But a greater fame was earned by the “Bell” in its +later days, when it was kept by George Clark, at once innkeeper, +sportsman, and breeder of racehorses. He was famed for his +anecdotal and conversational powers, and when free from gout was +reputed “a tough customer over the mahogany,” in +which testimony we may read, in the manner of that time, a +crowning virtue. Something—nay, a great +deal—more than the “red-nosed innkeepers” of +whom Sir Walter Scott speaks, he was also a landed proprietor, +and supplied his extensive establishment from his own farm. +Peculiarly the man for this road, and especially for this portion +of the road, his personality made the “Bell” +inn—the word “hotel” was in those days an +abomination and an offence—the especial resort of the +sporting fraternity, and racing men generally contrived to make +his house their halting-place.</p> +<p>Clark reigned at the “Bell” for forty years, from +1800, dying of gout in 1842, shortly after he had sold the house +to a Mr. Inett. His was that famous mare, Lollypop, who +gave birth to the yet more famous Sweetmeat. But Clark did +not live to learn the quality of that foal, and Sweetmeat was +sold at the dispersal of his stable for ten guineas. Three +years later, when <a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +215</span>he had won the Somersetshire Stakes at Bath, Lord +George Bentinck in vain offered four thousand guineas for him, +and later in that year, 1845, he won the Doncaster Cup.</p> +<p>Clark was chiefly instrumental in bringing to justice two +incendiaries, disciples of “Captain Swing,” who had +fired a hayrick not far from the “Bell.” At +that period—the early “thirties”—when the +Reform agitation was embittering the relations between the +squires and the peasantry, rick-burnings were prevalent all over +the country. They went by the name of the “Swing +Riots,” from the circumstance of the threatening letters +and notices received being signed in the name of that entirely +pseudonymous or mythical person. One night Clark was roused +from his bed with the information that the rioters were at work +close at hand. Hastily rising and dressing by the glare of +his neighbour’s burning ricks, he told off fifty from his +numerous staff of postboys and stable helpers to mount and to +thoroughly explore the country within a circuit of ten miles, +offering a reward of £5 to the one who would discover the +miscreants, together with five shillings a head to all who took +part in the chase. It was a successful foray; for, before +morning dawned, two shivering “rioters” were brought +to him. They had been found hiding in a ditch. +Matches and other incriminating things were found on them, and, +being committed to York Castle, they eventually were awarded +fourteen years’ transportation.</p> +<p>The old “Bell” is still standing. A hundred +and twenty horses for the road were kept here in those old times, +but to-day, instead of horses, we have motor-cars.</p> +<p>Soon after railways had driven the coaches off the road, the +“Bell” ceased to be an inn. Its circumstances +were peculiar. Standing as it did, and still does, away +from any town or village, its only trade was with coaching or +posting travellers, and when they disappeared altogether there +was nothing for it but to close down. And so for sixty +years and <a name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +216</span>more the “Bell” became a private residence, +and it would have remained so had not a road-enthusiast taken it +and re-opened the old house in 1906 as a hotel for touring +motorists. The enthusiast took other hotels on this +road. Took so many indeed that his resources as a private +person were overstrained, and he went bankrupt. But the +“Bell,” in this, its second time, flourishes +exceedingly.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image216" href="images/p216.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Scrooby Church" +title= +"Scrooby Church" + src="images/p216.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>From hence the bleak hamlets of Torworth and Ranskill lead to +Scrooby, set amidst the heathy vale of the winding Idle, which +sends its silver threads in aimless fashion amidst the +meadows. Here the road leaves Nottinghamshire and enters +Yorkshire. Beside the road at the little rise called +Scrooby Top, stands a farmhouse, once the old Scrooby Inn, kept +by Thomas Fisher as a kind of half-way house between Bawtry and +Barnby Moor, and calculated to intercept the posting business of +the “Bell” and of the Bawtry <a +name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 218</span>inns. +Competition was keen-edged on the roads in those times.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image217" href="images/p217.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Scrooby Manor House" +title= +"Scrooby Manor House" + src="images/p217.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>There seems to have once been a turnpike gate at Scrooby, for +a murder was committed there in 1779, when John Spencer, a +shepherd, calling up William Geadon, the turnpike man, one July +night under the pretence of having some cattle to go through, +knocked him down and killed him with a hedge-stake and then went +upstairs and murdered the turnpike man’s mother. +Spencer was hanged at Nottingham, and gibbeted on the scene of +his crime. The stump of the gibbet was still visible in +1833.</p> +<p>This is the place whence came the chief among the +“Pilgrim Fathers” who at last, in 1620, succeeded in +leaving England in the <i>Mayflower</i>, for America. +Scrooby is the place of origin of that Separatist Church which +refused allegiance to the Church of England. Here lived +William Brewster, son of the bailiff of Scrooby Manor, once a +Palace of the Archbishops of York. In those times the Great +North Road wandered, as a lane, down through Scrooby village, and +all traffic went this way. William Brewster the elder, +bailiff and postmaster, was a government servant who kept relays +of horses primarily for the use of State messengers. His +salary was “twenty pence a day”; the equivalent of +about £300 per annum of our money. Although very +definite regulations were laid down by the Board of Posts for the +conduct of this service, they were not strictly observed, and a +postmaster often traded for himself as well, keeping horses for +hire and being an innkeeper as well.</p> +<p>At any rate, the Brewsters were considerable people; and +William the elder could afford to send his son to Peterhouse, +Cambridge, and later had sufficient influence to secure him +service with one of Queen Elizabeth’s Secretaries of State +in Holland. But the Secretary fell into disgrace, and young +William’s diplomatic career ended at an early age.</p> +<p>He returned home to Scrooby, where he found employment with +his father, and eventually succeeded <a name="page219"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 219</span>him, in 1594, holding the position +of postmaster for seventeen years.</p> +<p>Let us see, from one surviving record, what kind of business +was his, and how prosperous he must have been apart from his +official emoluments. One of his guests, as virtually an +innkeeper, was Sir Timothy Hutton, in 1605. Sir Timothy +paid him, for guide and conveyance to Tuxford, 10s., and for +candle, supper and breakfast 7s. 6d. On his return journey +he paid 8s. for horses to Doncaster, and a threepenny tip to the +ostler.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Brewster, nourished in that old nest of +Archbishops, had imbibed distinctly anti-episcopal ideas, +probably in Holland. His activities in founding the +Separatist Church led to his resignation of the +postmaster’s office in 1607. In that old Manor House +where he lived assembled others of his ways of thought: the Revd. +Mr. Clifton, rector of Babworth, near Retford, William Bradford +of Austerfield, John Smyth, and other shining lights and painful +and austere persons. William Bradford records how the +congregation “met ordinarily at William Brewster’s +house on the Lord’s Day; and with great love he entertained +them when they came, making provision for them, to his great +charge.”</p> +<p>They would not attend services at the parish church; an +offence then punishable by fine and imprisonment, and thus, +persecuted, there was no ultimate course but to leave the +country: itself not for some time permitted. “They +were,” wrote William Bradford, “hunted and persecuted +on every side. Some were taken and clapt up in prison, +others had their houses beset and watched, night and day, and +hardly escaped their hands; and the most were fain to fly and +leave their houses and habitations and the means of their +livelihood.”</p> +<p>The Manor Farm, where these early developments of the Puritan +movement took place, and where the Brewsters lived, remains in +part, and bears an <a name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +220</span>explanatory bronze tablet placed there by the Pilgrim +Society of Plymouth, Massachusetts. And there, too, near +the road, stands Scrooby church, rather dilapidated, with its +stone spire, much the same as ever.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image220" href="images/p220.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The Stables, Scrooby Manor House" +title= +"The Stables, Scrooby Manor House" + src="images/p220.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Yorkshire, upon which we have now entered, is the largest +shire or county in England. In one way it seems almost +incredibly large, for it has more acres than there are letters +(not words) in the Bible. There are 3,882,851 acres in +Yorkshire, and 3,566,482 letters in the Bible. Yorkshire +does not reveal its full beauty to the traveller along this +road. Its abbeys and waterfalls, its river-gorges and +romantic valleys, belong rather to the by-ways. +Picturesqueness and romance spelt discomfort, and the uneventful +road was the one the travellers of old preferred. Thus it +is that those <a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +221</span>who pursue this route to the North, and know nothing +else of Yorkshire, might deny this huge county, more than twice +the size of Lincolnshire, the next largest, that variety and +beauty which, in fact, we know it to possess. For eighty +miles the Great North Road goes through Yorkshire with scarce a +hill worthy the name, although towards the north the Hambleton +Hills, away to the east, give the views from the road a sullen +grandeur.</p> +<p>But if the highway and the scenery bordering it are +characterless, this is a region of strongly marked character, so +far as its inhabitants are concerned. Many wits have been +to work on the Yorkshireman’s peculiarities. While +they all agree to disregard his hospitality and his frank +heartiness, they unite to satirise his shrewdness, and his +clannish ways. The old Yorkshire toast is +famous:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Here’s tiv us, all on us, me +an’ all.<br /> +May we niver want nowt, noan on us,<br /> +Nor me nawther.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And this other:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Our Native County: t’biggest,<br /> +t’bonniest, and t’best.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The character of John Browdie is a very accurate exemplar of +the Yorkshire yeoman, and you could not wish to meet a better +fellow, but you would rather not have any dealings with the +Yorkshireman of popular imagination, whose native wit goes beyond +shrewdness and does not halt on the hither side of sharp +practice. The Yorkshireman’s armorial bearings are +wickedly said to be a flea, a fly, and a flitch of bacon; because +a flea will suck any one’s blood, like a Yorkshireman; a +fly will drink out of any one’s cup, and so will a +Yorkshireman; and a flitch of bacon is no good until it is hung, +and no more is a Yorkshireman! No native of the county can +be expected to subscribe to this, but no one ever heard of a +Yorkshireman objecting to be called a “tyke.”</p> +<p>A “Yorkshire tyke” is a familiar phrase. By +it we understand a native of this immense shire to be +named. No one knows whence this nickname arose, <a +name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 222</span>or whether +it is complimentary or the reverse. To be sure, we call a +dog a “tyke,” and to describe any one as a dog is not +complimentary, unless qualifications are made. Thus, the +man who is insulted by being called a dog rather takes it as a +compliment to be dubbed a “sad dog” or a “sly +dog,” and, like Bob Acres, lets you know, with a twinkle of +the eye, that on occasion he can be a “devil of a +fellow.”</p> +<p>By common consent, whatever its origin may have been, +“tyke,” applied to a Yorkshireman, is taken in the +complimentary sense. Indeed, the Yorkshireman’s good +conceit of himself does not allow him to think that any other +sense could possibly be intended. He generally prides +himself, like Major Bagstock, on being “sly, devilish +sly.” That he is so, too, those who have tried to +overreach him, either in his native wilds or elsewhere, have +generally discovered. “He’s a deep +’un,” says a character in one of Charles +Reade’s novels, “but we are Yorkshire too, as the +saying is.” When tyke meets tyke, then, if ever, +comes the tug of war. “That’s Yorkshire,” +is a saying which implies much, as in the story of the ostler +from the county who had long been in service at a London +inn. “How is it,” asked a guest, “that +such a clever fellow as you, and a Yorkshireman, remains so long +without becoming master of the house?” +“Measter’s Yorkshire too,” answered the +servant.</p> +<p>It is a sporting—more especially a +horsey—county. “Shake a bridle over a +Yorkshireman’s grave, and he will rise and steal a +horse,” is a proverb which bears a sort of testimony to the +fact.</p> +<h2>XXXIII</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Yorkshire</span> and Yorkshiremen, their +virtues and vices, bring us to Bawtry, where the High Sheriff and +those in authority used to welcome kingly and queenly visitors to +Yorkshire, or escort them over the border, <a +name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 223</span>on leaving; +performing the latter office with the better heart, there can be +little doubt, for royal progresses often left a trail of blood +and ruin behind them in those “good” old times. +Happy Bawtry! for little or no history attaches to the little +town, and it lives in the memory only as the home of that saddler +who, although famous as a proverb, has come down to us a nameless +martyr to the Temperance Cause.</p> +<p>“The saddler of Bawtry was hanged for leaving his +ale,” runs the Yorkshire saying; one eminently +characteristic of this county of stingo and plurality of +acres. The history of this particular saddler, or the crime +for which he was condemned, are unknown either here or at York, +but his end is a terrible warning to all Blue Ribbonites. +It was in this wise that the artificer in pigskin lost his +life. Led forth to the fatal tree, the procession halted on +the way to present the condemned with the customary parting bowl +of ale, an institution on the way to the gallows both in York and +London. But the saddler would take none of their farewell +courtesies, and refused the drink; whereupon the enraged mob +strung him up, double quick. A few minutes later a reprieve +arrived, and they cut him down; but he was already dead, a +melancholy warning to all future generations of non-convivial +souls.</p> +<p>Coaching days made Bawtry a busy townlet, for although the +coaches and the postmasters generally made a long stage of +fourteen miles between Doncaster and Barnby Moor, or else a nine +and a half mile stage between Doncaster and Scrooby Top, the +by-roads gave a good proportion of business to the +“Angel” and the “Crown.” The +“Crown” is still a prominent feature of +Bawtry’s now empty street, a street whose width is a +revelation of the space once considered necessary and now +altogether superfluous; just as the long pillared range of +stableyards beyond the old coach archway of the inn itself has +now become.</p> +<p>Bawtry to-day is a great emptiness. Four-square +red-brick houses of a certain modishness, being indeed <a +name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 224</span>built on +the model of town houses, look across the void roadway, with a +kind of patronising air, upon the peaked, timbered, or +lath-and-plaster gabled cottages that border the opposite side of +the street. Much older they are, those old cottages, and +more akin to the country. They were built long centuries +before the coaching age came, bringing a greater prosperity and +consequent expansion to Bawtry, and for a time they were quite +put out of countenance by the new-fangled brick houses, with +their classic porticoes and brass knockers and impudent red +faces. But a period of eighty or ninety years, at the most, +saw the beginning and the end of this expansion, and this once +fashionable air has altered to an aspect of old-world +dignity. Both the gabled cottages and these Georgian houses +would feel greatly degraded if confronted with examples of the +way in which the small country builder runs up his tasteless +structures nowadays, but happily Bawtry has nothing of this type +to show, and the white stuccoed elevation of the +“Crown” alone hints at a later phase in building +fashion, typifying the dawn of the nineteenth century <a +name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 225</span>and the +course of taste in its earlier years. This white-painted +frontage marks the close of Bawtry’s busy days. Soon +afterwards the place ceased to live a pulsing everyday life of +business and activity, and began to merely exist. There are +shops here—old bow-windowed, many-paned shops—which +have long seen their best days go by. They came into +existence under the influence of the beatific Law of Demand and +Supply, when all the inns were full of travellers who wanted the +thousand and one necessities of civilisation. They did a +brave trade in those times, and continued it until the railway +snuffed it out in 1842. Since then no one has come to buy, +and their stock must contain many curiosities. Probably the +stationer has still some of that goffered and perfumed pink +notepaper on which the young ladies of sensibility wrote their +love-letters in the long-ago, together with a goodly supply of +the wafers with which they were sealed; and, doubtless, those who +seek could find flint and steel and tinder-boxes elsewhere. +Bawtry, in fine, is a monument to the Has Been.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image224" href="images/p224.jpg"> +<img alt= +"The “Crown,” Bawtry" +title= +"The “Crown,” Bawtry" + src="images/p224.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Austerfield, where William Bradford was born in 1580, is a +grim and unlovely village to the left of Bawtry. Here yet +stands his birthplace, in its time a manor-house, but now +occupied as two cottage-dwellings, it is not a romantic-looking +relic to be the place of origin of one who became the first +Governor of the Pilgrim colony in New England.</p> +<p>There was once a pond beside the road near Bawtry (where is it +now, alas!) to which a history belonged, for into it used to +drive the villainous postboys of lang syne, who were in the pay +of the highwaymen. They would, as though by accident, whip +suddenly into it, and when the occupants of the chaise let down +the windows and looked out, to see what was the matter, they were +confronted with the grinning muzzle of a pistol, and the dread +alternative demand for their money or their lives.</p> +<p>Past this dread spot, and over the rise and dip in the road on +leaving the town, the galloping stage <a name="page226"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 226</span>is reached, a dead level by the +palings of Rossington Park and on to Rossington Bridge, where the +tollgate was, and now is not. The inn too, has, like many +another, taken down its sign, and retired into private +occupation. Off to the left is Rossington village, and in +the churchyard, the grave, for those who like to turn aside to +see it, of Charles Bosvile, “King of the +Gipsies.” Here we are four miles and a half from +Doncaster, or, as a Yorkshireman would say, four miles “and +a way-bit.”</p> +<p>Ask a Yorkshireman how far it is to any place along the road, +and he will most likely answer you, so many miles “and a +way-bit.” This is probably his pronunciation of +“wee bit.” It is often said that the +“way-bit” is generally as long as the rest put +together. This expression compares with the Scottish so +many miles “and a bittock.”</p> +<h2>XXXIV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">From</span> Rossington Bridge, a long pale +rise, bordered by coppices of hazels and silver birches, leads +past Cantley to Tophall, where one of the old road wagons was +struck by lightning on the 22nd of May 1800. One of the +seven horses drawing the wagon was killed, and four others were +stunned; while the great lumbering conveyance and its load of +woollen cloths, muslins, cottons, rabbit-down and a piano were +almost entirely burnt. The disaster was a long-remembered +event for miles round, and one of the Doncaster inns was renamed +from it, the “Burning Waggon.” This house has +long since been renamed the “Ship.”</p> +<p>Passing Tophall, and by a bridge over the railway cutting, +Doncaster is seen, with its great church-tower, smoking +chimney-stalks, and puffing locomotives, map-like, down below, +three miles away. Two miles further, past Hawbush, or +Lousybush, Green, on which unaristocratically named spot <a +name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 227</span>old-time +tramps used to congregate, Doncaster racecourse is reached, on +the old Town Moor.</p> +<p>Doncaster, all England over, stands for racing and the St. +Leger, just as much as Epsom for the Derby, and racing has been +in progress here certainly ever since 1600, and perhaps even +before. The renowned St. Leger, which still draws its +hundreds of thousands every September, was established in 1778 +and named by the Marquis of Rockingham after Lieut.-Colonel Ashby +St. Leger. All Yorkshire, and a large proportion of other +shires, flocks to witness this classic race, greatly to the +benefit of the town, which owns the racecourse and derives the +handsome income of some £30,000 per annum from it. +Doncaster, indeed, does exceedingly well out of racing, and the +Town Council can well afford the £380 annually expended in +stakes. But the St. Leger week is a terrible time for quiet +folks, for all the brazen-throated blackguards of the Three +Kingdoms are then let loose upon the town, and not even this sum +of £30,000 in relief of the rates quite repays them for the +infliction.</p> +<p>Robert Ridsdale, originally “Boots” at a Doncaster +inn, rose to be owner of Merton Hall, about 1830. He was a +bookmaker. Betting is a pursuit in which only the +bookmakers secure the fortunes.</p> +<p>Dickens, who was here during the St. Leger week in 1857, in +company with Wilkie Collins, and stayed at the still extant +“Angel,” saw this side of horse-racing fully +displayed. Looking down into the High Street from their +window, the friends saw “a gathering of blackguards from +all parts of the racing earth. Every bad face that had ever +caught wickedness from an innocent horse had its representation +in the streets,” and the next day after the great race +every chemist’s shop in the town was full of penitent +bacchanalians of the night before, roaring to the busy dispensers +to “Give us soom sal-volatile or soom damned thing o’ +that soort, in wather—my head’s bad!” +Night was made hideous for all who sojourned at the +“Angel” by the “groaning phantom” that +lay in the doorway <a name="page228"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +228</span>of one of the bedrooms and howled until the morning, +like a lost soul; explanation by the landlord in the morning +eliciting the fact that the fearsome sounds were caused by a +gentleman who had lost £1,500 or £2,000 by backing a +“wrong ’un,” and had accordingly drank himself +into a <i>delirium tremens</i>.</p> +<p>Sir William Maxwell of Menreith, who won the St. Leger with +Filho da Puta, in 1815, celebrated his success by thrusting his +walking-stick through all the pier-glasses at the +“Reindeer”; expressing his regret that there were no +more to smash, as an adequate relief to his feelings.</p> +<p>Dean Pigou, once vicar of Doncaster, bears later testimony to +the character of a large proportion of the race-crowds, and tells +amusingly how the contingents of pickpockets who flock here on +these occasions disguise themselves as clergymen, a fact well +known to the police, and resulting in the arrest of a genuine +cleric on one occasion. “You old rascal!” said +the constable; “we’ve been looking for you for a long +time.”</p> +<p>Doncaster, out of the season, is a singularly quiet and +inoffensive town, and looks as innocent as its native +butterscotch. Quiet, because the locomotive and +carriage-works of the Great Northern Railway are a little way +outside; inoffensive, because it is unpretending. At the +same time it is just as singularly devoid of interest. +Almost its oldest houses are those on Hall Cross Hill, as the +traveller passes the elm-avenue by the racecourse and enters the +town from the direction of London; and they are scarce older than +the days of the Prince Regent. Very like the older part of +Brighton, this southern end of Doncaster is the best the town has +to show.</p> +<p>Hall Cross—originally called “Hob +Cross”—was destroyed in the seventeenth-century +troubles. It was a late Norman structure, and is copied in +the existing Cross, set up by the Corporation, as an inscription +informs the passer-by, in 1793. A weird structure it is, +too, consisting of a stone pillar of five <a +name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 231</span>engaged +shafts, reflecting credit on neither the original designer nor +the restorers. But there it stands, elevated above the +modern road, as evidence of a momentary aberration in favour of +restoring antiquity of which the Corporation were guilty, a +century or so ago. Doncastrians have purged themselves so +thoroughly of that weakness in later years that they have left no +other vestige of old times in their streets. The finest +example of an old inn belonging to the town was destroyed in the +pulling down of the “Old Angel” in 1846, in order to +clear a site for the Guildhall. Others are left, but, if +old-fashioned, they are scarcely picturesque: the +“Angel,” “Ram,” “Elephant,” +“Salutation,” and “Old George.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image229" href="images/p229.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Coach passing Doncaster Racecourse" +title= +"Coach passing Doncaster Racecourse" + src="images/p229.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>In old newspaper files we find Richard Wood, of the +“Reindeer” and “Ram” inns, High Street, +advertising that his coaches were the best—“the +horses keep good time—<i>no</i> racing”; from which +we conclude that there <i>had</i> been some. It was Richard +Wood, then the foremost coach-proprietor in Doncaster, who first +gave employment to that celebrated painter of horses and coaches, +John Frederick Herring, who, although a Londoner born, lived long +and worked much at Doncaster. It was in 1814, when in his +nineteenth year, that he first came to the town, the love of +horses bringing him all the way. Seeing the “Royal +Union” starting at eight o’clock in the morning with +“Doncaster” displayed in large letters on its panels, +on the inspiration of the moment he took a seat, and arrived in +time to witness the horse “William” win the St. +Leger.</p> +<p>There is a tale of his observing a man clumsily trying to +paint a picture of the Duke of Wellington, seated on his charger, +for the panel of a coach to be called after that hero of a +hundred fights. He had, somehow, managed to worry through +the figure of the Duke, and to secure a recognisable likeness of +him—because, for this purpose, all that was necessary was +the representation of an ascetic face and a large, beak-like +nose—but he boggled at the horse. Herring <a +name="page232"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 232</span>offered to +paint in the horse for him, and did it so well that he earned the +thanks of the proprietor, who happened to appear on the scene and +commissioned him to paint the insignia of the “Royal +Forester,” Doncaster and Nottingham coach; a white lion on +one door and a reindeer on the other. These he performed +with equal credit, and taking a seat beside the proprietor in +question, who, with others, mounted for a ride to +“prove” the springs and christen the new coach, he at +once offered himself as coachman. Mr. Wood, for it was he, +was naturally surprised at the idea of a painter driving a coach, +but consented to give him a trial the next day on the +“Highflyer,” and to abide by the decision of the +regular driver of that famous drag. The result was +favourable, and Herring obtained the box-seat, not of the +“Royal Forester,” but of the “Nelson,” +Wakefield and Lincoln coach. He was, after two years, +transferred to the Doncaster and Halifax road, and thence +promoted to the “Highflyer,” painting in his leisure +hours many of the signs of Doncaster’s old inns. It +was when on this road that he attracted the attention of a local +gentleman, who obtained him a commission for a picture which laid +the foundation of his success.</p> +<p>Nearly all the local signs that Herring painted have +disappeared. Some were taken down when he became famous, +and added to private collections of pictures; while others were +renewed from the effects of time and weather by being painted +over by journeyman painters. Some landlords, however, knew +the value of these signs well enough. There was, for +instance, mine host of the “Doncaster Arms,” who, +having come from cow-keeping to the inn-keeping business, +determined to change the name of the house to the “Brown +Cow.” He induced Herring to paint the new sign, which +immediately attracted attention. According to one story, a +gentleman posting north chanced to see it and stopped the postboy +while he endeavoured to drive a bargain for the purchase. +He offered twice as much as mine host had originally paid; ten +times as much, <a name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +233</span>but without avail. “Not for twenty +times,” said that licensed victualler; and the connoisseur +went without it.</p> +<p>The other version makes the traveller a very important man, +travelling with four post-horses, and represents the landlord as +being away, and the landlady as the obstinate holder. +“I’s rare and glad, measter, my husband’s not +at home,” she said, “for p’r’aps +he’d ha’ let thee hae it; but I wain’t; for +what it’s worth to thee it’s worth to me, so gang +on.”</p> +<p>A list has been preserved of the signs painted by Herring at +Doncaster, but they will be sought in vain to-day. They +were—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>The Labour in Vain</p> +</td> +<td><p>Marsh Gate.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Sloop</p> +</td> +<td><p>Marsh Gate.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Brown Cow</p> +</td> +<td><p>French Gate.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Stag</p> +</td> +<td><p>The Holmes.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Coach and Horses</p> +</td> +<td><p>Scot Lane.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The White Lion</p> +</td> +<td><p>St. George Gate.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>The “Labour in Vain” represented the fruitless +labour of attempting to wash a black man white.</p> +<p>The old sign of the “Salutation,” painted by a +Dutchman in 1766, was touched up by Herring. Many years ago +it was removed, but has now been replaced, and may be seen on the +front of the house in Hall Cross. It is much weather-worn, +and represents, in dim and uncertain fashion, two clumsy looking +old gentlemen in the costume of a hundred and forty years ago, +rheumatically saluting one another. The sign of the +“Stag,” painted on plaster still remains, in a +decaying condition.</p> +<p>Herring continued as a coachman for several years, and only +left the box in 1830, when he went to reside in London. +From that date until his death in 1865 he devoted himself +entirely to painting.</p> +<p>Richard Wood, Herring’s first employer, was +part-proprietor of the “Lord Nelson” coach, among +others. Especial mention must be made of this particular <a +name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>conveyance, +because if not the first, it must have been one of the earliest, +of the coaches by which passengers were allowed to book through +to or from London, and to break their journey where they +pleased. To those who could not endure the long agonies of +a winter’s journey except in small doses, this arrangement +must have been a great boon. To this coach belongs the +story of a Frenchman, still preserved by Doncaster gossips.</p> +<p>It was in the early part of the century that he wanted to +travel from “Doncastare” to London. Inquiring +at the booking-office for the best coach, the clerk mentioned the +“Lord Nelson.”</p> +<p>“Damn your Lord Nelson!” says the Frenchman in a +rage. “What others are there?”</p> +<p>The names of the others heaped greater offence upon him, for +they were the “Waterloo” and the “Duke of +Wellington.” So perhaps he posted instead, and saved +his national susceptibilities at the expense of his pocket.</p> +<p>Another, and a later, coach-proprietor and innkeeper at +Doncaster was Thomas Pye, of the “Angel.” He +lived to see railways ruin the coaching business, but he kept the +“Angel” for years afterwards, and his family after +him. The Queen, on her way to Scotland in 1861, slept there +one night, and the loyal family promptly added the title of +“Royal” to the old house.</p> +<p>Coaching days were doomed at Doncaster in 1859, when the +Midland Railway was opened and diverted the traffic; and nine +years later, when the Great Northern Railway came, the last coach +was withdrawn.</p> +<p>Few think of Doncaster as a centre of spiritual +activity. Racing seems to comprehend everything, and to +make it, like a famous winner of the St. Leger a case of +“Eclipse first; the rest nowhere!” Even +Doncaster butterscotch is more familiar than Doncaster piety, but +the Church is particularly active here, nevertheless. That +activity only dates from the appointment of Dr. Vaughan as vicar, +in 1859. Before his time religion was very dead, so that, +when the <a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +235</span>great parish church of St. George was burnt down in +1853, the then vicar, Dr. Sharpe, on seeing the flames burst out, +could at first only think of his false teeth, which he had left +in the building, and exclaimed in horror-stricken tones, +“Good gracious! and I have left my set of teeth in the +vestry.”</p> +<p>The church was rebuilt by Sir Gilbert Scott. It is a +magnificent building, but too palpably Scott, and the details of +the carving painfully mechanical. Also, the stone was so +badly selected that the crockets and enrichments were long ago +found to be decaying, and “restoration” of a building +not then fifty years old was found necessary.</p> +<p>Dr. Vaughan was a bitter opponent of horse-racing, and so was +not popular with the sporting element; and as Doncaster is, above +everything, given over to sport, this meant that his nine +years’ vicariate was a sojourn in a hostile camp. His +predecessors had been more complaisant. Always within +living memory the church bells had been rung on the St. Leger +day, and generally at the moment the winning horse had passed the +post. Dr. Vaughan put an end to this and quietly +inaugurated a new era, not by raising a dispute, but by obtaining +the keys of the belfry on the first St. Leger day of his +incumbency, and, locking the door, going for a walk which kept +him out of the town until the evening!</p> +<h2>XXXV</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Leaving</span> Doncaster and its racing +and coaching memories behind, we come out upon the open road +again by Frenchgate, past the unprepossessing +“Volunteer” inn, in whose yard Mendoza and Humphries +brought off their prize-fight in 1790; past Marshgate and over +the dirty Don to a parting of the ways. To the left goes +the Ferrybridge, Wetherby, and Boroughbridge route to the North; +to the right, that by way of Selby and York. Both fall into +one <a name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +236</span>again at Northallerton; both claim to be the true Great +North Road; and both were largely travelled, so that we shall +have to pay attention to either. In the first instance, we +will go via York, the mail-route in later coaching days, and as +flat and uninteresting a road, so far as the cathedral city, as +it is possible to imagine. Beginning with the suburban +village of Bentley, with its ugly new cottages and handsome new +church, it continues, with ruts and loose stones as its chief +features, to Askerne, passing through lonely woods and past pools +and lakes, with a stray grouse or so, and astonished hares and +rabbits, as the sole witnesses of the explorer’s progress +in these deserted ways. Off to the right-hand, two miles or +so away, goes the Great Northern Railway, one of the causes of +this solitude, to meet the North Eastern at Shaftholme Junction, +where, as the chairman said, many years ago, the Great Northern +ends, ingloriously, “in a ploughed field.”</p> +<p>Askerne, in a situation of great natural beauty, amidst +limestone rocks and lakes, and with the advantage of possessing +medicinal springs, has been, like most Yorkshire villages, made +hideous by its houses and cottages, inconceivably ugly to those +who have not seen what abominable places Yorkshire folk are +capable of building and living in. Askerne’s fame as +what its inhabitants call a “spawing place” has not +spread of late, but its old pump-room and its lake are the +resorts of York and Doncaster’s trippers in summer-time, +and those holiday-makers derive just as much health from rowing +in pleasure-boats on the lake as did their forefathers, who, a +hundred years ago, quaffed its evil-tasting sulphurous +waters.</p> +<p>Thus Askerne. Between it and Selby, a distance of +thirteen miles, the road and the country around are but parts of +a flat, watery, treeless, featureless plain, its negative +qualities tempered by the frankly mean and ugly villages on the +way, and criss-crossed by railways, sluggish rivers, and unlovely +canals. So utterly without interest is the road, that a +crude <a name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +237</span>girder-bridge or a gaunt and forbidding flour-mill +remain vividly impressed upon the mental retina for lack of any +other outstanding objects.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image237" href="images/p237.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Brayton Church" +title= +"Brayton Church" + src="images/p237.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Nearing Selby, the octagonal Perpendicular lantern and spire +of Brayton church, curiously imposed upon a Norman tower, +attracts attention as much by the relief they give from the +deadly dulness just encountered as for their own sake; although +they are beautiful and interesting, the lantern having been +designed to hold a cresset beacon by which the travellers of the +Middle Ages were guided at night across the perilous waste; the +spire serving the same office by day. Here, too, the +isolated hills of Brayton Burf and Hambleton Hough, three miles +away, show prominently, less by reason of their height, which is +inconsiderable, than on account of the surrounding levels, which +give importance to the slightest rise.</p> +<p>Brayton, which, apart from its beautiful church, is about as +miserable a hole as it is possible to find in all Yorkshire (and +that is saying a good deal), is a kind of outpost between Selby +and these wilds, standing a mile and a half in advance of the +town. <a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +238</span>In that mile and a half the builders are busy erecting +a flagrant suburb, so that the traveller presses on, curious to +witness the prosperity of Selby itself, arguable from these +signs. Even without them, Selby is approached with +expectancy, for its abbey is famous, and abbeys imply picturesque +towns.</p> +<p>From this point of view Selby is distinctly +disappointing. The glorious Abbey, now the parish church, +is all, and more than, one expects, and the superlatively +cobble-stoned Market-place, painful to walk in, is picturesque to +look at; but the rest is an effect of meanness. Mean old +houses of no great age; mean new ones; mean and threadbare +waterside industries; second-hand clothes-shops, coal-grit, muddy +waters and foreshores of the slimy Ouse, shabby rope-walks, and +dirty alleys: these are Selby.</p> +<p>You forget all this before that beautiful Abbey, whose +imposing west front faces the Market-place, and whose great +length is revealed only by degrees. Alike in size and +beauty, it shows itself in a long crescendo to the admiring +amateur of architecture, who proceeds from the combined +loveliness of the Norman, Early English, and Perpendicular west +front, to the entrance by the grand Transitional Norman-Early +English north porch, thence to the solemn majesty of the purely +Norman nave, ending with the light and graceful Decorated choir +and Lady Chapel. The upper stage of the tower fell in 1690, +and destroyed the south transept.</p> +<p>A very destructive fire occurred in October 1906, and +opportunity was afterwards taken of doing a good deal of general +restoration.</p> +<p>Before leaving the town of Selby, let us look at the +commonplace little square called Church Hill. A +spirit-level might reveal it to be an eminence of twelve inches +or so above the common level of Selby, but to the evidence of +eyes or feet it is in no way distinguished from its neighbouring +streets. Yet it must have presented the appearance of a +hillock when the original founder of the Abbey came here in 1068, +voyaging up <a name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +240</span>the Ouse and landing at this first likely place on its +then lovely banks. This founder was a certain Benedict, a +monk of Auxerre, who, having one of those convenient dreams which +came to the pious ones of that time when they wanted to steal +something, made off with the Holy Finger of St. Germanus; rather +appropriate spoil, by the way, for the light-fingered +Benedict. Arriving in England, he met an Englishman who +gave him a golden reliquary. With this, he took ship from +Lyme Regis and sailed to the Humber and the Ouse; landing, as we +have seen, here, and planting a cross on the river bank, where he +erected a hut for himself under an oak-tree. A few days +later, Hugh, the Norman sheriff of Yorkshire, came up the Ouse, +by chance, and not, as might be supposed, to arrest Benedict on a +charge of petty larceny. He was impressed by the devoutness +of the holy man, and sent workmen to build the original wooden +place of worship at Selby, on the spot now known as Church Hill, +not a stone’s throw from the existing Abbey.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image239" href="images/p239.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Market Place, Selby" +title= +"Market Place, Selby" + src="images/p239.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Centuries passed. The first building was swept away, and +even the cemetery which afterwards occupied the site was +forgotten and built over, becoming a square of houses, among +which was the “Crown” inn. From 1798 until +1876, when it was rebuilt, the old “Crown” kept an +odd secret. To understand this, we must go back to 1798, +when the neighbourhood of Selby acquired an ill name for highway +robberies. Among other outrages, a mailbag was stolen from +the York postboy, on the evening of February 22 in that +year. The Postmaster of York reported the affair to the +Postmaster-General in the following terms:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,</p> +<p>“I am sorry to acquaint you that the postboy coming from +Selby to this city was robbed of his mail, between six and seven +o’clock this evening. About three miles this side +Selby he was accosted by a man on foot with a gun in his hand, +who asked him if he was the postboy, and at the same time seizing +hold of the bridle. Without waiting for any answer, he told +the boy he must immediately <a name="page241"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 241</span>unstrap the mail and give it to him, +pointing the muzzle of the gun at him whilst he did it. +When he had given up the mail, the boy begged he would not hurt +him, to which the man replied, “He need not be +afraid,” and at the same time pulled the bridle from the +horse’s head. The horse immediately galloped off with +the boy, who had never dismounted. He was a stout man, +dressed in a dark jacket, and had the appearance of a +heckler. The boy was too much frightened to make any other +remark upon his person, and says he was totally unknown to +him.</p> +<p>“The mail contained bags for Howden and London, Howden +and York, and Selby and York. I have informed the surveyors +of the robbery, and have forwarded handbills this night, to be +distributed in the country, and will take care to insert it in +the first paper published here. Waiting your further +instructions,—I remain, with respect, Sir,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“Your Obliged and Obedient +Humble Servant,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Thos</span>. <span +class="smcap">Oldfield</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A reward of two hundred pounds was offered for the discovery +of the highwayman, but without effect, and the matter was +forgotten in the dusty archives of the G.P.O., until it was +brought to notice again by the singular discovery of one of the +stolen bags in the roof of the “Crown” when being +demolished in 1876. Stuffed in between the rafters and the +tiles, the workmen came upon a worn and rotten coat, a +“sou’wester” hat, and a mail-bag marked +“Selby.” Thus, nearly eighty years after the +affair, and when every one concerned in it must long since have +been no more, this incriminating evidence came to light. +The Postmaster-General of that time claimed the bag, and it was, +after some dispute about the ownership, handed over to him, and +is now in the Post Office Museum.</p> +<p>A number of skeletons were discovered in digging foundations +for the new inn, and it was darkly conjectured that the old house +had had its gruesome secrets, dating from the times when inns +were not infrequently the nests of murderers; until local +antiquaries pointing out that the name of the place was Church +Hill, and that this was an ancient <a name="page242"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 242</span>grave-yard, the excitement +ceased. This view was borne out by the fact that in many +cases the bodies had been enclosed in rude coffins, made of +hollowed tree-trunks; and it was rightly said that murderers +would not have buried their victims with so much +consideration.</p> +<h2>XXXVI</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">To</span> leave Selby for York, one must +needs cross the Ouse bridge, one of thee few places where tolls +still survive. Foot-passengers and cyclists are on an +equality, paying one penny each.</p> +<p>Level-crossings again have their wicked will of the road, and +are indeed its principal features, through Barlby and +Riccall. We need some modern Rebeccaites for the abolition +of these unpaid-for easements granted to the Railway Companies by +an indulgent legislature, composed largely of Railway Directors, +for the mingled danger and waste of public time caused by +level-crossings over public roads constitute a scandal urgently +in need of being removed. Yorkshire people might be +recommended to see to it, as their forefathers saw to the +abolition of turnpikes, collecting in armed and disguised bands +and wrecking and burning the obnoxious gates for great +distances. In May 1753 they assembled at Selby at the +summons of the public crier’s bell, and proceeded at +midnight to demolish all the gates in that neighbourhood. +The military were called out to quell these Hampdens. They +did not succeed in saving the gates, but shot and captured a +number of the “rioters,” who were sent for trial to +York Castle.</p> +<p>Riccall, near the confluence of the Ouse and the Derwent, +looks an unlikely seaport in these times, now that those rivers +and the confluent Foss, a mile or so nearer York, flow soberly in +their channels and cease from spreading over the land. +Eight hundred years ago, however, things were very +different—as <a name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +243</span>indeed they well might be in that tremendous space of +time. So different, in fact, that when the invasion of the +North, under Tostig and Harald Hardrada, took place in 1066, +before that greater invasion in the South by William “the +Conqueror,” whose success has overshadowed these +operations, the invaders’ fleet sailed up the Humber and +the Ouse and blockaded the waterways by anchoring at +Riccall. From this base they advanced, defeating Earl +Morcar at the battle of Fulford, and seized York; retiring on the +approach of English Harold to what the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle +calls “Staenfordesbryege,” on Derwent, east of the +city. In this we find the original spelling of Stamford +Bridge, where the great battle which ended in the utter defeat of +the invaders was fought and their leaders, Tostig and the +gigantic Norwegian king, both slain. A fortnight later, and +the Duke of Normandy had landed at Pevensey, the battle of +Hastings had been lost and won, and the victor of Stamford Bridge +himself lay dead.</p> +<p>Riccall, and the country between it and York, should therefore +be interesting, as the scene of the earlier of these +invasions. Aside from the village flows the Ouse, deep in +its channel and navigable for barges, than which the Norwegian +ships were not much larger; but it could not in these days +harbour a fleet, even of these primitive transports. The +village itself bears nothing on its face telling of great events, +and is of a placid dulness, a character shared by Escrick and +Deighton, on the way to York; the road itself gradually becoming +an abomination of desolate fields until the village of Gate +Fulford is reached. The Great North Road is a businesslike +highway. It goes as direct as may be to its destination, +and gets there quite regardless of scenery or interest to right +or left. Thus, although Escrick Park is reputed to be a +demesne of great beauty, and the village of Naburn, lying hidden +off the road, is a typical old English village actually boasting +a maypole, all the traveller along the road perceives is an +unromantic vista of cabbage-fields and other <a +name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 244</span>necessary +but uninspiring domestic vegetables, through a haze of a +particularly beastly kind of black dust peculiar to the last few +miles of the way into York. Fulford itself is no fit herald +of a cathedral city. A wide street, the terminus of a +tramway, a mile-long row of cottages, a would-be Gothic church; +here you have it. Before you, by degrees, York unfolds +itself, past the military barracks and nondescript, but always +disappointing, streets, until, emerging from Fishergate, the +ancient city, free from suburban excrescences, opens out, with +the grim castle in front, and the Ouse and Skeldergate Bridge to +the left. The so-called “London Road” lies away +beyond the Ouse, its name referring to the Doncaster, +Ferrybridge, Sherburn, and Tadcaster route taken by some of the +old-time coaches. By that route York is most romantically +entered, across Knavesmire, where York’s martyrs, felons, +and traitors were done to death in the old days, and where the +racecourse now runs; coming to the walled city through +Micklegate, the finest of all the mediæval defensible +gateways which are York’s especial glory. By the +Selby route, through Gate Fulford and along Fishergate, we seem +to slink in by the back door; through Micklegate we follow in the +steps of those who have marched with armed hosts at their heels, +and have entered with the unquestioned right of conquerors. +Thus came the young Duke of York at the head of his victorious +army, after the crowning victory of Towton; the first thing to +meet his gaze his father’s head, fixed on the topmost +turret, and crowned in mockery with a paper crown by the fierce +Lancastrians under whose swords he had fallen at the battle of +Wakefield, three months before. Filial piety could not in +those times rest content with removing the head from its shameful +eminence, and so the Duke caused the Earl of Devon and three +others among his prisoners to be immediately beheaded and their +heads to be placed there instead. Of such, and still more +sanguinary, incidents is the ancient city of York composed.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page245"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 245</span> +<a name="image245" href="images/p245.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Micklegate Bar. (From an old Print)" +title= +"Micklegate Bar. (From an old Print)" + src="images/p245.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +246</span>Micklegate, like the other “bars” of York, +had its barbican, and equally with them, lost that martial +outwork at the dawning of the nineteenth century. Its +appearance then and now may with advantage be compared in the old +print and the modern drawing, reproduced here, which also serve +to show the difference between the road-surface of these times +and of a century ago.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a name="image246" href="images/p246.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Micklegate Bar: present day" +title= +"Micklegate Bar: present day" + src="images/p246.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2><a name="page247"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +247</span>INDEX</h2> +<p>Alconbury, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span></p> +<p>Alconbury Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page121">121</a></span></p> +<p>Askerne, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +<p>Ayot Green, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +<p>Austerfield, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page225">225</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Balderton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +<p>Baldock, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +<p>Barlby, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page242">242</a></span></p> +<p>Barnby Moor, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page209">209</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page212">212</a></span>–216</p> +<p>Barnet, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span>–79, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +<p>Barnet, Battle of, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +<p>Bawtry, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page223">223</a></span>–225</p> +<p>Bedford, Dukes of, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +<p>Beeston Green, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +<p>Bell Bar, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page84">84</a></span></p> +<p>Bentley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +<p>Biggleswade, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +<p>Bloody Oaks, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page157">157</a></span></p> +<p>Boulter, Edmund, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page135">135</a></span></p> +<p>Bradford, William, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page219">219</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page225">225</a></span></p> +<p>Brampton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +<p>Brayton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page237">237</a></span></p> +<p>Brewster, William, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page218">218</a></span>–220</p> +<p>Brickwall, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +<p>Broadwater, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page93">93</a></span></p> +<p>Brown’s Wells, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page69">69</a></span></p> +<p>Buckden, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page114">114</a></span>–117</p> +<p>Burghley House, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page141">141</a></span>–145, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page149">149</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Cantley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page226">226</a></span></p> +<p>Carlton-upon-Trent, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> +<p>Chicken Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p>Coaches—</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Amity,” Doncaster and Stamford, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page212">212</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Courier,” Leeds, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page41">41</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Edinburgh Mails” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page15">15</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page29">29</a></span>–33, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page184">184</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Edinburgh Express” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page15">15</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page114">114</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Edinburgh Stage” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page34">34</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Express,” Leeds, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page41">41</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Express,” York, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page114">114</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Highflyer,” London and York, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page76">76</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Highflyer,” London, York, and +Edinburgh, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page154">154</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Lord Nelson,” London and +Edinburgh, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page22">22</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page233">233</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page234">234</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Mail Coaches, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page30">30</a></span>–33</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Nelson,” Wakefield and Lincoln, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page232">232</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Post,” London and Carlisle, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page22">22</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Royal Forester,” Doncaster and +Nottingham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page232">232</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Royal Union,” London and +Newcastle, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Stage Coaches, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page33">33</a></span>–49</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Stamford Regent” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page18">18</a></span>–21, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page76">76</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page107">107</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page109">109</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page138">138</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Stamford and Retford Auxiliary +Mail” <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page212">212</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Union,” Leeds, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page15">15</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page41">41</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Wellington,” London and +Newcastle, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page15">15</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page234">234</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“York Four-Days Stage” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +<p>Coaching Accidents, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page41">41</a></span></p> +<p>Coaching Notabilities—</p> +<p class="gutindent">Barclay of Ury, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page169">169</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Barker, of Welwyn, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page88">88</a></span>–90</p> +<p class="gutindent">Barker, John, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page138">138</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Cartwright, of Buckden, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page114">114</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Chaplin, William, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page16">16</a></span>–18, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page73">73</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Clark, George, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page212">212</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page214">214</a></span>,</p> +<p class="gutindent">Dennetts, The, of Retford, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page211">211</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Hennesy, Tom, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page88">88</a></span>–90</p> +<p class="gutindent">Herring, J. F., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span>–234</p> +<p class="gutindent">Horne, B. W., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page17">17</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page66">66</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Mountain, Mrs., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page22">22</a></span>–25</p> +<p class="gutindent">Nelson, Mrs., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Percivals, The, of Wansford and Greetham, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page138">138</a></span>, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page158">158</a></span>, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page211">211</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Sherman, Edward, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page14">14</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Waterhouse, William, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page16">16</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Whincup, of Stamford, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page149">149</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Wood, Richard, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page232">232</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page233">233</a></span></p> +<p>Colsterworth, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span></p> +<p>Cromwell, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> +<p>Cromwell, Oliver, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page188">188</a></span></p> +<p>Cross Hall, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p>Crow Park, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page206">206</a></span></p> +<p>Cycling Notabilities—</p> +<p class="gutindent">Badlake, F. T., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Butterfield, W. J. H., <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Edge, T. A., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Edge, S. F., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Fontaine, C. C., <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Goodwin, F. R., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Hobson, T., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Holbein, M. A., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Hunt, G., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">James, J. M., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Keith-Falconer, Hon. Ian, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent"><a name="page248"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 248</span>Mills, G. P., <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page112">112</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Oxborrow, E., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Pope, H. R., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Sansom, H. H., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Shirley, R., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Shorland, F. W., <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Thorpe, J. H. Stanley, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Wheaton, C, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Wilson, H. E., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +<p>Cycling Records, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span>–113</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p><i>Dead Drummer</i>, <i>The</i>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page120">120</a></span></p> +<p>De Foe, Daniel, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page135">135</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page188">188</a></span></p> +<p>Deighton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page243">243</a></span></p> +<p>De Quincey, Thos., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page30">30</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +<p>Diddington, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page120">120</a></span></p> +<p>Digswell Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +<p>Doncaster, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page226">226</a></span>–235</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>East End, Finchley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +<p>East Markham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +<p>Eaton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page210">210</a></span></p> +<p>Eaton Socon, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +<p>Elkisley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page209">209</a></span></p> +<p>Empingham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page157">157</a></span></p> +<p>Escrick, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page243">243</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Finchley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +<p>Finchley Common, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page66">66</a></span>–72, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +<p>Foston, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +<p>Fulford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page243">243</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Gamston, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +<p>Ganwick Corner, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +<p>Gate Fulford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page243">243</a></span></p> +<p>General Post Office, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span>–33, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page241">241</a></span></p> +<p>Girtford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +<p>Gonerby Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page189">189</a></span>–193</p> +<p>Grantham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page180">180</a></span>–188, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page197">197</a></span></p> +<p>Graveley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +<p>Great Casterton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page154">154</a></span></p> +<p>Great Gonerby, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page189">189</a></span></p> +<p>Great Ponton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page178">178</a></span>–180</p> +<p>Greenhill Cross, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page73">73</a></span></p> +<p>Greetham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page158">158</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Hadley Green, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +<p>Hadley Highstone, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +<p>Hardwick, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +<p>Hatfield, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page84">84</a></span>–87</p> +<p><i>Heart of Midlothian</i>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page189">189</a></span>–193</p> +<p>Herring, J. F., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span>–234</p> +<p>Hicks’s Hall, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page49">49</a></span></p> +<p>Highgate, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page51">51</a></span>–65</p> +<p>Highgate Archway, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page63">63</a></span>–65, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +<p>Highgate Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page57">57</a></span>–62</p> +<p>Highway Acts, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page9">9</a></span></p> +<p>Highwaymen, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page62">62</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page69">69</a></span>–72, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page124">124</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page175">175</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Bowland, John, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page158">158</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Everett and Williams, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page69">69</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Sheppard, Jack, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page70">70</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Spiggott, — <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page68">68</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Turpin, Dick, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page70">70</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +<p>Holloway, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +<p>Horn Lane, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page157">157</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Inns (mentioned at length)</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Angel,” Grantham, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page182">182</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Angel,” Islington, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page49">49</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page50">50</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Angel,” Stilton, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page125">125</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Bald-faced Stag,” Finchley, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Beehive,” Grantham, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page188">188</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Bell,” Barnby Moor, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page212">212</a></span>–216</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Bell,” Stilton, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page125">125</a></span>–128</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Black Bull,” Witham Common, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page158">158</a></span>, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page161">161</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Black Lion,” Scarthing Moor, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page206">206</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Black Swan,” Holborn, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Black Swan,” York, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Blue Bell,” Barnby Moor, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page212">212</a></span>–216</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Blue Bull,” Witham Common, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page161">161</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Blue Horse,” Great Ponton, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page180">180</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Brampton Hut” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Brown Cow,” Doncaster, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page232">232</a></span>–233</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Bull and Mouth,” St. +Martin’-le-Grand, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span>–15</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Clinton Arms,” Newark, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page198">198</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page200">200</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Crown,” Bawtry, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page223">223</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Crown,” Selby, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page241">241</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Crown and Woolpack,” nr +Stilton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page124">124</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Dirt House,” Finchley, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page66">66</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Duke of York,” Ganwick Corner, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Gatehouse Tavern,” Highgate, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page59">59</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“George,” Buckden, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page114">114</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“George,” Grantham, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page182">182</a></span>–184</p> +<p class="gutindent">“George,” Stamford, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page146">146</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“George and Blue Boar,” Holborn, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Green Man,” Barnet, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page76">76</a></span>–79</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Green Man,” Brown’s +Wells, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page69">69</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Green Man and Still,” Oxford +Street, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Greetham Inn” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page158">158</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page211">211</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Griffin” Whetstone, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page72">72</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Haycock,” Wansford, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page136">136</a></span>–140, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page211">211</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Jockey House” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page209">209</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Kate’s Cabin, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page132">132</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Lord Kitchener,” Stevenage, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Markham Moor” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Newcastle Arms,” Tuxford, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page207">207</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Norman Cross” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page129">129</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent"><a name="page249"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 249</span>“Old Castle,” Stevenage, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Old Red Lion,” Barnet, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page79">79</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Old White Lion,” Finchley, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page66">66</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Our Mutual Friend,” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page104">104</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Peacock,” Islington, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page49">49</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Ram,” Doncaster, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page231">231</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Ram,” Newark, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page203">203</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Ram Jam,” Stretton, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page158">158</a></span>–161</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Red Lion,” Barnet, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page76">76</a></span>–79</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Salutation,” Doncaster, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page231">231</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Saracen’s Head,” Snow +Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page21">21</a></span>–25</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Saracen’s Head,” Newark, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page191">191</a></span>, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page198">198</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Scrooby” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page216">216</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Spread Eagle,” Gracechurch +Street, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Swan,” Stevenage, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page96">96</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Swan-with-two-Necks,” Gresham +Street, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span>–17</p> +<p class="gutindent">“Volunteer,” Doncaster, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page235">235</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Waggon and Horses,” Stamford, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page152">152</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Wellington,” Welwyn, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page90">90</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Wheatsheaf,” Alconbury Hill, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page121">121</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“White Hart,” Retford, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page211">211</a></span>–213</p> +<p class="gutindent">“White Hart,” Welwyn, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page88">88</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“White Horse,” Eaton Socon, +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page110">110</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“White Swan,” Biggleswade, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">“Whittington Stone Tavern,” +<span class="indexpageno"><a href="#page56">56</a></span></p> +<p>Islington, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page49">49</a></span>–51</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Jeanie Deans, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page190">190</a></span>–192, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page198">198</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page204">204</a></span></p> +<p>Jockey House, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page209">209</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Kate’s Cabin, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page132">132</a></span></p> +<p>Knavesmire, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page244">244</a></span></p> +<p>Knebworth, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page92">92</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Lambert, Daniel, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page152">152</a></span></p> +<p>Lannock Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +<p>Lemsford Mills, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +<p>Letchworth, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page103">103</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page106">106</a></span></p> +<p>Little Heath, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +<p>Long Bennington, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +<p>Lord of Burleigh, Tennyson’s, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page141">141</a></span>–145</p> +<p>Lower Codicote, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +<p>Lytton family, Earls Lytton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page92">92</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Macadam, J. L., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page6">6</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page12">12</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +<p>Mace, Thos, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page6">6</a></span>–8</p> +<p>Markham Moor, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +<p>Marston, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +<p>Matcham’s Bridge, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page120">120</a></span></p> +<p>Metcalf, John, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span></p> +<p>Morison, Fynes, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page97">97</a></span></p> +<p>Morpeth, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page32">32</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Newark-upon-Trent, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span>–204</p> +<p>Newton, Sir Isaac, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span></p> +<p><i>Nicholas Nickleby</i>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page22">22</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page184">184</a></span></p> +<p>Norman Cross, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page129">129</a></span>–133</p> +<p>North Finchley, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page66">66</a></span></p> +<p>North Muskham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> +<p>North Road Cycling Club, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page113">113</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page114">114</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Old-time Travellers—</p> +<p class="gutindent">Bacon, Francis Viscount Verulam, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page61">61</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Barclay of Ury, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page169">169</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Burke, Edmund, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page69">69</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Calderwood of Coltness, Mrs., <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page128">128</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Campbell, Lord Chancellor, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page173">173</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Cary, Sir Robert, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page166">166</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Charles I., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page149">149</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Eldon, Earl of, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page172">172</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">George III., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page165">165</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">George IV., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page165">165</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Gladstone, W. E., <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page200">200</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">James I., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page165">165</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page194">194</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Jeffrey, Lord, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page184">184</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Jonson, Ben, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page166">166</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Lepton, John, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page166">166</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Londonderry, Marquis of, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page170">170</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Mansfield, Earl of, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Minto, Earl of, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page71">71</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Misson, Henri, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page51">51</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Monboddo, Lord, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page170">170</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Pepys, Samuel, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page73">73</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page79">79</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Perlin, Estienne, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page146">146</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Powell, Foster, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page167">167</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Skene, Dr., <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page171">171</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Sterne, Rev. Laurence, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page214">214</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Thoresby, Ralph, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page124">124</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page175">175</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Thornhill, Cooper, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page126">126</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page167">167</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Tucker, Henry St. George, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page185">185</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Twining, Rev. Thomas, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page146">146</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page189">189</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page214">214</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Wharton, Sir Ralph, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page175">175</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Woulfe, Peter, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page172">172</a></span></p> +<p>Old-time Travelling, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page3">3</a></span>–8, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page36">36</a></span>–47, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page96">96</a></span>–101, +<span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page164">164</a></span>–175, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page184">184</a></span>–186, +<span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page204">204</a></span>–206, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page214">214</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Palmer, John, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page30">30</a></span></p> +<p>Pedestrian Records, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page166">166</a></span>–169</p> +<p>Pilgrim Fathers, The, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page218">218</a></span>–220, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page225">225</a></span></p> +<p>Posting, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page98">98</a></span>–101</p> +<p>Potter’s Bar, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span>–82</p> +<p>Powell, Foster, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page167">167</a></span></p> +<p>Prickler’s Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page74">74</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Railways—<span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page37">37</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page46">46</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page93">93</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page125">125</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page174">174</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page228">228</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page234">234</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent"><a name="page250"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 250</span>Great Northern, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page174">174</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page228">228</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">London and Birmingham (now London and +North-Western) <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">Midland, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page234">234</a></span></p> +<p class="gutindent">North Eastern, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +<p>Ranskill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page216">216</a></span></p> +<p>Retford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page210">210</a></span>–213</p> +<p>Riccall, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page242">242</a></span></p> +<p>Roman Roads, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>–4</p> +<p>Rossington Bridge, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page226">226</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>St. Martin’-le-Grand, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page14">14</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span>–27</p> +<p>Sandy, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +<p>Sawtry St. Andrews, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page124">124</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span></p> +<p>Sawtry Abbey, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page124">124</a></span></p> +<p>Scarthing Moor, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span>–207</p> +<p>Scott, Sir Walter, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page51">51</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page162">162</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page164">164</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page190">190</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page192">192</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page198">198</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page204">204</a></span></p> +<p>Scrooby, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page216">216</a></span>–220</p> +<p>Selby, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page238">238</a></span>–242</p> +<p>Shaftholme Junction, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +<p>Sibson, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +<p>“Six Hills,” The, Stevenage, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page94">94</a></span>–96</p> +<p>South Muskham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page203">203</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> +<p>Stamford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page140">140</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page145">145</a></span>–153</p> +<p>Stanborough, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +<p>Stangate Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page124">124</a></span></p> +<p>Statute Labour, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page9">9</a></span></p> +<p>Stevenage, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span> <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page93">93</a></span>–96, <span +class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page101">101</a></span>–105</p> +<p>Stibbington, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +<p>Stilton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page9">9</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page124">124</a></span>–128</p> +<p>Stoke Rochford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page178">178</a></span></p> +<p>Stonegate Hole, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span></p> +<p>Stretton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page154">154</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page161">161</a></span></p> +<p>Sutton-upon-Trent, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>“Tally-ho Corner” <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page66">66</a></span></p> +<p>Telford, James, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +<p>Tempsford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +<p>Thornhaugh, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page140">140</a></span></p> +<p>Tickencote, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page154">154</a></span></p> +<p>“Tingey’s Corner,” <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +<p>Tophall, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page226">226</a></span></p> +<p>Toplar’s Hill, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +<p>Torworth, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page216">216</a></span></p> +<p>Trent, River, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page203">203</a></span>–205</p> +<p>Turnpike Acts, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page9">9</a></span></p> +<p>Turnpike Gates, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page58">58</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page59">59</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page73">73</a></span>–75, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page82">82</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page87">87</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page105">105</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page209">209</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page218">218</a></span>, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page242">242</a></span></p> +<p>Turpin’s Oak, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page70">70</a></span></p> +<p>Tuxford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span>–208</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Wansford, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page134">134</a></span></p> +<p>Water Newton, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page133">133</a></span>–140</p> +<p>Welwyn, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page2">2</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page88">88</a></span>–91, <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page116">116</a></span></p> +<p>West Markham, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +<p>Weston, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page206">206</a></span></p> +<p>Whetstone, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page72">72</a></span></p> +<p>Whittington, Sir Richard, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span>–56</p> +<p>Witham Common, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page158">158</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page161">161</a></span>, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page175">175</a></span></p> +<p>Woolmer Green, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page93">93</a></span></p> +<p>Woolsthorpe Manor-House, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span></p> +<p>Wyboston, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +<p>Yaxley Barracks, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page129">129</a></span>–132</p> +<p>York, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page244">244</a></span>–246</p> +<p>Yorkshire, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page220">220</a></span>–223</p> +<p>Young, Revd. Edward, <span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page90">90</a></span></p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> +<p><a name="footnote40"></a><a href="#citation40" +class="footnote">[40]</a> These are pre-war (1914–18) +prices.</p> +<p><a name="footnote117"></a><a href="#citation117" +class="footnote">[117]</a> He was baptised in the church of +St. Bride, Fleet Street, according to a discovery more recently +made; and he would thus appear really to have been a +Londoner.</p> +<p><a name="footnote165"></a><a href="#citation165" +class="footnote">[165]</a> Tokens in imitation of the old +guineas, which bore on their reverse the George and Dragon device +now used on our modern sovereigns. The token represented +the king on horseback (the Hanoverian White Horse), with the +legend “To Hanover.”</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT NORTH ROAD: LONDON TO +YORK***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 46716-h.htm or 46716-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/6/7/1/46716 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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