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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf1cfe3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54140 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54140) diff --git a/old/54140-0.txt b/old/54140-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0b15ea0..0000000 --- a/old/54140-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7990 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Exeter Road, by Charles G. Harper - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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/license - - -Title: The Exeter Road - the story of the west of England highway - -Author: Charles G. Harper - -Release Date: February 9, 2017 [EBook #54140] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EXETER ROAD *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, deaurider and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - THE EXETER ROAD - - WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - - =THE BRIGHTON ROAD=: Old Times and New on a Classic Highway. - - =THE PORTSMOUTH ROAD=, and its Tributaries, To-day and in Days of - Old. - - =THE DOVER ROAD=: Annals of an Ancient Turnpike. - - =THE BATH ROAD=: History, Fashion, and Frivolity on an Old Highway. - - =THE GREAT NORTH ROAD=: - - Vol. I. LONDON TO YORK. [_In the Press._ - II. YORK TO EDINBURGH. - - - -[Illustration: THE LIONESS ATTACKING THE EXETER MAIL, ‘WINTERSLOW HUT’ -(AFTER JAMES POLLARD).] - - - - - THE - - EXETER ROAD - - _THE STORY OF - THE WEST OF ENGLAND HIGHWAY_ - - BY CHARLES G. HARPER - - AUTHOR OF ‘THE BRIGHTON ROAD,’ ‘THE PORTSMOUTH ROAD,’ - ‘THE DOVER ROAD,’ AND ‘THE BATH ROAD’ - - [Illustration: colophon] - - _Illustrated by the Author, and from Old-Time - Prints and Pictures_ - - LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL, LIMITED - - 1899 - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - -[Illustration: PREFACE] - - -_This, the fifth volume in a series of works purporting to tell the -Story of the Great Roads, requires but few forewords; but occasion may -be taken to say that perhaps greater care has been exercised than in -preceding volumes to collect and put on record those anecdotes and -floating traditions of the country, which, the gossip of yesterday, will -be the history of to-morrow. These are precisely the things that are -neglected by the County Historians at one end of the scale of writers, -and the compilers of guide-books at the other; and it is just because -this gossip and these local anecdotes are generally passed by and often -lost that those which are gathered now will become more valuable as time -goes on._ - -_For the inclusion of these hitherto unconsidered trifles much -archæology and much purely guide-book description have been suppressed; -nor for this would it seem necessary to appear apologetic, even although -local patriotism is a militant force, and resents anything less than a -detailed and favourable description of every village, interesting or -not._ - -_How militant parochial patriots may be the writer already knows. You -may criticise the British Empire and prophesy its downfall if you feel -that way inclined, and welcome; but it is the Unpardonable Sin to say -that Little Pedlington is anything less than the cleanest, the neatest, -and the busiest for its size of all the Sweet Auburns in the land! Has -not the writer been promised a bad quarter of an hour by the local -press, should he revisit Crayford, after writing of that uncleanly place -in the_ DOVER ROAD? _and have the good folks of Chard still kept the tar -and feathers in readiness for him who, daring greatly, presumed to say -the place was so quiet that when the stranger appeared in its streets -every head was out of doors and windows?_ - -_Point of view is everything. The stranger finds a place charming -because everything in it is old, and quiet reigns supreme. Quietude and -antiquity, how eminently desirable and delightful when found, he thinks. -Not so the dweller in such a spot. He would welcome as a benefactor any -one who would rebuild his house in modern style, and would behold with -satisfaction the traffic of Cheapside thronging the grass-grown -market-place._ - -_No brief is held for such an one in these pages, nor is it likely that -the professional antiquary will find in them anything not already known -to him. The book, like all its predecessors, and like those that are to -follow it, is intended for those who journey down the roads either in -person or in imagination, and to their judgment it is left. In -conclusion, let me acknowledge the valuable information with regard to -Wiltshire afforded me by Cecil Simpson, Esq., than whom no one knows the -county better._ - -CHARLES G. HARPER. - -PETERSHAM, SURREY, - -_October 1899_. - - - - -[Illustration: _List of Illustrations_] - - -SEPARATE PLATES - - PAGE - -1. THE LIONESS ATTACKING THE EXETER MAIL, ‘WINTERSLOW -HUT.’ (_After James Pollard_) Frontispiece. - -2. THE ‘COMET’ 13 - -3. THE ‘REGULATOR’ ON HARTFORD BRIDGE FLATS 19 - -4. THE ‘QUICKSILVER’ MAIL:--‘STOP, COACHMAN, I -HAVE LOST MY HAT AND WIG’ 23 - -5. THE WEST COUNTRY MAILS STARTING FROM THE -GLOUCESTER COFFEE HOUSE, PICCADILLY. (_After -James Pollard_) 35 - -6. THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S STATUE 39 - -7. THE WELLINGTON ARCH AND HYDE PARK CORNER, -1851 41 - -8. ST. GEORGE’S HOSPITAL, AND THE ROAD TO PIMLICO, -1780 43 - -9. KNIGHTSBRIDGE TOLL-GATE, 1854 45 - -10. KNIGHTSBRIDGE BARRACKS TOLL-GATE 49 - -11. BRENTFORD 57 - -12. HOUNSLOW: THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 67 - -13. THE ‘WHITE HART,’ HOOK 111 - -14. THE RUINS OF BASING HOUSE 117 - -15. WHITCHURCH 129 - -16. ‘WINTERSLOW HUT’ 159 - -17. SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. (_After Constable, R.A._) 171 - -18. VIEW OF SALISBURY SPIRE FROM THE RAMPARTS -OF OLD SARUM 189 - -19. OLD SARUM. (_After Constable, R.A._) 193 - -20. THE GREAT SNOWSTORM OF 1836; THE EXETER -‘TELEGRAPH,’ ASSISTED BY POST-HORSES, DRIVING -THROUGH THE SNOW-DRIFTS AT AMESBURY. (_After -James Pollard_) 197 - -21. STONEHENGE (_After Turner, R.A._) 201 - -22. SUNRISE AT STONEHENGE 207 - -23. ANCIENT AND MODERN: MOTOR CARS AT STONEHENGE, -EASTER 1899 213 - -24. COOMBE BISSETT 235 - -25. THE EXETER ROAD, NEAR ‘WOODYATES INN’ 239 - -26. TARRANT HINTON 243 - -27. BLANDFORD 259 - -28. TOWN BRIDGE, BLANDFORD 263 - -29. THE ‘WHITE HART,’ DORCHESTER 269 - -30. DORCHESTER 277 - -31. WINTERBOURNE ABBAS 281 - -32. ‘TRAVELLER’S REST’ 287 - -33. ‘THE LONG REACHES OF THE EXETER ROAD’ 301 - -34. EXETER, FROM THE DUNSFORD ROAD 311 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT - - PAGE - -Vignette (_Title-page_) - -Preface (Stonehenge) vii - -List of Illustrations (Hartford Bridge Flats) xi - -The Exeter Road 1 - -‘An Old Gentleman, a Cobbett-like Person’ 38 - -The Pikeman 47 - -The ‘New Police’ 51 - -Tommy Atkins, 1838 53 - -Old Kensington Church 54 - -The Beadle 56 - -The ‘Bell,’ Hounslow 65 - -The ‘Green Man,’ Hatton 72 - -The Highwayman’s Retreat, the ‘Green Man’ 73 - -East Bedfont 79 - -The Staines Stone 84 - -The ‘Bells of Ouseley’ 88 - -Bagshot 97 - -Roadside Scene. (_After Rowlandson_) 103 - -Roadside Scene. (_After Rowlandson_) 104 - -Roadside Scene. (_After Rowlandson_) 105 - -Roadside Scene. (_After Rowlandson_) 107 - -Funeral Garland, Abbot’s Ann 154 - -St. Anne’s Gate, Salisbury 182 - -Highway Robbery Monument at Imber 231 - -Where the Robber fell Dead 233 - -Judge Jeffreys’ Chair 273 - -Kingston Russell 284 - -Chilcombe Church 285 - -Chideock 293 - -Sign of the ‘Ship,’ Morecomblake 294 - -Interior of the ‘Queen’s Arms,’ Charmouth 295 - -‘Copper Castle’ 298 - -The Exeter City Sword-bearer 307 - -‘Matty the Miller’ 313 - -The End 314 - - - - - THE ROAD TO EXETER - - -London (Hyde Park Corner) to-- - MILES -Kensington-- - St. Mary Abbots 1¼ - Addison Road 2½ - -Hammersmith 3¼ - -Turnham Green 5 - -Brentford-- - Star and Garter 6 - Town Hall (cross River Brent and Grand - Junction Canal) 7 - -Isleworth (Railway Station) 8½ - -Hounslow (Trinity Church) 9¾ - (Cross the Old River, a branch of the River Colne). - -Baber Bridge (cross the New River, a branch of the - River Colne) 11¾ - -East Bedfont 13¼ - -Staines Bridge (cross River Thames) 16½ - -Egham 18 - -Virginia Water-- - ‘Wheatsheaf’ 20¾ - -Sunningdale-- - Railway Station 22¾ - -Bagshot-- - ‘King’s Arms’ 26¼ - ‘Jolly Farmer’ 27¼ - -Camberley 29 - -York Town 29¾ - -Blackwater (cross River Blackwater) 30¾ - -Hartford Bridge 35½ - -Hartley Row 36½ - -Hook 40 - -Water End (for Nately Scures) 41¾ - -Mapledurwell Hatch (cross River Loddon) 43 - -Basingstoke-- - Market Place 45¾ - -Worting 47¾ - -Clerken Green, and Oakley-- - Railway Station 49¾ - -Dean 51¼ - -Overton 53½ - -Laverstoke, and Freefolk 55½ - -Whitchurch-- - Market House 56¾ - -Hurstbourne Priors 58½ - -Andover-- - Market Place (cross River Anton) 63½ - -Little Ann 65½ - -Little (or Middle) Wallop (cross River Wallop) 70½ - -Lobcombe Corner 73¾ - -‘Winterslow Hut’ (cross River Bourne) 75 - -Salisbury-- - Council House 81½ - -West Harnham (cross River Avon) 82¼ - -Coombe Bissett (cross a branch of the River Avon) 84¼ - -‘Woodyates Inn’ 91¼ - -‘Cashmoor Inn’ 96¼ - -Tarrant Hinton (cross River Tarrant) 99 - -Pimperne 101½ - -Blandford-- - Market Place (cross River Stour) 103¾ - -Winterbourne Whitchurch (cross River Winterbourne) 108¾ - -Milborne St. Andrews (cross River Milborne) 111½ - -Piddletown (cross River Piddle) 115 - -Troy Town (cross River Frome) 116¼ - -Dorchester-- -Town Hall 120 - -Winterbourne Abbas (cross River Winterbourne) 124½ - -‘Traveller’s Rest’ 131¼ - -Bridport-- -Market House (cross River Brit) 134½ - -Chideock 137¼ - -Morecomblake 138¾ - -Charmouth (cross River Char) 141½ - -‘Hunter’s Lodge Inn’ 145 - -Axminster-- - Market Place (cross River Axe) 147 - (Cross River Yart) - -Kilmington 148¾ - -Wilmington (cross River Coly) 153 - -Honiton 156½ - -Fenny Bridges (cross River Otter) 159½ - -Fairmile 161½ - -Rockbeare 166 - -Honiton Clyst (cross River Clyst) 168¼ - -Heavitree 171 - -Exeter 172¾ - - - - -[Illustration: THE EXETER ROAD] - - - - -I - - -From Hyde Park Corner, whence it is measured, to the west end of -Hounslow town, the Exeter Road is identical with the road to Bath. At -that point the ways divide. The right-hand road leads to Bath, by way of -Maidenhead; the Exeter Road goes off to the left, through Staines, to -Basingstoke, Whitchurch, and Andover; where, at half a mile beyond that -town, there is a choice of routes. - -The shortest way to Exeter, the ‘Queen City of the West,’ is by taking -the right-hand road at this last point and proceeding thence through -Weyhill, Mullen’s Pond, Park House, and Amesbury to Deptford Inn, -Hindon, Mere, Wincanton, Ilchester, Ilminster, and Honiton. This ‘short -cut,’ which is the hilliest and bleakest of all the bleak and hilly -routes to Exeter, is 165 miles, 6 furlongs in length. Another way, not -much more than 2¼ miles longer, is by turning to the left at this fork -just outside Andover, and going thence to Salisbury, Shaftesbury, -Sherborne, Yeovil, Crewkerne, and Chard, to meet the other route at -Honiton; at which point, in fact, all routes met. A third way, over 4½ -miles longer than the last, instead of leaving Salisbury for -Shaftesbury, turns in a more southerly direction, and passing through -Blandford, Dorchester, Bridport, and Axminster, reaches Exeter by way of -the inevitable Honiton in 172 miles, 6 furlongs. - -It is thus, by whichever way you elect to travel, a far cry to Exeter, -even in these days; whether you go by rail from Waterloo or -Paddington--171½ and 194 miles respectively, in three hours and -three-quarters--or whether you cycle, or drive in a motor car, along the -road, when the journey may be accomplished by the stalwart cyclist in a -day and a half, and by a swift car in, say, ten hours. - -But hush! we are observed, as they say in the melodramas. Let us say -fourteen hours, and we shall be safe, and well within the legal limit -for motors of twelve miles an hour. - -Compare these figures with the very finest performances of that crack -coach of the coaching age, the Exeter ‘Telegraph,’ going by Amesbury and -Ilchester, which, with the perfection of equipment, and the finest -teams, eventually cut down the time from seventeen to fourteen hours, -and was justly considered the wonder of that era; and it will -immediately be perceived that the century has well earned its reputation -for progress. - -[Sidenote: _OLD ROUTES_] - -It may be well to give a few particulars of the ‘Telegraph’ here before -proceeding. It was started in 1826 by Mrs. Nelson, of the ‘Bull,’ -Aldgate, and originally took seventeen hours between Piccadilly and the -‘Half Moon,’ Exeter. It left Piccadilly at 5.30 A.M., and arrived at -Exeter at 10.30 P.M. Twenty minutes allowed for breakfast at Bagshot, -and thirty minutes for dinner at Deptford Inn. The ‘Telegraph,’ be it -said, was put on the road as a rival to the ‘Quicksilver’ Devonport -mail, which, leaving Piccadilly at 8 P.M., arrived at Exeter at 12.34 -next day; time, sixteen hours, thirty-four minutes. Going on to -Devonport, it arrived at that place at 5.14 P.M., or twenty-one hours, -fourteen minutes from London. There were no fewer than twenty-three -changes in the 216 miles. - - - - -II - - -But those travellers who, in the early days of coaching, a century and a -half ago, desired the safest, speediest, and most comfortable journey to -Exeter, went by a very much longer route than any of those already -named. They went, in fact, by the Bath Road and thence through Somerset. -The Exeter Road beyond Basingstoke was at that period a miserable -waggon-track, without a single turnpike; while the road to Bath had, -under the management of numerous turnpike-trusts, already become a -comparatively fine highway. The Somersetshire squires were also -bestirring themselves to improve their roads, despite the strenuous -opposition encountered from the peasantry and others on the score of -their rights being invaded, and the anticipated ruin of local trade. - -A writer of that period, advocating the setting up of turnpikes on the -direct road to Exeter, anticipated little trouble in converting that -‘waggon-track’ into a first-class highway. Four turnpikes, he -considered, would suffice very well from Salisbury to Exeter; nor would -the improvement of the way over the Downs demand much labour, for the -bottom was solid, and one general expense for pickaxe and spade work, -for levelling, and for widening at the approaches to the villages would -last a long while; experience proving so much, since those portions of -the road remained pretty much the same as they had been in the days of -Julius Cæsar. - -‘It may be objected,’ continues this reformer, ‘that the peasantry will -demolish these turnpikes so soon as they are erected, but we will not -suppose this is in a well-governed happy state like ours. _Lex non -supponet odiosa._ If such terrors were to take place, the great -legislative power would lie at the mercy of the rabble. If the mob will -not hear reason they must be taught it. - -[Sidenote: _A PLEA FOR GOOD ROADS_] - -‘It may be urged that there are not passengers enough on the Western -Road to defray the expenses of erecting these turnpikes. To this I -answer by denying the fact; ’tis a road very much frequented, and the -natural demands from the West to London and all England on the one part, -and from all the eastern counties to Exeter, Plymouth, and Falmouth, -etc., on the other are very great, especially in war-time. Besides, were -the roads more practicable, the number of travellers would increase, -especially of those who make best for towns and inns--namely, such -people of fashion and fortune as make various tours in England for -pleasure, health, and curiosity. In picturesque counties, like Cornwall -and Devon, where the natural curiosities are innumerable, many gentlemen -of taste would be fond of making purchases, and spending their fortunes, -if with common ease they could readily go to and return from their -enchanted castles. Whereas, a family, as things now stand, or a party of -gentlemen and ladies, would sooner travel to the South of France and -back again than down to Falmouth or the Land’s End. And ’tis easier and -pleasanter--so that all beyond Sarum or Dorchester is to us _terra -incognita_, and the mapmakers might, if they pleased, fill the vacuities -of Devon and Cornwall with forests, sands, elephants, savages, or what -they please. Travellers of every denomination--the wealthy, the man of -taste, the idle, the valetudinary--would all, if the roads were good, -visit once at least the western parts of this island. Whereas, every man -and woman that has an hundred superfluous guineas must now turn bird of -passage, flit away across the ocean, and expose themselves to the -ridicule of the French. Now, what but the goodness of the roads can -tempt people to make such expensive and foolish excursions, since, out -of fifty knight-and lady-errants, not two, perhaps, can enounce half a -dozen French words. Their inns are infinitely worse than ours, the -aspect of the country less pleasing; men, manners, customs, laws are no -objects with these itinerants, since they can neither speak nor read the -language. I have known twelve at a time ready to starve at Paris and lie -in the streets, though their purses were well crammed with _louis -d’or_. When they wanted to go to bed, they yawned to the chambermaid, or -shut their eyes; when hunger attacked, they pointed to their mouths. -Even pretty Miss K., and Miss G., realised not the distortion of their -labial muscles, but cawed like unfledged birds for food. They paid -whatever the French demanded, and were laughed at (not before their -faces, indeed) most immeasurably. And yet simpletons of this class spent -near £100,000 last year in France. - -‘But to return. A rich citizen in London, a gentleman of large fortune -eastwards, has, perhaps, some very valuable relations or friends in the -West. Half a dozen times in his lifetime he hears of their welfare by -the post, and once, perhaps, receives a token when the Western curate -posts up to town to be initiated into a benefice--and that is all. He -thinks no more of visiting them than of traversing the deserts of Nubia, -considering them as a sort of separate beings, which might as well be in -the moon, or in _Limbo Patrum_. - -[Sidenote: _CONSERVATIVES_] - -‘I hear the nobility and gentry of Somersetshire have exerted a laudable -spirit, and are now actually erecting turnpikes, which will give that -fruitful county a better intercourse with its neighbours, and bring an -accession of wealth into it; for every wise traveller who goes from -London to Exeter, etc. will surely take Bath in his way (as the -digression is a mere nothing). At least, all the expensive people with -coaches certainly will--and then the supine inhabitants of Wilts and -Dorset may repine in vain; for when a road once comes into repute, and -persons find a pleasant tour and good usage, they will never return to -that which is decried as out of vogue; unless, indeed, they should -reason as a Marlborough stage-coachman did when turnpikes were first -erected between London and Bath. A new road was planned out, but still -my honest man would go round by a miserable waggon-track called -“Ramsbury narrow way.” One by one, from little to less, he dawdled away -all his passengers, and when asked why he was such an obstinate idiot, -his answer was (in a grumbling tone) that he was now an aged man; that -he relished not new fantasies; that his grandfather and father had -driven the aforesaid way before him, and that he would continue in the -old track to _his_ death, though his four horses only drew a -passenger-fly. But the proprietor saw no wit in this: the old -_Automedon_ “resigned” (in the Court phrase), and was replaced by a -youth less conscientious. As a man of honour, I would not conclude -without consulting the most solemn-looking waggoner on the road. This -proved to be Jack Whipcord, of Blandford. Jack’s answer was, that roads -had but one object--namely, waggon-driving; that he required but 5 feet -width in a lane (which he resolved never to quit), and all the rest -might go to the devil. That the gentry ought to stay at home and be -damned, and not run gossiping up and down the country. No turnpikes, no -improvements of roads for him. The Scripture for him was Jeremiah vi. -16.[1] Thus, finding Jack an ill-natured brute and a profane country -wag, I left him, dissatisfied.’ - - - - -III - - -In these pages, which purport to show the old West of England highway as -it was in days of old and as it is now, it is not proposed to follow -either of the two routes taken by the ‘Telegraph’ coach or the -‘Quicksilver’ Devonport mail, by Amesbury or by Shaftesbury, although -there will be occasion to mention those smart coaches from time to time. -We will take the third route instead, for the reasons that it is -practically identical with the course of the _Via Iceniana_, the old -Roman military way to Exeter and the West; and, besides being thus in -the fullest sense the Exeter Road, is the most picturesque and historic -route. This way went in 1826, according to _Cary_, those eminently safe -and reliable coaches, the ‘Regulator,’ in twenty-four hours; the ‘Royal -Mail,’ in twenty-two hours; and the ‘Sovereign,’ which, as no time is -specified, would seem to have journeyed down the road in a haphazard -fashion. Of these, the ‘Mail’ left that famous hostelry, the ‘Swan with -Two Necks’ (known familiarly as the ‘Wonderful Bird’), in Lad Lane, -City, at 7.30 every evening, and Piccadilly half an hour later, arriving -at the ‘New London Inn,’ Exeter, by six o’clock the following evening. - -[Sidenote: _EARLY COACHING DAYS_] - -But even these coaches, which jogged along in so leisurely a fashion, -went at a furious and breakneck--not to say daredevil--pace compared -with the time consumed by the stage coach advertised in the _Mercurius -Politicus_ of 1658 to start from the ‘George Inn,’ Aldersgate Without, -‘every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. To Salisbury in two days for xxs. -To Blandford and Dorchester in two days and a half for xxxs. To -Exminster, Nunnington, Axminster, Honiton, and Exeter in four days xls.’ - -The ‘Exeter Fly’ of a hundred years later than this, which staggered -down to Exeter in three days, under the best conditions, and was the -swiftest public conveyance down this road at that time, before the new -stages and mails were introduced, had been known, it is credibly -reported, to take six. - -[Sidenote: _FARES_] - -Palmer’s mail coaches, which were started on the Exeter Road in the -summer of 1785, rendered all this kind of meandering progress obsolete, -except for the poorest class of travellers, who had still for many a -long year (indeed, until road travel was killed by the railways) to -endure the miseries of a journey in the great hooded luggage waggons of -Russell and Company, which, with a team of eight horses, started from -Falmouth, and travelling at the rate of three miles an hour, reached -London in twelve days. A man on a pony rode beside the team, and with a -long whip touched them up when this surprising pace was not maintained. -The travellers walked, putting their belongings inside; and when night -was come either camped under the ample shelter of the lumbering waggon, -or, if it were winter, were accommodated for a trifle in the stable -lofts of the inns they halted at. Messrs. Russell and Company were in -business for many years as carriers between London and the West, and at -a later date--from the ’20’s until the close of the coaching era--were -the proprietors of an intermediate kind of vehicle between the waggon at -one extreme and the mail coaches at the other. This was the ‘Fly Van,’ -of which, unlike their more ancient conveyances which set out only three -times a week, one started every week-day from either end. This -accommodated a class of travellers who did not disdain to travel among -the bales and bundles, or to fit themselves in between the knobbly -corners of heavy goods, but who would neither walk nor consent to the -journey from the Far West occupying the best part of a fortnight. So -they paid a trifle more and travelled the distance between Exeter and -London in two days, in times when the ‘Telegraph,’ according to Sir -William Knighton, conveyed the aristocratic passenger that distance in -seventeen hours. He writes, in his diary, under date of 23rd September -1832, that he started at five o’clock in the morning of that day from -Exeter in the ‘Telegraph’ coach for London. The fare, inside, was £3: -10s., and, in addition, four coachmen and one guard had to be paid the -usual fees which custom had rendered obligatory. They breakfasted at -Ilminster and dined at Andover. ‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘can exceed the -rapidity with which everything is done. The journey of one hundred and -seventy-five miles was accomplished in seventeen hours[2]--breakfast and -dinner were so hurried that the cravings of appetite could hardly be -satisfied, and the horses were changed like lightning.’ The fare, -inside, was therefore practically 5d. a mile, to which must be added at -least fifteen shillings in tips to those four coachmen and that guard, -bringing the cost of the smartest travelling between London and Exeter -up to £4: 5s. for the single journey; while the fares by waggon and ‘Fly -Van’ would be at the rate of a halfpenny and twopence per mile -respectively, something like 7s. 6d. and 29s. 6d.; without, in those -cases, the necessity for tipping. - -There were, however, more degrees than these in the accommodation and -fares for coach travellers. The proper mail coach fare was 4d. a mile, -but the mails were not the _ne plus ultra_ of speed and comfort even on -this road, where the ‘Quicksilver’ mail ran a famous course. Hence the -5d. a mile by the ‘Telegraph.’ But it was left to the ‘Waggon Coach’ to -present the greatest disparity of prices and places. This was a vehicle -which, under various names, was seen for a considerable period on most -of the roads, and can, with a little ingenuity, be looked upon as the -precursor of the three classes on railways. There were the first-class -‘insides,’ the second-class ‘outsides,’ and those very rank outsiders -indeed, the occupants of the shaky wickerwork basket hung on behind, -called the ‘crate’ or the ‘rumble-tumble,’ who were very often noisily -drunken sailors and people who did not mind a little jolting more or -less. - -Some very fine turns-out were on this road at the end of the ’30’s. -Firstly, there was the ‘Royal Mail,’ between the ‘Swan with Two Necks,’ -in Lad Lane, and the ‘New London Inn,’ Exeter, both in those days inns -of good solid feeding, with drinking to match. It was of the first-named -inn, and of another equally famous, that the poet (who must have been of -the fleshly and Bacchic order) wrote:-- - - At the Swan with Two Throttles - I tippled two bottles, - And bothered the beef at the Bull and the Mouth. - -One can readily imagine the sharp-set and shivering traveller, fresh -from the perils of the road, ‘bothering the beef’ with his huge -appetite, and tippling the generous liquor (which, of course, was port) -with loud appreciative smackings of the lips. - -Then there were the ‘Sovereign,’ the ‘Regulator,’ and the ‘Eclipse,’ -going by the Blandford and Dorchester route; the ‘Prince George,’ -‘Herald,’ ‘Pilot,’ ‘Traveller,’ and ‘Quicksilver,’ by Crewkerne and -Yeovil; and the ‘Defiance,’ ‘Celerity,’ and ‘Subscription,’ by Amesbury -and Ilminster; to leave unnamed the short stages and the bye-road -coaches, all helping to swell the traffic in those old days, now utterly -forgotten. - - - - -IV - - -A very great authority on coaching--the famous ‘Nimrod,’ the mainstay of -the _Sporting Magazine_--writing in 1836, compares the exquisite -perfection to which coaching had attained at that time with the era - -[Sidenote: _A RIP VAN WINKLE_] - -[Illustration: THE ‘COMET.’] - -of the old Exeter ‘Fly,’ and imagines a kind of Rip Van Winkle old -gentleman, who had been a traveller by that crazy conveyance in 1742, -waking up and journeying by the ‘Comet’ of 1836. Rousing from his long -sleep, he determines to go by the ‘Fly’ to Exeter. In the lapse of -ninety-four years, however, that vehicle has been relegated to the -things that were, and has been utterly forgotten. He waits in -Piccadilly. ‘What coach, your honour?’ asks a ruffianly-looking fellow. - -‘I wish to go home to Exeter,’ replies the old gentleman. - -‘Just in time, your honour, here she comes--them there gray horses; -where’s your luggage?’ - -But the turn-out is so different from those our Rip Van Winkle knew, -that he says, ‘Don’t be in a hurry, that’s a gentleman’s carriage.’ - -‘It ain’t, I tell you,’ replies the cad; ‘it’s the “Comet,” and you must -be as quick as lightning.’ Whereupon, vehemently protesting, the ‘cad’ -and a fellow ruffian shove him forcibly into the coach, despite his -anxiety about his luggage. - -The old fellow, impressed by the smartness of the Jehu--a smartness to -which coachmen had been entire strangers in his time--asks, ‘What -gentleman is going to drive us!’ - -‘He is no gentleman,’ replies the proprietor of the coach, who happens -to be sitting at his side; ‘but he has been on the “Comet” ever since -she started, and is a very steady young man.’ - -‘Pardon my ignorance,’ says our ancient, ‘from the cleanliness of his -person, the neatness of his apparel, and the language he made use of, I -mistook him for some enthusiastic bachelor of arts, wishing to become a -charioteer after the manner of the illustrious ancients.’ - -‘You must have been long in foreign parts, sir,’ observes the -proprietor. - -Presently they come to Hyde Park Corner. ‘What!’ exclaims Rip, ‘off the -stones already?’ - -‘You have never been on the stones,’ says a fellow-passenger; ‘no stones -in London now, sir.’ - -The old gentleman is engaged upon digesting this information and does -not perceive for some time that the coach is a swift one. When he -discovers that fact, and mentions it, he is met with the rejoinder, ‘We -never go fast over this stage.’ - -So they pass through Brentford. ‘Old Brentford still here?’ he exclaims; -‘a national disgrace!’ Then Hounslow, in five minutes under the hour. -‘Wonderful travelling, but much too fast to be safe. However, thank -Heaven, we are arrived at a good-looking house; and now, waiter, I hope -you have got breakf----’ - -Before the last syllable, however, of the word can be pronounced, the -worthy old gentleman’s head strikes the back of the coach with a jerk, -and the waiter, the inn, and indeed Hounslow itself, disappear in the -twinkling of an eye. ‘My dear sir,’ exclaims he, in surprise, ‘you told -me we were to change horses at Hounslow. Surely they are not so inhuman -as to drive those poor animals another stage at this unmerciful rate!’ - -[Sidenote: _THE GALLOPING GROUND_] - -‘Change horses, sir!’ says the proprietor; ‘why, we changed them while -you were putting on your spectacles and looking at your watch. Only one -minute allowed for it at Hounslow, and it is often done in fifty seconds -by those nimble-fingered horse-keepers.’ - -Then the coach goes fast and faster on the way to Staines. ‘We always -spring ’em over these six miles,’ says the proprietor, in reply to the -old gentleman’s remark that he really does not like to go so fast. ‘Not -a pebble as big as a nutmeg on the road, and so even that the -equilibrium of a spirit-level could not be disturbed.’ - -‘Bless me!’ exclaims the old man, ‘what improvements; and the roads!!!’ - -‘They are at perfection, sir,’ says the proprietor. ‘No horse walks a -yard in this coach between London and Exeter--all trotting-ground now.’ - -‘A little _galloping_ ground, I fear,’ whispers the senior to himself. -‘But who has effected all this improvement in your paving?’ - -‘An American of the name of M’Adam,’ is the reply; ‘but coachmen call -him the Colossus of Roads.’ - -‘And pray, my good sir, what sort of horses may you have over the next -stage?’ - -‘Oh, sir, no more bo-kickers. It is hilly and severe ground and requires -cattle strong and staid. You’ll see four as fine horses put to the coach -at Staines as ever you saw in a nobleman’s carriage in your life.’ - -‘Then we shall have no more galloping--no more springing them as you -term it?’ - -‘Not quite so fast over the next stage,’ replies the proprietor; ‘but -he will make good play over some part of it; for example, when he gets -three parts down a hill he lets them loose, and cheats them out of half -the one they have to ascend from the bottom of it. In short, they are -half-way up it before a horse touches his collar; and we _must_ take -every advantage with such a fast coach as this, and one that loads so -well, or we should never keep our time. We are now to a minute; in fact, -the country people no longer look to the _sun_ when they want to set -their clocks--they look only to the _Comet_.’ - -Determined to see the changing of the team at the next stage, the old -gentleman remarks one of the new horses being led to the coach with a -twitch fastened tightly to his nose. ‘Holloa, Mr. Horsekeeper!’ he says, -‘you are going to put an unruly horse in.’--‘What! this here _’oss_,’ -growls the man; ‘the quietest hanimal alive, sir.’ But the good faith of -this pronouncement is somewhat discounted by the coachman’s caution, -‘Mind what you are about, Bob; don’t let him touch the roller-bolt.’ -Then, ‘Let ’em go, and take care of yourselves,’ his next remark, seems -a little alarming. More alarming still the next happening. The near -leader rears right on end, the thoroughbred near-wheeler draws himself -back to the extent of his pole-chain, and then, darting forward, gives a -sudden start to the coach which nearly dislocates the passengers’ necks. - -We will not follow every heart-beat of our old friend on this exciting -pilgrimage. He quits the coach at Bagshot, congratulating himself on -being still safe and sound, and rings the bell for the waiter. - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘REGULATOR’_] - -[Illustration: THE ‘REGULATOR’ ON HARTFORD BRIDGE FLATS.] - -A well-dressed person appears, whom he takes for the landlord. ‘Pray, -_sir_,’ says he, ‘have you any _slow_ coach down this road -to-day?’--‘Why, yes, sir,’ replies the waiter. ‘We shall have the -“Regulator” down in an hour.’ - -He has breakfast, and at the appointed time the ‘Regulator’ appears at -the door. It is a strong, well-built _drag_, painted chocolate colour, -bedaubed all over with gilt letters--a Bull’s Head on the doors, a -Saracen’s Head on the hind boot, and drawn by four strapping horses; but -it wants the neatness of the other. The waiter announces that the -‘Regulator’ is full inside and in front; ‘but,’ he says, ‘you’ll have -the _gammon-board_ all to yourself, and your luggage is in the hind -boot.’ - -‘Gammon-board! Pray, what’s that? Do you not mean the _basket_?’ - -‘Oh no, sir,’ says John, smiling, ‘no such a thing on the road now. It’s -the hind-dickey, as some call it.’ - -Before ascending to his place, our friend has cast his eye on the team -that is about to convey him to Hartford Bridge, the next stage. It -consists of four moderate-sized horses, full of power, and still fuller -of condition, but with a fair sprinkling of blood; in short, the eye of -a judge would have found something about them not very unlike galloping. -‘All right!’ cries the guard, taking his key-bugle in his hand; and they -proceed up the village at a steady pace, to the tune of ‘Scots wha hae -wi’ Wallace bled,’ and continue at that pace for the first five miles. -The old gentleman again congratulates himself, but prematurely, for -they are about to enter upon Hartford Bridge Flats, which have the -reputation at this time of being the best five miles for a coach in all -England. The coachman now ‘springs’ his team and they break into a -gallop which does those five miles in twenty-three minutes. Half-way -across the Flats they meet the returning coachman of the ‘Comet,’ who -has a full view of his quondam passenger--and this is what he saw. He -was seated with his back to the horses--his arms extended to each -extremity of the guard-irons--his teeth set grim as death--his eyes cast -down towards the ground, thinking the less he saw of his danger the -better. There was what was called a top-heavy load, perhaps a ton of -luggage on the roof, and the horses were of unequal stride; so that the -lurches of the ‘Regulator’ were awful. - -Strange to say, the coach arrives safely at Hartford Bridge, but the -antiquated passenger has had enough of it, and exclaims that he will -_walk_ into Devonshire. However, he thinks perhaps he will post down, -and asks the waiter, ‘What do you charge per mile, posting?’ - -‘One and sixpence, sir.’--‘Bless me! just double! Let me see--two -hundred miles at two shillings per mile, postboys, turnpikes, etc., £20. -This will never do. Have you no coach that does not carry luggage on the -top?’--‘Oh yes, sir,’ replies the waiter; ‘we shall have one to-night -that is not allowed to carry a bandbox on the roof.’--‘That’s the one -for me; pray, what do you call it?’--‘The “Quicksilver” Mail, sir; one -of the best out of London.’--‘Guarded and - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘QUICKSILVER’ MAIL_] - -[Illustration: THE ‘QUICKSILVER’ MAIL:--‘STOP, COACHMAN, I HAVE LOST MY -HAT AND WIG.’] - -lighted?’--‘Both, sir; blunderbuss and pistols in the sword-case; a lamp -each side the coach, and one under the footboard--see to pick up a pin -the darkest night of the year.--‘Very fast?’--‘Oh no, sir, _just keeps -time, and that’s all_.’--‘That’s the ‘coach for me, then,’ says our -hero. - -Unfortunately, the ‘Devonport’ (commonly called the ‘Quicksilver’) mail -is half a mile faster in the hour than most in England, and is, indeed, -one of the miracles of the road. Let us then picture this unfortunate -passenger seated in this mail on a pitch-dark night in November. It is -true she has no luggage on the roof, nor much to incommode her -elsewhere; but she is a mile in the hour faster than the ‘Comet,’ at -least three miles quicker than the ‘Regulator.’ and she performs more -than half her journey by lamplight. It is needless to say, then, our -senior soon finds out his mistake; but there is no remedy at hand, for -it is dead of night, and all the inns are shut up. The climax of his -misfortunes then approaches. He sleeps, and awakes on a stage called the -fastest on the journey--it is four miles of ground, and twelve minutes -is the time. The old gentleman starts from his seat, dreaming the horses -are running away. Determined to see if it is so, although the passengers -assure him it is ‘all right,’ and assure him he will lose his hat if he -looks out of window, he _does_ look out. The next moment he raises his -voice in a stentorian shout: ‘Stop, coachman, stop. I have lost my hat -and wig!’ The coachman hears him not--and in another second the broad -wheels of a road waggon have for ever demolished the lost headgear. And -so we leave him, hatless, wigless, to his fate. - - - - -V - - -The late Thomas Adolphus Trollope, brother of the better-known Anthony, -was never tired of writing voluminously about old times, and what he has -to say about the coaches on the Exeter Road is the more interesting and -valuable as coming from one who lived and travelled in the times of -which he speaks. - -The coaches for the South and West of England, he says, started from the -‘White Horse Cellars,’ Piccadilly, which was one of the fashionable -hotels of 1820, the time he treats of. - -[Sidenote: _COACH CONSTRUCTION_] - -The ‘White Bear,’ Piccadilly, he adds, was looked upon with contempt, as -being the place whence only the slow coaches started. The mails and -stages moved off to the accompaniment of news-vendors pushing the sale -of the expensive and heavily taxed newspapers of the period, and the -cries of the Jew-boys who sold oranges and cedar pencils on the pavement -at sixpence a dozen. Once clear of town, his enthusiasm over the travel -of other days finds scope, and he begins: ‘What an infinite succession -of teams! What an endless vista of ever-changing miles of country! What -a delicious sense of belonging to some select and specially important -and adventurous section of humanity as we clattered through the streets -of quiet little country towns at midnight, or even at three or four -o’clock in the morning; ourselves the only souls awake in all the place. -What speculations as to the immediate bestowal and occupation of the -coachman as he “left you here, sir,” in the small hours!’ - -Then he goes on to give a kind of gossipy history of the smart mails put -on the road about 1820. - -‘A new and accelerated mail-coach service was started under the title of -the “Devonport Mail,” at that time the fastest in England. Its -performances caused a sensation in the coaching world, and it was known -in such circles as the “Quicksilver Mail.” Its early days had chanced, -unfortunately, to be marked by two or three accidents, which naturally -gave it an increased celebrity. - -‘And if it is considered what those men and horses were required to -perform, the wonder was, not that the “Quicksilver” should have come to -grief two or three times, but rather that it ever made its journey -without doing so. What does the railway traveller of the present day, -who sees a travelling Post Office and its huge tender, crammed with -postal matter, think of the idea of carrying all that mass on one, or -perhaps two, coaches? The guard, occupying his solitary post behind the -coach on the top of the receptacle called, with reference to the -constructions of still earlier days, the _hinder_-boot, sat on a little -seat made for one, with his pistol and blunderbuss in a box in front of -him. And the original notion of those who first planned the modern mail -coach was that the bags containing the letters should be carried in the -_hinder_-boot. The fore-boot, beneath the driver’s box, was considered -to be appropriated to the baggage of the three outside and four inside -passengers, which was the _Mail’s_ entire complement. One of the -outsiders shared the box with the driver, and two occupied the seat on -the roof behind him, their backs to the horses, and facing the guard, -who had a seat all to himself. The accommodation provided for these two -was not of a very comfortable description. They were not, indeed, -crowded, as the four who occupied a similar position on another coach -often were; but they had a mere board to sit on, whereas the seats on -the roof of an ordinary stage coach were provided with cushions. The -fares by the mail were nearly always somewhat higher than those by even -equally fast, or, in some cases, faster, coaches; and it seems -unreasonable, therefore, that the accommodation should have been -inferior. I can only suppose that the patrons of the mail were -understood to be compensated for its material imperfections by the -superior dignity of their position. The _box_-seat, however, was well -cushioned. - -[Sidenote: _THE COACHING AGE_] - -‘But if the despatches, which it was the mail’s business to carry, could -once upon a time be contained in the hinder-boot, such soon ceased to be -the case. The bulk of postal matter which had to be carried was -constantly and rapidly increasing, and often as many as nine enormous -sacks, which were as long as the coach was broad, were heaped upon the -roof. The huge heap, three or four tiers high, was piled to a height -which prevented the guard, even when standing, from seeing or -communicating with the coachman. If to these considerations the reader -will add the consideration of the Devon and Somerset roads, over which -this top-heavy load had to be carried at twelve miles an hour, it will -not seem strange that accidents should have occurred. Not that the roads -were bad. They, thanks to M’Adam, were good, hard, and smooth, but the -hills were numerous and steep. - -‘The whole of the service was well done and admirable, and the drivers -of such a coach were masters of their profession. Work hard, but -remuneration good. There were fewer passengers by the mail to “remember” -the coachman, but it was more uniformly full, and somewhat more was -expected from a traveller by the mail. It was a splendid thing to see -the beautiful teams going over their short stage at twelve miles an -hour. None but good cattle in first-rate condition could do the work. A -saying of old Mrs. Mountain, for many years the well-known proprietress -of one of the large coaching inns in London, used to be quoted as having -been addressed by her to one of her drivers: “You find whip-cord, John, -and I’ll find oats.” And, as it used to be said, the measure of the corn -supplied to a coach-horse was--his stomach! - -‘It was a pretty sight to see the changing of the horses. There stood -the fresh team, two on the off side, two on the near side, and the coach -was drawn up with the utmost exactitude between them. Four ostlers jump -to the splinter-bars and loose the traces; the reins have already been -thrown down. The driver retains his seat, and, within the minute (more -than once, within fifty seconds by the watch) the coach is again on its -onward journey. - -‘Then how welcome was breakfast at an excellent old-world country -inn--twenty minutes allowed. The hot tea, after your night’s drive, the -fresh cream, butter, eggs, hot toast, and cold beef, and then, with your -cigar alight, back to the box and off again. - -‘I once witnessed on that road--not quite _that_ road, for the -“Quicksilver” took a somewhat different line--the stage of four miles -between Ilchester and Ilminster done in _twenty_ minutes, and a trace -broken and mended on the road. The mending was effected by the guard -almost before the coach stopped. It is a level bit of road, four miles -only for the entire stage, and was performed at a full gallop. That was -done by a coach called the “Telegraph,” started some years after the -“Quicksilver,” to do the distance between Exeter and London in one day. -We started at 5 A.M. from Exeter and reached London between 9 and 10 -that night, with time for breakfast and dinner on the road. I think the -performance of the Exeter “Telegraph” was the _ne plus ultra_ of -coach-travelling. One man drove fifty miles, and then meeting the other -coach on the road, changed from one box to another and drove the fifty -miles back. It was tremendously hard work. “Not much work for the whip -arm?” I asked a coachman. “Not much, sir; but just put your hand on my -left arm.” The muscle was swollen to its utmost, and as hard as iron. -Many people who have not tried it think it easier work to drive such a -coach and such a team as this than to have to flog a dull team up to -eight miles an hour.’ - -[Sidenote: _AN OLD MAIL-GUARD_] - -Thomas Adolphus Trollope’s reminiscences may be fitly supplemented by -those of Moses James Nobbs, who died in June 1897, at the age of eighty -years, and was one of the last of the mail-guards on the Exeter Road. To -say that he was actually _the_ last would be rash, for coachmen, -postboys, and guards were a long-lived race, and it would not be at all -surprising to learn that some ancient veterans still survive. Nobbs -entered the service of the Post Office in 1836, and was transferred from -the Bristol and Portsmouth to the London, Yeovil, and Exeter Mail in -1837. - -Retiring at the close of 1891, he therefore saw fifty-five years’ -service, and vividly recollected the time when the mails were conveyed -in bags secured on the roof of the coach. At Christmas-time the load was -always heavy; but although the correspondence of that season sometimes -severely strained the capacity of the vehicle, it is not recorded that -the mail had to be duplicated, as had to be done sometimes in after -years when railways had superseded coaches. - -When the Great Western Railway was opened through to Exeter in 1844 and -the last mail coach on this route had been withdrawn, Nobbs was given -the superintendence of the receiving and despatching of the mails from -Paddington, and often spoke of the extraordinary growth of the Post -Office business during the railway era. At one Christmas-tide he -despatched from Paddington in a single day no less than twenty tons of -letters and parcels. - -He had not been without his adventures. ‘We had a very sad accident,’ he -says, ‘with that mail on one occasion, between Whitchurch and Andover. -The coach used to start from Piccadilly, where all the passengers and -baggage were taken up. On this occasion the bags were brought up in a -cart, as usual, and we were off in a few seconds. My coachman had been -having a drinking bout with a friend that day, and when we had got a few -miles on the road, I discovered that he was the worse for drink and that -it was not safe for him to drive. So when we reached Hounslow I made him -get off the box-seat; and after securing the mail-bags and putting him -in my seat and strapping him in, I took the ribbons. At Whitchurch the -coachman unstrapped himself and exchanged places with me, but we had not -proceeded more than three miles when, the coach giving a jolt over a -heap of stones, he fell between the horses, and the wheels of the coach -ran over him, killing him on the spot. The horses, having no driver, -broke into a full gallop, so, as there was no front passenger, I climbed -over the roof, to gather up the reins, when I found that they had fallen -among the horses’ feet and were trodden to bits. Returning over the -roof, I missed my hold and fell into the road, but fortunately with no -worse accident than some bruises and a sprained ankle. The horses kept -on till they reached Andover, where they pulled up at the usual spot. -Strange to say, no damage was done to the coach, though there was a very -steep hill to go down. The “Old Exeter Mail,” which came behind our -coach, found the body of my coachman on the road, and, a mile farther, -picked me up.’ - - - - -VI - - -[Sidenote: _THE SHORT STAGES_] - -Suppose, instead of taking one of the fast mails to Exeter, and -journeying straight away, we book a seat in one of the ‘short stages’ -which were the only popular means of being conveyed between London and -the suburbs in the days before railways, omnibuses, and tramways -existed. We will take the stage to Brentford, because that is on our -way. - -What year shall we imagine it to be? Say 1837, because that date marks -the accession of Her Majesty and the opening of the great Victorian Era, -in which everything except human nature (which is still pretty much what -it used to be) has been turned inside out, altered, and ‘improved.’ - -If, in the year 1837, we wished to reach Brentford and could not afford -to hire a trap or carriage, practically the only way, other than walking -the seven miles, would have been to take the stage; and as these stages, -starting from the City or the Strand, were comparatively few, it was -always advisable to go down to the starting-places and secure a seat, -rather than to chance finding one vacant at Hyde Park Corner. - -‘How we hate the Putney and Brentford stages that draw up in a line in -Piccadilly, after the mails are gone,’ says Hazlitt, writing of the -romance of the Mail Coach. Well, it may be that their five or ten mile -journeys afforded no hold for the imagination, compared with the dashing -‘Quicksilver’ and the lightning ‘Telegraph’ to Exeter; but what on -earth the Londoner of modest means who desired to travel to Putney or to -Brentford would in those pre-omnibus times have done without those -stages it is impossible to conceive. We, in these days, might just as -well find romance in the majesty of the beautiful Great Western Express -locomotives that speed between Paddington and Penzance, and then turn to -the omnibuses that run to Hammersmith, and say, ‘How we hate the -’buses!’ - -All these suburban stages started from public-houses. There were quite a -number which went to Brentford and on to Hounslow, and they set out from -such forgotten houses as the ‘New Inn,’ Old Bailey; the ‘Goose and -Gridiron,’ St. Paul’s Churchyard; the ‘Old Bell,’ Holborn; the -‘Gloucester Coffee House,’ Piccadilly; the ‘White Hart,’ ‘Red Lion,’ and -‘Spotted Dog,’ Strand; and the ‘Bolt-in-Tun,’ Fleet Street. It is to be -feared that those stages were not ‘Swiftsures,’ ‘Hirondelles,’ or -‘Lightnings.’ Nor, indeed, were ‘popular prices’ known in those days. -Concessions had been made in this direction, it is true, some seven -years before, when the man with the extraordinary name--Mr. -Shillibeer--introduced the first omnibus, which ran between the -‘Yorkshire Stingo,’ in the New Road, Marylebone, and the City; and the -very name ‘omnibus’ was originally intended as a kind of finger-post to -point out the intended popularity of the new conveyance, but as the fare -to the City was one shilling, it may readily be supposed that Bill -Mortarmixer, Tom Tenon, and the whole of - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘GOOSE AND GRIDIRON’_] - -[Illustration: THE WEST COUNTRY MAILS STARTING FROM THE GLOUCESTER -COFFEE HOUSE, PICCADILLY (AFTER JAMES POLLARD).] - -their artisan brethren, who did not in those times aspire to -one-and-twopence per hour, preferred to walk. For the same reason, they -were only the comparatively affluent who could afford the eighteenpenny -fare, or the two-hours journey, to Brentford by the ‘stage.’ - -Let us suppose ourselves to be of that fortunate company, and, paying -our one-and-sixpence, set out from the ‘Goose and Gridiron.’ - -That old-fashioned hostelry, which stood modestly back from the roadway -on the north side of St. Paul’s Churchyard, was, unhappily, demolished -in 1894, after a good deal more than two centuries’ record for good -cheer. It was originally the ‘Swan and Harp,’ but some irreverent wag, -probably as far back as the building of the house in Wren’s time, found -the other name for it, and the effigies of the goose and the gridiron -remained even to our own time. - -This year of our imaginary journey affords a strange contrast with the -appearance the streets will possess some sixty years later. Ludgate -Hill, in 1837 an exceedingly narrow thoroughfare, paved with rough -granite setts, will in the last decade of the century present a very -different aspect. Instead of the dingy brick warehouses there will be -handsome premises of some architectural pretensions, and the Hill will -be considerably widened. The setts will have disappeared, to be replaced -by wood pavement, and the traffic will have increased tenfold; until, in -fact, it has become a continuous stream. There will be strange vehicles, -too, unknown in 1837,--omnibuses, hansom-cabs, and motor cars, and -where Ludgate Hill joins Fleet Street there will be a Circus and an -obstructive railway-bridge. - -[Illustration: ‘AN OLD GENTLEMAN, A COBBETT-LIKE PERSON.’] - -We proceed in leisurely fashion down Ludgate Hill, and halt for -passengers and parcels at the ‘Bolt-in-Tun,’ Fleet Street, which is now -a railway receiving office. Thence by slow degrees, calling at the ‘Red -Lion,’ ‘Spotted Dog,’ and the ‘White Hart,’ we eventually reach the -‘Gloucester Coffee House,’ Piccadilly, re-built many years ago, and now -the ‘Berkeley Hotel.’ Beyond this point, progress is fortunately -speedier, and we reach Hyde Park Corner in, comparatively speaking, the -twinkling of an eye. Hyde Park Corner in 1837, this year of the Queen’s -accession, has begun to feel the great changes that are presently to -alter London so marvellously. We have among our fellow-travellers by the -stage an old gentleman, a Cobbett-like person, who wears a rustic, -semi-farmer kind of appearance, and recollects many improvements here; -who can ‘mind the time, look you,’ when the turnpike-gate (which was -removed in 1825) stood at the corner; when St. George’s Hospital was a -private mansion, the residence of Lord Lanesborough; and when the road -leading past it to Pimlico was quite wild country, as in the picture on -page 43, where sportsmen shot snipe in those marshes that were in future -years - -[Illustration: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S STATUE.] - -to become the site of Belgrave Square and other aristocratic quarters. - -At this spot Mr. Decimus Burton had already built the great Triumphal -Arch forming the entrance to Constitution Hill, together with the -Classic Screen at Hyde Park Corner. The Screen was built in 1828, and -the Arch, which is a copy of the Arch of Titus at Rome, in 1832. -Already, in 1820, Apsley House had become the residence of the Iron -Duke, but it was not until 1846 that what Thackeray justly names ‘the -hideous equestrian monster’ was placed on the summit of that Arch, -opposite the Duke’s windows. Here is an illustration of it, before it -was hoisted up to that height. Beside it you see the Duke himself, in -his characteristic white trousers, in company with several weirdly -dressed persons. Again, over page, may be seen the Arch, with the statue -on it, and the neighbourhood vastly changed from the appearance it wears -in the picture of the ‘North-East Prospect of St. George’s Hospital.’ -Instead of the great hooded waggons starting for the West Country, the -road is occupied with very crowded traffic, and among the vehicles may -be noticed two omnibuses, one going to Chelsea, the other (for this is -the year 1851) to the Exhibition,--the first exhibition that ever was. -If, ladies and gentlemen, you will be pleased to look at those -omnibuses, you will see that they have neither knifeboards nor seats on -the roof, and that passengers are squatting up there in the most -supremely uncomfortable, not to say dangerous, positions. Also, in those -dark ages of London locomotion, the ascent to that uncomfortable roof -was of itself perilous, for no - -[Illustration: THE WELLINGTON ARCH AND HYDE PARK CORNER, 1851.] - -[Illustration: ST. GEORGE’S HOSPITAL, AND THE ROAD TO PIMLICO, 1780.] - -one had as yet dreamed of the staircase. Other curious points will be -noticed by the observant, and among them the fact that ’buses then had -doors. The present historian vividly recollects a door being part of the -equipment of every ’bus, and of the full-flavoured odour of what Mr. W. -S. Gilbert calls ‘damp straw and squalid hay’ which assailed the -nostrils of the ‘insides’ when that door was shut; but in what -particular year did the door vanish altogether? Alas! the straw, with -the door, is gone for evermore, and passengers no longer lose their -small change in it to the great gain of the conductor, who, by the way, -used to be called ‘the cad,’ even although he commonly wore a ‘top hat’ -and a frock coat, as per the picture. The word ‘cad’ has since then -acquired a much more offensive meaning, and if you addressed a conductor -by that name nowadays, he would probably express a desire to punch your -head. - -The hideous statue of the Duke and his charger ‘Copenhagen,’ which the -French said ‘avenged Waterloo,’ was removed to Aldershot in 1884, when -the alterations were made at Hyde Park Corner. - - - - -VII - - -And now we come to the first toll-gate, which, removed to this spot in -1825, opposite where the Alexandra Hotel now stands, stood here until -1854. - -There were many troublesome survivals in 1837 which have long since been -swept away. Toll-gates, - -[Sidenote: _THE PIKEMEN_] - -[Illustration: KNIGHTSBRIDGE TOLL-GATE, 1854.] - -for instance. The toll or turnpike gate of sixty, fifty, forty years ago -was a very real grievance, both on country roads and in London itself, -or in those districts which we now call London. Many people objected to -pay toll then, and a favourite amusement of the young bloods was -fighting the pikeman for his halfpenny, his penny, or his sixpence, as -the case might be. Sometimes the pikeman won, sometimes those gay young -sparks; and the pikeman always took those terrific encounters as part of -the day’s work, and never summoned those sportsmen for assault and -battery. In fact, they were such sporting times that, whether the -pikeman or the Corinthian youth won, the latter would probably chuck his -antagonist a substantial coin of the realm, whereupon the pikeman would -say that ‘his honour was a gemman,’ and exeunt severally to purchase -beef-steaks for the reduction of black eyes. - -[Illustration: THE PIKEMAN.] - -The present generation has, of course, never seen a pikeman. He wore a -tall black glazed hat and corduroy breaches, with white stockings. But -the most distinctive part of his costume was his white linen apron. No -one knows why he wore an apron; neither did he, and the reason of it -must now needs be lost in the mists of history, because the last -pikeman, whom otherwise we might have asked, is dead, and gone to Hades, -where he probably is still going through a series of shadowy encounters -beside the shores of the Styx with the ghosts of the Toms and Jerrys of -long ago, and offering to fight Charon for the price of his ferry across -the stream. - -But here we are at rural Knightsbridge, in 1837 as quiet a spot as you -could find round London, with scattered cottages of the rustic, -rose-embowered kind. Knightsbridge Green _was_ a green in those days, -and not, as it is now, a squalid paved court. Then, and for many years -afterwards, the soldiers from the neighbouring barracks would walk with -the nursemaids in the country lanes, and take tea in the tea-gardens -which stood away behind the highroad and were a feature of Brompton. -Where are those tea-gardens now, and where the toll-gate that barred the -road by the barracks? Gone, my friends; swept away like the gossamer -threads of the spiders that spun webs in the arbours of those gardens -and dropped in the nursemaids’ tea and the soldiers’ beer. Those -soldiers and those nursemaids are gone too, else it would be a pleasing, -a curious, and an instructive thing to take them, tottering in their old -age, by the hand and say: ‘Here, my gallant warrior of eighty years or -so,’ and ‘Here, my pretty maiden of four-score, is Knightsbridge, the -self-same Knightsbridge you knew, but with some new, and somewhat -larger, buildings.’ They would be as strangers in a strange land, and, -dazed by the din of the thronging traffic amid the sky-scraping -buildings, beg to be taken - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘NEW POLICE’_] - -[Illustration: KNIGHTSBRIDGE BARRACKS TOLL-GATE.] - -away. But to bring back the policeman of that era, if that were -possible, and set him to control this traffic, would be more instructive -still. When the last years of the coaching age along this road were -still running their course, ‘Robert,’ the ‘Peeler,’ or the ‘New Police,’ -as he was variously named, had an easy time of it here. Not so his -successors, who have to deal with an almost continual block, all day -long and every day. - -[Illustration: THE ‘NEW POLICE.’] - -The ‘New Police’ were a novel body of men in the early years of the -reign, having been introduced in 1829 by Sir Robert Peel. Hence the -brilliant appropriateness of those nicknames. There still, however, -lingered in various parts of the Metropolis that ancient institution, -the Watchman, who patrolled the streets at night and announced the hours -in a curious sing-song voice with remarks upon the state of the weather -added. Those who sat up late were familiar with the chant: ‘Twelve -o’clock, and a stormy night!’ and found comfort in the companionship of -that voice. - -The watchmen, although scarce anyone now living can have seen one of -those many-caped, tottering old fellows, seem strangely familiar to us. -That is because we have read so much about them in the exploits of Tom -and Jerry, the Corinthian youth of the glorious days of George the -Fourth, when the most popular forms of sport were knocker-wrenching, -bilking a pikeman, and thrashing a Charley. A ‘Charley’ was, of course, -a watchman. The thrashing of a ‘Charley’ was not an heroic pursuit, but -(or, rather, therefore) it was extremely popular. They were generally -old men, and not capable of very serious reprisals upon the gangs of -muscular youths who thumped, whacked, larrupped, and beat them -unmercifully, and overturned their watch-boxes on to them, so that those -poor old men were imprisoned until some Samaritan came by and released -them. No one ever attempted that sort of thing with the ‘New Police,’ -who were not old and decrepit men, but tall, lusty, upstanding fellows. -Perhaps that was why the ‘New Police’ were so violently objected to, -although the ostensible grounds of objection were founded on the -supposition that the continental system of a semi-military _gendarmerie_ -was intended. The authorities were therefore at great pains to keep the -police a strictly citizen force, and although a uniform was, of course, -necessary, one as nearly as possible like civilian dress was chosen. The -present uniform of the police, and the police themselves, if they had -then worn a helmet, would have been howled out of existence by the -violent Radicals and Chartists who troubled the early years of the -Queen’s reign. They did not, therefore, wear a helmet at all, but a tall -glazed hat of the chimney-pot kind. A swallow-tailed coat, tightly -buttoned up, with a belt round the waist, a stiff stock under the chin, -and trousers of white duck gave him, altogether, a very respectable and -citizen-like aspect. It has been left to later years to alter this -uniform. - - - - -VIII - - -[Sidenote: _KENSINGTON_] - -But we must not forget that we are travelling to Brentford sixty-two -years ago. Let us, therefore, whip up the horses, and, passing the first -milestone at the corner of the lane which a future generation to that of -1837 is to know by the name of the Exhibition Road, hurry on to -Kensington. - -[Illustration: TOMMY ATKINS, 1838.] - -Kensington in this year of the accession of Her Majesty Queen Victoria -is having an unusual amount of attention paid to it. Every one is -bursting with loyalty towards the girl of eighteen suddenly called upon -to rule over the nation, and crowds throng the old-fashioned High Street -of Kensington at the end by Palace Green, eager to see Her Majesty drive -forth from Kensington Palace. They are kept at a respectful distance by -a sentry in a dress which succeeding generations will think absurd. -White trousers, coatee, stiff stock, rigid cross-belts, and a shako like -the upper part of the funnel of a penny steamer were whimsical things to -go a-soldiering in, but the Tommy Atkins of that time had no other or -easier kind of uniform, and it will be left for the Crimean War, -seventeen years later, to prove the folly of it. - -The palace is well guarded, for the Government, for their part, have not -yet learned to trust the people; nor, indeed, are the people at this -time altogether to be trusted. The long era of the Georges did not breed -loyalty, and for William the Fourth, just dead, the people had an amused -contempt. They called him ‘Silly Billy.’ At this time, also, aristocracy -drew its skirts daintily from any possible contact with the lower herd. -Alas! poor lower herd, and still more, alas! for aristocracy. - -[Illustration: OLD KENSINGTON CHURCH.] - -[Sidenote: _REMINISCENCES_] - -Our fellow-traveller in the Brentford stage has a friend with him, and, -as we jolt from Kensington Gore into the High Street, points out the -palace, and tells how William the Third and Queen Mary lived and died -there, amid William’s stolid Hollanders. He tells a story which he heard -from his grandfather, of how Dr. Radcliffe, called in to look at the -King’s dropsical ankles, said, when asked what he thought of them, ‘Why, -truly, I would not have your Majesty’s two legs for your three -kingdoms.’ He tells the friend that the King procured a more courtly and -less blunt medical adviser; and we can well believe it. More stories -beguile the way: how Queen Anne and Prince George of Denmark ended here -in the fulness of time; how their successor, George the First, furious -with Sir Robert Walpole, with his queen, with the servants, and anything -and everything, used to tear off his wig and jump on it, in transports -of rage. How he would gaze up at the vane on the clock-tower entrance to -the palace (which we can just glimpse as we pass), anxious for favouring -winds to waft his ships to England with despatches from his beloved -Hanover, and how he died suddenly at breakfast one morning after being -disappointed in those breezes. - -These are hearsay stories. Our friend, however, has reminiscences of his -own, and can recollect the Princess Caroline, the eccentric wife of the -Prince Regent, living at the palace between the years 1810 and 1814--‘a -red-faced huzzy, sir, with yellow towzled hair, all spangles and scarlet -cloak, like a play-actress, making Haroun-al-Raschid visits among the -people, and bothering the house-agents in the neighbourhood for houses -to let.’ The old gentleman who says this is a Radical, and, like all of -that political creed, likes to see Royalty ‘behaving as sich, and not -like common people such as you an’ me.’ Whereupon another passenger in -the stage, on whom the speaker’s eye has fallen, audibly objects to -being called, or thought, or included among common persons; so that -relations among the ‘insides’ are strained, and so continue, past -Kensington Church, a very decrepit and nondescript kind of building; -past the Charity School, the Vestry Hall, where a gorgeous beadle in -plush breeches, white stockings, scarlet cloak trimmed with gold -bullion, a wonderful hat, and a wand of office, is standing, and so into -the country. Presently we come to the village of Hammersmith, innocent -as yet of whelk-stalls and fried-fish shops, and so at last, past -Turnham Green, to Brentford. - -[Illustration: THE BEADLE.] - - - - -IX - - -Brentford was dismissed somewhat summarily in the pages of the BATH -ROAD, for which let me here apologise to the county town of Middlesex. -Not that I will renounce one jot as to the dirtiness of the place; for -what says Gay?-- - - Brentford, tedious town, - For dirty streets and white-legged chickens known. - -[Illustration: BRENTFORD.] - -[Sidenote: ‘_BRENTFORD, TEDIOUS TOWN_’] - -Now, if Brentford is certainly not tedious nowadays, it is -unquestionably as dirty as ever. If you would know the true, poignant, -inner meaning of tediousness, you must make acquaintance, say, with -Gower Street on a winter’s day; a typical street of suburban villas, -each ‘villa’ as like its neighbour as one new sixpence is to another; or -the Cromwell Road at any time or under any conditions. Then you will -have known tedium. At Brentford, however, all is life, movement, dirt, -and balmy odours from a quarter of a mile of roadside gasworks. The -bargees and lightermen of this riverside town are swearing picturesquely -at one another all day, while the gasmen, the hands at the waterworks, -and the railwaymen join in occasionally. Sometimes the profanity so -cheerfully bandied about leads to a fight, but not often, because when a -bargee addresses his dearest friend by a string of epithets that might -make a typical old-time stage-manager blush, it is all taken as a token -of friendship. These are the shibboleths of the place. - -When, however, Gay alludes to the ‘white-legged chickens,’ for which, he -says, Brentford was known, we are at a loss to identify the breed. That -kind of chicken must long since have given up the attempt to be -white-legged, and have changed, by process of evolution, into some less -easily soiled variety. For the dirt of Brentford is always there. It -only varies in kind. In times of drought it makes itself obvious in -clouds of black dust, composed of powdered coals and clinkers; and when -a day of rain has laid this plague, it is forthwith re-incarnated in the -shape of seas of oily black mud. The poet Thomson might have written -yesterday-- - - E’en so, through Brentford town, a town of mud; - -while Dr. Johnson adds his weighty testimony, for when a contemporary, a -native of Glasgow, was praising Glasgow to him, the Doctor cut his -eloquence with the query: ‘Pray, sir, have you ever seen Brentford?’ -Here was sarcasm indeed! Happily, however, the Glaswegian had _not_ seen -Brentford, and so was not in a position to appreciate the retort. But -Boswell, who, ubiquitous man, was of course present, knew, and told the -Doctor this was shocking. ‘Why, then, sir,’ rejoined Johnson, ‘_you_ -have never seen Brentford!’ - -Then, when we have all this delightful testimony as to Brentford’s dirt, -comes Shenstone, the melancholy poet who ‘found his warmest welcome at -an inn,’ to testify as to the character of its inhabitants. ‘No -persons,’ says he, ‘more solicitous about the preservation of rank than -those who have no rank at all. Observe the humours of a country -christening; and you will find no court in Christendom so ceremonious as -“the quality” of Brentford.’ - -[Sidenote: _ODD STREET-NAMES_] - -Despite these criticisms, it must be acknowledged that Brentford is a -town of high interest. Its filthy gasworks, its waterworks, its docks -have not sufficed to sweep away the old-fashioned appearance of the -place. It may, in fact, be safely said that no other such truly -picturesque town as Brentford exists near London. This will not long -remain true of it, for, even now, new buildings are here and there -taking the place of the old. For one thing, Brentford has a quite -remarkable number of old inns, and the great stableyards and courtyards -of other old coaching hostelries which themselves have disappeared. This -was, in fact, the end of the first stage out of London in the coaching -era, and the beginning of the last stage in; and in consequence, as -befitted a town on the great highway to the West, had ample -accommodation, both for man and beast. One of these old yards, -indeed,--Red Lion Inn Yard--is historic, for it is traditionally the -spot where Edmund Ironside, the king, was murdered by the Danes in 1016, -after he had defeated them here. The most famous, however, of all the -Brentford inns, the _Three Pigeons_, was brutally demolished many years -ago, although it had associations with Shakespeare and ‘rare’ Ben -Jonson. The ‘Tumbledown Dick,’ another vanished hostelry, whose sign was -a satire on the nerveless rule and swift overthrow of the Protector’s -son, Richard Cromwell, was a well-known house; while the names of some -of the old yards--Green Dragon Yard and Catherine Wheel Yard--are -reminiscent of once-popular signs. - -Then Brentford has the queerest of street names. What think you of ‘Half -Acre’ for the style and title of a thoroughfare? or ‘Town Meadow,’ which -is less a meadow than a slum? Then there are ‘The Butts,’ with some -fine, dignified Queen Anne and Georgian red-brick houses, situated in a -quiet spot behind the High Street; and ‘The Hollows,’ a thoroughfare -hollow no longer, if ever it was. - -Fronting on to the High Street is the broad and massive old stone tower -of St. Lawrence’s Church, the parish church of the so-called ‘New’ -Brentford, itself old beyond compute. The tower dates back four hundred -years or so, but the body of the church was rebuilt in Georgian days and -is very like, and only a little less hideous than, the gasworks up the -street. - -[Sidenote: _SION_] - -An extraordinary story is told by Cyrus Redding, in his _Fifty Years’ -Recollections_, of a countryman’s adventures in London just before the -introduction of railways. The adventures began at Brentford: ‘I had a -relative,’ he says, ‘who, on stating his intention to come up to town, -was solicited to accept as his fellow-traveller a man of property, a -neighbour, who had never been thirty miles from home in his life. They -travelled by coach. All went well till they reached Brentford, where the -countryman supposed he was nearly come to his journey’s end. On seeing -the lamps mile after mile, he expressed more and more impatience, -exclaiming, “Are we not yet in London, and so many miles of lamps?” At -length, on reaching Hyde Park Corner, he was told they had arrived. His -impatience increased from thence to Lad Lane. He became overwhelmed with -astonishment, They entered the “Swan with Two Necks,” and my relative -bade his companion remain in the coffee-room until he returned. On -returning, he found the bird flown, and for six long weeks there were no -tidings of him. At length it was discovered that he was in the custody -of the constables at Sherborne in Dorsetshire, his mind alienated. He -was conveyed home, came partially to his reason for a short time, and -died. It was gathered from him that he had become more and more confused -at the lights and the long distances he was carried among them; it -seemed as if they could have no end. The idea that he could never be -extricated from such a labyrinth superseded every other. He could not -bear the thought. He went into the street, inquired his way westward, -and seemed to have got into Hyde Park, and then out again into the Great -Western Road, walking until he could walk no longer. He could relate -nothing more that occurred until he was secured. Neither his watch nor -money had been taken from him.’ - -The country-folks who now journey up to town do not behave in this -extraordinary fashion on coming to the infinitely greater and more -distracting London of to-day. - -At the western end of Brentford, just removed from its muddy streets, is -Sion, the Duke of Northumberland’s suburban residence. The great square -embattled stone house stands in the midst of the park, screened from -observation from the road by great clusters of forest trees. Through the -ornamental classic stone screen and iron gateway, erected in the -well-known ‘Adam style’ by John Adam about 1780, the green sward may be -glimpsed; the fresher and more beautiful by contrast with the dusty -highroad. Above the arched stone entrance stands the Percy Lion, -_statant_, as heralds would say, with tail extended. - -Sion is well named, for no fairer scene can be imagined than this in the -long days of summer, when the lovely gardens are at their best and the -Thames flows by the park with glittering golden ripples. The Daughters -of Sion, whose religious retreat this was, belonged to the Order of St. -Bridget. Their abbey, with its lands and great revenues, was suppressed -and confiscated by Henry the Eighth in 1532. Nine years later his Queen, -Katherine Howard, was imprisoned within the desecrated walls before -being handed over to the headsman, and in another seven years the body -of the King himself lay here a night on its journey to Windsor. There is -a horrid story that tells how the unwieldy corpse of the bloated royal -monster burst, and how the dogs drank his blood. - -In the reign of his daughter, Queen Mary, Sion enjoyed a few years’ -restitution of its rights and property, but when Elizabeth ascended the -throne, the ‘Daughters’ were finally dispossessed. They wandered to -Flanders, and thence, by devious ways, and with many hardships, -eventually to Lisbon. The Abbey of Sion yet exists there, and the -sisters are still solely Englishwomen. It is on record that they still -cherish the hope of returning to their lost home by the banks of the -Thames, and have to this day the keys of that abbey. Seventy years or so -since, the then Duke of Northumberland, travelling in Portugal, called -upon them, and was told of this fond belief. They even showed him the -keys. But he was equal to the occasion, and cynically remarked that the -locks had been altered since those days! - - - - -X - - -[Sidenote: _HOUNSLOW_] - -[Illustration: THE ‘BELL,’ HOUNSLOW.] - -Hounslow, to which we now come, being situated, like all the other -places between this and Hyde Park Corner, on the Bath Road, as well as -on the road to Exeter, has been referred to at some length in the book -on that highway. Coming to the place again, there seems no reason to -alter or add much to what was said in those pages. The long, long -uninteresting street is just as sordid as ever, and the very few houses -of any note facing it are fewer. There remains, it is true, that old -coaching inn, the ‘George,’ modernised with discretion, and at the -parting of the ways the gallows-like sign of the ‘Bell’ still keeps its -place on the footpath, with the old original bell still depending from -it, although, at the moment of writing, the house itself is being pulled -down. But the angle where the roads divide is under revision, and the -hoardings that now hide from sight the old shops and the red-brick -house, with high-pitched roof and dormer windows, that has stood here so -long, will give place shortly to some modern building with plate-glass -shop-fronts and a general air of aggressive modernity which will be -another link gone with the Hounslow of the past. Thus it is that an -illustration is shown here of the ‘parting of the ways’ before the -transformation is complete; for although the fork of the roads leading -to places so distant from this point, and from one another, as Bath and -Exeter must needs always lend something to the imagination, yet a -commonplace modern street building cannot, for another hundred years, -command respect or be worth sketching, even for the sake of the -significant spot on which it stands. - -The would-be decorative gas-lamp that stands here in the centre of the -road bears two tin tablets inscribed respectively, ‘To Slough’ and ‘To -Staines,’ in a somewhat parochial fashion. They had no souls, those -people who inscribed these legends. Did they not know that we stand here -upon highways famed in song and story; not merely the flat and -uninteresting seven and ten miles respectively to Staines and Slough, -but the hundred and fifty-five miles to Exeter and the ninety-five miles -to Bath? - -Here, then, we see the Bath Road going off to the - -[Sidenote: _AN OLD COACHMAN_] - -[Illustration: HOUNSLOW: THE PARTING OF THE WAYS.] - -right and the Exeter Road to the left in semi-suburban fashion. Had it -not been for the winter fogs this level stretch would have invariably -been the delight of the old coachmen; but when the roads were wrapped in -obscurity they were hard put to it to keep on the highway. Sometimes -they did not even succeed in doing so, but drove instead into the -noisome ditches, filled with evil-smelling black mud, which at that time -divided the road from Hounslow Heath. - -Charles Ward, whom the coaching critics of his age united to honour as -an artist with ‘the ribbons,’ drove the famous Exeter ‘Telegraph’ the -thirty miles to Bagshot, reaching that village usually at 11 P.M., and -taking the up coach from thence to London at four o’clock in the -morning. He tells how in the winter the mails had often to be escorted -out of London with flaring torches, seven or eight mails following one -another, the guard of the foremost lighting the one following, and so -on, travelling at a slow pace, like a funeral procession. ‘Many times,’ -he says, ‘I have been three hours going from London to Hounslow. I -remember one very foggy night, instead of arriving at Bagshot at eleven -o’clock, I did not get there till one in the morning. On my way back to -town, when the fog was very bad, I was coming over Hounslow Heath, when -I reached the spot where the old powder-mills used to stand. I saw -several lights in the road and heard voices which induced me to stop. -The old Exeter mail, which left Bagshot thirty minutes before I did, had -met with a singular accident. It was driven by a man named Gambier; his -leaders had come in contact with a hay-cart on its way to London, which -caused them to suddenly turn round, break the pole, and blunder down a -steep embankment, at the bottom of which was a narrow deep ditch, filled -with water and mud. The mail coach pitched on the stump of a willow tree -that overhung the ditch; the coachman and the outside passengers were -thrown over into the meadow beyond, and the horses went into the ditch. -The unfortunate wheelers were drowned or smothered in the mud. There -were two inside passengers, who were extricated with some difficulty, -but fortunately no one was injured. I managed to take the passengers -with the guard and mail bags on to London, leaving the coachman to wait -for daylight before he could make an attempt to get the mail up the -embankment. They endeavoured to accomplish this with cart horses and -chains, and they had nearly reached the top of the bank when something -gave way, and the poor old mail went back into the ditch again. I shall -never forget the scene. There were about a dozen men from the -powder-mills trying to render assistance, and with their black faces, -each bearing a torch in his hand, they presented a curious spectacle. -This happened about 1840. Posts and rails were erected at the spot after -the accident. I passed the place in 1870, and they were there still, as -well as the old pollard willow stump.’ - -[Sidenote: _HIGHWAYMEN_] - -The old-time associations of Hounslow Heath are almost forgotten now, -for, where Claude du Vall and Dick Turpin waited patiently for -travellers, there are nowadays long rows of suburban villas which have -long since changed the dreary scene. Nothing so romantic as the meeting -of the lawyer with the redoubtable Dick is likely to befall the -traveller in these times:-- - - As Turpin was riding on Hounslow Heath, - A lawyer there he chanced for to meet, - Who said, ‘Kind sir, ain’t you afraid - Of Turpin, that mischievous blade?’ - - ‘Oh! no, sir,’ says Turpin, ‘I’ve been more acute, - I’ve hidden my money all in my boot.’ - ‘And mine,’ says the lawyer, ‘the villain can’t find, - For I have sewed it into my cape behind.’ - - They rode till they came to the Powder Mill, - When Turpin bid the lawyer for to stand still. - ‘Good sir,’ quoth he, ‘that cape must come off, - For my horse stands in need of a saddle-cloth.’ - - ‘Ah, well,’ says the lawyer, ‘I’m very compliant, - I’ll put it all right with my next coming client.’ - ‘Then,’ says Turpin, ‘we’re both of a trade, never doubt it, - Only you rob by law, and I rob without it.’ - -The last vestige is gone of the bleak and barren aspect of the road, and -even the singular memorial of a murder, which, according to the writer -of a road-book published in 1802, stood near by, has vanished: ‘Upon a -spot of Hounslow Heath, about a stone’s throw from the road, on leaving -that village, a small wood monument is shockingly marked with a bloody -hand and knife, and the following inscription: “Buried with a stake -through his body here, the wicked murderer, John Pretor, who cut the -throat of his wife and child, and poisoned himself, July 6, 1765.”’ - - - - -XI - - -It is a splendidly surfaced road that runs hence to Staines, and the -fact is sufficiently well known for it to be crowded on Saturday -afternoons and Sundays with cyclists of the ‘scorcher’ variety, members -of cycling clubs out for a holiday, and taking their pleasure at sixteen -miles an hour, Indian file, hanging on to one another’s back wheel, with -shoulders humped over handle-bars and eyes for nothing but the road -surface. - -[Illustration: THE ‘GREEN MAN,’ HATTON.] - -[Sidenote: _HATTON_] - -But there are quiet, deserted bye-lanes where these highway crowds never -come. Just such a lane is that which leads off here, by the river Crane -and the Bedfont Powder Mills, to the right, and makes for -Hatton--‘Hatton-in-the-Hinterland,’ one might well call it. - -Have you ever been to Hatton? Have you, indeed, ever even heard of it? I -suppose not, for Hatton is a remote hamlet, tucked away in that -triangular corner of Middlesex situated between the branching Bath and -Exeter Roads which is practically unexplored. Yet the place, after the -uninteresting, unrelieved flatness of the market gardens that stretch -for miles around, is almost pretty. It boasts a few isolated houses, and -has (what is more to the point in this connection) a neat and -cheerful-looking old inn, fronted by a large horse-pond. - -The ‘Green Man’ at Hatton looks nowadays a guileless place, with no -secrets, and yet it possesses behind that innocent exterior a veritable -highwayman’s hiding-place. This retiring-place of modest worth, eager to -escape from the embarrassing attentions of the outer world, may be seen -by the curious traveller in the little bar-parlour on the left hand as -you enter the front door. - -It is a narrow, low-ceiled room, with an old-fashioned fire-grate in it, -filling what was once a huge chimney-corner. At the back of this grate -is a hole leading to a passage which gives access to a cavernous nook in -the thickness of the wall. Through this hole, decently covered at most -times with an innocent-looking fire-back, crawled those exquisite -knights of the road, what time the Bow Street runners were questing -almost at their heels. - -And here, it is related, one of these fine fellows nearly revealed his -presence while the officers of the law were refreshing themselves with -a dram in that room. What with a cold in the head, and the accumulated -soot and dust of his hiding-place, he could not help sneezing, although -his very life depended on the question ‘To sneeze or not to sneeze.’ - -[Illustration: THE HIGHWAYMAN’S RETREAT, THE ‘GREEN MAN.’] - -The minions of the law were not so far gone in liquor but that they -heard the muffled sound of that sneeze, and it took all the landlord’s -eloquence to persuade them that it was the cat! - -[Sidenote: _MARKET GARDENS_] - -Where footpads and highwaymen lurked on the scrubby heath, and the -troopers of King James the Second, sent here to overawe London, lay -encamped, there stretch nowadays the broad market gardens, where in -spring-time the yellow daffodils, and in early summer the wallflowers, -are grown by the acre for Covent Garden and the delight of Londoners. -Orchards and vast fields of vegetables take up almost all the rest of -the reclaimed waste, and if the country for many miles be indeed as flat -as, or flatter than, your hand, and with never a tree but the scraggy -hedgerow elms that grow here in such fantastic shapes, why amends are -made in the scent of the blossoms, the bounteous promise of nature, and -in the free and open air that resounds with the gladsome shrilling of -the lark. - -These market gardens that surround London have an interest all their -own. Such scenes as that of Millet’s ‘Angelus’--the rough toil, that is -to say, without the devotion--are the commonplaces of these wide fields, -stretching away, level, to the horizon. All day long the men, women, and -children are working, according to the season, in the damp, heavy clay, -or in the sun-baked rows of growing produce, digging, hoeing, sowing, -weeding, or gathering the cabbages, potatoes, peas, lettuces, and beans -that go to furnish the myriad tables of the ‘Wen of wens,’ as Cobbett -savagely calls London. He thought very little of Hounslow Heath, which -he describes as ‘a sample of all that is bad in soil and villainous in -look. Yet,’ he says, writing in 1825, ‘all this is now enclosed, and -what they call “cultivated.”’ - -What they _call_ cultivated! That is indeed excellent. It would be well -if Cobbett could take a ‘Rural Ride’ over the Heath to-day and see this -cultivation, not merely so called, which raises some of the finest -market-garden produce ever seen, and supplies London with the most -beautiful spring blossoms. If it would not suffice to see the growing -crops, it would perhaps be better to watch the loading of the clumsy -market waggons with the gathered wealth of the soil. Tier upon tier of -cabbages, neatly packed to an alarming height; bundles of the finest -lettuces; bushels of peas; in short, a bounteous quantity of every -domestic vegetable you care to name, being packed for the lumbering, -rumbling, three-miles-an-hour journey overnight from the market gardens -to the early morning babel of Covent Garden. - -The market waggons, going to London, or returning about eight o’clock in -the morning, form, in short, one of the most characteristic features of -the first fifteen miles of this road. The waggoners, more often than not -asleep, are jogged up to town by the philosophic horses who know the way -just as well as the blinking fellows who are supposed to drive them. -Drive them? One can just imagine the horse-laughs of those particularly -knowing animals, who move along quite independently of the reclining -figure above, stretched full length, face downwards, on the mountainous -pile of smelly cabbages, if the idea could be conveyed to them. - -[Sidenote: _A REFORMATORY_] - -There is an exquisite touch of appropriateness in the fact that on -converted Hounslow Heath, where these terrors of the peaceful traveller -formerly practised their unlicensed trade, reformatories should be -nowadays established. One of them, called by the prettier name of the -‘Feltham Industrial School,’ is placed just to the south of the road, -near East Bedfont. It houses and educates for honest careers the young -criminals and the waifs and strays brought before the Middlesex -magistrates. The neighbourhood of this huge institution is made evident -to the traveller across these wide-spreading levels by the strange sight -of a full-sized, fully-rigged ship on the horizon. The stranger who -journeys this way and has always supposed Hounslow Heath to be anything -rather than the neighbour to a seaport, feels in some doubt as to the -evidence of his senses or the accuracy of his geographical -recollections. Strange, he thinks, that he should have forgotten the sea -estuary on which the Heath borders, or the ship canal that traverses -these wilds. But if he inquires of any one with local knowledge whom he -may meet, he will learn that this is the model training-ship built in -the grounds of the Industrial School. The ‘Endeavour,’ as she is called, -if not registered A1 at Lloyd’s, or not at all a seaworthy craft, is at -any rate well found in the technical details of masts and spars, and the -rigging appropriate to a schooner-rigged Blackwall liner. Those among -the seven hundred or so of the young vagabonds who are being educated -here in the way they should go--those among them who think they would -like a life on the bounding main, are here taught to climb the rigging -with the agility of cats; to furl the sails or shake them free, or to -keep a sharp look-out for the iron reefs that lurk on the inhospitable -coasts of Hounslow Heath, lest all on board should be cast away and -utterly undone. It is an odd experience to walk around the great hull, -half submerged--half buried, that is to say--in the asphalt paths of the -parade ground, but the oddest experiences must be those of the boys who, -when they get aboard a floating ship, come to it thoroughly trained in -everything save ‘sea-legs’ and the keeping of an easy stomach when the -breezes blow and the surges rock the vessel. - - - - -XII - - -The village of East Bedfont, three miles from Hounslow, is a picturesque -surprise, after the long flat road. The highway suddenly broadens out -here, and gives place to a wide village green, with a pond, and real -ducks! and an even more real village church whose wooden extinguisher -spire peeps out from a surrounding cluster of trees, and from behind a -couple of fantastically clipped yews guarding the churchyard gate. - -[Sidenote: _THE BEDFONT PEACOCKS_] - -The ‘Bedfont Peacocks,’ as they are called, are not so perfect as they -were when first cut in 1704, for the trimming of them was long -neglected, and these curiously clipped evergreens require constant -attention. The date on one side, and the churchwardens’ initials of the -period on the other, once standing out boldly, are now only to be -discerned by the Eye of Faith. The story of the Peacocks is that they -were cut at the costs and charges of a former inhabitant of the -village, who, proposing in turn to two sisters also living here, was -scornfully refused by them. They were, says the legend, ‘as proud as -peacocks,’ and the mortified suitor chose this spiteful method of -typifying the fact. Of course, the story was retailed to travellers on -passing through Bedfont by every coachman and guard; nor, indeed, would -it be at all surprising to learn that they, in fact, really invented it, -for they were masters in the art of romancing. So the Fame of the -Peacocks grew. An old writer at once celebrates them, and the then -landlord of the ‘Black Dog,’ in the rather neat verse:-- - - Harvey, whose inn commands a view - Of Bedfont’s church and churchyard too, - Where yew-trees into peacock’s shorn, - In vegetable torture mourn. - -[Illustration: EAST BEDFONT.] - -At length they were immortalised by Hood, the elder, in a quite serious -poem:-- - - Where erst two haughty maidens used to be, - In pride of plume, where plumy Death hath trod, - Trailing their gorgeous velvet wantonly, - Most unmeet pall, over the holy sod; - There, gentle stranger, thou may’st only see - Two sombre peacocks. Age, with sapient nod, - Marking the spot, still tarries to declare - How once they lived, and wherefore they are there. - - Alas! that breathing vanity should go - Where pride is buried; like its very ghost, - Unrisen from the naked bones below, - In novel flesh, clad in the silent boast - Of gaudy silk that flutters to and fro, - Shedding its chilling superstition most - On young and ignorant natures as is wont - To haunt the peaceful churchyard of Bedfont! - -If any one can unravel the sense from the tangled lines of the second -verse,--as obscure as some of Browning’s poetry--let him account himself -clever. - -The ‘Black Dog,’ once the halting-place of the long extinct ‘Driving -Club,’ of which the late Duke of Beaufort was a member, has recently -been demolished. A large villa stands on the site of it, at the corner -of the Green, as the village is left behind. - -[Sidenote: _STAINES_] - -The flattest of flat, and among the straightest of straight, roads is -this which runs from East Bedfont into Staines. That loyal bard, John -Taylor, the ‘Water Poet,’ was along this route on his way to the Isle of -Wight in 1647. He started from the ‘Rose,’ in Holborn, on Thursday, -19th October, in the Southampton coach:-- - - We took one coach, two coachmen, and four horses, - And merrily from London made our courses, - We wheel’d the top of the heavy hill call’d Holborn - (Up which hath been full many a sinful soul borne), - And so along we jolted to St. Giles’s, - Which place from Brentford six, or nearly seven, miles is, - To Staines that night at five o’clock we coasted, - Where, at the Bush, we had bak’d, boil’d, and roasted. - - - - -XIII - - -Staines, where the road leaves Middlesex and crosses the Thames into -Surrey, is almost as commonplace a little town as it is possible to find -within the home counties. Late Georgian and Early Victorian stuccoed -villas and square, box-like, quite uninteresting houses struggle for -numerical superiority over later buildings in the long High Street, and -the contest is not an exciting one. Staines, sixteen miles from London, -is, in fact, of that nondescript--‘neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good -red-herring’--character that belongs to places situated in the marches -of town and country. Almost everything of interest has vanished, and -although the railway has come to Staines, it has not brought with it the -life and bustle that are generally conferred by railways on places near -London. But, of course, Staines is on the London and South-Western -Railway, which explains everything. - -Staines disputes with Colnbrook, on the Bath Road, the honour of having -been the Roman station of _Ad Pontes_, and has the best of it, according -to the views of the foremost authorities. ‘At the Bridges’ would -doubtless have been an excellently descriptive name for either place, in -view of the number of streams at both, and the bridges necessary to -cross them; but the very name of Staines should of itself be almost -sufficient to prove the Roman origin of the place, even if the Roman -remains found in and about it were not considered conclusive evidence. -There are those who derive ‘Staines’ from the ancient stone still -standing on the north bank of the Thames, above the bridge, marking the -historic boundary up-stream of the jurisdiction exercised over the river -by the City of London; but there can be no doubt of its real origin in -the paved Roman highway, a branch of the Akeman Street, on which this -former military station of _Ad Pontes_ stood. The stones of the old road -yet remained when the Saxons overran the country, and it was named ‘the -Stones’ by that people, from the fact of being on a paved highway. The -very many places in this county with the prefixes, Stain, Stone, Stan, -Street, Streat, and Stret, all, or nearly all, originate in the paved -Roman roads (or ‘streets’) and fords; and there is little to support -another theory, that the name of Staines came from a Roman _milliarium_, -or milestone, which may or may not have stood somewhere here on the -road. - -[Sidenote: _STAINES STONE_] - -The stone column, very like a Roman altar, standing on three steps and a -square panelled plinth, and placed in a meadow on the north bank of the -river, is known variously as ‘Staines Stone,’ and ‘London Stone.’ It -marks the place where the upper and lower Thames meet; is the boundary -line of Middlesex and Buckinghamshire; and is also the boundary mark of -the Metropolitan Police District. Besides these manifold and important -offices, it also delimits the western boundary of the area comprised -within the old London Coal and Wine Duties Acts, by which a tax, similar -to the _octroi_ still in force at the outskirts of many Continental -towns, was levied on all coals, coke, and cinders, and all wines, -entering London. Renewed from time to time, the imposts were finally -abolished in 1889, but the old posts with cast-iron inscriptions -detailing the number and date of the several Acts of Parliament under -which these dues were levied, are still to be found beside the roads, -rivers, and canals around London. - -Much weather-worn and dilapidated, ‘London Stone’ still retains long -inscriptions giving the names of the Lord Mayors who have officially -visited the spot as _ex-officio_ chairmen of the Thames Conservancy;-- - - Conservators of Thames from mead to mead, - Great guardians of small sprites that swim the flood, - Warders of London Stone, - -as Tom Hood mock-heroically sings. - -Above all is the deeply cut aspiration, ‘God Preserve the City of -London, A.D. 1280.’ The pious prayer has been answered, and six hundred -and twenty years later the City has been, like David, delivered out of -the hands of the spoiler and from the enemies that compassed it round -about; by which Royal Commissions and the London County Council may be -understood. - -[Illustration: THE STAINES STONE.] - -[Sidenote: _AD PONTES_] - -If the Roman legionaries could return to _Ad Pontes_ and see Staines -Bridge and the hideous iron girder bridge by which the London and -South-Western Railway crosses the Thames they would be genuinely -astonished. The first-named, which is the stone bridge built by Rennie -in 1832, carries the Exeter Road over the river, and is of a severe -classic aspect which might find favour with the resurrected Romans; but -what _could_ they think of the other? - -We may see an additional importance in this situation of _Ad Pontes_ in -the fact that between Staines Bridge and London Bridge there was -anciently no other passage across the river, save by the hazardous -expedient of fording it at certain points. The only way to the West of -England in mediæval times, it was then of wood, and zealously kept in -repair by the grant of trees from the Royal Forest of Windsor and by the -_pontage_, or bridge toll levied from passengers. Still, it was often -broken down by floods. The poet Gay, in his _Journey to Exeter_, says, -passing Hounslow:-- - - Thence, o’er wide shrubby heaths, and furrowed lanes, - We come, where Thames divides the meads of Staines. - We ferried o’er; for late the Winter’s flood - Shook her frail bridge, and tore her piles of wood. - -That would probably have been about the year 1720. In 1791 an Act of -Parliament authorised the building of a new bridge, and accordingly a -stone structure was begun, and eventually opened in 1797. This had to be -demolished, almost immediately, owing to a failure of one of its piers, -and an iron bridge was built in its stead, presently to meet with much -the same fate. This, then, gave place to the existing bridge. - -The ‘Vine Inn,’ which once stood by the bridge and was a welcome sight -to travellers, has disappeared, together with most of the old hostelries -that once rendered Staines a town of inns. Gone, too, is the ‘Bush,’ -and others, although not demolished, have either retired into private -life, or are disguised as commonplace shops. The ‘Angel’ still remains, -but not the ‘Blue Boar,’ kept, according to Dean Swift, by the -quarrelsome couple, Phyllis and John. Phyllis had run away from home on -her wedding morn with John, who was her father’s groom, and a -good-for-naught. At the inn they were installed at last, John as the -drunken landlord, Phyllis as the kind landlady:-- - - They keep at Staines the Old Blue Boar, - Are cat and dog-- - -and other things unfitted for ears polite. - -The church is without interest, but there lies in its churchyard, among -the other saints and sinners, Lady Letitia Lade, the foul-mouthed -cast-off _chère amie_ of the Prince Regent, who married her off to John -Lade, his coachman, whom he knighted for his complaisance. - - - - -XIV - - -[Sidenote: _RUNEMEDE_] - -Staines is no sooner left behind than we come to Egham, once devoted -almost wholly to the coaching interest, then the scene of suburban -race-meetings, and now that those blackguardly orgies have been -suppressed, just a dead-alive suburb--dusty, uninteresting. The old -church has been modernised, and the old coaching inns either mere -beer-shops or else improved away altogether. The last one to remain in -its old form--the ‘Catherine Wheel’--has recently lost all its old -roadside character, and has become very much up-to-date. - -Here we are upon the borders of Windsor Great Park, and a road turning -off to the right hand leads beside the Thames to Old Windsor, past -Cooper’s Hill and within sight of Runemede and Magna Charta island, -where the ‘Palladium of our English liberties’ was wrung from the -unwilling King John. A public reference to the ‘Palladium’ used -unfailingly to ‘bring down the house,’ but it has been left to the -present generation to view the very spot where it was granted, not only -without a quickening of the pulse, but with the suspicion of a yawn. You -cannot expect reverence from people who possibly saw King John as the -central and farcical figure of last year’s pantomime, with a low-comedy -nose and an expression of ludicrous terror, handing Magna Charta to -baronial supers armoured with polished metal dish-covers for -breastplates and saucepans for helmets. ‘Nothing is sacred to a sapper,’ -is a saying that arose in Napoleon’s campaigns. Let us, in these piping -times of peace, change the figure, and say, ‘Nothing is sacred to a -librettist.’ - -Long years before Egham ever became a coaching village, in the dark ages -of road travel, when inns were scarce and travellers few, the ‘Bells of -Ouseley,’ the old-fashioned riverside inn along this bye-road, was a -place of greater note than it is now. Although forgotten by the crowds -who keep the high-road, it is an inn happier in its situation than -most, for it stands on the banks of the Thames at one of its most -picturesque points, just below Old Windsor. - -[Illustration: THE ‘BELLS OF OUSELEY.’] - -The sign, showing five bells on a blue ground, derives its name from the -once-famed bells of the long-demolished Oseney Abbey at Oxford, -celebrated, before the Reformation swept them away, for their silvery -tones, which are said to have surpassed even those - - Bells of Shandon - Which sound so grand on - The pleasant waters of the River Lea, - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘BELLS OF OUSELEY’_] - -of which ‘Father Prout’ sang some forty-five years ago. The abbey, -however, possessed _six_ bells. They were named Douce, Clement, Austin, -Hauctetor, Gabriel, and John. - -The ‘Bells of Ouseley’ had at one time a reputation for a very much less -innocent thing than picturesqueness, for a hundred and fifty years ago, -or thereabouts, it was very popular with the worst class of footpads, -who were used to waylay travellers by the shore, or on the old Bath and -Exeter Roads, and, robbing them, were not content, but, practically -applying the axiom that ‘dead men tell no tales,’ gave their victims a -knock over the head, and, tying them in sacks, heaved them into the -river. These be legends, and legends are not always truthful, but it is -a fact that, some years ago, when the Thames Conservancy authorities -were dredging the bed of the river just here, they found the remains of -a sack and the perfect skeleton of a human being. - - - - -XV - - -Regarding the country through which the road passes, between Kensington, -Egham, Sunningdale, Virginia Water, and Bagshot, Cobbett has some -characteristic things to say. Between Hammersmith and Egham it is ‘as -flat as a pancake,’ and the soil ‘a nasty stony dirt upon a bed of -gravel.’ Sunninghill and Sunningdale, ‘all made into “grounds” and -gardens by tax-eaters,’ are at the end of a ‘blackguard heath,’ and are -‘not far distant from the Stock-jobbing crew. The roads are level, and -they are smooth. The wretches can go from the “‘Change” without any -danger to their worthless necks.’ - -There are now, sad to say, after the lapse of nearly eighty years, a -great many more of the ‘crew’ here, and they journey to and from Capel -Court with even less danger to their necks, bad luck to them! - -Egham Hill surmounted, the Holloway College for Women is a prominent -object on the left-hand side of the road, the fad of Thomas Holloway, -whose thumping big fortune was derived from the advertising enterprise -which lasted wellnigh two generations, and during the most of that -period rendered the advertisement columns of London and provincial -papers hideous with beastly illustrations of suppurating limbs, and the -horrid big type inquiry, ‘Have you a Bad Leg?’ Pills and ointments, what -sovereign specifics you are--towards the accumulation of wealth! -All-powerful unguents, how beneficent--towards the higher education of -woman! - -[Sidenote: _VIRGINIA WATER_] - -No less a sum than £600,000 was expended on the building and equipment -of this enormous range of buildings, opened in 1887, and provided -royally with everything a college requires except students, whose number -yet falls far short of the three hundred and fifty the place is -calculated to house and teach. A fine collection of the works of modern -English painters is to be seen here, where study is made easy for the -‘girl graduates’ by the provision of luxuriously appointed class-rooms -and shady nooks where ‘every pretty domina can study the phenomena’ of -integral calculus and other domestic sciences. It seems a waste of good -money that, although a sum equal to £500 a year for each student is -expended on the higher education of women here, no prophetess has yet -issued from Egham with a message for the world; and that, consequently, -Mr. Thomas Holloway and his medicated grease have as yet missed that -posthumous fame for which so big a bid was made. - -In two miles Virginia Water is reached, passing on the right hand the -plantations of Windsor Great Park. To this spot runs every day in -summer-time the ‘Old Times’ coach, which, first put on this road in the -spring of 1879, kept running every season until 1886, when it was -transferred to the Brighton Road, there to become famous through Selby’s -historic ‘record’ drive. Another coach, called the ‘Express,’ was put on -the Virginia Water trip in 1886 and 1887; but, following upon Selby’s -death in the November of the latter year, the ‘Old Times’ was reinstated -on this route, and has been running ever since, leaving the Hotel -Victoria, Northumberland Avenue, every week-day morning for the -‘Wheatsheaf,’ and returning in the evening. - -This same ‘Wheatsheaf’ is probably one of the very ugliest houses that -ever bedevilled a country road, and looks like a great public-house -wrenched bodily from London streets and dropped down here at a venture. -But it is for all that a very popular place with the holiday-makers who -come here to explore the beauties and the curiosities of Virginia Water. - -There are artificial lakes here, just within the Park of Windsor--lakes -which give the place its name, and made so long ago that Nature in her -kindly way has obliterated all traces of their artificiality. It is a -hundred years since this pleasance of Virginia Water was formed by -imprisoning the rivulets that run into this hollow, and banking up the -end of it; nearly a hundred years since the Ruined Temple was built as a -ready-made ruin; and there is no more, nor indeed any other such, -delightful spot near London. It is quite a pity to come by the knowledge -that the ruins were imported from Greece and Carthage, because without -that knowledge who knows what romance could not be weaved around those -graceful columns, amid the waters and the wilderness? Beyond Virginia -Water we come to Sunningdale. - -[Sidenote: _ROMAN ROADS_] - -From Turnham Green to Staines, and thence to Shrub’s Hill we are on the -old Roman Road to that famous town which has been known at different -periods of its existence as Aquae Solis, Akemanceaster, and Bath. The -Saxons called the road Akeman Street. Commencing at a junction with the -Roman Watling Street at the point where the Marble Arch now stands, it -proceeded along the Bayswater Road, and so by Notting Hill, past -Shepherd’s Bush, and along the Goldhawk Road, where, instead of turning -sharply to the left like the existing road that leads to Young’s Corner, -it continued its straight course through the district now occupied by -the modern artistic colony of Bedford Park, falling into the present -Chiswick High Road somewhere between Turnham Green and Gunnersbury. -Through Brentford, Hounslow, and Staines the last vestiges of the actual -Roman Road were lost in the alterations carried out for the improvement -of the highway under the provisions of the Hounslow and Basingstoke Road -Improvement Act of 1728, but there can be little doubt that the road -traffic of to-day from Hounslow to Shrub’s Hill follows in the tracks -of the pioneers who built the original road in A.D. 43; while as for -old-world Brentford, it would surprise no one if the veritable Roman -paving were found deep down below its High Street, long buried in the -silt and mud that have raised the level of the highway at the ford from -which the place-name derives. - -The present West of England road turns off from the Akeman Street at the -bend in the highway at Shrub’s Hill, leaving the Roman way to continue -in an unfaltering straight line across the scrubby wastes and solitudes -of Broadmoor, to Finchampstead, Stratfieldsaye, and Silchester. It is -there known to the country folk as the ‘Nine Mile Ride’ and the ‘Devil’s -Highway.’ The prefix of the place-name ‘Stratfieldsaye,’ as a matter of -fact, derives from its situation on this ‘street.’ Silchester is the -site of the Roman city _Calleva Atrebatum_, and the excavated ruins of -this British Pompeii prove how important a place this was, standing as -it did at the fork of the roads leading respectively to _Aquae Solis_, -and to _Isca Damnoniorum_, the Exeter of a later age. Branching off here -to _Isca_, the Roman road was for the rest of the way to the West known -as the _Via Iceniana_, the Icen Way, and was perhaps regarded as a -continuation of what is now called the Icknield Street, the road which -runs diagonally to Norfolk and Suffolk, the country of the Iceni. - -Very little of this old Roman road on its way to the West is identical -with any of the three existing routes to Exeter. There is that length -just named, from Gunnersbury to Shrub’s Hill; another piece, a mile or -so from Andover onward, by the Weyhill route; the crossing of the modern -highway between ‘Woodyates Inn’ and Thorney Down; and from Dorchester to -Bridport, where, as Gay says of his cavaliers’ journey to Exeter:-- - - Now on true Roman way our horses sound, - Graevius would kneel and kiss the sacred ground. - -Onwards to Exeter the measurements of Antoninus and his fellows--those -literally ‘classic’ forerunners of Ogilby, Cary, Paterson, and Mogg--are -hazy in the extreme, and it is difficult to say how the Roman road -entered into the Queen City of the West. - -Oh! for one hour with the author of the Antonine Itinerary, to settle -the vexed questions of routes and stations along this road to the -country of the Damnonii. ‘Here,’ one would say to him, ‘is your -starting-point, _Londinium_, which we call London. Very good; now kindly -tell us whether we are correct in giving Staines as the place you call -_Ad Pontes_; and is Egham the site of _Bibracte_? _Calleva_ we have -identified with Silchester, but where was your next station, _Vindomis_? -Was it St. Mary Bourne?’ - -[Sidenote: _THE HEATHS_] - -In the meanwhile, until spiritualism becomes more of an exact science, -we must be content with our own deductions, and, with the aid of the -Ordnance map, trace the Roman _Via Iceniana_ by Quarley Hill and -Grateley to the hill of Old Sarum, which is readily identified as the -station of _Sorbiodunum_. Thence it goes by Stratford Toney to -‘Woodyates Inn’ and Gussage Cow Down, where the utterly vanished -_Vindogladia_ is supposed to have stood. Between this and Dorchester -there was another post whose name and position are alike unknown, -although the course of the road may yet be faintly traced past the -fortified hill of Badbury Rings, the _Mons Badonicus_ of King Arthur’s -defeat, to Tincleton and Stinsford, and so into Dorchester, the -_Durnovaria_ of the Romans, through what was the Eastgate of that city. -The names and sites of two more stations westward are lost, and the -situation of _Moridunum_, the next-named post, is so uncertain that such -widely sundered places as Seaton, on the Dorset coast, and Honiton, in -Devon, eighteen miles farther, are given for it. Morecomblake, a mile -from Seaton, is, however, the most likely site. Thence, on to Exeter, -this Roman military way is lost. - - - - -XVI - - -From Virginia Water up to the crest of Shrub’s Hill, Sunningdale, is a -distance of a mile and a quarter, and beyond, all the way into Bagshot, -is a region of sand and fir-trees and attempts at cultivation, varied by -newly-built villas, where considerable colonies of Cobbett’s detested -stock-jobbers and other business men from the ‘Wen of wens’ have set up -country quarters. And away to right and left, for miles upon miles, -stretches that wild country known variously as Bagshot and Ascot Heaths -and Chobham Ridges. - -The extensive and dreary-looking tract of land, still wild and barren -for the most part, called Bagshot Heath, has during the last century -been the scene of many attempts made to bring it under cultivation. -These populous times are ill-disposed to the continued existence of -waste and unproductive lands, which, when near London, are especially -valuable, if they can be made to grow anything at all. One thing which, -above all others, has led to the beginning of the end of these old-time -wildernesses, formerly the haunts of highwaymen, is the modern discovery -of the country and of the benefits of fresh air. When the nineteenth -century was yet young the townsman still retained the old habits of -thought which regarded the heaths and the hills with aversion. He pigged -away his existence over his shop or warehouse in the City, and thought -the country fit only for the semi-savages who grew the fruit and -vegetables that helped to supply his table, or cultivated the wheat of -which his daily bread was compounded. It has been left to us, his -descendants, to love the wilds, and thus it is that villa homes are -springing up amid the heaths and the pines of this region, away from -Woking on the south to Ascot in the north. - -[Sidenote: _BAGSHOT_] - -One comes downhill into the large village or small (very small) town of -Bagshot, which gives a name to these surrounding wastes of scrubby -grass, gorse, and fir-trees. The now quiet street faces the road in the -hollow, across which runs the Bourne brook that perhaps originated the -place-name, ‘Beck-shot’ being the downhill rush of the stream or beck. -The many ‘shotts’ that terminate the names of places in Hants and Surrey -have this common origin, and are similarly situated in the little -hollows watered by descending brooks. - -Bagshot has nearly forgotten the old coaching days in the growing -importance of its military surroundings, and most of its once celebrated -inns have retired into private life, all except the ‘King’s Arms.’ - -[Illustration: BAGSHOT.] - -The ground to the north of the Exeter Road, on the west of Bagshot -village, was once a peat moor. Hazel-nuts and bog-oak were often dug up -there. Then began the usual illegal encroachments on what was really -common land, and stealthily the moor was enclosed and subsequently -converted into a nursery-ground for rhododendrons, which flourish -amazingly on this soil when it has once been trenched. Beneath the black -sand which usually covers this ground there frequently occurs a very -hard iron rust, or thin stratum of oxide of iron, which prevents -drainage of the soil, with a blue sandy clay underlying. This stratum of -iron rust requires to be broken through, and the blue clay subsoil -raised to the surface and mixed with the black sand, before anything -will grow here. - -There is to be seen on the summit of the steep hill that leads out of -Bagshot an old inn called the ‘Jolly Farmer.’ This is the successor of a -still older house which stood at the side of the road, and was famous in -the annals of highway robbery, having been once the residence of William -Davis, the notorious ‘Golden Farmer,’ who lived here in the century -before last. - -The agriculturist with this auriferous name was a man greatly respected -in the neighbourhood, and acquired the nickname from his invariable -practice of paying his bills in gold. He was never known to tender -cheques, bank-notes, or bills, and this fact was considered so -extraordinary that it excited much comment, while at the same time -increasing the respect due to so substantial a man. But respect at last -fell from Mr. William Davis like a cloak; for one night when a coach was -robbed (as every coach was robbed then) on Bagshot Heath by a peculiar -highwayman who had earned a great reputation from his invariable -practice of returning all the jewellery and notes and keeping only the -coin, the masked robber, departing with his plunder, was shot in the -back by a traveller who had managed to secrete a pistol. - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘GOLDEN FARMER’_] - -Bound hand and foot, the wounded highwayman was hauled into the lighted -space before the entrance to the ‘King’s Arms,’ when the gossips of the -place recognised in him the well-known features of the ‘Golden Farmer.’ -A ferocious Government, which had no sympathy with highway robbery, -caused the ‘Golden Farmer’ to be hanged and afterwards gibbeted at his -own threshold. - -The present inn, an ugly building facing down the road, does not occupy -the site of the old house, which stood on the right hand, going -westwards. A table, much hacked and mutilated, standing in the parlour -of the ‘Jolly Farmer,’ came from the highwayman’s vanished home. A tall -obelisk that stood on the triangular green at the fork of the roads -here--where the signpost is standing nowadays--has long since -disappeared. It was a prominent landmark in the old coaching days, and -was inscribed with the distances of many towns from this spot. A still -existing link with the times of the highwaymen is the so-called ‘Claude -du Vail’s Cottage,’ which stands in the heathy solitudes at some -distance along Lightwater Lane, to the right-hand of the road. The -cottage, of which there is no doubt that it often formed a hiding-place -for that worthy, has lost its ancient thatch, and is now covered with -commonplace slates. - -Almost immediately after leaving the ‘Jolly Farmer’ behind, the road -grows hateful, passing in succession the modern townships of Cambridge -Town Camberley, and York Town. The exact point where one of these modern -squatting-places of those who hang on to the skirts of Tommy Atkins -joins another may be left to local experts; to the traveller they -present the appearance of one long and profoundly depressing street. - -Cobbett knew the road well, and liked this shabby line of military -settlements little. Coming up to ‘the Wen’ in 1821, and passing -Blackwater, he reached York Town, and thus he holds forth: ‘After -_pleasure_ comes _pain_’, says Solomon, and after the sight of Lady -Mildmay’s truly noble plantations (at Hartley Row) came that of the -clouts of the ‘gentleman cadets’ of the ‘_Royal Military College of -Sandhurst_!’ Here, close by the roadside, is the _drying ground_. -Sheets, shirts, and all sorts of things were here spread upon lines -covering perhaps an acre of ground! We soon afterwards came to ‘_York_ -Place’ on ‘_Osnaburg_ Hill.’ And is there never to be an _end_ of these -things? Away to the left we see that immense building which contains -children _breeding up to be military commanders_! Has this place cost so -little as two millions of pounds? I never see this place (and I have -seen it forty times during the last twenty years) without asking myself -this question, ‘Will this thing be suffered to go on; will this thing, -created by money _raised by loan_; will this thing be upheld by means of -taxes _while the interest of the Debt is reduced_, on the ground that -the nation is _unable to pay the interest in full_?’ - -It is painful to say that ‘this thing’ has gone on, and that ‘the sweet -simplicity of the Three per Cents’ has given place to very much reduced -interest. But one little ray of sunshine breaks on the gloomy picture. -If Cobbett could ride this way once more he would discover that the acre -of drying ‘sheets, shirts, and other things’ is no longer visible to -shock the susceptibilities of old-fashioned wayfarers, or of that new -feature of the road, the lady cyclist. - -[Sidenote: _BLACKWATER_] - -There is a great deal more of Cambridge Town, Camberley, and York Town -now than when Cobbett last journeyed along the road; there are more -‘children breeding up to be military commanders,’ more Tommies, more -drinking-shops, and an almost continuous line of ugly, and for the most -part out-at-elbows, houses for a space of two miles. It is with relief -that the traveller leaves behind the last of these wretched blots upon -the country and descends into Blackwater, where the river of that name, -so called from the sullen hue it obtains on running through the peaty -wastes of this wild, heathy country, flows beneath a bridge at the -entrance to the pretty village. Over this bridge we enter Hampshire, -that county of hogs and chalky downs, but no sign of the chalk is -reached yet, until coming upon the little stream in the level between -Hartley Row and Hook, called the Whitewater from the milky tinge it has -gained on coming down from the chalky heights of Alton and Odiham. This -tinge is, however, more imaginary than real, and the characteristically -chalky scenery of Hampshire is not seen by the traveller along the Great -Western Road until Basingstoke and its chalk downs are reached. - -Blackwater until recently possessed a picturesque old coaching inn, the -‘White Hart,’ which has unhappily been rebuilt. But it remains, as ever, -a village of old inns. Climbing out of its one street we come to a wild -and peculiarly unprepossessing tableland known as Hartford Bridge Flats. - -To the lover of scenery this is a quite detestable piece of road, but -the old coachmen simply revelled in it, for here was the best stretch -of galloping ground in England, and they ‘sprang’ their horses over it -for all they were worth, through Hartley Row and Hook, and well on -towards Basingstoke. - -The famous (or infamous let us rather call them) Hartford Bridge Flats -are fully as dreary as any of the desolate Californian mining flats of -which Bret Harte has written so eloquently. Salisbury Plain itself, save -that the Plain is more extensive, is no worse place in which to be -overtaken by bad weather. Excessively bleak and barren, the Flats are -well named, for they stretch absolutely level for four miles: a black, -open, unsheltered heath, with nothing but stunted gorse bushes for miles -on either side, and the distant horizon closed in by the solemn -battalions of sinister-looking pine-woods. The road runs, a straight and -sandy strip, through the midst of this wilderness, unfenced, its -monotony relieved only by a group of ragged firs about half-way. The -cyclist who toils along these miles against a head wind is as unlikely -to forget Hartford Bridge Flats as were the unfortunate ‘outsides’ on -the coaches when rain or storm made the passage miserable. - -Hartford Bridge, at the foot of the hill below this nightmare country, -is a pretty hamlet of yellow sand and pine-woods, sand-martins and -rabbits uncountable. The place is interesting and unspoiled, because its -development was suddenly arrested when the Exeter Road became deserted -for the railway in the early ’40’s; and so it remains, in essentials, a -veritable old hamlet of the coaching days. Even more eloquent of old -times is the long, long street of - -[Illustration: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)] - -[Sidenote: _HARTLEY ROW_] - -Hartley Row which adjoins. Hartley Row was absolutely called into -existence by the demand in the old days of road travel for stabling, -inns, and refreshments, and is one of the most thoroughly representative -of such roadside settlements. Half a mile to the south of the great -highway is the parent village of Hartley Wintney, unknown to and -undreamt of by travellers in those times, and probably much the same as -it was in the Middle Ages. The well-named ‘Row,’ on the other hand, -sprang lip, grew lengthy, and flourished exceedingly during the sixty -years of coaching prosperity, and then, at one stroke, was ruined. What -Brayley, the historian of Surrey, wrote of Bagshot in 1841, applies even -more eloquently to Hartley Row: ‘Its trade has been entirely ruined by -the opening of the Southampton and Great Western Railroads, and its -numerous inns and public-houses, which had long been profitably -occupied, are now almost destitute of business. Formerly thirty stage -coaches passed through the village, now every coach has been taken off -the road.’ The ‘Southampton Railroad,’ referred to here, is of course -the London and South-Western Railway, which has drained this part of the -road of its traffic, and whose Winchfield station lies two miles away. - -[Illustration: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON).] - -Before the crash of the ’40’s Hartley Row possessed a thriving industry -in the manufacture of coaches, carried on by one Fagg, who was also -landlord of the ‘Bell Inn,’ Holborn, and in addition horsed several -stages out of London. - -Some day the coming historian of the nineteenth century will, in his -chapter on travel, cite Hartley Row as the typical coaching village, -which was called into existence by coaching, lived on coaching, and with -the death of coaching was stranded high and dry in this dried-up channel -of life. All the houses - -[Illustration: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON).] - -[Sidenote: _OLD TRAVELLERS_] - -of a village like this, which lived on the needs of travellers, faced -the road in one long street, and almost every fourth or fifth house was -an inn, or ministered in some way to the requirements of those who -travelled. It is remarkable to find so many of these old inns still in -existence at Hartley Row. Here they still stand, ruddy-faced, -substantial but plain buildings, with, notwithstanding their plainness, -a certain air of distinction. The wayfarer, well read in the habits of -the times when they were bustling with business, can imagine untold -comforts behind those frontages; can reconstruct the scenes in the -public waiting-rooms, where travellers, passing the interval between -their being set down here by the ‘Defiance’ or the ‘Regulator’ Exeter -coach and the arrival of the Odiham and Alton bye-stage, could warm -themselves by the roaring fire; can sniff in imagination the coffee of -the breakfasts and the roast beef of the dinners; or perceive through -the old-fashioned window-frames the lordly posting parties, detained -here by stress of weather, making the best of it by drinking of the old -port or brown sherry which the cellars of every self-respecting coaching -inn could then produce. Not that these were the only travellers familiar -to the roadside village in those days. Not every one who fared from -London to Exeter could afford the luxuries of the mail or stage coach, -or of the good cheer and the lavender-scented beds just glimpsed. For -the poor traveller there were the lumbering so-called ‘Fly-vans’ of -Russell and Co., which jogged along at the average pace of three -miles[3] an hour--the pace decreed by Scotland Yard for the modern -policeman. The poor folk who travelled thus might perhaps have walked -with greater advantage, ‘save for the dignity of the thing,’ as the -Irishman said when the floor of his cab fell out and he was obliged to -run along with the bottomless vehicle. Certainly they paid more for the -misery of being conveyed thus than the railway traveller does nowadays -for comfort at thirty to fifty miles an hour. Numbers _did_ walk, -including the soldiers and the sailors going to rejoin their regiments -or their ships, who appear frequently in the roadside sketches of that -period by Rowlandson and others. The poor travellers probably rode -because of their--luggage I was about to write, let us more correctly -say bundles. - -[Sidenote: _PICTURESQUE OLD DAYS_] - -When they arrived at a village at nightfall, they camped under the -ample shelter of the great waggon; or, perhaps, if they had anything to -squander on mere luxuries, spent sixpence or ninepence on a supper of -cold boiled beef and bread, to be followed by a shake-down on straw or -hay in the stable-lofts, which were quite commonly put to this use among -the second- and third-rate inns of the old times. - -[Illustration: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON).] - -Those were the days of the picturesque; if, indeed, Rowlandson and -Morland and the other delightfully romantic artists of the period did -not invent those roadside scenes. Here, for instance, is Rowlandson’s -charming group of three old topers boozing outside the ‘Half Moon.’ I -cannot tell you where this ‘Half Moon’ was. Probably the artist imagined -it; but at anyrate the _kind_ of place, and scenes of this description, -must have existed in his time. Here, you will observe, the landlord has -come out with a mug of ‘humming ale’ or ‘nut-brown October’ for the -thirsty driver of the curricle, who is apparently going to market, if -we may judge by the basket of fowls tied on to the back of the -conveyance. - -Scenes so picturesque as this are not to be observed in our own time, -nor are the tramps who yet infest the road, singly or in families, of -the engaging appearance of this family party. The human form divine was -wondrously gnarled and twisted, or phenomenally fat, a hundred years -ago, according to Rowlandson and Gillray. Legs like the trunks of -contorted apple-trees, stomachs like terrestrial globes, mouths -resembling the mouths of horses, and noses like geographical features on -a large scale were the commonplaces of their practice, and this example -forms no exception to the general rule. - - - - -XVII - - -[Sidenote: _TREE-PLANTING_] - -The ruin that descended upon Hartley Row in common with other coaching -towns and villages, nearly sixty years ago, has long since been lived -down, and the long street, although quiet, has much the same cheerful -appearance as it must have worn in the heyday of its prosperity. It is a -very wide street, fit for the evolutions of many coaches. Pleasant -strips of grass now occupy, more or less continuously, one side, and at -the western end forks the road to Odiham, through a pretty common with -the unusual feature of being planted with oak trees. These oak glades do -not look particularly old; but, as it happens, we can ascertain their -exact age and at the same time note how slow-growing is the oak tree by -a reference to Cobbett’s _Rural Rides_, where, in 1821, he notes their -being planted: ‘I perceive that they are planting oaks on the -“_wastes_,” as the _Agriculturasses_ call them, about _Hartley Row_; -which is very good, because the herbage, after the first year, is rather -increased than diminished by the operation; while, in time, the oaks -arrive at a timber state, and add to the beauty and the _real wealth_, -of the country, and to the real and solid wealth of the descendants of -the planter who, in every such case, merits unequivocal praise, because -he plants for his children’s children. The planter here is Lady Mildmay, -who is, it seems, Lady of the Manors about here.’ - -This planting was accomplished in days before any one so much as dreamt -of the time to come, when the navies of the world should be built like -tin kettles. Oaks were then planted with a view to being eventually -worked up into the ‘wooden walls of Old England,’ among other uses, and -the squires who laid out money on the work were animated by the glow of -self-satisfaction that warms the breasts of those who can combine -patriotism with the provision of a safe deferred investment. Unhappily, -the ‘wooden walls’ have long since become a dim memory before these -trees have attained their proper timber stage, and now stand, to those -who read these facts, as monuments to blighted hopes. But they render -this common extremely beautiful, and give it a character all its own. -All this is quite apart from the legal aspect of the case; whether, that -is to say, the lord of a manor has any right to make plantations of -common lands for his own or his descendants’ benefit. Cobbett, it will -be perceived, calls these lands ‘wastes,’ following the term conferred -upon them by the ‘Agriculturasses’--whoever they may have been. If -technically ‘wastes of the manors,’ then the landowner’s right to do as -he will is incontestable; but, with the contentious character of Cobbett -before one, is it not remarkable that he should praise this planting and -not question the right to call the land ‘wastes,’ instead of common? But -perhaps Cobbett the tree-planter was contending with Cobbett the -agitator, and the tree-planter got the best of it. - -Hook, which succeeds Hartley Row, is a hamlet of the smallest size, but -that fact does not prevent its possessing two old coaching inns, the -‘White Hart’ and the ‘Old White Hart,’ both very large and very near to -one another. The Exeter Road certainly did not lack entertainment for -man and beast in those days, with fine hostelries every few miles, -either in the towns and villages, or else set down, solitary, amid the -downs, like Winterslow Hut. - -Nately Scures, whose second name is supposed to derive from the -Anglo-Saxon _scora_, a shaw, or coppice (whence we get such place-names -as Shawford, near Winchester; Shaugh Prior on Dartmoor; Shaw, in -Berkshire, and many of the ‘scors’ forming the first syllables of -place-names all over the country), is a place even smaller than Hook, -with a tiny church, one of the many ‘smallest’ churches; standing in a -meadow, to which access is had through rick-yards. - -[Illustration: THE ‘WHITE HART,’ HOOK.] - -[Sidenote: _OLD BASING_] - -It is worth while halting a moment to gain a sight of the little church, -which is late Norman, and one of the few dedicated to that Norman -bishop, Saint Swithun. - -Returning to the highway, and coming to the place known to the old -coachmen as Mapledurwell Hatch, where that fine old coaching inn, the -‘King’s Head,’ still stands, a road goes off to Old Basing, on the -right, while the highway continues in a straight line, rising toward the -town of Basingstoke. - -The hasty traveller who knows nothing of the delights that await -explorers in the byeways, misses a great deal here by keeping strictly -to the highroad. If, instead of continuing direct to Basingstoke, this -turning to the right hand is taken, it brings one in half a mile to the -pretty village of Old Basing, celebrated for one of the most stubborn -and protracted defences recorded in history. It was here that the -equally crafty and courteous Sir William Paulet, first Marquis of -Winchester, and Lord Treasurer during the reigns of Henry the Eighth, -Edward the Sixth, Mary, and Elizabeth, built an immense palace on the -site of Basing Castle. There can be little doubt that this magnificent -person, who possessed no principles, and so kept place and power through -the troublous times that these reigns comprised, must have had his hands -in the Royal coffers to some purpose, or else have used his position for -the sale of preferments. ‘No oak, but an osier,’ as his contemporaries -said, he bowed before the tempests of religious persecution and the -whirlwinds of conspiracies which passed him harmlessly by and left him -still peculating. He had become a hoary-headed sinner by the time -Elizabeth reigned, or there is no knowing but that he might have become -a Prince Consort; for when he entertained Her Majesty here in 1560: ‘By -my troth,’ said she, ‘if my Lord Treasurer were but a young man, I could -find it in my heart to have him for a husband before any man in -England.’ But she had said this kind of thing of many another. - -[Sidenote: _BASING HOUSE_] - -The successors of this gorgeous nobleman--not being Lords -Treasurers--could not afford to keep up so immense a palace, and so -demolished a part of it, and found the remainder ample. To this place, -fitting alike by its situation at a strategic point on the Western Road, -and by the splendidly defensible nature of its site, crowded the King’s -Hampshire adherents who were not engaged at Winchester and Southampton -at the outbreak of the war between Charles and his Parliament. John, -fifth Marquis of Winchester, then ruled. ‘_Aimez Loyaulté_,’ he wrote -with his diamond ring on every window of his great mansion, and, -provisioning his cellars, awaited events. As ‘Loyalty’ the house -speedily became known to the flying bands of the King’s men who, pursued -through the country by the Roundheads, made for its shelter as birds do -for trees in a storm. The rebels might hold Basingstoke for a time, and -lay siege to Basing House, but troops from Royalist Oxford would come -and take the town and reprovision this stronghold. It was a mixed -company in this palace-fortress. My lord, loyalist, soldier, amateur of -the arts; reposing after the warlike fatigues of the day in a bed whose -gorgeous trappings made it worth £1300; witty and brave cavaliers; a -company of Roman Catholic priests; men-at-arms, drinking, dicing, and -fighting by turns and with equal zest; and such representatives of the -arts as Inigo Jones, the architect, and Hollar, the engraver. Gay and -careless though they were, they fought well, and slew and were slain to -the number of two thousand during this long siege. Sometimes this varied -garrison was hard pressed for food, when relief would come in whimsical -fashion, as when Colonel Gage and his thousand horsemen appeared with -sword in one hand and holding on to a bag of provisions with the other; -a fitting contrast with the typical Puritan, a Psalm-book in his left -hand and a pike in his right. Basing House, indeed, in the words of -Carlyle, ‘long infested the Parliament in these quarters, and was an -especial eye-sorrow to the trade of London with the Western parts. It -stood siege after siege for four years, ruining poor Colonel This and -then poor Colonel That, till the jubilant Royalists had given it the -name of _Basting_ House.’ - -But the end was at hand after Fairfax had reduced the garrisons in the -West and the Parliamentary troops could be spared from other places. -Cromwell himself was charged with the business of taking ‘Loyalty.’ It -was in September that he came to Basingstoke with horse and foot, and -established a post of observation on the summit of Winklebury, a hill -crowned with prehistoric earthworks that overlooks Worting and the -Exeter Road, two miles on the other side of the town. - -Little over a fortnight later Cromwell wrote that ‘Thank God he was able -to give a good account of Basing.’ The house was taken by storm on the -14th October, ‘while the garrison was card-playing,’ as the persistent -Hampshire legend would have us believe. ‘Clubs are trumps, as when -Basing House was taken,’ is still an expression often heard at Hampshire -card-parties, and some colour is lent to this story by the poor defence -with which the furious onrush of Cromwell’s troops was met. The -attacking force lost few men, but a hundred of the defenders were -killed, and three hundred more taken prisoners. Then the place caught -fire and was utterly burnt, many perishing miserably in the great brick -vaults of the house, where they were when the fire reached them. Fuller, -that quaint seventeenth-century historian, who had been staying here, -had, fortunately, left before the arrival of Cromwell’s expedition. The -continual fighting and the booming of the guns had distracted his -attention from his work! There were others not so fortunate. Thomas -Johnson, a peaceful botanist, was killed, and one Robinson, an actor and -unarmed, was slaughtered by Harrison, the fanatic. ‘Cursed is he that -doeth the Lord’s work negligently,’ exclaimed the Puritan, as he cut him -down. Other soldiers slew the daughter of Dr. Griffith who was charging -them with being violent to her father. - -Fanaticism and cupidity were fully satisfied on this occasion, save that -there were those who grumbled because the lives of the Marquis of -Winchester and his lieutenant were spared. The sack of Basing House -yielded £200,000 worth of plunder, in objects - -[Sidenote: _THE RUINS OF BASING HOUSE_] - -[Illustration: THE RUINS OF BASING HOUSE.] - -of art, gold and silver plate, coin, and provisions; and all partook of -it, from Cromwell to the rank and file. ‘One soldier had a hundred and -twenty pieces of gold for his share, others plate, others jewels.’ No -wonder they had, with this dazzling prospect before them, rushed to the -assault ‘like a fire-flood.’ - -They made a rare business of this pillage, taking away the valuables, -and selling the provisions to the country folks, who ‘loaded many -carts.’ The bricks and building materials were given away, probably -because they could not wait for the long business of selling them. -‘Whoever will come for brick or stone shall freely have the same for his -pains,’ ran the proclamation, and, considering this, it is quite -remarkable that even the existing scanty ruins of Basing House are left. - -The area comprised within the defences measures fourteen and a half -acres, now a tumbled and tangled stretch of ground, a mass of grassy -mounds and hollows, overgrown in places with thickets. These ruins are -entered from the road by an old brick gateway, still bearing the ‘three -swords in pile’ on a shield, the arms of the Paulets, with ivy -overhanging and tall trees behind. A tall curtain wall of brick, with a -quaintly peaked-roofed tower at either end, now looks down upon the -Basingstoke Canal, which many strangers think is the moat, but though a -picturesque addition to the scene, it cannot claim any such historic -associations, for it was only constructed close upon a hundred years -ago. - -Near by is Old Basing church, with square tower built of red brick, -similar to that seen in the ruins of the House. It is said to be of -foreign make. Bullets have up to recent years been extracted from the -south door of the church, the original oak door in use two hundred and -sixty years ago; and the flint and stone south walls and buttresses bear -vivid witness, in their patching of brick, to the ruin that befell this -part of the building in those troubled times. Strange to say, a -beautiful group of the Virgin and Child still occupies a tabernacle over -the west window, uninjured, although it can scarce have escaped the -notice of the fanatical soldiery. Within the church are memorials of the -loyal Paulets, Marquises of Winchester, and for a period Dukes of -Bolton. Their glory has departed with their great House, and although a -smaller residence was built in the meadows, close at hand, that has -vanished too. - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘GREY LADY’_] - -When Basing House was laid in ruins the Marquis of Winchester retired to -his hunting lodge of Hawk Wood, to the south of Basingstoke, and, -enlarging it, made the place his residence. His son, created Duke of -Bolton, employed Inigo Jones to build a new house on the site of the -lodge, and this is the present Hackwood Park. The existing house stands -in the midst of dense and tangled woodlands, and although imposing, is a -somewhat gloomy pile, with a ghost story. That bitter lawyer, Richard -Bethell, of whom it was said that he ‘dismissed Hell, with costs, and -took away from orthodox members of the Church of England their last hope -of everlasting damnation,’ when he became Lord Chancellor and was -created Baron Westbury, purchased Hackwood Park, and it was to one of -his friends that the ‘Grey Lady’ of the mansion presented herself. Lord -Westbury and a party of his friends had arrived from town soon after the -purchase, and at a late hour they retired to rest, saying good-night to -one another in the corridor. One of the guests woke up in the middle of -the night and found his room strangely illuminated, with the indistinct -outlines of a human figure visible in the midst of the uncanny glow. -Thinking this some practical joke, and feeling very drowsy, he turned -round and fell off to sleep again, to wake at a later hour and see the -figure of a woman in a long, old-fashioned dress. With more courage than -most people would probably have shown under the circumstances, he, -instead of putting his head under the bed-clothes, jumped out, whereupon -the lady modestly retired. Instead of going to bed again, he sat down -and wrote an account of the occurrence; but when at breakfast Lord -Westbury and his other friends kept continually asking him how he had -slept, his suspicions as to a practical joke having been played upon him -were renewed. He accordingly parried all these queries and said he had -slept excellently, until Lord Westbury said, ‘Now, look here, we saw -that lady dressed in grey follow you into your room last night, you -know!’ Explanations followed, but the story of the ‘Grey Lady’ remains -mysterious to this day. - - - - -XVIII - - -The whereabouts of Basingstoke may be noted from afar by the huge and -odd-looking clock-tower of the Town Hall, added to that building in -1887. Its windy height, visible from many miles around, is also -favourable to the hearing at a distance of its sweet-toned carillons, -modelled on the pattern of the famous peal of Bruges. When the shrieking -of the locomotives at the railway station is hushed, and the wind is -favourable, you may hear those tuneful bells far away over the -melancholy wolds that hem in Basingstoke to the north and west, or -listen to them by the waters of the Loddon eastward, or the undulating -farm-lands of the south. - -[Sidenote: _HOLY GHOST CHAPEL_] - -We have seen how Old Basing became of prime military importance from its -situation at the point where many roads from the south and west of -England converged and fell into one great highway to London; and from -the same cause is due the commercial prosperity of Basingstoke. -Basingstoke, with a record as a town going back to the time when the -Domesday Book was compiled, is yet a mere modern settlement compared -with the mother-parish of Old Basing; but it was an important place in -the sixteenth century, when silks and woollens were manufactured here. -At later periods this junction of the roads brought a great coaching -trade, and has finally made Basingstoke a railway junction. Silks and -woollens have given place to engineering works and machine-shops, and -the town, with its modern reputation for the manufacture of -agricultural machinery, bids fair at no distant date to become to -Hampshire what Colchester and Ipswich are to Essex and Suffolk. - -When the Parliamentary Generals were engaged in the long business of -besieging Basing House, it may well be supposed that the town suffered -greatly at the hands of their soldiery. They, who were experts at -wrecking churches and cathedrals in a few hours, had ample opportunities -for destruction in the four years that business was about. Their -handiwork may be seen to this day--together with that of modern Toms, -Dicks, and Harrys, who have not the excuse of being fanatics--in the -ruined walls of Holy Ghost Chapel on the northern outskirts of the town. -Within the roofless walls of the chapel, unroofed by those Roundheads -for the sake of their leaden covering, are two recumbent effigies, sadly -mutilated. Perhaps Sergeant Humility-before-the-Lord Mawworm slashed -them with his pike in his hatred of worldly pomp; but his zeal did not -do the damage wrought on the marble by the recording penknives of the -past fifty years. A stained-glass window, pieced together from the -fragments of those destroyed here, is still to be seen in Basingstoke -Parish Church. - -The Exeter Road leaves Basingstoke at its southwestern end, where a fork -of the highway gives a choice to the traveller of continuing to Andover -on the right, or making on the left to Winchester. The first village on -the way to Exeter is Worting, below the shoulder of Battle Down, a -village--nay, a hamlet, let us call it--of a Sundayfied stillness. Yet -Worting has had its bustling times, for here was one of the most famous -coaching inns on the road, the ‘White Hart.’ Another ‘White Hart,’ at -Whitchurch, is scarcely less celebrated in the annals of the road. In -fact, the ‘White Harts’ are so many and so notable on this road that the -historian of the highways becomes almost as ashamed of mentioning them -as of recounting the places which Cromwell stormed, or where Charles the -Second hid; the houses in which Queen Elizabeth slept, or the inns where -Pepys made merry. - -[Sidenote: _OVERTON_] - -Worting is followed in quick succession by the outskirts of Oakley, -Clerken Green, Deane, Ashe, and Overton. Except Overton, which is a -picturesque village lining the road, of the old coaching, or -‘thoroughfare’ type, these places are all shy and retiring, tucked away -up bye-lanes, with great parks on their borders, in whose midst are very -vast, very hideous country mansions where dwell the local J.P.’s, like -so many Rogers de Coverley in miniature, with churches rebuilt or -restored to their glory and the glory of God, and a general air of -patronage bestowed upon the villagers and wayfarers from the outside -world by those august partners. These parks, with their mile after mile -of palings bordering the road, and their dense foliage overhanging it, -are given over to solitude. An occasional gamekeeper, or a much more -than occasional rabbit or hare, are the only signs of life, with perhaps -the hoarse ‘crock’ of a pheasant’s call from the neighbouring coverts. -The air beneath the overarching trees along the road is stale and -stagnant, and typical of the life here, like the green damp on the -entrance lodges of Hall Place, where heraldic lions, sitting on their -rumps and holding what at a distance look like quart-pots from the -country inn opposite, scowl at one another across the gravelled drive. - -It is a relief to emerge from this stifling atmosphere upon the open -road where Overton stands. We are fully entered here into the valley of -the Test, or Anton, a sparkling little stream whose course we follow -henceforward as far as Hurstbourne Priors. Fishermen love Overton and -this valley well, for there is royal sport here among the trout and -grayling, and in the village a choice of those old inns which the angler -appreciates as much as any one. Picturesque Overton is a doubly ruined -village, for it has lost its silk industry, together with the coaching -interest; but like the splendid bankrupts of modern high finance who -fail for millions and continue to live like princes, it continues -cheerful. Perhaps every one in the place made a competency before the -crash, and put it away where no one could touch it! - -The valley broadens out delightfully beyond Overton, and the road, -reaching Laverstoke, commands beautiful views over the water-meadows, -and the open park in whose midst stands Laverstoke House, clearly seen -in passing. In this village, in the neat and clean paper-mill by the -road, is made the paper for Bank of England notes. It was so far back as -1719 that this industry was established here by the Portal family, -French Protestants emigrating from their country for conscience’ sake. -Cobbett, who hated paper-money as much as he did the ‘Wen’ in which it -is chiefly current, passed this spot in a fury. He says, with a sad lack -of the prophetic faculty, ‘We passed the mill where the Mother-Bank -paper is made! Thank God! this mill is likely soon to want employment. -Hard by is a pretty park and house, belonging to “_’Squire_” Portal, the -_paper-maker_. The country people, who seldom want for sarcastic -shrewdness, call it “Rag Hall!”’ And again, ‘I hope the time will come -when a monument will be erected where that mill stands, and when on that -monument will be inscribed “_the Curse of England_.” This spot ought to -be held accursed in all time henceforth and for evermore. It has been -the spot from which have sprung more and greater mischief than ever -plagued mankind before.’ - -Unhappily for Cobbett’s wishes and predictions, the mill is still in -existence and is busier than it was when he wrote in 1821. There are as -many as two hundred and fifty people now employed here in the making of -the ‘accursed’ paper. - -Now comes Freefolk village, with a wayside drinking-fountain and a tall -cross, with stone seat, furnished with some pious inscription; the whole -erected by a Portal in 1870, and intended to further the honour and -glory of that family. There is plenty water everywhere around, in the -river and its many runlets amid the water-meadows, but the fountain is -dry. Passing tramps are properly sarcastic, and the dry fountain and its -texts, so far from leading in the paths of temperance and godliness, are -the occasion of much blasphemy. But the pious Portals have their -advertisement. - -[Sidenote: _NEWMAN AT WHITCHURCH_] - -Whitchurch, two miles down the road, is approached past the -much-quarried hills that rise on the right hand and shelter that decayed -little town from the buffetings of the north-easterly winds. If there be -those who are curious to learn what a decayed old coaching town is like, -let them journey to Whitchurch. After much tiresome railway travelling, -and changing at junctions, they will arrive in the fulness of time at -Whitchurch station, whence the omnibus of the ‘White Hart’ will drive -them, rumbling over the stone-pitched streets of the town, to the door -of that quaint inn, in one of whose rooms the future Cardinal Newman -wrote the beginning of the _Lyra Apostolica_:-- - - Are these the tracks of some unearthly friend? - -2nd December 1832, while waiting for the mail to Falmouth. He had come -from Oxford that morning by the Oxford-Southampton coach. - -‘Here I am,’ he says, writing to his mother, ‘from one till eleven,’ -waiting for the down Exeter mail. Think, modern railway traveller, what -would you say were it your lot to wait ten hours, say at Templecombe -Junction, for a connection! Moreover, a bore claiming to be the brother -of an acquaintance claimed to share his room and his society at the -‘White Hart,’ and eventually journeyed to Exeter with him. The future -Cardinal did not like this. He writes: ‘I am practising for the first -time the duty of a traveller, which is sorely against the grain, and -have been talkative and agreeable without end,’ adding (one can almost -imagine the sigh of the retiring scholar!), ‘Now that I have set up for -a man of the world, it is my vocation.’ - -The latter part of his journey was accomplished at night. Travelling -thus through Devonshire and Cornwall is, he remarks, ‘very striking for -its mysteriousness.’ It was a beautiful night, ‘clear, frosty, and -bright, with a full moon. Mere richness of vegetation is lost by night, -but bold features remain. As I came along, I had the whole train of -pictures so vividly upon my mind that I could have written a most -interesting account of it in the most approved picturesque style of -modern composition, but it has all gone from me now, like a dream.’ - -‘The night was enlivened by what Herodotus calls a “night engagement” -with a man, called by courtesy a gentleman, on the box. The first act -ended by his calling me a d----d fool. The second by his insisting on -two most hearty shakes of the hand, with the protest that he certainly -did think me very injudicious and ill-timed. I had opened by telling him -he was talking great nonsense to a silly goose of a maidservant stuck -atop of the coach; so I had no reason to complain of his giving me the -retort uncourteous.’ - -There are corridors in the ‘White Hart’ with up and down twilight -passages, in which the guests of another day lost themselves with -promptitude and despatch. There is also a barbarically coloured -coffee-room, snug and comfortable, which looks as though Washington -Irving could have written an eloquent essay around it; and, more -essential than anything else in days of old, a capacious yard with huge -yawning stables. For Whitchurch is at the cross - -[Sidenote: _BRIBERY AND CORRUPTION_] - -[Illustration: WHITCHURCH.] - -roads, along which in one direction went the Exeter mails, while at -right angles goes the road between Southampton, Winchester, Newbury, -Didcot, and Oxford, little used now, but once an important route. -Whitchurch, in the gay old times when few men had votes but every voter -had his price, used to send two members to Parliament. Horrid Reform and -Bribery Acts which, together with the extension of the franchise and the -adoption of secret voting, have brought about the disfranchising of -rotten boroughs and the decay of such home industries as electoral -corruption, personation, and the like, have taken away much of the -prosperity of the town, which, like Andover, used to live royally from -one election to another on the venality of the ‘free and independent.’ -But the last visit of the ‘Man in the Moon’ was paid to Whitchurch very -many years ago, and not even the oldest inhabitant can recollect the -days when cash was given for votes and the electors, gloriously and -incapably drunk, were herded together to plump for the candidate with -the longest purse. - -When it is said that Whitchurch is a tiny town of very steep, narrow, -and crooked streets, that it still boasts some vestiges of its old silk -industry, and that it is a ‘Borough by prescription,’ all its salient -points have been exhausted. Reform has not only reformed away the -Parliamentary representation of the town, but has also swept away the -municipal authority. Mayor and bailiff are both elected every year, but -the offices carry no power nowadays. - -Leaving Whitchurch, the road presently comes to the village of -Hurstbourne Priors, which stands in a hollow on the Bourne, an affluent -of the Anton, and on the verge of the Ancient and Royal Forest of -Harewood. Not only does the village stand on the banks of the stream and -the edge of the woods, but it also derives the first of its two names -from these circumstances, ‘Hurstbourne’ being obviously descriptive of -woodlands and brooklet, while the ‘Priors’ is a relic of its old lords -of the manor, the abbots of Saint Swithun’s at Winchester. These -historic and geographical facts, however, are apt to be lost in the -local corruption of the place-name, and that of Hurstbourne Tarrant, a -few miles higher up the stream; for they are, according to Hampshire -speech, respectively ‘Up Husband’ and ‘Down Husband.’ - - - - -XIX - - -[Sidenote: _ANDOVER_] - -The road between this point and Andover, ascending the high ground -between the Ann and the Test, is utterly without interest, and brings -the traveller down into the town at the south side of the market square -without any inducement to linger on the way. Except on the Saturday -market-day, Andover is given over to a dreamy quiet. The butchers’ dogs -lie blinking sleepily on the thresholds, or on the kerbs, and regard -with a pained surprise, rather than with any active resentment, the -intrusive passage of a stray customer. Tradesmen’s assistants leisurely -open casual crates of goods on the pavements, with long intervals for -gossip between the drawing of each nail, and no one objects to the -blocking of the footpath. A chance cyclist manœuvres in the empty -void of the road in the midst of the square, and collides with no one, -for the simple reason that there is nobody to collide with, and one -acquaintance talks to another across the wide space and is distinctly -heard. Formal but not unpleasing houses front on to this square, -together with the usual Town Hall, and a great modern, highly -uninteresting Gothic church, erected after the model of Salisbury -Cathedral, on the site of the old building. - -For fifty-one weeks of the fifty-two that comprise the year, this is the -weekly six-days aspect of the place, varied occasionally by the advent -of a travelling circus, or the arrival of a route-marching detachment of -the Royal Artillery, who park their guns in the square, and may be seen -in the stable-yards of the inns on which they are billeted, in various -stages of dishevelment, in shirt-sleeves rolled up to elbows, and braces -dangling at waists, littering down their horses, or smoking very short -and very foul pipes. - -All this idyllic quiet is blown to the winds during the week of Weyhill -Fair, the October pandemonium held three and a half miles away. Then -hordes of cattle-and horse-jobbers, hop growers and buyers, -cheese-factors, and the travellers of firms dealing in machinery, seeds, -oil-cake, tarpaulins, and half a hundred other everyday agricultural -requisites, descend upon the town. Then are dragged out from mysterious -receptacles the most antiquated of ‘flys,’ and waggonettes, and -nondescript vehicles, to be pressed into the service of conveying -visitors to the Fair, some three and a half miles from the town. Whence -they come, and where they are hidden away afterwards, is more than the -stranger can tell, but it is quite certain that their retreat is in some -corner where spiders dwell, and earwigs and other weird insects have a -home. Add to these facts the all-important one that it is generally -possible to walk the distance in a shorter time, and you have a full -portraiture of the average Weyhill conveyance. - -This sleepy old place, older by many more centuries than the oldest -house remaining here can give any hint of, was not always so quiet. -There were alarums and excursions (ending, however, with not so much as -a cut finger) when James the Second, falling back from Salisbury before -the advance of his son-in-law, William of Orange, halted here. There -might have been a battle in Andover’s streets, or under the shadow of -Bury Hill, had James put a bolder front on the business; but instead of -cutting up William’s Dutchmen, he just dined overnight, and hearing in -the morning that his other son-in-law, Prince George of Denmark, had -slunk off with Lords Ormond and Drumlanrig, went off himself, -strategically to the rear. He was an obstinate and ridiculous bigot, and -a quite unlovable monarch, but he had a power of sarcasm. ‘What,’ said -he, hearing of the Prince’s desertion, and bitterly mimicking the absurd -intonation of that recreant’s French catch-phrase, ‘is “_Est-il -possible?_” gone too? Truly, a good trooper would have been a greater -loss.’ - -[Sidenote: _OLD ELECTIONS_] - -After these events, that era of bribery and corruption set in, which is -mistakenly supposed to have been brought to an end through the agency -of the several Reform Acts, passed by well-meaning Legislatures to -secure the purity of Parliamentary elections. As if treating, and the -crossing of horny hands with gold were the only ways of corrupting a -constituency that the wit of man, or the address of a candidate, could -discover! The palm no longer receives the coin; but who has not heard of -the modern art of ‘nursing a constituency,’ by which the candidate, -eager for Parliamentary honours, sits down before a town, or a county -division, subscribes liberally to hospitals and horticultural societies, -cricket and football clubs, opens bazaars, and presides at Young Men’s -Christian Associations, thereby winning the votes which would in other -days have been acquired by palming the men and kissing all the babies? -This tea-fight business gives us no picturesque situations like that in -which Charles James Fox figured. Fox was canvassing personally, and -called upon one of the bluff and blunt order of voters, who listened to -his eloquence, and remarked, ‘Sir, I admire your abilities, but damn -your principles!’ To which Fox supplied the obvious retort, ‘Sir, I -admire your sincerity, but damn your manners!’ - -Andover no longer sends a representative to Parliament, but in the brave -old days it elected two. With a knowledge of the wholesale purchasing of -votes that then went on, it will readily be perceived that Andover, with -two members to elect, must have been a place flowing with milk and -honey; or, less metaphorically, a happy hunting-ground for guineas and -free drinks. It was somewhere about a hundred and fifty years ago that -Sir Francis Blake Delaval, a prominent rake and practical humorist of -the period, was canvassing Andover. One voter amid the venal herd was, -to all appearance, proof against all temptations. Money, wine, place, -flattery had no seductions for this stoic. The baffled candidate was -beside himself in his endeavours to discover the man’s weak point; for -of course it was an age in which votes were so openly bought and sold -that the saying ‘Every man has his price’ was implicitly believed. Only -what _was_ this particular voter’s figure? Strange to say, he had no -weakness for money, but was possessed with an inordinate desire to see a -fire-eater, and doubted if there existed people endowed with that -remarkable power. ‘Off went Delaval to London, and returned with Angelo -in a post-chaise. Angelo exerted all his genius. Fire poured from his -mouth and nostrils--fire which melted that iron nature, and sent it off -cheerfully to poll for Delaval!’ - -This was that same Delaval whose attorney sent him the following bill of -costs after one of his contests:-- - - To being thrown out of the window of the George Inn, Andover; to my - leg being thereby broken; to surgeon’s bill, and loss of time and - business; all in the service of Sir Francis Delaval, £500. - -And cheap too. - -[Sidenote: _PRACTICAL JOKING_] - -They kept this sort of thing up for many years; not always, however, -throwing solicitors out of hotel windows; although rival political -factions often expressed their determination to throw one another’s -candidate in the Anton, after the fashion of the bills posted in the -town during a contest in the ’40’s, which announced in displayed type-- - - LORD HUNTINGTOWER FOR EVER! - - SIR JOHN POLLEN IN THE RIVER!! - - CATCHING FISH FOR HIS LORDSHIP’S DINNER!!! - -History does not satisfy us on the point whether or not those furious -partisans carried out their threat; or whether, if they did, their -victim afforded good bait. - -This Lord Huntingtower was the eldest son of the late Earl of Dysart, -and a well-matched companion of the late Marquis of Waterford. Roaming -the country-side on dark nights, mounted on stilts, with sheets over -their clothes and hollowed turnips on their heads with scooped-out holes -for eyes and mouth, and lit with candles, they frightened many a timid -rustic out of his dull wits. In daytime they played practical jokes on -the tradesfolk of Andover. For example, entering a little general shop -in the town, Lord Huntingtower asked for a pound of treacle. ‘Where -shall I put it?’ asked the old woman who kept the shop, seeing that the -usual basin was not forthcoming. - -‘P-pup-pup-put it in my hat,’ said my Lord, who stuttered in -yard-lengths, holding out his ‘topper.’ The pound of treacle was -accordingly poured into the Lincoln and Bennett, and the next instant it -was on the shopkeeper’s head. - -This was the manner in which Lord Huntingtower endeared himself to the -people--those, that is to say, who were not the victims of his -pleasantries. - -That kind of person is quite extinct now. They should have (but -unfortunately they have not) a stuffed specimen in the Natural History -Museum at South Kensington; because he is numbered with the Dodo, the -Plesiosaurus, and the Mastodon. The Marquis of Winchester who flourished -at the same period as my Lords Huntingtower and Waterford was of the -same stamp. He had the fiery Port Countenance which was the sign of the -three-bottle man, and his life and the deeds that he did are still -fondly remembered at Andover, for his country-house was at Amport, in -the immediate neighbourhood. He was the Premier Marquis of England, and -although up to his neck in mortgages and writs, an extremely Great -Personage. Let us, therefore, take our hats off as humbly as we know how -to do. - -When he was at his country-place he worshipped at the little village -church of Amport. Sometimes he did not worship, but slept, lulled off to -the Land of Nod by the roaring fire he kept in his room-like pew. On one -occasion it chanced that he was wide awake, and, like the illustrious -Sir Roger de Coverley, leant upon the door of that pew, and gazed around -to satisfy himself that all his tenantry were present. Then an awful -thing happened, the hinges of the door broke, and it fell with a great -clatter to the ground, and the Marquis with it. He said ‘Damn!’ with -great fervour and unction, and everybody laughed. No one thought it--as -they should have done--shocking, which shows the depravity of the age. - -[Sidenote: _THE MARQUIS AND THE SQUIRE_] - -There is no doubt whatever about that depravity, which, like the worm in -the bud, has wrought ruin among our manners since then. How sad it is -that we are not now content to call upon Providence to - - Bless the squire and his relations - And keep us in our proper stations; - -but are all too intent upon ‘getting on,’ to defer to rank, or take a -spell at the delightful occupations of tuft-hunting and boot-licking! -Even in those days this horrid decadence had begun to manifest itself, -as you will see by the story of this same Marquis and Mr. Assheton Smith -of Tedworth Park. Mr. Smith could (as the saying goes) have ‘bought up’ -the impoverished Marquis of Winchester several times over, and not have -felt any strain upon his resources. Moreover, he was a Squire of great -consideration in these parts, and as Master of the Tedworth Hunt, -something of a rival in importance. For which things, and more, the -Marquis hated him, and on one occasion took an opportunity of reproving -him publicly before the whole field, in the fine florid language of -which he had so ready a command. Possibly Mr. Smith had committed the -unpardonable indignity of showing my lord the way over a particularly -stiff fence he was hesitating at. At any rate the language of the -Premier Marquis was violent, and contained some reference to the -disparity between their respective ranks. But the Squire was ready with -his retort. He said, ‘Anyhow, I’d sooner be a rich Squire than a poor -Marquis!’ The field smiled, because the reduced circumstances of the -Marquis of Winchester had been notorious ever since his father had been -secretly buried at midnight in the family vault at Amport, for fear the -bailiffs should seize the body for debt. - -There are, for good or ill, no such sportsmen nowadays as there were in -the times before railways came and brought more competition into -existence, making life a business and a struggle, instead of the -light-hearted and irresponsible game that the sporting squires at least -found it. Noble sportsmen do not nowadays, when detained by stress of -weather in a country inn, while away the tedium of the afternoon by -backing the raindrops racing down the window-panes and betting fortunes -on the result. No, that very real bogey, ‘agricultural depression,’ has -stopped that kind of full-blooded prank, and the titled in these -progressive times find their account on the ‘front page’ of -company-promoters’ swindles instead. They barter good names for gold, -and lick the boots of wealthy rogues, instead of kicking their bodies. -Where their fathers scorned to go the sons delight to be. Would the -fathers have done the like had ‘agricultural depression’ come earlier? - -The noblemen and the sporting squires of old lived in one mad whirl of -excitement. They gambled on every incident in their lives, and sometimes -even on their death-beds; like the old gamester who, when the doctor -told him he would be dead the next morning, offered to bet him that he -would not! We are not told whether or not the medical man backed his -professional opinion. - -[Sidenote: _OLD SPORTSMEN_] - -One of the most illuminating side-lights on these truly Corinthian folk -is the story which tells how Lord Albert Conyngham and that classic -sportsman, Mr. George Payne, were travelling from London to Poole by -post-chaise in the last decade of the coaching days--that is to say, -between 1830 and 1840. They found the journey tedious, and so played -écarté, in which they grew so interested that they continued playing all -day and into the night, the chaise being lit with the aid of a patent -lamp which Mr. Payne always took with him on a long journey. The play -was high; £100 a game, with bets on knaves and sequences, and had been -continued with varying success, until when they were passing in the -darkness of night through the New Forest, Mr. Payne, who had been a -heavy loser for some time, had a run of luck. In midst of this exciting -play the post-boy, who, in the secluded glades of the Forest, had -managed to lose the road, stopped the chaise and, dismounting, tapped at -the window. But so engrossed were the two travellers in the cards that -they had not noticed that the conveyance was standing still, and the -post-boy stood tapping there for a long while before he was heard. - -‘What on earth do you want?’ angrily asked the winning gambler, -indignant at this interruption. - -‘Please, sir,’ replied the post-boy, ‘I’ve lost my way.’ - -‘Then,’ rejoined Mr. Payne, pulling up the window with a bang, ‘come and -tell us when you’ve found it, and be damned to you!’ - - - - -XX - - -Cobbett, that sturdy Radical and consistent grumbler, had an adventure -at Andover, at the ‘George Inn.’ It was in October 1826, on returning -from Weyhill Fair, that he took occasion to dine here. Of course he had -no business or pleasure at the ‘George,’ for he had secured a lodging -elsewhere; but with that obsession of his for agitation he must needs -repair to the inn and dine at the ordinary; less we may be sure for the -sake of the meal than to embrace the opportunity of addressing the -farmers, the cattle-dealers, cheese and hop factors, and bankers whom he -knew would be dining there at Fair-time. It was an opportunity not to be -missed. - -He must have been sadly disappointed at first, for there were only about -ten people dining; but when it was seen that this was the well-known -Cobbett, the diners increased, and, after the meal was over, the room -became inconveniently crowded; guests coming from other inns until at -length the room door was left open so that the crowd in the passage and -on the stairs, which were crammed from top to bottom, might listen to -the inevitable harangue on the sins of kings, and governments, and of -landowners, and the criminal stupidity of every one else. - -[Sidenote: _COBBETT_] - -At this stage of the proceedings, just as the dinner was done, one of -the two friends by whom he was accompanied gave Cobbett’s health. This, -naïvely adds the arch-agitator, ‘was of course followed by a _speech_; -and, as the reader will readily suppose, to have an opportunity of -making a speech was the main motive for my going to dine at _an inn_, at -any hour, and especially at _seven o’clock_ at night.’ That, at any -rate, is frank enough. - -After he had been thus holding forth on ruin, past, present, and to -come, for half an hour or so, it seems to have occurred to the landlord -that the company upstairs were drinking very little for so large a -concourse, and he accordingly forced his way through the crowd, up the -staircase, and along the passage into the dining-room. Cobbett had -already cast an unfavourable eye upon that licensed victualler, and -describes him as ‘one Sutton, a rich old fellow, who wore a -round-skirted sleeved fustian waistcoat, with a dirty white apron tied -round his middle, and with no coat on; having a look the _eagerest_ and -the _sharpest_ that I ever saw in any set of features in my whole -lifetime; having an air of authority and of mastership, which, to a -stranger, as I was, seemed quite incompatible with the meanness of his -dress and the vulgarity of his manners: and there being, visible to -every beholder, constantly going on in him a pretty even contest between -the servility of avarice and the insolence of wealth.’ - -The person who called forth this severe description having forced his -way into the room, some one called out that he was causing an -interruption, to which he replied that that was, in fact, what he had -come to do, because all this speechifying injured the sale of his -liquor! Can it be doubted that this roused all the lion in Cobbett’s -breast? He first of all tells us that ‘the disgust and abhorrence which -such conduct could not fail to excite produced, at first, a desire to -quit the room and the house, and even a proposition to that effect. But, -after a minute or so, to reflect, the company resolved not to quit the -room, but to turn him out of it who had caused the interruption; and the -old fellow, finding himself _tackled_, saved the labour of shoving, or -kicking, him out of the room, by retreating out of the doorway, with all -the activity of which he was master.’ - -[Sidenote: _WEYHILL FAIR_] - -The speech at last finished, the company began to settle down to what -Cobbett calls the ‘real business of the evening, namely, drinking, -smoking, and singing.’ It was a Saturday night, and as there was all the -Sunday morning to sleep in, and as the wives of the company were at a -convenient distance, the circumstances were favourable to an extensive -consumption of ‘neat’ and ‘genuine’ liquors. At this juncture the -landlord announced, through the waiter, that he declined to serve -anything so long as Mr. Cobbett remained in the room! This uncorked all -the vials of wrath of which Cobbett had so large and bitter a supply. -‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘born and bred, as you know I was, on the borders -of this county, and fond as I am of bacon, Hampshire hogs have with me -always been objects of admiration rather than of contempt; but that -which has just happened here induces me to observe that this feeling of -mine has been confined to hogs of four legs. For my part, I like your -company too well to quit it. I have paid this fellow six shillings for -the wing of a fowl, a bit of bread, and a pint of small beer. I have a -right to sit here; I want no drink, and those who do, being refused it -here, have a right to send to other houses for it, and to drink it -here.’ - -Mine host, alarmed at this declaration of independence, withdrew the -prohibition, and indeed brought up pipes, tobacco, and the desired -drinks himself; and soon after this entered the room with two gentlemen -who had inquired for Mr. Cobbett, and laying his hand on Cobbett’s knee, -smiled and said the gentlemen wished to be introduced. ‘Take away your -paw,’ thundered the agitator, shaking the strangers by the hand; ‘I am -happy to see you, even though introduced by this fellow.’ After which -they all indulged in the English equivalent of the Scotch ‘willie -waucht’ until half-past two in the morning. - -‘But,’ remarks Cobbett, as a parting shot, ‘the next time this old -sharp-looking fellow gets _six shillings_ from me for a dinner, he -shall, if he choose, _cook me_, in any manner that he likes, and season -me with hand so unsparing as to produce in the feeders thirst -unquenchable.’ - - - - -XXI - - -Weyhill Fair, which brought Cobbett and the people he harangued into -Andover, is a thoroughly old English institution, and although the old -custom of fairs is gradually dying out, and this, the Largest Fair in -England, is not so important as it was a hundred years ago, it is still -a place where much money changes hands once a year. Weyhill is supposed -to be one of the places mentioned in _Piers Plowman’s Vision_, in the -line:-- - - At Wy and at Wynchestre I went to ye fair, - -and it is the ‘Weydon Priors’ of the _Mayor of Casterbridge_, where -Henchard sells his wife. - -Weyhill Fair was once--in the fine fat days of agricultural prosperity, -when England was always at war with France, and corn was dear--a -six-days fair. As the ‘oldest inhabitant’ to be discovered nowadays at -Weyhill will complain, shaking his head sadly the while, ‘There warn’t -none o’ them ’ere ’sheenery fal-lals about in them days to do the wark -o’ men and harses so’s no-one can’t get no decent living like, d’ye -see?’ If by ‘’sheenery,’ you understand mechanical -appliances--‘machinery,’ in fact--to be meant, you will see how -distrustfully the agricultural mind still marches to the modern -quick-step of progress. There is always plenty of machinery on view at -Weyhill Fair: ploughs and harrows, and such like inanimate things, and -machinery in motion; steam threshers, winnowers, binders, and the like, -threshing, and winnowing, and binding the empty air. - -[Sidenote: ‘_JOHNNY’S SO LONG AT THE FAIR_’] - -There are special days set apart--and more or less rigorously -observed--for Hiring, for Pleasure, for the Hop Fair, and for the sale -of sheep. This great annual fixture begins on Old Michaelmas Eve, 10th -October, and lasts four days, as against the six days, that were all too -short in which to do the business, up to fifty years ago. Railways have -dealt the old English institution of fairs a deadly blow all over the -country, and before many more years have gone the majority of them will -be things of the past. Their reason for existing will then be quite -gone, even as it is now going. Before railways came into being the -farmer travelled little, and his men not at all. From one year’s end to -the other they probably never saw a town beyond their nearest marketing -centre, and they certainly never made the acquaintance of London. So, -since the farmer and his men, the mistress and her maids, could not get -about to buy, it follows that those who had goods to sell had need to -take all the advantage possible of that great and glorious institution, -the Fair. - -Bitterly disappointed in the old days were those who, from some reason -or another, were prevented from coming to this Promised Land of gay and -glittering stalls and booths. Jolly and convivial, on the other hand, -were those who had the luck to be able to come. ‘Oh, dear! what can the -matter be? Johnny’s so long at the Fair,’ commences an old country song. -We can guess pretty well what the matter was, just as certainly as if we -had been there ourselves. Johnny, of course, had got too much cider, or -strong, home-brewed October ‘humming ale’ into him, and, as the rustics -would put it, ‘couldn’t stir a peg, were’t ever so.’ And so the girl he -left behind him at the farmhouse had need of all the patience at her -command while she waited for his return. She probably didn’t much -care--for Johnny’s sake; rather for another reason. As thus:-- - - He promised he’d buy me a fairing to please me; - A bunch of blue ribbons to tie up my bonny brown hair. - -It was the blue ribbons she wanted, you see. Let us, dear friends, hope -she got them. - -Many dangers threatened the Johnnies--the Colin Clouts of that time. The -fair was the happy hunting-ground of Sergeant Kite, who used to treat -the dull-witted fellows until they were stupid as owls, when, _hey -presto!_ the Queen’s Shilling was clapped into their nerveless palms, -and they woke the next morning to find themselves duly enlisted, with a -bunch of parti-coloured ribbons fixed in their hats as a token and badge -of their military servitude. Then ‘what price’ those blue ribbons lying -forgotten in the pocket for the disconsolate fair one? Nothing under a -fine of twenty pounds sterling sufficed to release a recruit in those -days, and as few families could then afford that ransom, the fair was a -turning-point in the career of many a lusty fellow. - -The recruiting sergeant still does a little business at Weyhill, but his -claws are nowadays cut very close. - -Weyhill, as you approach it, is situated, much to your surprise, not on -a hill at all, but rather on the flat. It is a mere nothing of a -village, and beyond the parish church, the inevitable inn, and the -equally inevitable farmhouse, houses are very much to seek. - -[Sidenote: _THE HORSE FAIR_] - -The stranger who happens upon the place at any other than fair time is -astonished by the large numbers of open sheds and the numerous clusters -of long, low, thatched, and white-washed cottages, situated on a wide, -open, grassy common beside the road, all empty, and every one bearing -boldly-painted announcements, in black paint, of ‘Hot Dinners,’ - -‘Refreshments,’ and the like. The stranger might be excused if he -thought this some bankrupt settlement whose vanished inhabitants, like -the people of that mythical place who ‘eked out a precarious existence -by taking in one another’s washing,’ had lived on selling refreshments -to each other until they had finally all died of indigestion. He would -be very much mistaken, however, in his surmise, for this is Weyhill -Fair-ground in undress. If you wish to see it in full swing, you must -visit the spot between 10th and 13th October, when it is lively enough. - -The first day is the Sheep Fair. As many as 150,000 sheep have been sold -here on this day. The Horse Fair is held every day; and an astonishing -number and variety of horses there are too. Irish horses, brought all -the way from Cork, Scotch horses, Welsh horses; every kind of horse, -from the Suffolk Punch to the New Forest Pony. Great lumbering young -cart-horses stand behind their pens with manes and tails plaited to -wonderment with straw, for all the world like beauties dressed for the -County Ball, and just as proud and self-conscious. Do you want to buy a -horse of any kind at the Fair? Then don’t!--unless, indeed, you know all -that is to be known about horses, and a bit over; otherwise the dealer -will ‘have’ you, for a dead certainty. To see them showing off a horse’s -good qualities and hiding his bad ones is a liberal education, but see -that you acquire your knowledge at some one else’s expense. With this -determination you can afford to be well amused with the waving of -coloured flags on long sticks, by which the horses are made to -pirouette before the eyes of likely purchasers, and can safely smile at -the wily dealer’s exclamations of ‘There’s blood!’ ‘Get up, my beauty!’ -and ‘Here’s the quality!’ - -The very pick of the horseflesh, however, does not reach Weyhill. The -dealers bring their stock with them by road from Milford, Holyhead, -Scotland, at the rate of ten miles a day, and as they thus have to come -a hundred or a hundred and fifty miles, the journey takes from ten days -to a fortnight. This would be a serious expense and loss of time were it -not for the fact that dealers always look to make sales along the road. - -The second day of the Fair is known as Mop Fair, or Molls’ and Johns’ -Day. Its official title is the Hiring, or Statute Fair. At twelve -o’clock, mid-day, farm-servants, men or women, ‘Molls’ or ‘Johns,’ leave -their employ, and, drawing their wages, offer themselves to be hired for -the coming twelvemonth. They stand in long lines, the carters with a -length of plaited whipcord in their hats, the shepherds with a lock of -wool, and wait while the farmers come and bargain with them. When they -have struck up an agreement, the men proceed to fix coloured ribbons in -their hats, and do their best to have a merry time with the wages they -have just received. - -[Sidenote: _MINOR TRADES_] - -There is certainly every opportunity of spending money on the spot. -Steam merry-go-rounds keep up a continual screeching and bellowing; -stalls with all manner of toys and nick-nacks of the most grotesque -shapes and hideous colouring; cake and sweetmeat stalls, loaded, as -Weyhill stalls have been from time immemorial, with Salisbury -gingerbread; Aunt Sallies; try-your-strength machines, and a hundred -others compete for the rustic’s coin. Then, if he wants a new suit of -clothes, here is the clothier’s stall, where Hodge can bespeak a suit, -wear it during the next twelve months, and pay for it next Fair, just as -his father and grandfather used to do before him. All the booths -visited, the horse medicines stall inspected, the latest improvements in -agricultural machinery gaped at, Hodge repairs to the refreshment -hovels, wherein certain crafty men who have come down for the occasion -from London are awaiting him, to treat the unsuspecting yokel to drinks, -to lure him on to play cards, and finally to cheat him and pick his -pockets in the most finished and approved fashion. For these gentry, and -for the disorderly in general, there is a police-station on the ground, -with cells all complete, and with local magistrates every morning to -hear cases, and to consign prisoners, if necessary, to Winchester Gaol, -sixteen miles away. - -The third and fourth days are now given up to the Pleasure and Hop -Fairs. One of the smaller trades connected with the malting and general -agricultural industries is that of malt-shovel and barn-shovel making. -These are wooden shovels of a peculiar shape, and are sold only at one -stall. Another of the minor businesses is that of umbrella selling. The -umbrellas are very fine and large, and of a kind that would make a -marked man of any Londoner who should use one in town. - -The Cheese Fair is now a small one, dealings generally being confined to -local folks, who delight in the Blackmore and ‘Blue Vinney’ cheeses of -this and the adjoining counties. London dealers still attend the Hop -Fair, in which many thousands of pounds’ worth of hops change hands to -the drinking of much champagne, brought on to the ground by the -cart-load, as in the brave days of yore. There are two distinct hop -markets, the Farnham Row and the Country Side. Hops from Farnham, -Bentley, Petersfield, Liphook, and other neighbouring places find a -ready market. They are sold more exclusively by sample than formerly, -and so only a few ‘pockets,’ as the tightly packed sacks are named, are -visible. Round them dealers may be seen, rubbing the hops in their hands -and smelling them with a knowing look, while the vendor cuts another -sample out of the pocket for the next likely customer. He does this with -a singular steel instrument called a ‘sample drawer.’ First a sharp and -long-bladed knife is thrust into the hard mass, and two sides cut, and -then the broad-bladed ‘drawer’ driven in and screwed tight, bringing out -a compact square of hops to be tested. - -By nine o’clock every night all the booths and stalls have to be closed, -and stillness reigns over the scene, save for the cough of the sheep, -the occasional lowing of the cattle, or the fretful whinnying of a -wakeful horse. And when the last day of the Fair is done, the booths are -all shut up and deserted, and desolation reigns again for a year. - - - - -XXII - - -[Sidenote: _ABBOT’S ANN_] - -The trail of the Romans is over all the surroundings of Andover, and -they must have loved this fishful and fertile valley well, for ample -relics of extensive settlements and gorgeous villas have been unearthed -by the plough. Some of the fine mosaic pavements discovered here are now -in the British Museum, and every now and again the shepherd or the -ploughman picks up a worn and battered coin of the Cæsars in the -neighbouring fields. One of the finest Roman pavements came from the -village of Abbot’s Ann, a short distance away, under the shadow of the -great bulk of Bury Hill, which, crowned with prehistoric earthworks of -cyclopean size, frowns down upon the valley. The whimsical name of this -village and that of Little Ann derive from the stream, the Ann, or -Anton, on whose banks they are situated. - -In this village of Abbot’s Ann there still prevails a remarkable custom. -On the death of a young unmarried person of the parish, his or her -friends and relatives make a funeral garland, or chaplet, similar to the -one sketched overleaf, in paper, and hang it from the ceiling of the -church. The interior of the building now holds quite a number of these -singular mementoes, the oldest dating back to the last century. They are -fashioned of cardboard and white paper, something in the shape of a -crown, with elaborately cut rosettes and with five paper gloves -suspended, on two of which are recorded the name, the age, and the date -of death of the deceased whose memory is thus kept alive, while the -other three are inscribed with texts or verses from favourite hymns. The -particulars of age and death are repeated on a little wooden shield -above. - -[Illustration: FUNERAL GARLAND, ABBOT’S ANN.] - -During the last eight years three of these memorials have been added. -They are placed here after having been carried in front of the coffin on -the day of the funeral. On such occasions the garland is carried by two -girls, dressed in white, with curiously folded handkerchiefs on their -heads. There is now only one other place in England, at Matlock, in -Derbyshire, where this curious custom survives. - -[Sidenote: _THE WALLOPS_] - -These villages, together with Amport, Thruxton, Monxton, and East -Cholderton, lie in the triangular district between the branching of the -two great routes of the road to Exeter. Just out of Andover, on the -rising road, stands the old toll-house that commanded either route, with -the mileage to various towns still displayed prominently on its walls. -The right-hand road leads to the Weyhill and Amesbury branch of the -Exeter Road, while the left-hand fork is the main road to Salisbury. -Passing this toll-house, the old road runs through an inhospitable -succession of uplands which are for the most part a weariness alike to -mind and body, whether you walk, or cycle, or drive a horse, or urge -forth your wild career on a motor-car. Going westwards, the gradient is -chiefly a rising one for a long distance after leaving Andover behind, -and it is not until ‘the Wallops’ are reached, at Little (or Middle) -Wallop, lying in a hollow where a little stream trickles across the -road, that any relief is experienced. - -It must be Little Wallop to which Mr. Thomas Hardy refers in the _Mayor -of Casterbridge_, where the ruined and broken-hearted Henchard, after -taking up his early occupation of hay-trusser, becomes employed at a -‘pastoral farm near the old western highway.... He had chosen the -neighbourhood of this artery from a sense that, situated here, though at -a distance of fifty miles, he was virtually nearer to her whose welfare -was so dear than he would be at a roadless spot only half as remote.’ - -The Wallops are interesting places, despite their silly name. There are -Over, and Nether, and Middle, or, as they are otherwise styled, Upper, -Lower, and Little Wallop. According to one school of antiquaries (who -must by no means be suspected of joking), the Wallop district is to be -identified with the ‘Gualoppum’ described by an old chronicler, a -district, appropriately enough, the scene of a great battle in which -Vortigern was defeated by the Saxons. There are, of course, local -derivations of the meaning of this place-name, together with a belief -that to Sir John Wallop, an ancestor of the Earl of Portsmouth, who -‘walloped the French’ in one or other of our many mediæval battles with -that nation, we owe that very active, not to say slangy verb, ‘to -wallop.’ But, unhappily for unscientific theories, there is a little -stream, called the Wallop, flowing through these villages, to which they -owe their generic name; the name of the stream itself deriving from the -Anglo-Saxon ‘Weallan,’ to boil or bubble; the root of our English word -‘well.’ - -Of these villages, Little Wallop alone is on the road, and is merely an -offshoot of the others, called into existence by the traffic which -followed this course in the old coaching days. Since railways have left -the roads lonely it has simply slumbered, ‘far from the madding crowd’s -ignoble strife,’ and its inhabitants are presumably happy in their -retirement; although, when days are short and nights are long, and the -stormy winds do blow, it is quite conceivable that there are more -cheerful and warmer situations. - -Three miles from here the road leaves Hampshire and enters Wilts, and -two miles onwards from that point, after passing ‘Lobcombe Corner,’ the -junction of the Stockbridge road, is seen that famous old coaching inn, -the ‘Pheasant,’ known much better under its other name, ‘Winterslow -Hut.’ - - - - -XXIII - - -[Sidenote: _HAZLITT_] - -There are few more desolate and cheerless places in England than the -spot where this old coaching inn stands beside the open road, with the -unenclosed downs stretching away to the far horizon, fold after fold. -Somewhere amid these hills and hollows, but quite hidden, is the village -of West Winterslow, from which the ‘Hut’ obtains its name. The place, -save for the periodical passing of the coaches, was as solitary in old -times as it is now, and its quiet as profound. The very name is -chilling, and as excellently descriptive as it is possible for a name to -be. - -When, coming within sight of its isolated roof-tree from the summit of -the hills on either side, the coach-guards used to blow fanfares on -their bugles as a reminder for the ostler to have his fresh teams ready, -the inn and its surrounding stables woke into life, and when they were -gone their several ways, it dozed again. Save that it doubtless looked -more prosperous then, the present appearance of ‘Winterslow Hut’ is -identical with its aspect of sixty years ago. The same horse-pond by the -roadside, the same trees, only older and more decrepit, the same -prehistoric dykes and tumuli on the unchanging downs; it must have been -capable of absorbing the fun and jollity of a fair, and still presenting -its characteristically dour and dreary aspect; but now that, sitting in -the bay window of the parlour that commands the road in either -direction, you may watch the highway by the half-hour and see no -traveller, the emptiness is appalling. - -To this solitary outpost of civilisation came William Hazlitt, critic -and essayist, during several years, for quietude. For four years, from -1808 to 1812, he and his wife lived in a cottage at West Winterslow, on -the small income derived from her other cottage property there, -supplemented by the sums the wayward Hazlitt earned fitfully by the -practice of literature. Then they removed to London, where they -disagreed, Hazlitt retiring to the ‘Hut’ in 1819, and leaving his wife -in town. Nervous and irritable, he wanted quiet, nor can it be doubted -that in this spot he found what he sought. He was cursed, according to -the widely different beliefs of his friends, with ‘an ingrained -selfishness,’ or ‘a morbid self-consciousness,’ and oil the downs he -would walk, for the pleasure of having the neighbourhood all to himself, -from forty to fifty miles a day. He wrote his _Winterslow_ essays here, -and his _Napoleon_, for whom he had an almost insane reverence. The -‘diabolical scowl’ of Hazlitt when Napoleon or any other of his pet -susceptibilities were abused must have been worth seeing. - -‘Now,’ says a literary hero-hunter, who has visited ‘Winterslow Hut,’ as -a place of pilgrimage,--‘now it is a desolate place, fallen into decay, -and tenanted by a labouring man and his family, cultivating a small farm -of some thirty acres, and barely able to make a living out of it. In -winter two or three weeks will sometimes elapse without even a beggar or -tramp or cart passing the door. On the ground floor, looking out upon a -horse-pond, flanked by two old lime-trees, is a little parlour, which -was the one probably used by Hazlitt as his sitting-room. At the other -end of the house is a large empty room, formerly devoted to -cock-fighting matches and singlestick combats. It was with a strange and -eerie feeling that I contemplated this little parlour, and pictured to -myself the many solitary evenings during which Hazlitt sat in it -enjoying copious libations of his favourite tea (for during the last -fifteen years of his life he never tasted alcoholic drinks of any kind) -perhaps reading _Tom Jones_ for the tenth time, or enjoying - -[Sidenote: _A LITERARY RECLUSE_] - -[Illustration: ‘WINTERSLOW HUT.’] - -one of Congreve’s comedies, or Rousseau’s _Confessions_, or writing, in -his large flowing hand, a dozen pages of the essay on _Persons one would -Wish to have Seen_, or _On Living to One’s Self_. One cannot imagine any -retreat more consonant with the feelings of this lonely thinker, during -one of his periods of seclusion, than the out-of-the-world place in -which I stood. In winter time it must have been desolate beyond -description--on wild nights especially--“heaven’s chancel-vault” blind -with sleet--the fierce wind sweeping down from the bare wolds around, -and beating furiously against the doors and windows of the unsheltered -hostelry.’ - -It is not to be supposed that Hazlitt was insensible to the dreariness -of the spot. ‘Here, _even_ here,’ he says, as though the dolour of the -place had come home to him, ‘with a few old authors I can manage to get -through the summer or winter months without ever knowing what it is to -feel _ennui_. They sit with me at breakfast; they walk out with me -before dinner. After a long walk through unfrequented tracts, after -starting the hare from the fern, or hearing the wing of the raven -rustling above my head, or being greeted by the woodman’s “stern -good-night,” as he strikes into his narrow homeward path, I can “take -mine ease at mine inn,” beside the blazing hearth, and shake hands with -Signor Orlando Friscobaldo, as the oldest acquaintance I have.’ - -His _Farewell to Essay Writing_ was written here 20th February 1828. He -had long given up the intemperance of former years, and cultivated -literature on copious tea-drinking. ‘As I quaff my libations of tea in -a morning,’ he says, ‘I love to watch the clouds sailing from the west, -and fancy that “the spring comes slowly up this way.” In this hope, -while “fields are dank, and ways are mire,” I follow the same direction -to a neighbouring wood, where, having gained the dry, level greensward, -I can see my way for a mile before me, closed in on each side by -copse-wood, and ending in a point of light more or less brilliant, as -the day is bright or cloudy.’ And so this harbinger of our own literary -neurotics continues, dropping into a morbid introspective strain, -pulling up his soul, like a plant, by the roots, to see how it is -growing, and babbling to the world, between the jewel-work of his -literature, of his follies and his unrest. Strange, that this wiry -pedestrian, this apostle of fresh air, should be of the same dough of -which the degenerates of our time are compounded. - - - - -XXIV - - -It was here, however, that one of the most thrilling episodes of the -road was enacted in the old days. The Mail from Exeter to London had -left Salisbury on the night of 20th October 1816, and proceeded in the -usual way for several miles, when what was thought to be a large calf -was seen trotting beside the horses in the darkness. The team soon -became extremely nervous and fidgety, and as the inn was approached they -could scarcely be kept under control. - -[Sidenote: _AN ESCAPED LIONESS_] - -At the moment when the coachman pulled up to deliver his bags, one of -the leading horses was suddenly seized by the supposed calf. The horses -kicked and plunged violently, and it was with difficulty the driver -could prevent the coach from being overturned. The guard drew his -blunderbuss and was about to shoot the mysterious assailant when several -men, accompanied by a large mastiff, appeared in sight. The foremost, -seeing that the guard was about to fire, pointed a pistol at his head, -swearing that he would be shot if the beast was killed. - -Every one then perceived that this ferocious ‘calf’ was nothing less -than a lioness. The dog was set on to attack her, and she thereupon left -the horse and turned on him. He turned and ran, but the lioness caught -him and tore him to pieces, carrying the remains in her mouth under a -granary. The spot was then barricaded to prevent her escape, and a noose -being thrown over her neck, she was secured and marched off to captivity -again. - -It is said that the horse when attacked fought with great spirit, and -would probably have beaten off his assailant with his fore-feet had he -been at liberty; but in his frantic plunges he became entangled in the -harness. The lioness, it seems, attacked him in front, springing at his -throat and fastening the claws of her fore-feet on either side of the -neck, while her hind-feet tore at his chest. The horse, although -fearfully mangled, survived. The showmen of the time were evidently -quite as enterprising as those of these latter days, for the menagerie -proprietor purchased the horse and exhibited him the next day at -Salisbury Fair, with excellent results in the shape of increased -gate-money. - -The passengers on this extraordinary occasion were absolutely -terror-stricken. Bounding off the coach, they made a wild rush for the -inn, and, reaching the door, slammed it to and bolted it, to the -exclusion of one poor fellow who, not active enough, found himself shut -out in the road. The lioness, pursuing the dog, actually brushed against -him. When she was secured, the poltroons inside the house opened the -door and let the half-fainting traveller in. They gave him refreshments, -and he recovered sufficiently to be able to write an account of the -event for the local papers; but in a few days he became a raving maniac, -and was sent to an asylum at Laverstock. For over twenty-seven years he -lived there, incurable, and died in 1843. - -The leader attacked by the lioness was a famous horse, even before that -affair. There were many such in the coaching age. Animals unmanageable -on the racecourse were frequently sold to coach-proprietors, and soon -learnt discipline on the roads. ‘Pomegranate’ was his name. A ‘thief’ on -the course, and a bad-tempered brute in the stable, he had worked on the -Exeter Mail for some time before this dramatic episode in his career -found him, for a time, a home in a menagerie. - -[Sidenote: _SALISBURY_] - -The fame of the affair was great and lasting. That coaching specialist, -James Pollard, drew, and R. Havell engraved, a plate showing the -dramatic scene, which was dedicated to Thomas Hasker, Superintendent of -His Majesty’s Mails. In it you see Joseph Pike, the guard, rising to -shoot the very heraldic-looking lioness, and the passengers encouraging -him in the background, from the safe retreat of the first-floor windows. -It will be observed that this is apparently the lioness’s first spring, -and yet those passengers are already upstairs: at once a striking -testimony to their agility and a warranty of the exquisite truth of the -saying that fear lends wings to the feet. - - - - -XXV - - -Salisbury spire and the distant city come with the welcome surprise of a -Promised Land after these bleak downs. Even three miles away the -unenclosed wilds are done, and we drop continuously from Three Mile -Hill, down, down, down to the lowlands on a smooth and uninterrupted -road, to where the trees and the houses can be distinguished, nestling -around and below the graceful cathedral, a long way yet ahead. It is -coming thus with that needle-pointed spire, so long and so prominently -in view, that the story of its having been built to its extraordinary -height of 404 feet for the purpose of guiding the strayed footsteps of -travellers across the solitudes of Salisbury Plain may readily be -believed. - -Salisbury wears a bland and cheerful appearance, and has an air of -modernity that quite belies its age. Few places in England have so -well-ascertained an origin. We can fix the very year, six hundred and -eighty years ago, when it began to be, and yet, although there is the -cathedral to prove its age, with the Poultry Cross, and very many -ancient houses happily still standing, it has a general air of anything -but mediævalism. This curious feeling that strikes every visitor is -really owing to the generous and well-ordered plan on which the city was -originally laid out; broad streets being planned in geometrical -precision, and the blocks of houses built in regular squares. - -That phenomenally simple-minded person, Tom Pinch, thought Salisbury ‘a -very desperate sort of place; an exceedingly wild and dissipated -city’--a view of it which is not shared by any one else. I wish I could -tell you to which inn it was that he resorted to have dinner, and to -await the arrival of Martin. A coaching inn, of course, for Martin came -by coach from London. But whether it was the ‘White Hart,’ or the ‘Three -Swans’ (which, alas! is no longer an inn), or the ‘King’s Arms,’ or the -‘George,’ is more than I or any one else can determine. - -[Sidenote: _NEW SARUM_] - -Salisbury is by no means desperate or dissipated, even though it be -market-day, and although itinerant cutlery vendors may still sell -seven-bladed knives, with never a cut among them, to the unwary. It is -true that Mr. Thomas Hardy has given us, in _On the Western Circuit_, a -picture of blazing orgies at Melchester Fair, with steam-trumpeting -merry-go-rounds, glamour and glitter, glancing young women no better -than they ought to be, and an amorous young barrister much worse than he -should have been; and it is true that by ‘Melchester’ this fair city of -Salisbury is meant; but you can conjure up no very accurate picture of -this ancient place from those pages. The real Salisbury is extremely -urbane and polished, decorous and well-ordered. It is graceful and -sunny, and has, in fact, all the sweetness of mediævalism without its -sternness, and affords a thorough contrast with Winchester, which frowns -upon you where Salisbury smiles. One need not waver from one’s -allegiance to Winchester to admit so much. - -Salisbury is still known in official documents as ‘New Sarum.’ It is, -nevertheless, of a quite respectable antiquity, its newness dating from -that day, 28th April 1220, when Bishop Poore laid the foundation-stone -of the still existing cathedral. There are romantic incidents in the -exodus from Old Sarum on its windy height upon the downs, a mile and a -half away, to these ‘rich champaign fields and fertile valleys, -abounding with the fruits of the earth, and watered by living streams,’ -in this ‘sink of Salisbury Plain,’ where the Bourne, the Wylye, the -Avon, and the Nadder flow in innumerable runlets through the meads. - -Old Sarum was old indeed. Its history strikes rootlets deep down into -the Unknown. A natural hillock upon the wild downs, its defensible -position rendered it a camp for the earliest aboriginal tribes, who, -always at war with one another, lived for safety’s sake in such bleak -and inhospitable places when they would much rather be hunting and -enjoying life generally in the sheltered wooded vales and fertile -plains. These tribes heaped up the first artificial earthworks that ever -strengthened this historic hill, and they were succeeded during the long -march of those dim centuries by Romans, Saxons, and Danes. The Romans, -with their unerring military instinct, saw the importance of the hill, -and added to the simple defences they found there. They called the place -_Sorbiodunum_, and made it a great strategic station. The Saxons -strengthened the fortifications in their turn, and at the time of the -Norman Conquest a city had grown up under the shelter of the citadel. - -In its deserted state to-day, the site of Old Sarum vividly recalls the -appearance presented by an extinct volcano, the conical hill rising from -the downs with the suddenness of an upheaval, and the area enclosed -within the concentric rings of banks and ditches forming a hollow space -similar to a crater. The total area enclosed within these fortifications -is about 28 acres. Within this space was comprised that ancient city, -and in its very centre, overlooking everything else, and encompassed by -a circular fosse and bank, 100 feet in height, stood the citadel. The -site of this castle is now overgrown with dense thickets of shrubs and -brambles; the fragments of its flint and rubble walls, 12 feet thick, -and some remaining portions of its gateways affording evidence of its -old-time strength. - -[Sidenote: _OLD SARUM_] - -Within this city, enclosed for centuries by the ring-fence of these -fortifications, stood the cathedral, in a position just below the Castle -ward. Its exact site and size (although not a fragment of it is -standing) were discovered in the summer of 1834. That portion of the -vanished city had been laid down as pasture, and the drought of that -year revealed the plan of the cathedral, in a distinct brown outline -upon the grass. This building, completed in 1092 by Bishop Osmund, -furnished the stone in later years for the spire of Salisbury Cathedral -and for the walls of the Close, in which, by St. Anne’s Gate, many -sculptured fragments of these relics from Old Sarum may yet be seen. - -A variety of circumstances brought about the removal of the cathedral -from Old Sarum. Water was lacking on that height, and winds raged so -furiously around it that the monks could not hear the priests say Mass; -and, worse than all, during the Papal Interdict, the King, in revenge -for many ecclesiastical annoyances, transferred the custody of the -Castle of Old Sarum from the bishops to his own creatures, who locked -the monks out of their monastery and church on one occasion when they -had gone on some religious procession. When the monks returned, they -found entrance denied them, and were forced to remain in the open air -during the whole of a frosty winter night. There was no end to the -hardships which those Men of Wrath brought upon the Church. No wonder -that Peter of Blois cried out, ‘What has the House of the Lord to do -with castles? It is the Ark of the Covenant in the Temple of Baalim. Let -us in God’s name descend into the plain.’ - -The removal decided upon, it remained to choose a site. Tradition tells -us that the Virgin Mary appeared to Bishop Poore in a vision, and told -him to build the church on a spot called Merryfield; and has it that the -site was chosen by the fall of an arrow shot from the ramparts of Old -Sarum. If that was the case, there must have been something miraculous -in that shot, for the place where Salisbury Cathedral is built is a mile -and a half away from those ramparts. But perhaps the bishop or the -legends used the long bow in a very special sense. - -The cathedral was completed in sixty years, receiving its final -consecration in 1260; but the great spire was not finished until a -hundred years later. The city was an affair of rapid growth, receiving a -charter of incorporation seven years after being founded. Seventeen -years later, Bishop Bingham dealt a final blow at the now utterly ruined -city of Old Sarum by diverting the old Roman road to the West from its -course through Old Sarum, Bemerton, and Wilton, and making a highway -running directly to New Sarum, and crossing the Avon by the new bridge -which he had built at Harnham. Old Sarum could by this time make little -or no resistance, for it was deserted, save for a few who could not -bring themselves to leave the home of their forefathers. Wilton, -however, which was a thriving town, bitterly resented this diversion of -the roads, and petitioned against it, but without avail. From that date -Wilton’s decline set in, and the rise of New Sarum progressed at an even -greater speed. A clothing trade sprang up and prospered, and many Royal -visits gave the citizens an air of importance. They waxed rich and -arrogant, and were eternally - -[Sidenote: _THE MARTYRS_] - -[Illustration: SALISBURY CATHEDRAL (AFTER CONSTABLE, R.A.).] - -quarrelling with the bishops, one of whom they murdered in the turbulent -times that prevailed during Jack Cade’s rebellion. Bishop Ayscough was -that unfortunate prelate. He had cautiously retired to Edington, but a -furious body of Salisbury malcontents marched out across the Plain, and -dragging him from the altar of the church, where he was saying Mass, -took him to an adjacent hill-top, and slew him with the utmost -barbarity. It was for the benefit of these unruly citizens that one of -Jack Cade’s quarters was consigned from London to Salisbury and elevated -there on a pole, as a preliminary warning. Full punishment followed a -little later. - - - - -XXVI - - -It is really too great a task to follow the history of Salisbury through -the centuries to the present time; nor, indeed, since the city and the -cathedral are from our present point of view but incidents along the -Exeter Road, would it be desirable to dwell very long on their story, -which, as may have been judged from what has already been said, is an -exceedingly turbulent one. The fearful martyrdoms carried out in -Fisherton Fields by the bloody hell-hounds of the Marian Persecution -still stain the records of the Church; nor, although the very reading of -them turn brain and body sick, and make even the architectural -enthusiast almost turn away in disgust from that lovely cathedral, may -God grant that they ever be forgotten, as in the England of to-day they -would almost seem to be. Hellish ferocity, damnable frauds, how they -smirch those sculptured stones and cry insistently for remembrance! - -Nicholas Shaxton, Bishop in the time of Henry the Eighth, was alive to -it all, and cleared away the false relics; the ‘stinking boots, mucky -combs, ragged rochetts, rotten girdles, pyled purses, great bullocks’ -horns, locks of hair, filthy rags, and gobbets of wood,’ which he found -here; but, with less courage than others, he recanted in Mary’s reign. -Sherfield, Recorder of Salisbury, was another reformer, but he lived in -less dangerous times for such men. It was in 1629 that he smashed the -stained-glass window, representing the Creation, in St. Edmund’s Church. -In other times he would assuredly have been burnt for this act; as it -was, he was summoned before the Star Chamber. He pleaded that the window -did not contain a true history of the Creation, and objected that God -was represented as ‘a little old man in a long blue coat,’ which he held -was ‘an indignity offered to Almighty God.’ He was committed to the -Fleet Prison for this, fined £500, and required to apologise to the -Bishop of Salisbury. Fortunate Mr. Sherfield! - -[Sidenote: _MURDER OF THE HARTGILLS_] - -This fair city has been almost as much of a Golgotha as the settlements -of savage African kinglets are wont to be. Shakespeare has made mention -of the execution of the Duke of Buckingham here in 1484 by Richard the -Third, but many an one has suffered and left no such trace. That such -executions were generally unjust and almost always too severe is their -sufficient condemnation; but the hanging of Charles, Lord Stourton, in -1556, is an exception. The affair for which he was put to death was the -murder of the two Hartgills, father and son, at Kilmington, Somerset, -and it affords an unusually instructive glimpse into the manners of the -period. It seems that William Hartgill had long been steward to the -previous Lord Stourton, the father of Charles. Like most stewards, he -had profited by his stewardship, over and above his salary, to a -considerable extent. There was no friendship wasted between him and the -new lord, but the quarrels which had taken place between William -Hartgill and his son on the one side, and Charles, Lord Stourton, and -his servants on the other, finally came to a head when my lord demanded -a written undertaking from his mother that she would never marry again, -and that Hartgill should be bond for the undertaking being kept. The -widowed Lady Stourton was residing at the Hartgills’ house when this -demand was made. She refused to have anything to do with such a paper, -and Hartgill bluntly declined as well. Lord Stourton would then appear -to have determined on revenge for this defeat, and eventually, after the -Hartgills had been on several occasions waylaid, threatened, and -attacked by his servants, he conceived the devilish plan of a pretended -reconciliation over this and other disputes in the village churchyard of -Kilmington, the occasion to be used as a means of taking them off their -guard, and finally disposing of them. The two victims were suspicious of -this apparent friendliness; but, unhappily for them, eventually agreed -to meet in that God’s Acre, on 12th January 1556, there to settle all -accounts and differences. They met, and, at a previously arranged -signal, Lord Stourton’s servants rushed upon the Hartgills and stabbed -and battered them to death in a revoltingly cruel manner, while their -master looked on with approval. The details of this cold-blooded -atrocity are fully set forth in the trials of that period, for the -satisfaction of any one greedy of horrors. - -[Sidenote: _THE DEVIL’S HEALTH_] - -This was in the reign of Queen Mary, when Protestants were burned at the -stake with the approval of Roman Catholics; but not even in those brutal -times could this affair be hushed up. Lord Stourton was arrested, -brought to trial in London, and, together with four of his servants, -found guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. Justice was commendably -swift. The two Hartgills had been done to death on the 12th of January, -and on the second day of March in the same year my lord set out under -escort from the Tower of London for Salisbury, the place of execution. -The melancholy cavalcade came down the Exeter Road, the chief figure in -it set astride a horse, with legs and arms pinioned. The first night -they lay at Hounslow, the second at Staines, the third at Basingstoke, -and thence to Salisbury, where, in the Market Place, on the morning of -the 6th of March, they hanged him with a silken cord. His servants were -turned off at the end of quite common hempen ropes, which doubtless did -their business quite as neatly. The body of this prime malefactor, the -organiser of the crime, was buried with much ceremony in the cathedral, -but those of the lesser criminals were treated (we may suppose) with -less reverence, because you may search the building in vain for tomb or -epitaph to their memory. But--quaintest touch of all--the silken rope by -which Lord Stourton swung was suspended here, over his tomb, where it -remained for many a long year afterwards. - -The next outstanding landmark in the way of executions is the hanging of -a prisoner who had just been awarded a sentence when he threw a brickbat -at the Chief Justice. His lordship was considerably damaged and for this -assault pronounced sentence of death upon him. The execution took place -at once, outside the Council House, the unfortunate man’s right hand -being first struck off. - -The Civil War did not result in anything very tragical for Salisbury, -the operations in and around the city being quite unimportant. The -‘Catherine Wheel Inn,’ however, was the scene of much alarm among the -superstitious, when, according to a gruesome story, the Cavaliers -assembled there, having toasted the King and the Royal family, proceeded -to drink the health of the Devil,--and the Devil appeared, the room -becoming filled with ‘noisome fumes of sulphur, and a hideous monster, -which was the Devil, no doubt,’ entering, and grabbing the giver of the -toast, flying away with him out of the window. - -Salisbury was the scene of Penruddocke’s rising for the King in 1655. He -was a county gentleman, of Compton Chamberlayne, and with some others -and a band of a hundred and fifty horsemen, rode into the city at four -o’clock in the morning of 14th March. They seized the Judges of Assize -in their beds, opened the doors of the prison, and imprisoned the judges -in the place of the released convicts. Then, finding the citizens too -timid to join them in their revolt against Cromwell, they sped across -country, into Devon, where they were captured. - -Charles the Second was welcomed by Salisbury’s citizens, just as they -welcomed every one else; practising with much success St. Paul’s -admirable precept, to be ‘all things to all men.’ When James the Second -came here, on his way to meet, and fight, the Prince of Orange, he was -escorted, with every show of deference and respect, to his lodgings at -the Bishop’s Palace by the Mayor, and when he had slunk away, and the -Prince came, less than four weeks later, and was lodged in the same -house, the same Mayor did precisely the same thing. - -From the beginning of the seventeenth century onward the citizens began -to dearly love kings and great personages, or, if they did not love -them, effectually pretended to do so. When plague ravaged the city of -London, no one coming from that direction was allowed to enter -Salisbury, and even Salisbury’s own citizens returning home from that -infected centre were obliged to remain outside for three months, while -goods were not permitted to be brought nearer than Three Mile Hill. But -Charles the Second and his Court, flying from London from the disease, -were welcomed all the same! - - - - -XXVII - - -[Sidenote: _BRUTAL SCENES_] - -Coach passengers entering Salisbury even so late as 1835 were sometimes -witnesses of shocking scenes that, however picturesque they might have -rendered mediæval times, were brutalising and degrading in a civilised -era. Almost every year of the nineteenth century up to that date was -fruitful in executions. In 1801 there were ten: seven for the crime of -sheep-stealing, one for horse-stealing, one for stealing a calf, and one -for highway robbery. The practice of hanging criminals on the scenes of -their crimes afforded spectacles of the most extraordinary character, as -instanced in the procession that accompanied two murderers, George -Carpenter and George Ruddock, from Fisherton Gaol, on the north-west of -the city, to the place of their execution on Warminster Down, 15th March -1813. Such parades were senseless, since no one ever dreamed of a rescue -being attempted; but, all the same, the condemned men, placed in a cart -and accompanied by a clergyman preaching of Kingdom Come, preceded by -the hangman and followed by eight men carrying two coffins, were -escorted all the way by a troop of Wiltshire Yeomanry, followed by some -two hundred constables and local gentlemen, all walking and carrying -white staves; with bailiffs, sheriffs, under-sheriffs, magistrates, a -hundred mounted squires, a posse of ‘javelin men,’ more clergymen, the -gaoler and his assistants, more javelin men and sheriff’s officers, more -yeomanry, and, at last, bringing up the rear, a howling mob, numbering -many thousands. As for the central objects in this show, ‘they died -penitent,’ we are told; and indeed they could do nothing less, seeing to -what trouble they had thus put a goodly proportion of the county. - -Executions for all manner of crimes were so many that it would be idle -to detail them; but some stand out prominently by reason of their -circumstances. For example, the hanging of Robert Turner Watkins in -1819, for a murder near Purton, presents a lurid scene. His wife had -died of a broken heart shortly after his arrest, and his mother was -among the spectators of his end. The same kind of procession accompanied -him across Salisbury Plain to the place of execution, and a similar mob -made the occasion a holiday. Mother and son were able to bid one another -farewell, owing to an unexpected halt on the road; and when they made a -halt for the refreshments which the long journey demanded, the condemned -man’s children were brought to him. - -‘Mammy is dead,’ said one. ‘Ah!’ replied the man, ‘and so will your -daddy be, shortly.’ At the fatal spot he prayed with the chaplain, and -was allowed to read to the people a psalm which he had chosen. It was -Psalm 108, which, on reference, will not prove to be particularly -appropriate to the occasion. Then he blessed the fifteen thousand or so -present, felt the rope, and remarked that it could only kill the body, -and was turned off, amid the sudden and unexpected breaking of one of -the most terrific thunderstorms ever experienced on the Plain. - -[Sidenote: _HUMANE JURIES_] - -They hanged a gipsy, one Joshua Shemp, in 1801, for stealing a horse, -and afterwards discovered that he was innocent, according to a monument -still to be seen in Odstock churchyard. In 1802 John Everett suffered -death for uttering forged bank-notes, followed in 1820 by William Lee, -who died for the same offence. So late as 1835, two men were hanged for -arson; but public opinion had already been aroused against such -severity, judges and juries taking every advantage offered by faults in -the drawing up of indictments to acquit all those criminals not guilty -of murder whose crimes were then met by capital punishment. The statutes -left no choice but death for the convicted incendiary, the horse-or -sheep-stealer, and many another; and so many a guilty person was -acquitted by judges and juries horrified by the thought of incurring -blood-guiltiness by sending such men to the scaffold. The law allowed -loopholes for escape, and so when the _straw_-rick, to which a prisoner -was charged with setting fire, was proved to have been _hay_, he was -found ‘Not guilty.’ Blackstone called this action taken by juries ‘pious -perjury,’ and so it certainly was when, to avoid shedding blood, they -used to find £5 and £10 notes which prisoners sometimes were charged -with stealing, to be articles to the value of twelvepence or a few -shillings, according as the case required. - -The last lawless scenes around Salisbury were enacted at the close of -1830, when the so-called ‘Machinery Riots,’ which had spread all over -the country, culminated here in fights between the Wiltshire Yeomanry -and the discontented agricultural labourers, who, fearing that steam -machinery, then - -[Illustration: ST. ANNE’S GATE, SALISBURY.] - -[Sidenote: _ALDERBURY_] - -beginning to be adopted, was about to take away their livelihood, -scoured the country in bands, wrecking and burning farmsteads and barns. -The ‘Battle of Bishop Down,’ on the Exeter Road between ‘Winterslow Hut’ -and Salisbury, was fought on 23rd November, and was caused by the -collision of a large body of rioters who were marching to the city with -the avowed object of pillaging it, and a mixed force of yeomanry and -special constables. All the coaches, together with every other kind of -traffic, were brought to a standstill. Stone-throwing on the part of the -rioters, and bludgeoning by the special constables were succeeded by -charges of the yeomanry, and the contest resulted in the capture of -twenty-two rioters, who were locked up in Fisherton Gaol. The next day a -number of rioters were surprised in the ‘Green Dragon Inn,’ Alderbury, -and marched off to prison; and the day after, twenty-five were taken in -a fight near Tisbury, after one of their number had been killed. There -were no fewer than three hundred and thirty prisoners awaiting trial -when the Special Commissioners arrived for that purpose on 27th -December. Many of the prisoners were transported, and others had short -terms of imprisonment; but a leader, called ‘Commander’ Coote, who was -captured by two constables at the Compasses, Rockbourn, was hanged at -Winchester. - - - - -XXVIII - - -And now for some little-known literary landmarks. Salisbury, of course, -is the scene of some passages in _Martin Chuzzlewit_; but it is outside -the city that we must go, on the road to Southampton, to find the -residence of that eminent architect, Mr. Pecksniff; or the ‘Blue -Dragon,’ where Tom Pinch’s friend, Mrs. Lupin, was landlady. St. Mary’s -Grange, four miles from Salisbury, is the real name of Mr. Pecksniff’s -home, but the house is only vaguely indicated in the novel. It is -different with the ‘Blue Dragon,’ which is an undoubted portrait of the -‘Green Dragon Inn,’ at Alderbury, despite the fact that the sign-board -has since disappeared. ‘A faded, and an ancient dragon he was; and many -a wintry storm of rain, snow, sleet, and hail had changed his colour -from a gaudy blue to a faint, lack-lustre shade of grey. But there he -hung; rearing in a state of monstrous imbecility on his hind legs; -waxing, with every month that passed, so much more dim and shapeless, -that as you gazed on him at one side of the sign-board, it seemed as if -he must be gradually melting through it, and coming out upon the other.’ - -The ‘Green Dragon’ is a quaint gabled village inn, standing back from -the road. It is even more ancient than any one, judging only from its -exterior, would suppose, for a fine fifteenth-century mantelpiece, -adorned with carved crockets and heraldic roses, yet remains in the -parlour, a relic of bygone importance. - -As for Mrs. Lupin, the landlady, it is supposed that Dickens drew the -character from a real person. If so, how one would like to have known -that cheery woman. Do you remember how Tom Pinch left Salisbury to seek -his fortune in London? and how Mrs. Lupin met the coach on the London -road with his box in the trap, and a great basket of provisions, with a -bottle of sherry sticking out of it? and how the open-handed fellow -shared the cold roast fowl, the packet of ham in slices, the crusty -loaf, and the other half-dozen items--not forgetting the contents of the -bottle--with the coachman and guard as they drove along the old road to -London through the night? - -[Sidenote: _A WORD-PICTURE_] - -‘Yoho, past hedges, gates, and trees; past cottages and barns, and -people going home from work. Yoho, past donkey-chaises, drawn aside into -the ditch, and empty carts with rampant horses, whipped up at a bound -upon the little watercourse, and held by struggling carters close to the -five-barred gate, until the coach had passed the narrow turning in the -road. Yoho, by churches dropped down by themselves in quiet nooks, with -rustic burial-grounds about them, where graves are green, and daisies -sleep--for it is evening--on the bosoms of the dead. Yoho, past streams -in which the cattle cool their feet, and where the rushes grow; past -paddock-fences, farms and rick-yards; past last year’s stacks, cut slice -by slice away, and showing in the waning light like ruined gables, old -and brown. Yoho, down the pebbly dip, and through the merry -water-splash, and up at a canter to the level road again. Yoho! Yoho!’ - -Quite so. And an excellent picture of the coaching age, although ‘Yoho!’ -smacks too much of the sea for a coach. In his haste he wrote that word -when he surely meant ‘Tallyho!’ Nor is this a correct portrait of the -Exeter Road by any manner of means. Dickens, usually so precise in -topographical details, has generalised here. A true and stirring picture -of country roads in general, there are farms, and villages, and churches -all too many for this highway. It should have been ‘Yoho! across the -bleak and barren down. Yoho! by the blasted oak on the lonely common,’ -and so forth, so far as Andover, at any rate. And what was that -water-splash doing on a main road in the flower of the coaching age, -when all the runnels and streams across the mail routes were duly -bridged? But it is not very odd that Dickens should have been so inexact -here, for he began _Martin Chuzzlewit_ in 1843, and it was not until -long after the book was published, in 1848, that he really explored the -Exeter Road. Forster tells us that Dickens, in company with himself, -Leech, and Lemon, stayed at Salisbury in the March of that year, and -‘passed a March day in riding over every part of the Plain; visiting -Stonehenge, and exploring Hazlitt’s “Hut” at Winterslow.’ - -It must be obvious how exquisitely fitted, both by reason of its -situation and circumstances, ‘Winterslow Hut’ is for the novelist’s use, -and that, had he explored it before, that wild spot would have found a -place in the pages of _Martin Chuzzlewit_, together with detailed -references to some of Salisbury’s old coaching inns, of which there were -many, this being a meeting-place of several roads, besides being on the -great highway to the West. - -[Sidenote: _VANISHED INNS_] - -So far back as 1786 there were three coaches passing through Salisbury -on their way from London to Exeter, daily. Firstly, the ‘Post Coach’ -every morning at eight o’clock, with the up coach to London every -afternoon at four o’clock, Saturdays excepted. Secondly, a mail coach, -specially advertised as carrying a guard all the way, every morning at -ten o’clock, Sundays excepted, and the up mail every night at ten -o’clock, Saturdays excepted. Thirdly, a ‘Diligence,’ which passed -through every night about eight o’clock, the up coach at twelve, -midnight. All these coaches stopped, and were horsed, at the ‘White -Hart.’ In 1797 there were five coaches to and from London, daily, and -three on alternate days; and three waggons, two every day, the other on -Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. - -In those times, when highwaymen were numerous and daring and travellers -appropriately anxious, stage-coach proprietors in Salisbury advertised -the fact of their conveyances being provided with an armed guard, and -that any one making an attempt at robbery would be handed over to -justice. But, notwithstanding such bold announcements, all the friends -and relatives of citizens daring the journey to London used to assemble -on the London road and tearfully watch the coaches as they toiled up -Bishop Down and over the crest of Three Mile Hill, into the Unknown. The -spot is still called ‘Weeping Cross.’ - -Of the old Salisbury coaching inns, a goodly number have been either -pulled down or converted to other purposes. The ‘King’s Head,’ the -‘Maidenhead,’ the ‘Sun,’ the ‘Vine,’ the ‘Three Tuns,’ and others have -entirely disappeared; and the ‘Spread Eagle,’ the ‘Lamb,’ ‘Three Cups,’ -‘Antelope,’ and the ‘George’--where Pepys stayed and was -overcharged--have become shops or private residences; while the -beautiful old ‘Three Swans’ was converted into a Temperance Hotel five -years ago. - -There is a passage in Sir William Knighton’s Diary under date of 1832, -which, although written without any special emphasis, is highly -picturesque and informative on the subject of travelling at that time. -It gives in one phrase a glimpse of the waiting-room which was a feature -of all-coaching inns, and in another shows that it was possible to -bargain for fares. Only in this instance the bargain was not struck. - -He had come at half-past one in the morning into Salisbury by a -cross-country coach, and waiting for the arrival of the mail to Exeter, -‘sat quietly by the fire in the common dirty room appropriated to coach -passengers.’ - -For twenty minutes, he says, he had for companion a man who had just -disengaged himself from an irritable rencontre with the coachman of the -mail. He had waited from two o’clock in the afternoon to go on to -Bristol, but when the time arrived he quarrelled with the coachman about -whether he should pay nine shillings or twelve, the passenger insisting -upon nine, the whip three shillings more; upon which the traveller -decided not to go, returned to the coachroom, and ordered his bed. Sir -William asked him if it really was worth while to lose the time and to -pay for a bed at the inn over this unsuccessful negotiation, and to this -the man replied that it was not. ‘In fact,’ said he, ‘we have both been -taken in. The coachman thought I would pay, and I thought he would take -my offer.’ - - - - -XXIX - - -It is a nine-miles journey, due north from Salisbury to Stonehenge, but -although it would, under - -[Sidenote: _PEPYS AT OLD SARUM_] - -[Illustration: VIEW OF SALISBURY SPIRE FROM THE RAMPARTS OF OLD -SARUM.] - -other circumstances, be unduly extending the scope of this work to -travel so far from the highway, we need have no compunction in making -this trip, for it brings us to one of the most interesting places on the -Amesbury and Ilminster route to Exeter--to Stonehenge, in fact, and -passes by the wonderful terraced hill of Old Sarum. You can see Old -Sarum looming ahead immediately after passing the outlying houses of -Salisbury, and if you come upon it when a storm is impending, as in -Constable’s picture, the impression of size and strength created is one -not soon to be forgotten. As to coming upon it in the dark, as Pepys -did, the sight is awe-inspiring. - -Time and place conspired to frighten him. ‘So over the Plain,’ he says, -‘by the sight of the steeple, to Salisbury by night; but before I came -to the town, I saw a great fortification, and there alighted, and to it, -and in it; and find it prodigious, so as to fright me to be in it all -alone at that time of night, it being dark. I understand since it to lie -that that is called Old Sarum.’ - -To climb the steep grassy ramparts, one after the other, and to descend -into and climb out of the successive yawning ditches is a tiring -exercise, but perhaps in no other way is it possible to gain anything -like a proper idea of the strength of the place. Nor in there any more -sure way of arriving at the relative scale of it than by observing the -stray cyclist standing on the topmost ramparts and gazing toward the -distant spire of Salisbury. - -There are other things than ancient history that make Old Sarum -memorable. It was the head and front of the electoral scandals that -brought about the great Reform Act of 1832. Although it contained -neither a single house nor an inhabitant, Old Sarum survived as a -Parliamentary borough until that date, and regularly returned two -members. Lord John Russell, introducing the Reform Bill to the House of -Commons, remarked that Old Sarum was a green mound without a single -habitation upon it, and like Gatton, also an uninhabited borough, -returned two members, while great towns like Birmingham and Manchester -were entirely without Parliamentary representation. The two members sent -to Parliament were merely the nominees of the Lord of the Manor, elected -by two dummy electors who, shortly after each dissolution of Parliament, -were granted leases in the borough of Old Sarum--leases known as -‘burgage tenures.’ Their voting done, they quietly surrendered their -leases, which were not granted again until a like occasion arose. The -elections took place at the ‘Parliament Tree,’ which, until 1896 (when -it was blown down in a snowstorm), stood in a meadow between the mound -and the village of ‘Stratford-under-the-Castle.’ It was supposed to have -marked the site of the Town Hall of the vanished town. Cobbett, riding -horseback past the spot, anathematised this ‘rotten borough’ and the -system that allowed such things. He calls it ‘The Accursed Hill.’ The -only house standing near is the ‘Old Castle Inn.’ - -Beyond it the road dips steeply to the downs, and so continues, with -regular undulations, unsheltered from storms or frosts, or the fierce -heat of the summer sun, to Amesbury. - -[Illustration: OLD SARUM (AFTER CONSTABLE, R.A.).] - -[Sidenote: _AMESBURY_] - -Amesbury is a sheltered village, lying in a valley between these downs. -It was on the alternative coach route taken by the ‘Telegraph,’ -‘Celerity,’ ‘Defiance,’ and ‘Subscription’ coaches, which, leaving -Andover, came by Weyhill, Mullen’s Pond, and ‘Park House Inn.’ This way -came the ‘Telegraph’ coach on its journey to London, 27th December 1836, -through the thick of that terrible snowstorm of which we find copious -mention on every one of the classic roads. It began when they reached -Wincanton, and from that place they struggled on up to the Plain, where -it was a white world of scurrying snowflakes, howling winds, and deep -drifts. Down into Amesbury, and to the hospitable ‘George’ there, was -but a momentary respite, for the determined coachman, although -immediately snowed up in the open country beyond the village, sent for -help and, assisted by a team of six fresh post-horses with a post-boy to -every pair, charged up the hills in the direction of Andover, with that -fortune which is said to favour the brave. That is to say, he and His -Majesty’s mails got through to London, where the story was duly -chronicled in the papers of the period. - -Here, or hereabouts, it was that the up Exeter ‘Celerity’ coach came -into collision with the ‘Defiance’ at one o’clock in the morning of 25th -July 1827, resulting in the death of a gentleman who was thrown off the -roof of the ‘Celerity’ and instantly killed, and in serious injuries to -others. Both coaches were overturned. The ‘Celerity’ coachman, according -to the evidence at the subsequent trial, was to blame for reckless -driving, and for endeavouring to take too much of the road; but the -lawyers found a flaw in the indictment, which stated that he was driving -three geldings and a mare, and as it could not be proved that this -description was correct, the matter dropped. - - - - -XXX - - -And now to Stonehenge and Salisbury Plain, up the steep road from -Amesbury taken by the coaches. Unless you can see Stonehenge in such an -awful thunderstorm as Turner shows in his picture of it, or can come -upon the place at dead of night either by moonlight, or in the blackness -of a moonless midnight, you will fail to be impressed; unless you are a -literary pilgrim and can be moved to sentiment, not by thoughts of the -mythical human sacrifices offered up here by imaginary Druids, but by -the last scenes in the tragedy of poor Tess. Then the place has an -immediate human interest which otherwise it lacks in the immeasurably -vast space of time dividing us from the period of its building and of -the heaping up of the sepulchral barrows that make a wide circle round -it on the Plain. Solitary, with nothing to give it scale, even the -brakes that convey irreverent excursionists help to confer a dignity on -the spot, when seen afar upon the ridge where this Mystery, sphinx-like, -offers an insoluble riddle to archæologists of all the ages. - -No one, despite the affected archaisms and the - -[Sidenote: _STONEHENGE_] - -[Illustration: THE GREAT SNOWSTORM OF 1836; THE EXETER ‘TELEGRAPH,’ -ASSISTED BY POST-HORSES, DRIVING THROUGH THE SNOW-DRIFTS AT AMESBURY -(AFTER JAMES POLLARD).] - -sham archæology, has described Stonehenge so impressively as that -‘wondrous boy’ Chatterton:-- - - A wondrous pyle of rugged mountaynes standes, - Placed on eche other in a dreare arraie, - It ne could be the worke of human handes, - It ne was reared up by menne of claie. - Here did the Britons adoration paye - To the false god whom they did Tauran name, - Lightynge hys altarre with greate fyres in Maie, - Roasteyng theire victims round aboute the flame; - Twas here that Hengyst dyd the Brytons slee, - As they were met in council for to bee. - -Stonehenge was probably standing when the Romans came to Britain, and -doubtless astonished them when they first saw it as much as any one -else. Its surroundings were not very different then from now. A -farmstead, with ugly blue-slated roof, which has appeared on the ridge -of the down of late years, and possibly a road which did not exist in -days of old: these alone have changed the aspect of the vast solitude in -which the hoary monument stands. No hedges, no gates, never a sheep upon -the meagre grass. As Ingoldsby says of Salisbury Plain, in general:-- - - Not a shrub, nor a tree, nor a bush can you see; - No hedges, no ditches, no gates, no stiles, - Much less a house or a cottage for miles. - -This, saving that intrusive farmstead, still holds good here; and -although every one is inevitably disappointed with Stonehenge, as first -seen at a distance, looking _so small_ and insignificant in the vastness -of the bare downs in which it is set, the place, and not the great -stones merely, impresses by its sadness and utter detachment from the -living world, its loves and hates and interests. The birds forget to -sing in this loneliness, which is awful in winter and not less awful in -the emptiness visible under the blue sky and blazing sun of summer. Just -the situation in which Stonehenge is placed, you understand, not -Stonehenge itself, gives these feelings. ‘Do not we gaze with awe upon -these massive stones?’ asks the high-falutin guide-book compiler. No, -indeed we don’t. It is a pity, but it can’t be done, and the average -description of Stonehenge which sets forth the grandeur and stupendous -size of these stones, is pumped-up fudge and flapdoodle of the -damnablest kind, which takes in no one. It is not merely the Philistine -who thinks thus, but even the would-be marvellers, and those of light -and leading are disquieted by secret thoughts that, had we a mind to it, -and if there was money in it, we could build a better and a bigger -Stonehenge by a long way. - -The earliest account of this mystic monument is found in the writings of -Nennius, who lived in the ninth century. The first-comer is entitled to -respect, and when Nennius tells us that Stonehenge was erected by the -surviving Britons, in memory of four hundred and sixty British nobles, -murdered here at a conference to which the Saxon chieftain, Hengist, had -invited King Vortigern and his Court, we are bound to pay some attention -to the statement, although to place implicit reliance upon it would be -rash, considering the fact that Nennius wrote four hundred years after -the event. - -[Illustration: STONEHENGE (AFTER TURNER, R.A.).] - -[Sidenote: _WHO BUILT STONEHENGE?_] - -But there are, and have been, many theories which profess to give the -only true origin of these stone circles. An antiquary formerly living at -Amesbury went to the beginnings of creation and held that they were -erected by Adam. If so, it is to be hoped for Adam’s sake that he -finished the job in the summer, or that if it occupied him in winter -time, he had clothed himself with something warmer than the traditional -fig-leaf, in view of the rigours of these Wiltshire Downs. It would be -interesting also to have Adam’s opinion as to the comparative merits of -Salisbury Plain and the Garden of Eden. - -Then a tradition existed that Merlin, the sorcerer, arranged the -circles. Those who do not think much of this view may take more kindly -to the legend of our old friends the Druids, who, according to Dr. -Stukeley and others, made this their chief temple; while, according to -other views, the Britons before and after the Roman occupation, and the -Romans themselves, were the builders. Then there are others who conceive -this to have been the crowning-place of the Danish kings. The Saxons, -indeed, appear to be the only people who have not been credited with the -work; although, curiously enough, its very name is of Saxon derivation, -and the earliest writers refer to it as ‘Stanenges,’ from Anglo-Saxon -words meaning ‘the hanging-stones.’ That the Saxons discovered -Stonehenge, and were puzzled by it as greatly as it must have excited -the wonder of the Romans, hundreds of years before, seems obvious from -this name they gave the lonely place. Ignorant as to its use, they -either saw in the upright stones and the imposts they carried a -resemblance to a gallows, or else, not being themselves expert builders, -marvelled that the great imposts should remain suspended in the air. - -Much of the legitimate wonderment in respect of Stonehenge lies in the -mystery of how the forgotten builders could have quarried and shaped -these stones, and could have cut the tenons and mortice-holes that held -the tall columns, and the flat stones above them, together. Camden, the -old chronicler, has a ready way out of this puzzling question. Beginning -with a description of this ‘huge and monstrous piece of work,’ he goes -on to say that ‘some there are that think them to be no natural stones, -hewn out of the rock, but artificially made out of pure sand, and, by -some glue or unctuous matter, knit and incorporate together.’ - -[Sidenote: _THE ‘FRIAR’S HEEL’_] - -Stonehenge is considered to have consisted, when perfect, of an outer -circle of thirty tall stones, three and a half feet apart, and connected -together by a line of imposts, in whose extremities mortice-holes were -cut, fitting into corresponding tenons projecting from the upright -stones. The height of this circular screen was sixteen feet. A second -and inner circle consisted of smaller and rougher stones, some forty in -number, and six feet in height. Within this circle, again, rose five -tall groups of stone placed in an ellipse, each group consisting of two -uprights, with an impost above. These stones were the largest of all, -the tallest reaching to a height of twenty-five feet. They were named by -Dr. Stukeley, impressively enough, the Great Trilithons. Each of these -five groups would appear to have been accompanied on the inner side by a -cluster of three small standing stones, while a black flat monolith, -called the ‘Altar Stone,’ occupied the innermost position. A smaller -trilithon seems to have once stood near its big brethren, but it and -three of the great five are in ruins. Only six imposts of the outer -circle are left in their place overhead, and but sixteen of its thirty -upright stones are now standing. The smaller circles and groups are -equally imperfect. Some of this ruin has befallen within the historical -period; one of the Great Trilithons having been wrecked in 1620, in the -absurd treasure-seeking expedition of the Duke of Buckingham, while -another fell on the 3rd of January 1797, during a thaw. - -These circles seem to have been surrounded by an earthen bank, with an -avenue leading off towards the east. Very few traces of these enclosures -now remain. In midst of the avenue lies the flat so-called ‘Stone of -Sacrifice,’ with the rough obelisk of the ‘Friar’s Heel,’ as the most -easterly outpost of all, beyond. To the Friar’s Heel belongs a legend -which gives, by the way, an even more distinguished person than Adam as -the builder of Stonehenge. The Devil, according to this story, was the -architect, and when he had nearly finished his work, he chuckled to -himself that no one would be able to tell how it was done. A wandering -friar, however, who had been a witness of it all, remarked, ‘That’s more -than thee can tell,’ and thereupon ran away, the Devil flinging one of -the stones left over after him. It only just struck the friar on the -heel, and stuck there in the turf, where it stands to this day. - -The various stones of which Stonehenge is constructed derive from -widely-sundered districts. The outer circle and the five Great -Trilithons are said to have been fashioned from stones that came from -Marlborough Downs, and the second circle and innermost ellipse belong to -a rock formation not known to exist nearer than South Wales. The ‘Altar -Stone’ is different from any of the others, and the circumstance lends -some colour to the theory that it, coming from some unknown region, was -the original stone fetish brought from a distance by the prehistoric -tribe that settled here, around which grew by degrees the subsequent -great temple. There are those who will have it that this was a temple of -serpent-worshippers; and an argument not altogether unsupported by facts -would have us believe that Stonehenge is really a Temple of the Sun. It -is a singular accident (if it _is_ an accident) that the ‘Friar’s Heel,’ -as seen from the centre of the circle, is in exact orientation with the -rising sun on the morning of the Longest Day of the year, 21st June. -Every year, on this occasion, great crowds of people set out from -Salisbury to see sunrise at Stonehenge. There have frequently been as -many as three thousand persons present on this occasion. As the spot is -nine miles from that cathedral city, and as the sun rises on this date -at the early hour of 3.44 A.M., it requires some enthusiasm to rise -one’s self for the occasion, if indeed the more excellent way is not to -sit up all night. Great, therefore, is the disappointment when - -[Sidenote: _SUNRISE AT STONEHENGE_] - -[Illustration: SUNRISE AT STONEHENGE.] - -the morning is misty. If this sunrise phenomenon is not an accident, -then Stonehenge, as the Temple of the Sun, is the earliest cathedral in -Britain. But, as we have already seen, in these multitudes of guesses at -the truth, no one can arrive at the facts, and all we can do is to say -frankly, with old Pepys, who was here in 1668, ‘God knows what its use -was.’ - -The present historian has waited for the sun to rise here. Arriving at -Amesbury village at half-past two in the morning, the street looked and -sounded lively with the clustered lights of bicycles and conveyances -gathered there; with the ringing of bicycle bells, the sounding of -coach-horns, and the talk of those who had come to pay their devoirs to -the rising luminary. The village inn was open all night for the needs of -travellers journeying to this shrine, and ten minutes was allowed for -each person, a policeman standing outside to see that they were duly -turned out at the end of that time. - -To one who arrived early on the scene, while the Plain remained shrouded -in the grayness of the midsummer night, and the rugged stones of -Stonehenge yet loomed vague and formless, the scene looking down towards -Amesbury was an impressive one. Dimly the ascending white road up to the -stones could be discerned by much straining of tired eyes, and along it -twinkled brightly the lights of approaching vehicles, now dipping down -into a hollow of this miscalled ‘Plain,’ now toiling slowly and -painfully up a corresponding ascent. It is not to be supposed that it -was a reverent crowd assembled here. Reverence is not a characteristic -of the age, nor are cyclists as a rule, or agricultural folks, or -provincials generally, inclined greatly to worship the immeasurably old. -And of such this crowd was chiefly composed. It may very pertinently be -asked, ‘Why, if they don’t reverence the place, do they come here at -all?’ It is a question rather difficult to answer; but probably most -people visit it on this occasion as an excuse for being up all night. -There would seem to be an idea that there is something dashing and -eccentric about such a proceeding which must have its charm for those to -whom archæology, or those eternal and unsolvable questions, ‘Why was -Stonehenge built, and by whom?’ have no interest. There were, for -instance, two boys on the spot who had come over on their bicycles from -Marlborough School, over twenty miles away. Without leave, of course! -They hoped to get back as quietly as they had slipped away out of their -bedroom windows. Had they any archæological enthusiasm? Not a bit of it, -the more especially since it was evident they would have to hurry back -before the sun was due to rise. - -[Sidenote: _TRIPPERS AT STONEHENGE_] - -There were no fewer than fifteen police at Stonehenge, sent on account -of the disorderly scenes said to have taken place in previous years. But -this crowd was sufficiently quiet. Patiently the throng waited the -rising of the sun upon the horizon, and the coming of the shadow of the -gnomon-stone across the Stone of Sacrifice. The sky lightened, showing -up the tired faces, and transferring the Great Trilithons from the -realms of romance to those of commonplace reality. The larks began to -trill; puce-and purple-coloured clouds floated overhead; the brutal -staccato notes of a banjo strummed to the air of a music-hall song stale -by some three or four seasons; a cyclist struck a match on a sarsen -stone; watches were consulted--and the sun refused to rise to the -occasion. That is to say, for the twelfth time or so consecutively, -according to local accounts, the morning was too cloudy for the sunrise -to be seen. So, tired and disappointed, all trooped back to Amesbury, -the snapshotters disgusted beyond measure, and breakfasted, or refreshed -in various ways, according to individual tastes, at the unholy hour of -half-past four o’clock in the morning. - -Those who say that Stonehenge will remain a monument to all time speak -without a knowledge of the facts. In reality the larger stones are -disintegrating; slowly, perhaps, but none the less surely. They are -weather-worn, and some of them very decrepit. Frosts have chipped and -cracked them, and other extremes of climate have found out the soft -places in the sandstone. Also, modern facilities for reaching such -out-of-the-way spots as this used to be have brought so many visitors of -all kinds here that, in one way and another Stonehenge is bound to -suffer. It is now the proper thing for every one who visits Stonehenge -to be photographed by the photographer who sits there for that purpose -all day long and every day; and although there is no occasion for such -insane fury, the picnic parties generally contrive to smash beer and -lemonade bottles against the stones until the turf is thickly strewn -with broken glass. Modernity also likes to range itself beside the -unfathomably ancient, and so when the Automobile Club visited -Stonehenge, on Easter Saturday 1899, all the cars and their occupants -were photographed beside the stones, to mark so historic an occasion. - - - - -XXXI - - -Away beyond Stonehenge stretches Salisbury Plain, in future to be -vulgarised by military camps and manœuvres, and to become an -Aldershot on a larger scale, but hitherto a solitude as sublime in its -own way as Dartmoor and Exmoor. Dickens gives us his meed of -appreciation of this wild country, and finds the boundless prairies of -America tame by comparison. - -‘Now,’ he says, writing when on his visit to America, ‘a prairie is -undoubtedly worth seeing, but more that one may say one _has_ seen it, -than for any sublimity it possesses in itself.... You stand upon the -prairie and see the unbroken horizon all round you. You are on a great -plain, which is like a sea without water. I am exceedingly fond of wild -and lonely scenery, and believe that I have the faculty of being as much -impressed by it as any man living. But the prairie fell, by far, short -of my preconceived idea. I felt no such emotions as I do in crossing -Salisbury Plain. The excessive flatness of the scene makes it dreary, -but tame. Grandeur is certainly not its characteristic ... to say that -the sight is a - -[Sidenote: _SALISBURY PLAIN_] - -[Illustration: ANCIENT AND MODERN: MOTOR CARS AT STONEHENGE, EASTER -1899.] - -landmark in one’s existence, and awakens a new set of sensations, is -sheer gammon. I would say to every man who can’t see a prairie--go to -Salisbury Plain, Marlborough Downs, or any of the broad, high, open -lands near the sea. Many of them are fully as impressive; and Salisbury -Plain is _decidedly_ more so.’ - -Salisbury Plain is the very core and concentrated essence of the wild -bleak scenery so characteristic of Wiltshire. An elevated tract of -country measuring roughly twenty-four miles from east to west, and -sixteen from north to south, and comprising the district between -Ludgershall and Westbury, and Devizes and Old Sarum, it is by no means -the Plain pictured by strangers, who, misled by that geographical -expression, have a mind’s-eye picture of it as being quite flat. As a -matter of fact, Salisbury Plain is not a bit like that. It is a long -series of undulating chalky downs, ‘as flat as your hand’ if you like, -because the hand is anything but flat, and the simile is excellently -descriptive of a rolling country that resembles the swelling contours of -an outstretched palm. Unproductive, exposed, and lonely, Salisbury Plain -opposes even to this day a very effectual barrier against intercourse -between north and south or east and west Wiltshire, and was the -lurking-place, until even so late as 1839, of highwaymen and footpads, -who shared the solitudes with the bustards, and attacked and robbed -those travellers whose business called them across the dreary wastes. -Many a malefactor has tried his prentice hand and learned his business -in these wilds, and has, after robbing elsewhere, retired here from -pursuit. Salisbury Plain, in short, bred a race of highwaymen who -preyed upon the neighbourhood and levied contributions from all the rich -farmers and graziers who travelled between the Cathedral City and other -parts, and sometimes graduated with such honours that they became -Knights of the Road at whose name travellers along the whole length of -the Exeter Road would tremble. - -Among them was William Davis, the ‘Golden Farmer,’ whom we have already -met at Bagshot. His career was a long one, and was continued, here and -in other parts of the country, for forty years. They hanged him, at the -age of sixty-nine, in 1689. His most famous exploit was on the borders -of the Plain, near Clarendon Park, when he attacked the Duchess of -Albemarle, single-handed, and, in the presence of her numerous -attendants, tore her diamond rings off her fingers, and would probably -have had her watch and money as well, despite her cursing and torrents -of full-flavoured abuse, had not the sound of approaching travellers -warned him to fly. - -‘Captain’ James Whitney, too, was another desperado who at times made -the Plain his headquarters, and harried the Western roads, in the time -of William the Third. He was probably a son of the Reverend James -Whitney, Rector of Donhead St. Andrews. He raised a troop of highwaymen, -and was captured at the close of 1692 after his band had been defeated -in battle with the Dragoon Guards. He ‘met a most penitent end’ at -Smithfield. - -[Sidenote: _THOMAS BOULTER_] - -Then there was Biss, perhaps a descendant of the Reverend Walter Biss, -minister of Bishopstrow, near Salisbury, in the reign of Charles the -First. Biss the highwayman was hanged at Salisbury in 1695, and was not -succeeded by any very distinguished practitioner until Boulter appeared -on the scene. - -The distinguished Mr. Thomas Boulter was born of poor but dishonest -parents at Poulshot, near Devizes, and ran a brief but brilliant and -busy course which ended on the gallows outside Winchester. Mr. Boulter’s -parentage and the deeds that he did form splendid evidence to help -bolster up the doctrine of heredity. He came of a very numerous clan of -Boulters and Bisses, whose names are even to this day common at -Chiverell and Market Lavington, on the Plain. His father rented a grist -mill at Poulshot, stole grain for years, and was publicly whipped in -Devizes market-place for stealing honey from an old woman’s garden. -Shortly after that unfortunate incident, in 1775, on returning from -Trowbridge, he stole a horse, the property of a Mr. Hall, and riding it -over to Andover sold it for £6, although worth at least £15. This -injudicious deal aroused the suspicions of the onlookers, so that he was -arrested, and being convicted was sentenced to death. But the Boulters -and the Bisses made interest for him, so that his sentence was commuted -to transportation for fourteen years. - -Mrs. Boulter, the wife of this transported felon and the mother of the -greater hero, is said to have also suffered a public whipping at the -cart’s tail, and Isaac Blagden, his uncle, also did a little in the -footpad line on Salisbury Plain between the intervals of agricultural -labouring. He never attained eminence, having met in an early stage of -his career with a sad check while attempting to rob a gentleman near -Market Lavington. The traveller drew a pistol and lodged a couple of -slugs in his thigh, leaving him bleeding on the highway. Some humane -person passing by procured assistance, and had him conveyed to the -village. The wound was cured, but he remained a cripple ever afterwards, -and being unable to work was admitted into Lavington Workhouse. He was -never prosecuted for the attempted crime. - -Thomas Boulter, junior, the daring outlaw who shared with Hawkes the -title of the ‘Flying Highwayman,’ and whose name for very many years -afterwards was used as a bogey to frighten refractory children, was born -in 1748. He worked with his father, the miller, in the grist-mill at -Poulshot until 1774, when, his sister having opened a millinery business -in the Isle of Wight, he joined her there, and embarked his small -capital in a grocery business. - -[Sidenote: _THE BEGINNING OF A CAREER_] - -But the business did not flourish. Perhaps it could not be expected to -do so in the hands of so roving a blade, for he only gave it a year’s -perfunctory trial, and then, being pressed for money, set out to find it -on the road. He went to Portsmouth, procured two brace of pistols, -casting-irons for slugs, and a powder-horn, and, lying by a little -while, started in the summer of 1775, on the pretence of paying his -mother a visit at Poulshot. Setting out from Southampton, mounted on -horseback, he made for the Exeter Road, near ‘Winterslow Hut.’ In less -than a quarter of an hour the Salisbury diligence rewarded his patience -and enterprise by coming in sight across the downs. The perspiration -oozed out of his every pore, and he was so timid that he rode past the -diligence two or three times before he could muster sufficient -resolution to pronounce the single word ‘Stand!’ But at length he found -courage in the thought that he must begin, or go home as poor as he came -out, and so, turning short round, he ordered the driver to stop, and in -less than two minutes had robbed the two passengers of their watches and -money, saying that he was much obliged to them, for he was in great -want; and so, wishing them a pleasant journey, departed in the direction -of Salisbury and Devizes. By the time he reached Poulshot he had robbed -three single travellers on horseback and two on foot, and had secured a -booty of nearly £40 and seven watches. - -This filial visit coming to an end, he returned home to Newport, Isle of -Wight, by way of Andover, Winchester, and Southampton. On his way across -Salisbury Plain he stopped a post-chaise, several farmers on horseback, -one on foot, and two countrywomen returning from market, going in sight -of the last person into Andover, and putting up his horse at the ‘Swan,’ -where he stayed for an hour. - -This successful beginning fired our hero for more adventures, and the -autumn of the same year found him, equipped with new pistols, a fine -suit of clothes, and a horse stolen at Ringwood, making his way to -Salisbury, with the intention of riding into the neighbourhood of Exeter -before commencing business. But between Salisbury and Blandford he could -not resist the temptation of robbing a diligence and a gentleman on -horseback, resulting in the rather meagre booty of a gold watch, two -guineas, and some silver. He then pushed on through Blandford towards -Dorchester, robbing on the way; all in broad daylight. When night was -come he thought it prudent to break off from the Exeter Road and lie by -at Cerne Abbas until the next afternoon, when he regained the highway -near Bridport, very soon finding himself in company with a wealthy -grazier who was jogging home in the same direction. The grazier found -his companion so sociable that he not only expressed himself as glad of -his society, but gossiped at length upon the successful day he had -experienced at Salisbury market, where he had sold a number of cattle at -an advanced price. He was well known, he said, for carrying the finest -beasts to market, and could always command a better price than his -neighbours. - -Boulter broke in upon this self-satisfied talk with the wish that he had -been so lucky in his way of business. Unhappily, repeated misfortunes -had at last reduced him to distress, and he had taken to the road for -relieving his distresses, and was glad he had had the fortune to fall in -with a gentleman who appeared so well able to assist him. Suiting the -action to his words, he pulled out a pistol, and begged he might have -the pleasure of easing his companion of some of the wealth he had -acquired at Salisbury market. - -[Sidenote: _ROBBERY BY WHOLESALE_] - -The grazier thought this was a joke and supposed that it was done to -frighten him; whereupon Boulter clapped the pistol close to his breast -and told him he should not advance a single step until he had delivered -his money. In a few minutes his trembling victim had handed over, in -bank-notes and cash, nearly £90. His watch, which he seemed to set a -value upon for its antiquity, together with some bills of exchange, -Boulter returned, and, wishing him good-day, and observing that he -should return to London, continued, instead, his journey to Exeter. -Altogether, in this trip, he secured a booty of £500, in money and -valuables, and spent the winter and these ill-gotten gains among his -relatives on Salisbury Plain. - -He opened his next campaign in May 1776, having first provided himself -with a splendid mare named ‘Black Bess,’ which he stole from Mr. Peter -Delmé’s stables at Erle Stoke. This horse, scarce inferior to Turpin’s -mare of the same name, is indeed supposed to have been a descendant of -hers. Starting from Poulshot, he rode to Staines, reaching that place on -the second night out. Rising at four o’clock the next morning, he was on -the road, in wait for the Western coaches; but he was a prudent man, and -at the sight of blunderbusses on their roofs, he concluded that to -attack them would be a tempting of Providence. Accordingly, he confined -his attentions to the diligences and the post-chaises, and was so active -that day that he visited Maidenhead, Hurley, Wokingham, Hartley Row, -Whitchurch, and Eversley, reaching Poulshot again the same night with -nearly £200, and with the ‘Hue and Cry’ of five counties at his heels. -His exploits on this occasion would not shame the first masters of the -art of highway robbery, and the performances of his mare were worthy of -her distinguished ancestry. At Hartley Row he called for a bottle of -wine, drank a glass himself, and pouring the remainder over a large -toast, gave it to his steed, repeating it at Whitchurch and Eversley. - -Two months’ retirement at Poulshot seemed advisable after this, but -during the latter part of the summer and through the autumn he was very -busy, his operations extending as far as Bath and Bristol. To give an -account of his many robberies would require a long and detailed -biography. He did not always meet with travellers willing to resign -their purses without a struggle, and on those occasions he generally -came off second best; as in the case of the butcher whom he met upon the -Plain. Although Boulter held a pistol at the heads of travellers, he -never really meant to use it, and it was his boast, at his last hour, -that he had never taken life. Perhaps the butcher knew this, for when -our friend presented his firearm at his head, and asked him to turn his -pockets out, he said, ‘I don’t get my money so easily as to part with it -in that foolish manner. If you rob me, I must go upon the highway myself -before I durst go home, and that I’d rather not do.’ - -What was a good young highwayman, with conscientious scruples about -shedding blood, to do under those circumstances? It was an undignified -situation, but he retreated from it as best he could, and with the -words: ‘Good-night, and remember that Boulter is your friend,’ -disappeared. - -[Sidenote: _BOULTER AND PARTNER_] - -In 1777 he took a journey up to York, and was laid by the heels there, -escaping the hangman by enlisting, a course then left open to criminals -by the Government, which did not tend to bring the Army into better -repute. After three days in barracks he deserted, and made the best of -his way southwards. Reaching Bristol, he found a fellow-spirit in one -James Caldwell, landlord of the ‘Ship Inn,’ Milk Street, and with him -entered upon a new series of robberies. But, first of all, he paid a -visit to his relatives at Poulshot, doing some business on the way, and -scouring the country round about that convenient retreat. He stopped the -diligence again at ‘Winterslow Hut,’ emptying the pockets of all the -passengers, and robbed a Salisbury gentleman near Andover, who, after -surrendering his purse, lamented that he had nothing left to carry him -home. - -‘How far have you to go home?’ asked Boulter. - -‘To Salisbury,’ said the traveller. - -‘Then,’ rejoined the highwayman, ‘here’s twopence, which is quite enough -for so short a journey.’ - -Boulter, according to his biographers, had the light hair and complexion -of the Saxon. ‘His _bonhomie_, not untinctured with a quiet humour, -fascinated and disarmed his victims, who felt that, had he been so -disposed, he could have descended upon them like the hammer of Thor.’ -His companion henceforward, Caldwell, was of a dark complexion and -ferocious disposition. Together they visited the Midlands in 1777, and -with varying success brought that season to a close, Boulter returning -alone to Poulshot for a short holiday from professional cares. Riding on -the Plain early one morning, he was surprised to meet a -gentlemanly-looking horseman, who looked very hard at him, and who, -after passing him about a hundred yards, turned round and pursued him at -a gallop. ‘Well,’ thought Boulter, ‘this seems likely to prove a kind of -adventure on which I never calculated. I am about to be stopped myself -by a gentleman of the road. In what manner will it be necessary to -receive the attack.’ - -The stranger came up rapidly, and whatever his intentions were, merely -observed, ‘You ride a very fine horse; would you like to sell her?’ - -‘Oh yes,’ replied Boulter; ‘but for nothing less than fifty guineas.’ - -‘Can she trot and gallop well?’ - -‘She can trot sixteen miles an hour, and gallop twenty, or she would not -do for my business,’ said Boulter, with a significant look. - -By this time the stranger, becoming uneasy, desired to see her paces, -probably thinking thus to rid himself of so mysterious a character. - -‘With all my heart,’ rejoined the highwayman, ‘you shall see how she -goes, but I must first be rewarded for it,’ presenting his pistol with -the customary demand. That request having been complied with, Boulter -wished him good-morning, saying, ‘Now, sir, you have seen _my_ -performance, you shall see the performance of my horse, which I doubt -not will perfectly satisfy you’; and putting spur to her, was soon but a -distant speck upon the Plain, leaving the stranger to bewail his foolish -curiosity. - -[Sidenote: _A HUE AND CRY_] - -The winter of 1777 and the spring of 1778 were employed by Boulter and -Caldwell in scouring Salisbury Plain and the neighbouring country. A -reward had long been offered for the apprehension of the robber who -infested the district, and the appearance of a confederate now alarmed -Salisbury so greatly that private persons began to advertise in the -local papers their readiness to supplement this sum. A public -subscription, amounting to twenty guineas, was also raised at Devizes, -so that there was every inducement to the peasantry to make a capture. -Yet, strange to say, no one, either private or official persons, laid a -hand on them, even though Boulter appears to have been identified with -the daring horseman who robbed every one crossing the Plain. The -following advertisement appeared 10th January 1778:-- - - WHEREAS divers robberies have been lately committed on the road - from Devizes to Salisbury, and also near the town of Devizes: and - as it is strongly suspected that one Boulter, with an accomplice, - are the persons concerned in these robberies, a reward of thirty - guineas is offered for apprehending and bringing to justice the - said Boulter, and ten guineas for his accomplice, over and above - the reward allowed by Act of Parliament:--to be paid, on - conviction, at the Bank in Devizes. If either of these persons are - taken in any distant part of the country, reasonable charges will - also be allowed. Boulter is about five feet eleven inches high, - stout made, light hair, crooked nose, brownish complexion, and - about thirty years of age. His accomplice, about five feet nine - inches high, thin made, long favoured, black hair, and is said to - be about twenty-five years of age. - -This publicity did not hinder their enterprises, and speaking of -Boulter, a little later, the _Salisbury Journal_ says: ‘The robberies he -has committed about Salisbury, the Plain, Romsey, and Southampton, and -the several roads to London, are innumerable.’ - -[Sidenote: _CAPTURE OF BOULTER_] - -But what local law and order could not accomplish was effected at -Birmingham, to which town the confederates had made a journey in the -spring of 1778, for the purpose of selling some of the jewellery and -watches they had accumulated. Boulter had approached a Jew dealer on the -subject, and was arrested, together with Caldwell, and thrown into -Birmingham Prison. They were sent thence to Clerkenwell, from which, -having already secured by bribery a jeweller’s saw and cut through his -irons, he escaped, with two other prisoners, carrying the irons away -with him, and hanging them in triumph on a whitethorn bush at St. -Pancras. With consummate impudence he took lodgings two doors away from -Clerkenwell Prison, and, procuring a new outfit, set off down to Dover, -to take ship across the Channel. But, unfortunately for him, the country -was on the eve of a war with France, and an embargo had been laid upon -all shipping. He could not even secure a small sailing-boat. Hurrying -off to Portsmouth, he found the same difficulty, and could not even get -across to the Isle of Wight. Thence to Bristol, haunted with a constant -fear of being arrested; but not a single vessel was leaving that port. -Then it occurred to him that the desolate Isle of Portland was the most -likely hiding-place. Setting out from Bristol, he reached Bridport, and -went to an inn to refresh himself and his horse. When he asked what he -could have for dinner, he was told there was a family ordinary just -ready. He accordingly sat down at table, beside the landlord and three -gentlemen, one of whom eyed him with a searching scrutiny, until, -becoming fully satisfied that this was none other than Boulter, the -escaped prisoner, he beckoned the landlord out of the room, and reminded -him of the duty and necessity which lay upon them of securing so -notorious an offender. The landlord then returned to the dining-room and -desired Boulter to accompany him to an adjoining parlour, where he -revealed to him the perilous state of affairs; but added, ‘As you have -never done me an injury, I wish you no harm, so just pay your reckoning, -and be off as quick as you can.’ - -Boulter bade him tell the strangers that they were totally mistaken, -that he was a London rider (that is to say, a commercial traveller), and -that his name was White; but having no wish to be the cause of a -disturbance in his house, he would take his advice and go on his way. - -The landlord went back to his guests, and Boulter got on his horse with -all possible expedition. Once fairly seated in the saddle, a single -application of the spur would have launched him beyond the reach of -these hungry pursuers, nor in such an emergency as this would his pistol -be harmlessly pointed against those who thus sought to earn the rewards -offered for his capture. Alas! he had but placed his foot in the stirrup -when out rushed the false landlord and his guests. They secured him, and -being handed over to the authorities, he was lodged in Dorchester Gaol. -He was arraigned at Winchester with Caldwell (who had been removed from -London) on 31st July, and both being found guilty, they were hanged at -Winchester, 19th August 1778. - - - - -XXXII - - -Soon after those two comrades had met their end, there arose a -highway-woman to trouble the district. This was Mary Sandall, of -Baverstock, a young woman of twenty-four years of age, who had borrowed -a pair of pistols and a suit of his clothes from the blacksmith of -Quidhampton, and, bestriding a horse, set out one day in the spring of -1779, and meeting Mrs. Thring, of North Burcombe, robbed her of two -shillings and a black silk cloak. Mrs. Thring went home and raised an -alarm, with the result that Mary Sandall was captured, and committed for -trial at the next assizes. Although there seems to have been some idea -that this was a practical joke, the authorities were thick-headed -persons who had heard too much of the real thing to be patient with an -amateur highway-woman, and so they sentenced Mary Sandall to death in -due form, although she was afterwards respited as a matter of course. - -[Sidenote: _WILLIAM PEARE_] - -William Peare was the next notability of the roads, but it is not -certain that he was the one who stopped Mr. Jeffery, of Yateminster, on -his way home from Weyhill, 9th October 1780, and knocking him off his -horse, robbed him of £500 in bank-notes and £37 in coin. It was the same -unknown, doubtless, who during the same week robbed a Mrs. Turner, of -Upton Scudamore, of £45, in broad daylight. He was a ‘genteelly-dressed’ -stranger. Making a low bow, he requested her money, and that within -sight of many people working in the fields, who concluded, from his -polite manners, that he was a friend of the lady. - -William Peare was only twenty-three years of age when he was executed, -19th August 1783. His first important act was the robbing of the -Chippenham coach on the 2nd of February 1782. Captured, and lodged in -Gloucester Gaol, he escaped on the 19th of April, and began a series of -the most daring highway robberies. On the 8th of February 1783 he -stopped the Salisbury diligence just beyond St. Thomas’s Bridge, smashed -the window, and fired a shot into the coach, terrifying the lady and -gentleman who were the only two passengers, so that they at once gave up -their purses. He then went on to Stockbridge, where he stopped a -diligence full of military officers; but finding the occupants prepared -to fight for the military chest they were escorting, hurried off. After -many other crimes in the West, he was captured in the act of undermining -a bank at Stroud, in Gloucestershire. He was tried and sentenced at -Salisbury, and executed at Fisherton, going to the gallows with the -customary nosegay, which remained tightly held in his hand when his body -was cut down. A set of verses, purporting to be by his sweetheart, was -published that year, lamenting his untimely end:-- - - For me he dared the dangerous road, - My days with goodlier fare to bless; - He took but from the miser’s hoard, - From them whose station needed less. - -Highwaymen continued numerous at the dawn of the nineteenth century, as -may be judged from the executions at Fisherton Gaol, or on the scenes of -their misdeeds, that continued to afford a spectacle for the mob. For -highway robbery alone one man was hanged in 1806, one in 1816, two in -1817, and two in 1824; while three were sentenced to fifteen years’ -transportation in 1839 for a similar offence near Imber, in the very -centre of the Plain. - -[Sidenote: _A TRAGEDY OF THE PLAIN_] - -The spot was Gore Cross, a solitary waste; time and date, seven o’clock -on the evening of 21st October 1839. Upon this wilderness entered Mr. -Matthew Dean, of Imber, returning on horseback from Devizes Fair, when -he was suddenly set upon by four men, dragged off his horse, and robbed -of £20 in notes of the North Wilts Bank, and £3: 10s. in coin. The gang -then made off, but Mr. Dean followed them on foot. On the way he met Mr. -Morgan, of Chitterne; but being afraid that the men carried pistols they -decided to get more help before pursuing them farther. So they called on -a Mr. Hooper, who joined the chase on horseback, armed with a -double-barrelled gun. Meeting a Mr. Sainsbury, he accompanied the party, -and, pressing on, they presently came in sight of the men. One ran away -for some miles at a great pace, and they could not overtake him until -about midway between Tilshead and Imber, where he fell down and lay -still on - -[Illustration: HIGHWAY ROBBERY MONUMENT AT IMBER.] - -the grass. His pursuers thought this to be a feint, and were afraid to -seize him, so they continued the chase of the other three, who were -eventually captured. The next day the body of the unfortunate man was -found where he had fallen, quite dead. He had died from heart disease. -An inquest was held on him, and the curious verdict of _felo-de-se_ -returned, according to the law which holds a person a suicide who -commits an unlawful act, the consequence of which is his death. Two -memorial stones mark the spot where the robbery took place and the spot, -two miles distant, where the man fell. - -The times were still dangerous for wayfarers here, for a few weeks -later, on the night of 16th November, between nine and ten o’clock P.M., -a Mr. Richard Brown, of Little Pannel, driving a horse and cart, was -attacked by two footpads near Gore Cross Farm. One seized the horse, -while the other gave him two tremendous blows on the head with a -bludgeon, which almost deprived him of his senses. Recovering, he -knocked the fellow down with his fist. Then the two jumped into the cart -and robbed him of ten shillings, running away when he called for help, -and leaving him with his purse containing £14 in notes and gold. - -With this incident the story of highway robbery on Salisbury Plain comes -to an end, and a very good thing too. - - - - -XXXIII - - -[Sidenote: _A DREARY ROAD_] - -If you want to know exactly what kind of a road the Exeter Road is -between Salisbury and Bridport, a distance of twenty-two miles, I think -the sketch facing page 238 will convey the information much better than -words alone. It is just a repetition of those bleak seventeen miles -between Andover and Salisbury--only ‘more so.’ More barren and hillier -than the Andover to Salisbury section, and less romantically wild than -the rugged stretches between Blandford, Dorchester, and Bridport, it is -a weariness to man and beast. Buffeted by the winds which shriek across -the rolling downs, or nipped by the keen airs of these altitudes, -old-time travellers up to London or down to Exeter dreaded the passage, -and prepared themselves, accordingly, at Bridport or at Salisbury, while -exhausted nature was recruited at the several inns which found their -existence abundantly justified in those old times. - -[Illustration: WHERE THE ROBBER FELL DEAD.] - -Passing through West Harnham, a suburb of Salisbury, the road -immediately begins to climb the downs, descending, however, in three -miles to the charming little village of Coombe Bissett, in the -water-meadows of the Wiltshire Avon, which runs prettily beside the -road. An ancient church, old thatched barns standing on stone staddles -whose feet are in the stream, bridges across the water, and the -inevitable downs closing in the view, make one of the rare picturesque -compositions to be found along this dreary stretch of country. - -Make much, wayfarer, of Coombe Bissett. Linger there, soothe your soul -with its rural graces before proceeding; for the road immediately leaves -this valley of the Avon, and the next bend discloses the unfenced -rolling downs, going in a mile-long rise, and so continuing, with a -balance in the matter of gradients against the traveller going -westwards, all the way to Blandford. - -At eight miles from Salisbury is situated the old ‘Woodyates Inn,’ -placed in this lonely situation, far removed from any village, in the -days when the coaching traffic made the custom of travellers worth -obtaining. It was in those days thought that after travelling eight -miles the passengers by coach or post-chaise would want refreshments. It -was a happy and well-founded thought; and if all tales be true, the -prowess of our great-grandfathers as trenchermen left nothing to be -desired--nor anything remaining in the larder when they had done. - -The curious, on the lookout for this old coaching inn, will scarcely -recognise it when seen, for it has - -[Sidenote: _WOODYATES_] - -[Illustration: COOMBE BISSETT.] - -been garnished and painted, and rechristened of late years by the title -of the ‘Shaftesbury Arms.’ But there it is, and portions of it may be -found to date back to the old times. - -It was given the name of ‘Woodyates’ from its position standing at the -entrance to the wooded district of Cranborne Chase; the name meaning -‘Wood-gates.’ It also stands on the border-line dividing the counties of -Wilts and Dorset. - -Bokerley Dyke, a prehistoric boundary consisting of a bank and ditch, -intersects the road as you approach the inn, and goes meandering over -the downs among the gorse and bracken. Built, no doubt, more than -fifteen hundred years ago by savages, solely with the aid of their hands -and pointed sticks, it has outlasted many monuments of costly stones and -marbles, and when civilisation comes to an end some day, like the -blown-out flame of a candle, it will still be there, with the existing, -but more recent, Roman road still beside it. That road goes across the -open country like a causeway, or a slightly raised railway embankment. - -The Dyke may have sheltered the fugitive Duke of Monmouth on his flight -in 1685. The reading of that melancholy story of how the handsome and -gay Duke of Monmouth, a haggard fugitive from Sedgemoor Fight, -accompanied by his friend, Lord Grey, and another, left their wearied -horses near this spot, and, disguising themselves as peasants, set out -for the safe hiding-places of the New Forest, only to fall prisoners to -James’s scouts, paints the road and the downs with an impasto of -tragedy. All the countryside was being searched for him, and watchers -were stationed on the hills, looking down upon this open country where -the movement of a rabbit almost might be noted from afar. So he -doubtless skulked along in the shadow of the Dyke from the shelter of -Cranborne Chase down to Woodlands, where he was caught, under the shadow -of a tree still standing, called Monmouth Ash. - -Scattered all around are the inevitable barrows. The industry of a -byegone generation of antiquaries has explored them all. Pick and shovel -have scattered the ashes and the cinerary urns of the Britons or Saxons -who were buried here, and the only relics likely to be found by any -other ghouls are the discs of lead deposited by Sir Richard Colt Hoare, -or W. Cunnington, with the initials ‘R. C. H. 1815,’ or some such date; -or, ‘Opened by W. Cunnington 1804’ on them. - -George the Third always used to change horses at ‘Woodyates Inn’ when -journeying to or from Weymouth, and the room built for his use on those -occasions is still to be seen, with its outside flight of steps. When -the coaches were taken off the road, the inn became for a time the -training establishment of William Day. - -The road near this old inn is the real scene of the Ingoldsby legend of -the _Dead Drummer_, and not Salisbury Plain, on ‘one of the rises’ where - - An old way-post shewed - Where the Lavington road - Branched off to the left from the one to Devizes. - -[Illustration: THE EXETER ROAD, NEAR ‘WOODYATES INN.’] - -[Sidenote: _A HIGHWAY MURDER_] - -It was on Thursday, 15th June 1786, that two sailors, paid off from -H.M.S. _Sampson_, at Plymouth, and walking up to London, came to this -spot. Their names were Gervase (or Jarvis) Matcham, and John Shepherd. -Near the ‘Woodyates Inn’ they were overtaken by a thunderstorm, in which -Matcham startled his companion by showing extraordinary marks of horror -and distraction, running about, falling on his knees, and imploring -mercy of some invisible enemy. To his companion’s questions he answered -that he saw several strange and dismal spectres, particularly one in the -shape of a female, towards which he advanced, when it instantly sank -into the earth, and a large stone rose up in its place. Other large -stones also rolled upon the ground before him, and came dashing against -his feet. He confessed to Shepherd that, about seven years previously, -he had enlisted as a soldier at Huntingdon, and shortly afterwards was -sent out from that town in company with a drummer-boy, seventeen years -of age, named Jones, son of a sergeant in the regiment, who was in -charge of some money to be paid away. They quarrelled because the lad -refused to return and drink at a public-house on the Great North Road -which they had just passed, four miles from Huntingdon. Matcham knocked -him down, cut his throat, and taking the money (six guineas) made off to -London, leaving the body by the roadside. He now declared that, with -this exception, he had never in his life broken the law, and that, -before the moment of committing this crime, he had not the least design -of injuring the deceased, who had given him no other provocation than -ill-language. But from that hour he had been a stranger to peace of -mind; his crime was always present to his imagination, and existence -seemed at times an insupportable burden. He begged his companion to -deliver him into the hands of Justice in the next town they should -reach. That was Salisbury. He was imprisoned there, brought to trial, -found guilty, and hanged. - -Barham in his legend of the _Dead Drummer_ has taken many liberties with -the facts of the case, both as regards place and names, and makes the -scene of the murderer’s terror identical with the site of the crime, -which he (for purely literary purposes) places on Salisbury Plain, -instead of the Great North Road, between Buckden and Alconbury. - - - - -XXXIV - - -Three more inns were situated beside the road between this point and -Blandford in the old days. Of them, two, the ‘Thorney Down Inn,’ and the -‘Thickthorn Inn’ (romantic and shuddery names!), have disappeared, while -the remaining one,--the ‘Cashmoor Inn’--formerly situated between the -other two, ekes out a much less important existence than of old, as a -wayside ‘public.’ - -Then comes a village--the first one since Coombe Bissett was passed, -fifteen miles behind, and so more than usually welcome. A pretty -village, too, Tarrant Hinton by name, lying in a hollow, with its -little - -[Sidenote: _CRANBORNE CHASE_] - -[Illustration: TARRANT HINTON.] - -street of cottages, along a road running at right angles to the Exeter -highway, with its church tower peeping above the orchards and thick -coppices, and a sparkling stream flowing down from the hillside. In this -and other respects, it bears a striking similarity to Middle and Over -Wallop. - -The quiet, not to say sleepy, Dorsetshire villager who, lounging at the -bend of the road, replies to your query by saying that this is ‘Tarnt -Hinton,’ is the peaceable descendant of very desperate and bloody-minded -men, and the like circumstances that, a mere hundred years ago, rendered -them savages, would do the same by him, were they revived. The peasantry -are what the law and social conditions make them. Oppress the sturdy -rustic and you render him a brutal and resentful rebel, who, having an -unbroken spirit, will give trouble. Treat him fairly, and he will live a -life of quiet industry, tempered by gossipy evenings in the village -‘pub.’; and although he will never rise to be the mincing Strephon -imagined by the eighteenth-century poets of rurality, he will raise -gigantic potatoes, and cultivate flowers for the local Horticultural -Society, and do nothing more tragical in all his life than the sticking -of the domestic porker, or the twisting of a fowl’s neck. - -The civilising of the rustic in these parts dates from the -disfranchising of Cranborne Chase in 1830. The Chase, which took its -name from the town of Cranborne, eight miles distant from this spot, was -originally a vast deer-forest, extending far into Hants, Wilts, and -Dorset. The great western highway entered it at Salisbury and did not -pass out of its bounds until Blandford was reached; while Shaftesbury -to the north, and Wimborne to the south, marked its extent in another -direction. Belonging anciently to great feudal lords or to the -Sovereign, it was Crown property from the time of Edward the Fourth to -the reign of James the First. James delighted in killing the buck here, -but that Royal prig granted the Chase to the Earl of Pembroke, from -whom, shorn of its oppressive laws, it has descended to Lord Rivers; -while the Earl of Shaftesbury also owns great tracts of woodlands here. -But, singularly enough, that part of the Chase which still retains the -wildest and densest aspect lies quite away from Cranborne, and in the -county of Wilts, around Tollard Royal. The nature of the country and the -character of the soil must needs always keep this vast tract wild, and, -in an agricultural sense, unproductive. Game will always abound here in -the thickets, and indeed the weird-looking hill-top plantations, called -by the rustics ‘hats of trees,’ are especially planted as cover, -wherever the country is open and unsheltered. - -[Sidenote: _DEER-STEALERS_] - -The severity of the laws which governed a Chase and punished -deer-stealers was simply barbarous. Cranborne had its courts and Chase -Prison where offenders and deer-stealers were punished by mutilation, -imprisonment, or fine, according to the crime, the status of the -offender, or the comparative state of civilisation of the period in -which the offence was committed. But whether the punishment for stealing -deer was the striking off of a hand, or imprisonment in a noisome -dungeon, or merely being mulcted in a larger or smaller sum, there were -always those who unlawfully killed the buck in these romantic glades. -Sometimes, for the devilment of it, the dashing young blades of the -countryside--sons of the squires and others--would hunt the deer. - -‘From four to twenty assembled in the evening, dressed in cap and jack -and quarter-staff, with dogs and nets. Having set the watchword for the -night and agreed whether they should stand or run if they should meet -the keepers, they proceeded to the Chase, set their nets, and let slip -their dogs to drive the deer into the nets; a man standing at each net, -to strangle the deer as soon as they were entangled. Frequent desperate -and bloody battles took place; the keepers, and sometimes the hunters, -were killed.’ - -Other law-breakers were of a humbler stamp, and ferocious enough to -murder keepers at sight. Thus, in 1738, a keeper named Tollerfield was -murdered on his way home from Fontmell Church; and another at Fernditch, -near ‘Woodyates Inn.’ For the latter crime a man named Wheeler was -convicted, and suffered the extreme penalty of the law; his body being -hanged in chains at the scene of the murder. His friends, however, in -the course of a few nights cut the body down, and threw it into a very -deep well, some distance away. The weight of the irons caused it to -sink, and it was not discovered until long afterwards. - -One of the most exciting of these encounters between the deer-stealers -and the keepers took place on the night of 16th December 1781. Chettle -Common, away at the back of the ‘Cashmoor Inn,’ was the scene of this -battle. The stealers, assembling in disguise at Pimperne, marched up -the road through the night, and headed by a Sergeant of Dragoons, then -quartered at Blandford, poured through the Thickthorn Toll-gate, armed -with weapons called ‘swindgels,’ which appear to have been hinged -cudgels, like flails. It would seem that the object of this expedition -was the bludgeoning of a few keepers, rather than the stealing of deer. -At any rate, the keepers expected them, and armed with sticks and -hangers, awaited the attack. The fight was by no means a contemptible -one, for in the result one keeper was killed and several disabled, while -the stealers were so badly knocked about that the whole expedition -surrendered, together with the Sergeant of Dragoons, who had a hand -sliced off at the wrist by a hanger. The hand was subsequently buried, -with military honours, in Pimperne churchyard. - -Leader and followers alike were committed to Dorchester Gaol, and were -eventually sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude, reduced to a -nominal term, in consideration of the severe wounds from which they were -suffering. One wonders how far mercy, and to what extent the wish not to -be at the expense of medically attending the prisoners, influenced this -decision. As for the Dr. Jameson of this raid, he retired from the -Dragoons on half-pay, and, coming to London, set up shop as a dealer in -game and poultry! - -[Sidenote: _WILTSHIRE MOONRAKERS_] - -Ten years later, a keeper killed a stealer, and another murderous -encounter took place on 7th December 1816 near Tarrant Gunville, at a -gate in the woods which the melodramatic instincts of the peasantry -have named ‘Bloody Shard,’ while the wood itself is known as ‘Blood-way -Coppice.’ - -Cranborne Chase was also at this time a haunt of smugglers, who found -its tangled recesses highly convenient for storing their ‘Free Trade’ -merchandise on its way up from the sea-coast. Whether or not the -original ‘Wiltshire moonrakers’ belonged to the Wilts portion of the -Chase or to some other part of the county, tradition does not say. - -That Wiltshire folk are called ‘moonrakers’ is generally known, and it -is usually supposed that they obtained this name for stupidity, -according to the story which tells how a party of travellers crossing a -bridge in this county observed a number of rustics raking in the stream -in which the great yellow harvest-moon was shining. Asked what they were -doing, the reply was that they were trying to rake ‘that cheese’ out of -the water. The travellers went on their way, laughing at the idiotcy of -the yokels. One tale, however, only holds good until the other is told. -The facts seem to be that the rustics were smugglers who were raking in -the river for the brandy-kegs they had deposited there in the gray of -the morning, and that the ‘travellers’ were really revenue-officers; -those ‘gaugers,’ or ‘preventive men’ who were employed to check the -smuggling which was rife a hundred years ago. It may be thought that the -seaside was the only place where smuggling could be carried on, but a -moment’s reflection will show that the goods had to be conveyed inshore -for inland customers. Smuggling, in fact, was so extensive, and brought -to such a perfection of system that forwarding agents were established -everywhere. Kegs of spirits, being bulky, were hidden for the day in -ponds and watercourses, wherever possible, and removed at night for -another stage towards their destination, being deposited in a similar -hiding-place at the break of day, and so forth until they reached their -consignees. Thus the ‘moonrakers’ by this explanation are acquitted of -being monumental simpletons, at the expense of losing their reputation -in another way. But everyone smuggled, or received or purchased smuggled -goods, in those times, and no one was thought the worse for it. - - - - -XXXV - - -At the distance of a mile up the bye-road from Tarrant Hinton, in -Eastbury Park, still stands in a lonely position the sole remaining wing -of the once-famed Eastbury House, one of those immense palaces which the -flamboyant noblemen and squires of a past era loved to build. Comparable -for size and style with Blenheim and Stowe, and built like them by the -ponderous Vanbrugh, the rise and fall of Eastbury were as dramatic as -the building and destruction of Canons, the seat of the ‘princely -Chandos’ at Edgware. Of Canons, however, no stone remains, while at -Eastbury a wing and colonnade are left, standing sinister, sundered and -riven, the melancholy relics of a once proud but hospitable mansion. - -[Sidenote: _DODINGTON_] - -Eastbury was begun on a scale of princely magnificence by George -Dodington, a former Lord of the Admiralty, who, having presumably made -some fine pickings in that capacity, determined to spend them on -becoming a patron of the Arts and an entertainer of literary men, after -the fashion of an age in which painters were made to fawn upon the -powerful, and poets to sing their praises in the blankest of blank -verse. Every rich person had his henchmen among the followers of the -Muses, and they were petted or scolded, indulged or kept on the chain, -just as the humour of the patron at the moment decreed. Unfortunately, -however, for this eminently eighteenth-century ambition of George -Dodington, he died before he could finish his building. All his worldly -goods went to his grand-nephew, George Bubb, son of his brother’s -daughter, who had married a Weymouth apothecary named Jeremias Bubb. -Already, under the patronage of his uncle, a member of Parliament, and -an influential person, George on coming into this property assumed the -name of Dodington; perhaps also because the obvious nickname of ‘Silly -Bubb’ by which he was known might thereby become obsolete. - -George Bubb Dodington, as he was now known, immediately stopped the -works on his uncle’s palace, and thus the unfinished building remained -gaunt and untenanted from 1720 to 1738. Then, as suddenly as the -building was stopped, work was resumed again. The vast sum of £140,000 -was spent on the completion. Tapestries, gilding, marbles, everything of -the most costly and ornate character was employed, and the grounds which -had been newly laid out eighteen years before, and in the interval -allowed to subside into a wilderness, were set in order again. The -reason of this sudden activity was that Dodington had become infected -with that same ‘Patron’ mania which had caused his uncle to lay the -foundation stones of these marble halls. He was at this period -forty-seven years of age, and in those years had filled many posts in -the Government, and about the rival Whig and Tory Courts of the King and -the Prince of Wales. Scheming and intriguing from one party to the -other, he had always been ambitious of influence, and now that even -greater accumulations of wealth had come to him, he set up as the host -of birth, beauty, and intellect in these Dorsetshire wilds. - -The gossips of the time have left us a picture of the man. Fat, -ostentatious, extravagant, with the love of glitter and colour of a -barbarian, he was yet a wit of repute, and had undoubtedly some -learning. He possessed, besides, a considerable share of shrewdness. If -he lent £5000 to Frederick, Prince of Wales, and never got it back, we -are not to suppose that he ever expected to be repaid. That was, no -doubt, regarded as practically an entrance-fee to the exalted -companionship of a prince of whom it was written, when he came to an -untimely end:-- - - But since it’s Fred who is dead, there’s no more to be said. - -[Sidenote: _A WHIMSICAL FIGURE_] - -That same Fred thought _himself_ the clever man when he remarked -‘Dodington is reckoned clever, but I have borrowed £5000 of him which he -will never see again’; but Dodington doubtless imagined the sum to have -been well laid out; which, indeed, would have been the case had not the -prince died early. Mæcenas was, in fact, working for a title, and this -was then regarded as the ready way to such a goal. They say the same -idea prevails in our own happy times; but that £5000 would not go far -towards the realisation of the object. But, be that as it may, Dodington -did not win to the Peerage as Lord Melcombe until 1761, and as he died -in the succeeding year, his enjoyment of the ermine was short. As, -however, the working towards an object and its anticipation are always -more enjoyable than the attainment of the end, he is perhaps not to be -regarded with pity, or thought a failure. - -One who partook of his hospitality at Eastbury, and did not think the -kindness experienced there a sufficient reason for silence as to his -host’s eccentricities and failings, has given us some entertaining -stories. The State bed of the gross but witty Dodington at Eastbury was -covered with gold and silver embroidery; a gorgeous sight, but closer -inspection revealed the fact that this splendour had been contrived at -the expense of his old coats and breeches, whose finery had been so -clumsily converted that the remains of the pocket-holes were clearly -visible. ‘His vast figure,’ continues this reminiscencing friend, ‘was -always arrayed in gorgeous brocades, and when he paid his court at St. -James’s, he approached to kiss the Queen’s hand, decked in an -embroidered suit of silk, with lilac waistcoat and breeches; the latter -in the act of kneeling down, forgot their duty and broke loose from -their moorings in a very indecorous and uncourtly manner.’ That must -have been a sore blow to the dignity of one who possessed, as we are -told, ‘the courtly and profound devotion of a Spaniard towards women, -with the ease and gaiety of a Frenchman to men.’ - -Rolling down the Exeter Road, from his London mansion, or from his -suburban retreat of ‘La Trappe,’ at Hammersmith, in his gilded, -old-fashioned chariot, he gathered a variety of literary men at what -Young calls ‘Pierian Eastbury.’ Johnson, sick of the Chesterfields and -the whole gang of literary patrons, scornfully refused Dodington’s -proffered friendship; but Fielding, Thomson, Bentley, Cumberland, Young, -Voltaire, and others were not slow to revel in these more or less -Arcadian delights. Christopher Pitt wrote to Young, congratulating him -on his stay here:-- - - Where with your Dodington retired you sit, - Charmed with his flowing Burgundy and wit; - Where a new Eden in the wild is found, - And all the seasons in a spot of ground. - -While Thomson, moved to it by the Burgundy or the more potent punch, has -celebrated palace and park in his _Autumn_. - -[Sidenote: _RUINED EASTBURY_] - -Dodington had either no stomach for fighting, or else was a good fellow -beyond the common run, as the following affair proves. Eastbury marches -with Cranborne Chase, and one day the Ranger found one of Dodington’s -keepers with his dogs in a part of the Chase called Burseystool Walk. -The keeper was warned that if he was found there again, his dogs would -be shot and himself prosecuted; but despite this warning he was found -near the same spot a few days later, when the Ranger, having a gun in -his hand, put his threat into execution and shot the three dogs as they -were drinking in a pool, with their heads close together, in one of the -Ridings. Dodington, in a first outburst of fury, sent a challenge to the -Ranger over this affair, and the Ranger bought a sword and sent a friend -to call on the challenger to fix time and place for the encounter; but -by that time Dodington had thought better of it, and instead of making -arrangements to shed the enemy’s gore, invited both him and his friend -to dinner. They met and had a jovial time together, and the sword -remained unspotted. - -On Dodington’s death his estates passed to Earl Temple, who could not -afford to keep up the vast place. He accordingly offered an income of -£200 a year to anyone who would live at Eastbury and keep it in repair. -No one came forward to accept these terms; and so, after the pictures, -objects of art, and the furniture had been sold, the great house was -pulled down, piecemeal, in 1795, with the exception of this solitary -fragment. - -There is room for much reflection in Eastbury Park to-day, by the -crumbling archway with the two large fir-trees growing between the -joints of its masonry; by the remaining wing, or the foundations of the -rest of the vanished house, which can still be distinctly traced in the -grass during dry summers. The stories of ‘Haunted Eastbury’ and of the -headless coachman and his four-in-hand are dying out, but the panelled -room in which Doggett, Earl Temple’s fraudulent steward, shot himself is -still to be seen. Doggett had embezzled money, and when discovered -found this the only way out of his trouble. - -When the church of Tarrant Gunville, just outside the Park gates, was -rebuilt in 1845 the workmen found his body, the legs tied together with -a yellow silk ribbon which was as bright and fresh as the day it was -tied. - - - - -XXXVI - - -Returning to the road at Tarrant Hinton, a steep hill leads up to the -wild downs again, with a corresponding descent in three miles into the -village of Pimperne whose chief part is situated in the same manner, -along a byeway at a right angle to the coachroad. There is a battered -cross on an open space near the church, and the church itself has been -severely restored. Christopher Pitt was Rector of Pimperne, and it -requires no great stretch of imagination to conjure up a vision of him -pacing the road to Eastbury, and composing laudatory verses on Dodington -and his ‘flowing wit’; rendered, perhaps, the more eloquent by -anticipations of the flow of Burgundy already quoted. He died in 1748, -fourteen long years, alas! before the wine had ceased to flow at that -Pierian spot. - -[Sidenote: _BLANDFORD_] - -From this haunt of the Muses it is two miles to the town of Blandford -Forum, whose name it is sad to be obliged to record is nowadays -shamefully docked to ‘Blandford,’ although the market, whence the -distinctive appellation of ‘Forum’ derived, is still in existence. - -One comes downhill into Blandford, all the way from Pimperne, and it -remains a standing wonder how the old coachmen managed to drive their -top-heavy conveyances through the steep and narrow streets by which the -town is entered from London, without upsetting and throwing the -‘outsides’ through the first-floor windows. - -If the outskirts of Blandford town are of so mediæval a straitness, the -chief streets of it are spacious indeed and lined with houses of a -classic breadth and dignity, as classicism was understood in the days of -George the Second, when the greater part of the town was burnt down and -rebuilt. One needs not to be in love with classic, or debased classic, -architecture to love Blandford. The town is stately, and with a -thoroughly urban air, although its streets are so quiet, clean, and -well-ordered. Civilisation without its usual accompaniments of rush and -crowded pavements would seem to be the rule of Blandford. You can -actually stand in the street and admire the architectural details of its -houses without being run over or hustled off the pavement. In short, -Blandford can be _seen_, and not, like crowded towns, glimpsed with -intermittent and alternate glances at the place and at the traffic, for -fear of jostling or being jostled. - -Who, for instance, really _sees_ London. You can stand in Hyde Park and -see that, or in St. Paul’s and observe all the details of it; but does -anyone ever really _see_ Cheapside, Fleet Street, or the Strand, when -walking? The only way to make acquaintance with these thoroughfares is -to ride on the outside of an omnibus, where it is possible to give an -undivided attention to anything else than the crowds that throng the -pavements. - -The progress of Blandford seems to have been quietly arrested soon after -its rebuilding in 1731, and so it remains typical of that age, without -being actually decayed. So far, indeed, is it from decay that it is a -cheerful and prosperous, though not an increasing, town. Red moulded and -carved brick frontages to the houses prevail here, and dignity is -secured by the tall classic tower of the church, which, although not in -itself entirely admirable, and although the stone of it is of an -unhealthy green tinge, is not unpleasing, placed to advantage closing -the view at one end of the broad market-place, instead of being aligned -with the street. - -Most things in Blandford date back to ‘the fire,’ which forms a -red-letter day in the story of the town. This may well be understood -when it is said that only forty houses were left when the flames had -done their worst, and that fourteen persons were burnt, while others -died from grief, or shock, or injuries received. Blandford has been -several times destroyed by fire. In Camden’s time it was burned down by -accident, but was rebuilt soon after in a handsome and substantial form. -Again in 1677 and in 1713 the place was devastated in the same manner. -The memorable fire of 1731 began at a soap-boiler’s shop in the centre -of the town. - -A pump, placed in a kind of shrine under the - -[Sidenote: _GIBBON_] - -[Illustration: BLANDFORD.] - -churchyard wall, bears an inscription recounting this terrible -happening:-- - - In remembrance - Of God’s dreadful visitation by Fire, - Which broke out the 4th of June, 1731, - and in a few Hours not only reduced the - Church, but almost the whole Town, to Ashes, - Wherein 14 Inhabitants perished, - But also two adjacent Villages; - And - In grateful Acknowledgement of the - Divine Mercy, - That has since raised this Town, - Like the Phœnix from its Ashes, - To its present flourishing and beautiful State; - and to prevent, - By a timely Supply of Water, - (With God’s Blessing) the fatal - Consequences of Fire hereafter: - This Monument - Of that dire Disaster, and Provision - Against the like, is humbly erected - By - John Bastard - A considerable Sharer - In the great Calamity, - 1760. - -Between 1760 and 1762 Gibbon, the historian of the _Decline and Fall of -the Roman Empire_, was constantly in the neighbourhood of Blandford, -camping on the downs which surround the town, and enjoying all the pomp -and circumstance which may have belonged to his position as a Captain of -Hants Militia. - -Of these amateur soldierings he speaks as a ‘wandering life of military -service,’ a very amusing view of what everybody else but that pompous -historian regarded as mere picnics. - -But Gibbon, although his person was not precisely that of an ideal -military commander, and although the awkward squads he accompanied were -not easily comparable with the legions of old Rome, affected to believe -that the military knowledge he thus acquired among the hills and -woodlands of Hants and Dorset was of the greatest use in helping him to -understand the strategic feats of Cæsar and Hannibal in Britain or -across the Alps. Let us smile! - -In after years, when living at Lausanne, amid the eternal hills and -mountains of Switzerland, he looked back upon those days with regret, -alike for the good company of his brother officers, the jovial nights at -the ‘Crown’ in ‘pleasant, hospitable Blandford,’ and for the -interference those happy times caused to his studies; when, -instead of burning the midnight oil, he drank deeply of the -two-o’clock-in-the-morning punch-bowl. - -Many of Blandford’s natives have risen to more than local eminence. -Latest among her distinguished sons is Alfred Stevens, that fine artist -who designed the Wellington Monument in St. Paul’s Cathedral, as yet, -unhappily, incomplete. He came into contact with governments and -red-tape, and broken in spirit and in health by disappointments, died in -1875. A tablet on the wall of his birthplace in Salisbury Street records -the fact that he was born in 1817. - -[Illustration: TOWN BRIDGE, BLANDFORD.] - - - - -XXXVII - - -[Sidenote: _WINTERBORNE WHITCHURCH_] - -Sixteen and a quarter miles of very varied road brought the old coachmen -with steaming horses clattering from Blandford into Dorchester, past the -villages of Winterborne Whitchurch, Milborne St. Andrew, and the village -of Piddletown, which is by no means a town, and never was. - -It is a long, long rise out of Blandford, past tree-shaded Bryanstone -and over the Town Bridge, to the crest of Charlton Downs, a mile out; -where, looking back, the town is seen lying in a wooded hollow almost -surrounded by park-like trees in dense clumps--the woods of Bryanstone. -From this point of vantage it is clearly seen how Blandford is entered -downhill from east or west. - -Very hilly, very open, very white and hot and dusty in summer, and -covered with loose stones and flints after any spell of dry weather, the -road goes hence steeply down into Winterborne Whitchurch, where the -‘bourne,’ from which the place takes the first half of its name, goes -across the road in a hollow, and the church stands, with its -neighbouring parsonage and cottages, in a lane running at right angles -to the high-road, for all the world like Tarrant Hinton and Little -Wallop. John Wesley, the grandfather of the founder of the -‘Wesleyans’--or the ‘Methodys,’ as the country people call -Methodists--was Vicar of Winterborne Whitchurch for a time during the -Commonwealth; but as he seems never to have been regularly ordained, he -was thrown out at the Restoration by ‘malignants’ and began a kind of -John the Baptist life amid the hills and valleys of Dorsetshire, an -exemplar for the imitation of his grandsons in later days. Itineracy and -a sturdy independence thus became a tradition and a duty with the -Wesleys. Thus are sects increased and multiplied, and no more sure way -exists of producing prophets than by the persecution and oppression of -those who, left judiciously alone, would live and die unknown to and -unhonoured by the world. - -Milborne St. Andrew, close upon three miles onward, is placed in another -of these many deep hollows which, with streams running through them, are -so recurrent a feature of the Exeter Road; only the hollow here is a -broader one and better dignified with the title of valley. The stream of -the ‘mill-bourne,’ from which the original mill has long since vanished -(if, indeed, the name of the place is not, more correctly, ‘Melbourne,’ -‘mell’ in Dorsetshire meaning, like the prefix of ‘lew’ in Devon, a warm -and sheltered spot), is a tributary of the river Piddle, which, a few -miles down the road gives name to Piddletown, and along its course to -Aff-Piddle, Piddletrenthide, Piddlehinton, Tolpiddle, and Turner’s -Piddle. - -[Sidenote: _MILBORNE ST. ANDREW_] - -Milborne St. Andrew is a pretty place, and those who know Normandy may -well think it, with its surrounding meads and feathery poplars, like a -village in that old-world French province. Almost midway along the -sixteen and a quarter miles between Blandford and Dorchester, it still -keeps the look of an old coaching and posting village, although the last -coach and the days of road-travel are beyond the recollection of the -oldest inhabitant. Here, in the midst of the village, the street widens -out, where the old ‘White Hart,’ now the Post Office, with a great -effigy of a White Hart, and a number of miniature cannons on the porch -roof, waits for the coaches that come no more, and for the dashing -carriages and post-chaises that were driven away with their drivers and -their gouty red-faced occupants to Hades, long, long ago. Is the ‘White -Hart,’ standing like so many of these old hostelries beside the highway, -waiting successfully for the revival of the roads, and will it live over -the brave old days again with the coming of the Motor Car? - -Meanwhile, given fine weather, there are few pleasanter places to spend -a reminiscent afternoon in than Milborne St. Andrew. - -The old church is up along the hillside, reached with the aid of a -bye-road. Its tower, like that of Winterborne Whitchurch, shows the -curious and rather pleasing local fashion of building followed four -hundred years or so back, consisting of four to six courses of nobbled -flints alternating with a course of ashlar. A stone in the east wall of -the chancel to the memory of William Rice, servant to two of the local -squires here for more than sixty years, ending in 1826, has the curious -particulars:-- - - He superintended the Harriers, and was the first Man who hunted a - Pack of Roebuck Hounds. - -At a point a mile and a half farther used to stand Dewlish turnpike -gate, where the tolls were taken before coming down into Piddletown. - -This large village is the ‘Weatherbury’ of some of Mr. Thomas Hardy’s -Wessex stories, and the Jacobean musicians’ gallery of the fine -unrestored church is vividly reminiscent of many humorous passages -between the village choir in _Under the Greenwood Tree_. An organ stands -there now, but the ‘serpent,’ the ‘clar’net,’ and the fiddles of Mr. -Hardy’s rustic choir would still seem more at home in that place. - -Between this and Dorchester, past that end of Piddletown called ‘Troy -Town,’ is Yellowham--one had almost written ‘Yalbury’--Hill, crowned -with the lovely woodlands described so beautifully under the name of -‘Yalbury Woods’ in that story, and drawn again in the opening scene of -_Far from the Madding Crowd_, where Gabriel Oak, invisible in his leafy -eyrie above the road, perceives Bathsheba’s feminine vanities with the -looking-glass. - -Descending the western side of the hill and passing the broad park-lands -of Kingston, we enter the town of Dorchester along the straight and -level road running through the water-meadows of the river Frome. Until a -few years ago this approach was shaded and rendered beautiful by an -avenue of stately old elms that enclosed the distant picture of the town -as in a frame; but they were cut down by the Duchy of Cornwall -officials, in whose hands much of the surrounding property is placed, -and only the pitiful stumps of them, shorn off close to the ground, -remain to tell of their existence. As Dorchester is approached the road -is seen in the distance becoming a street, and going, as straight as -ever, and with a continuous rise, - -[Sidenote: ‘_CASTERBRIDGE_’] - -[Illustration: THE ‘WHITE HART,’ DORCHESTER.] - -through the town, with the square tower of St. Peter’s and the spiky -clock-tower of the Town Hall cresting the view in High West Street, and -in High East Street the modern Early English spire of All Saints nearer -at hand. The particular one among the many bridges and culverts that -carry the rivulets under the road here, mentioned by the novelist in his -_Mayor of Casterbridge_ as the spot where Henchard, the ruined mayor, -lounged in his aimless idleness, amid the wastrels and ne’er-do-weels of -Casterbridge, is the bridge that finally brings the road into the town, -by the old ‘White Hart Inn.’ It is the inevitable lounging-stock for -Dorchester’s failures, who mostly live near by at Fordington, the east -end of the town, where the ‘Mixen Lane’ of the story, ‘the mildewed leaf -in the sturdy and flourishing Casterbridge plant’ was situated. - -It is a transfigured Dorchester that is painted by the novelist in that -story; or, perhaps more exactly, the Dorchester of fifty years ago. ‘It -is huddled all together; and it is shut in by a square wall of trees, -like a plot of garden-ground by a box-edging,’ is the not very apt -comparison with the tall chestnuts and sycamores of the surviving -avenues. ‘It stood, with regard to the wide fertile land adjoining, -clean-cut and distinct, like a chess-board on a green tablecloth. The -farmer’s boy could sit under his barley-mow and pitch a stone into the -window of the town-clerk; reapers at work among the sheaves nodded to -acquaintances standing on the pavement corner; the red-robed judge, when -he condemned a sheep-stealer, pronounced sentence to the tune of Baa, -that floated in at the window from the remainder of the flock browsing -hard by.’ - -This peculiarity of Dorchester, a four-square clearly-defined _appliqué_ -of town upon a pastoral country, has been gradually disappearing during -many years past, owing to an increase of population that has burst the -ancient bounds imposed by the town being almost completely surrounded by -the Duchy of Cornwall lands. This property, known by the name of -Fordington Field (and not the existence at any time of a ford on the -Frome), gives the eastern end of Dorchester its title. The land, let by -the Duchy in olden times, in quarters or ‘fourthings’ of a carucate, -gave the original name of ‘Fourthington.’ A great deal of this property -has now been sold or leased for building purposes, and so the avenues -that once clearly defined with their ramparts of greenery the bounds of -Dorchester are now of a more urban character. - -[Sidenote: _THE BLOODY ASSIZE_] - -Dorchester shares with Blandford and with Marlborough a solid -architectural character of a sober and responsible kind. As in those -towns, imaginative Gothic gables and quaint mediæval fancies are -somewhat to seek amid the overwhelming proportion of Renaissance, or -neo-classic, or merely Queen Anne and Georgian red-brick or stone -houses. The cause of this may be sought in the recurrent disastrous -fires that on four occasions practically swept the town out of -existence, as in the case of Marlborough and Blandford. The earliest of -these happened in 1613. Over three hundred houses were burnt on that -occasion, and property amounting to nearly a quarter of a million -sterling lost. This insistent scourge of the West of England thatched -houses visited the town again, nine years later, and also in 1725 and -1775. Little wonder, then, that mediæval Dorchester has to be sought for -in nooks and corners. But if like those other unfortunate towns in these -circumstances, it is very different in appearance, the streets being -comparatively narrow and the houses of a more stolid and heavy -character; so that only in sunny weather does Dorchester strike the -stranger as being at all a cheerful place. - - - - -XXXVIII - - -[Illustration: JUDGE JEFFREYS’ CHAIR.] - -All the incidents in Dorchester’s history seem insignificant beside the -tremendous melodrama of the ‘Bloody Assize.’ The stranger has eyes and -ears for little else than the story of that terrible time, and longs to -see the Court where Jeffreys sat, mad with drink and disease, and -sentenced the unhappy prisoners to floggings, slavery, or death. -Unhappily, that historic room has disappeared, but ‘Judge Jeffreys’ -chair’ is still to be seen in the modern Town Hall, and one can approach -in imagination nearer to that awful year of 1685 by gazing at ‘Judge -Jeffreys’ Lodgings,’ still standing in High West Street, over Dawes’ -china shop. - -It must have been with a ferocious satisfaction that Jeffreys arrived -here to open that Assize, for Dorchester had been a ‘malignant’ town and -a thorn in the side of the Royalists forty years before. A kind of wild -retribution was to fall upon it now, not only for the share that this -district of the West had in Monmouth’s Rebellion in this unhappy year, -but for the Puritanism of a bygone generation. - -Jeffreys reached here on 2nd September and the Assize was opened on the -following day, lasting until the 8th. Macaulay has given a most -convincing picture of it:-- - -‘The Court was hung, by order of the Chief Justice, with scarlet; and -this innovation seemed to the multitude to indicate a bloody purpose. It -was also rumoured that when the clergyman, who preached the assize -sermon, enforced the duty of mercy, the ferocious mouth of the Judge was -distorted by an ominous grin. These things made men augur ill of what -was to follow. - -[Sidenote: _GEORGE THE THIRD_] - -‘More than three hundred prisoners were to be tried. The work seemed -heavy; but Jeffreys had a contrivance for making it light. He let it be -understood that the only chance of obtaining pardon or respite was to -plead guilty. Twenty-nine persons who put themselves on their country, -and were convicted, were ordered to be tied up without delay. The -remaining prisoners pleaded guilty by scores. Two hundred and ninety-two -received sentence of death. The whole number hanged in Dorsetshire -amounted to seventy-four.’ - -It is a relief to turn from such things to the less tragical coaching -era. The ‘King’s Arms,’ which was formerly the great coaching hostelry -of Dorchester, still keeps pride of place here, and its capacious -bay-windows of old-fashioned design yet look down upon the chief street. -Instead, however, of the kings and princes and the great ones of the -earth who used to be driven up in fine style in their ‘chariots’ a -hundred years ago, and in place of the weary coach-travellers who used -to alight at the hospitable doors of the ‘King’s Arms,’ the commercial -travellers of to-day are deposited here by the hotel omnibus from the -railway station with little or no remains of that pomp and circumstance -which accompanied arrivals in the olden time. King George the Third was -well acquainted with this capacious house, for his horses were changed -here on his numerous journeys through Dorchester between London, -Windsor, and Weymouth. He kept a commonplace Court in the summer at -Weymouth for many years, and thus made the fortune of that town, while -his son, the Prince of Wales, was similarly making Brighthelmstone -popular. If we are to believe the story of the Duchesse d’Abrantes, -Napoleon had conceived the very theatrical idea of kidnapping the King -on one of these journeys. The exploit was planned for execution in the -wild and lonely country between Dorchester and Weymouth: possibly -beneath the grim shadow of sullen Maumsbury, or of prehistoric Maiden -Castle. The King and his escort were to have been surprised by a party -of secretly-landed French sailors, and his Majesty forthwith hustled on -board an open boat which was then to be rowed across the Channel to -Cherbourg. According to this remarkable statement, the English -coastguards had been heavily bribed to assist in this affair. It was -magnificent, but it was not war--nor even business. As an elaborate -joke, the project has its distinctly humorous aspects, as one vividly -conjures up a picture of ‘Farmer George,’ helplessly sea-sick, leaning -on the gunwale of the row-boat, with the equally unhappy sailors toiling -away at rowing those seventy miles of salt water. Then, too, the thought -of that essentially unromantic King compelled to cut a ridiculous figure -as a kind of modern travesty of the imprisoned Richard Lionheart, raises -a smile. But, although Napoleon, who was not a gentleman, may very -possibly have entertained this rather characteristic notion, he -certainly never attempted to put it into execution, and the road to -Weymouth is by so much the poorer in incident. - -But to return to the ‘King’s Arms,’ which figures in Mr. Thomas Hardy’s -story. Here it was, looking in with the crowd on the street, that Susan -saw her long-lost husband presiding as Mayor at the banquet, the -beginning of all his troubles. - -Although the stranger who has no ties with Dorchester to help paint it -in such glowing colours as those used by that writer, who finds it ‘one -of the cleanest and prettiest towns in the West of England,’ cannot -subscribe to that description, the town is of a supreme interest to the -literary pilgrim, who can identify many spots hallowed by Mr. Hardy’s -genius. - -[Sidenote: _THE ROMAN ROAD_] - -[Illustration: DORCHESTER.] - -There are those in Dorsetshire who bitterly resent the Tony Kytes, the -Car Darches, the Bathshebas, and in especial poor Tess, who flit through -his unconventional pages, and hold that he deprives the Dorset peasant -of his moral character; but if you hold no brief for the natives in -their relation to the Ten Commandments, why, it need matter little or -nothing to you whether his characters are intended as portraitures, or -are evolved wholly from a peculiar imagination. It remains only to say -that they are very real characters to the reader, who can follow their -loves and hatreds, their comedy and tragedy, and can trace their -footsteps with a great deal more personal interest than can be stirred -up over the doings of many historical personages. - - - - -XXXIX - - -The Exeter Road begins to rise immediately on leaving Dorchester. -Leaving the town by a fine avenue of ancient elms stretching for half a -mile, the highway runs, with all the directness characteristic of a -Roman road, on a gradual incline up the bare and open expanse of -Bradford Down, unsheltered as yet by the stripling trees newly planted -as a continuation of the dense avenue just left behind. The first four -miles of road from the town are identical with the Roman _Via Iceniana_, -the Icen Way or Icknield Street; and on the left rises, at the distance -of a mile away, the sombre Roman earthwork of Maiden Castle crowning a -hill forming with the earthen amphitheatre of Poundbury on the right -hand, evidence, if all else in Dorchester were wanting, of the -importance of the place at that remote period. - -At the fourth milestone the Exeter Road leaves that ancient military -way, and, turning sharply to the left, goes down steeply, amid loose -gravel and rain-runnels, to Winterborne Abbas, with an exceedingly -awkward fork to the road to Weymouth on the left hand half-way down. -Bold and striking views of the sullen ridge of Blackdown, with Admiral -Hardy’s pillar on the ridge, are unfolded as one descends. - - - - -XL - - -Winterborne Abbas, one of the twenty-five Winterbornes that plentifully -dot the map of Wilts and Dorset, lies on the level at the bottom of this -treacherous descent: a small village of thatched cottages with a church -too large for it, overhung by fir trees, and a remodelled old coaching -inn, apparently also too large, with its sign swinging picturesquely -from a tree-trunk on the opposite side of the road which, like the -majority of Dorsetshire roads, is rich in loose flints. - -Half a mile beyond the village, a railed enclosure on the strip of grass -on the left-hand side of the road attracts the wayfarer’s notice. This -serves to protect from the attentions of the stone-breaker a group of -eight prehistoric stones called the ‘Broad Stone.’ - -[Sidenote: _THE RUSSELLS_] - -[Illustration: WINTERBORNE ABBAS.] - -The largest is 10 feet long by 5 feet, and 2 feet thick, lying down. A -notice informs all who care to know that this group is constituted by -the owner, according to the Act of Parliament, an ‘Ancient Monument.’ -The cynically-minded might well say that the hundreds of similar -‘ancient monuments’ with which the neighbouring downs are peppered might -also be railed off, to give a welcome fillip to the trade in iron -fencing, and certainly this caretaking of every misshapen stone without -a story is the New Idolatry. - -Just beyond this point is the castellated lodge of the park of -Bridehead, embowered amid trees. The place obtains its name from the -little river Bride or Bredy which rises in the grounds and flows away to -enter the sea at Burton (= ‘Bride-town’) Bradstock, eight miles away; -passing in its course the two other places named from it, Little Bredy -and Long Bredy. - -Now the road rises again, and ascends wild unenclosed downs which -gradually assume a stern, and even mountainous, character. Amid this -panorama, in the deep hollows below these stone-strewn heights, are -gracious wooded dells, doubly beautiful by contrast. In the still and -sheltered nooks of these sequestered spots the primrose blooms early, -and frosts come seldom, while the uplands are covered with snow or swept -with bleak winds that freeze the traveller’s very marrow. One of these -gardens in the wilderness is Kingston Russell, the spot whence the -Russells, now Dukes of Bedford, sprang from obscurity into wealth and -power. Deep down in their retirement, the world (or such small -proportion of it as travelled in those days) passed unobserved, though -not far removed. For generations the Russells had inhabited their old -manor-house here, and might have done so, in undistinguished fashion, -for many years more, had it not been for the chance which brought John -Russell into prominence and preferment in 1502. He was the Founder of -the House and died an Earl, with vast estates, the spoil of the Church, -showered upon him. He was the first of all the Russells to exhibit that -gift of ‘getting on’ which his descendants have almost uniformly -inherited. Unlike him, however, they have rarely commanded affection, -and the Dukes of Bedford, with much reason, figure in the public eye as -paragons of meanness and parsimony. - -[Illustration: KINGSTON RUSSELL.] - -At the cross roads, where on the left the bye-path leads steeply down -the sides of these immemorial hills to Long Bredy, and on the right in -the direction of Maiden Newton, used to stand Long Bredy Gate and the -‘Hut Inn.’ Here the high-road is continued - -[Illustration: CHILCOMBE CHURCH.] - -[Sidenote: _CHILCOMBE_] - -along the very backbone of the ridge, exposed to all the rigours of the -elements. To add to the weird aspect of the scene, barrows and tumuli -are scattered about in profusion. We now come to a turning on the left -hand called ‘Cuckold’s Corner,’ why, no legend survives to tell us. -Steeply this lane leads to the downs that roll away boldly to the sea, -coming in little over a mile to ‘chilly Chilcombe,’ a tiny hamlet with a -correspondingly tiny church tucked away among the great rounded -shoulders of the hills, but not so securely sheltered but that the eager -winds find their way to it and render both name and epithet eminently -descriptive. The population of Chilcombe, according to the latest -census, is twenty-four, and the houses six; and it is, accordingly, -quite in order that the church should be regarded as the smallest in -England. There are many of these ‘smallest churches,’ and the question -as to which really deserves the title is not likely to be determined -until an expedition is fitted out to visit all these rival claimants, -and to accurately measure them. Of course the remaining portions of a -church are not eligible for inclusion in this category. Chilcombe, -however, is a complete example. The hamlet was never, in all -probability, more populous than it is now, and the church certainly was -never larger. Originally Norman, it underwent some alterations in the -late Perpendicular period. The measurements are: nave 22 feet in length, -chancel 13 feet. It is a picturesque though unassuming little building, -without a tower, but provided instead with a quaint old stone bell-cote -on the west gable. This gives the old church the appearance of some -ancient ecclesiastical pigeon-house. The bell within is dated 1656. The -very fine and unusual altar-piece of dark walnut wood, with scenes from -the life of Christ, is credibly reported to have been brought here from -one of the ships of the ‘Invincible Armada,’ known to have been wrecked -on the beach at Burton Bradstock, some three miles away. - -Returning to the highway at ‘Cuckold’s Corner,’ we come to ‘Traveller’s -Rest,’ now a wayside inn on the left hand, situated on the tremendous -descent which commences a mile beyond Long Bredy turnpike, and goes -practically down into Bridport’s long street; a distance of five miles, -with a fall from 702 feet above the sea, to 253 feet at ‘Traveller’s -Rest,’ two miles farther on, and eventually to sea-level at - -[Sidenote: _HILLS ROUND BRIDPORT_] - -[Illustration: ‘TRAVELLER’S REST.’] - -Bridport, with several curves in the road and an intermediate ascent or -two between this point and the town. The cyclist who cares to take his -courage in both hands, and has no desire to linger over perhaps one of -the most magnificent scenic panoramas in England, can coast down this -long stretch with the speed of the wind, and chance the result. But it -is better to loiter here, for none of the great high-roads has anything -like this scenery to show. From away up the road the eye ranges over a -vast stretch of country westwards. South-west lies the Channel, dazzling -like a burnished mirror if you come here at the psychological moment for -this view--that is to say, the late afternoon of a summer’s day; with -the strangely contorted shapes of the hills round about suggesting -volcanic origin, and casting cool shadows far down into the sheltered -coombes that have been baking in the sun all day long. Near at hand is -Shipton Beacon, rising almost immediately beyond ‘Traveller’s Rest,’ and -looking oddly from some points of view like some gigantic ship’s hull -lying keel uppermost. Beyond are Puncknoll and Hammerdon, and away in -the distance, with the Channel sparkling behind it, and the sun making a -halo for its head, overlooking the sea at a height of 615 feet, the -grand crest of Golden Cap, which some hold to be so named from this -circumstance, while others have it that the picturesque title derives -from the yellow gorse that grows on its summit. To the right hand rises -the natural rampart of Eggardon, additionally fortified by art, a -thousand years ago, whether by Briton, Dane, or Saxon, let those -determine who will, with the village of Askerswell lying deep down, -immediately under this ridge on which the road goes, the roof of its -village church tower apparently so near that you could drop a stone -neatly on to its leads. But ‘one trial will suffice,’ as the -advertisements of much-puffed articles say, for the stone goes no nearer -than about a quarter of a mile. - -Very charming, this panorama, on a summer’s day; but how about the -winters’ nights, in the times when the ‘Traveller’s Rest’ was better -named than now; when the coaches halted here, and coachmen, guards, and -passengers alike, half-frozen and breathless from the blusterous heights -of Long Bredy, tumbled out for something warming? For this hillside was -reputed to be the coldest part of the journey between London and Exeter, -and it may be readily enough supposed by all who have seen the spot, -that this was indeed the fact. - - - - -XLI - - -The last mile into Bridport has none of these terrify-descents, -although, to be sure, there are sudden curves in the road which it -behoves the cyclist to take slowly, for they may develop anything in the -way of traffic, from a traction engine to the elephantine advance-guard -of a travelling circus. - -[Sidenote: _BRIDPORT_] - -At Bridport, nine miles from the Devon border, the country already -begins to lose something of the Dorset character, and to look like the -county of junket and clotted cream. As for the town, it is difficult to -say what character it possesses, for its featureless High Street is -redeemed only from tediousness by the belfry of the Town Hall which, -with the fine westward view, including the conical height of Colmer’s -Hill and the high table-land of Eype to the left, serves to compose the -whole into something remotely resembling an effect. - -Bridport is a town which would very much like to be on the sea, but is, -as a matter of fact, situated rather over a mile from it. Just where the -little river Bredy runs out and the sea comes banging furiously in, is a -forlorn concourse of houses sheltering abjectly one behind the other, -called variously Bridport Harbour and West Bay. This is the real port, -but it matters little, or nothing at all, by what name you call the -place; it remains more like a Port Desolation. - -Bridport almost distinguished itself in 1651 by the fugitive Charles the -Second having been nearly captured at the ‘George Inn’ by the Harbour, -an ostler recognising his face, which, it must be conceded, was one that -once seen could scarce have been mistaken when again met with. Charles -was then trying to reach the coast after the disastrous battle of -Worcester, and it is quite certain that if Cromwell’s troopers had laid -their hands on him, there would never have been any Charles the Second -in English history. - -The tragical comedy of the Stuarts throws a glamour over the Exeter Road -to its very end. The fugitive Charles, fleeing before the inquisitive -stare of the ostler, is a striking picture; and so, thirty-four years -later, is the coming of his partly acknowledged son, the Duke of -Monmouth, to upset James the Second. Bridport was seized, and one of -the ‘Monmouth men’ slew Edward Coker, gentleman, of Mappowder, on the -14th of June 1685, as the memorial tablet to that slaughtered worthy in -Bridport parish church duly recounts. For their share in the rebellion, -a round dozen of Bridport men were hanged before the eyes of their -neighbours, ‘stabbed,’ as the ancient slang phrase has it, ‘with a -Bridport dagger.’ The ghastly imagery of this saying derives from the -old-time local manufacture of rope, twine, and string, and the -cultivation of hemp in the surrounding country. Rope-and twine-walks -still remain in the town. - -Leaving Bridport behind, the coach passengers by this route presently -came to its most wildly romantic part; only it is sad to reflect that -the travellers of a hundred years ago had not the slightest appreciation -of this kind of thing. - - Through Bridport’s stony lanes our way we take, - And the proud steep descend to Morcombe’s lake. - -Thus the poet Gay, but he writes from the horseman’s point of view, and -if he had bruised his bones along this road in the lurching Exeter Fly, -his tone would probably have been less breezy. Travellers, indeed, -looked upon hills with loathing, and upon solitude (notwithstanding the -poets of the time) with disgust; therefore it may well be supposed that -when they came to the rugged scenery around Morecomblake, and the next -village Chideock (called locally ‘Chiddick’), they did not enjoy -themselves. - -[Sidenote: _A ROYAL FUGITIVE_] - -Here Stonebarrow Hill and Golden Cap, with many lesser eminences, frown -down upon the steep highway on every side, and render the scenery -nothing less than mountainous, so that strangers in these parts, -overcome with ‘terrour’ and apprehensions of worse to come, wished -themselves safe housed in the roadside inn of Morecomblake, whose -hospitable sign gave, and still gives, promise of good entertainment. - -[Illustration: CHIDEOCK.] - -The run down into Charmouth from this point is a breakneck one. At this -remote seaside place, in that same year, 1651, Charles the Second had -another narrow escape. Travelling in bye-ways from the disastrous field -of Worcester on horseback, with his staunch friends, Lord Wilmot and -Colonel Wyndham, arrangements had been made with the master of a trading -vessel hailing from Lyme, to put in at Charmouth with a boat in the -stillness of the night. But they had reckoned without taking into -account either the simplicity of the sailor, or the inquisitiveness of -his wife, who wormed the secret out of him, of his being engaged in this -mysterious affair with a party of strangers. All the country was ringing -with the escape of Charles from Worcester and the hue and cry after him, -and the woman rightly guessed whom these people might be. She -effectually prevented her husband from putting in an appearance by the -threat that if he made any such attempt she would inform the magistrate. - -[Illustration: SIGN OF THE ‘SHIP,’ MORECOMBLAKE.] - -Wearied with watching for the promised boat, the King’s companions -reluctantly had to make Charmouth the resting-place of the party for the -night. In the morning it was found that the King’s horse had cast a -shoe. When it was taken to the blacksmith, that worthy remarked the -quaint circumstance that the three others had been replaced in three -different counties, and one of these three in Worcestershire. - -[Sidenote: _ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS_] - -When Charles heard that awkward discovery he was off in haste, for if a -rural blacksmith was clever enough to discover so much, it was quite -possible that he might apply his knowledge in a very embarrassing -manner. - -The little band had not hurried away a moment too soon, for the ostler -of the inn (what Sherlock Holmes’s all these Dorsetshire folks were, to -be sure!) who had already arrived independently at the conclusion that -this was King Charles, had in the meanwhile gone to the Rev. Bartholomew -Wesley, a local Roundhead divine, and told him his thoughts. Thence to -the inn, where legends tell us the landlady gave Mr. Wesley a fine -full-flavoured piece of her mind, and so eventually to the ears of a -captain of horse, this wondrous news spread. Horsemen scoured the -country; clergyman returned home to think over the loyal landlady’s -abuse; ostler, probably dismissed, had leisure to curse his -officiousness; while King and companions were off, whip and spur, to -Bridport, whence, after that alarming recognition at the Harbour, to -Broadwinsor. - -[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE ‘QUEEN’S ARMS,’ CHARMOUTH.] - -This historic Charmouth inn is still existing. The ‘Anchor,’ as it is -now known, was for many years the ‘Queen’s Arms,’ but although the sign -has thus been altered and half of the building partitioned off as a -separate house, the interior remains very much the same as it was then, -and the original rough, stone-flagged passages, dark panelling, and -deep-embrasured windows add a convincing touch to the story of the -King’s flight through England with a price on his head. - -For the rest, Charmouth, which stands where the tiny river Char empties -itself into the sea, consists of one long street of mutually -antagonistic houses, of all shapes, sizes, and materials, and is the -very exemplar of a fishing village turned into an inchoate seaside -resort. But a sunny, sheltered, and pleasing spot. - -On leaving Charmouth, the road begins to ascend again, and leaves -Dorsetshire for Devon through a tunnel cut in the hillside, called the -‘New Passage,’ coming in four miles to ‘Hunter’s Lodge Inn,’ -picturesquely set amid a forest of pine trees. From this point it is two -and a half miles on to Axminster, a town which still gives a name to a -particular make of carpets, although since 1835 the local factories have -been closed and the industry transferred to Wilton, in Wiltshire. It was -in 1755 that the industry was started here. - -[Sidenote: _SHUTE HILL_] - -There is one fine old coaching inn, the ‘George,’ at Axminster, with -huge rambling stables and interminable corridors, in which one ought to -meet the ghosts of departed travellers on the Exeter Road. But they are -shy. There should, in fact, be many ghosts in this old town of many -memories; and so there are, to that clairvoyant optic, the ‘mind’s eye.’ -But they refuse to materialise to the physical organ, and it is only to -a vivid imagination that the streets are repeopled with the excited -peasantry who, in that fatal summer of 1685, flocked to the standard of -the Duke of Monmouth, whom ‘the Lord raised vp’ as the still existing -manuscript narrative of an Axminster dissenting minister says, to -champion the Protestant religion--with what results we already know. - -Pleasant meadow-lands lead by flat and shaded roads from Axminster by -the river Axe to Axmouth, Seaton, and the sea, but our way continues -inland. - - - - -XLII - - -There are steep ups and downs on the nine miles and a half between -Axminster, the byegone home of carpets, and Honiton, once the seat of -the lace industry, where all routes from London to Exeter meet. ‘Honiton -lace’ is made now in the surrounding villages, but not in the town -itself. - -The first hill is soon met with, on passing over the river Yart. This is -Shute Hill, where the coaches generally were upset, if either the -coachman or the horses were at all ‘fresh.’ Then it is a long run down -to Kilmington, where the travellers, having recovered their hearts from -their boots or their throats, according to their temperaments, and found -their breath, promptly cursed those coachmen and threatened them with -all manner of pains and penalties for reckless driving. Thence, by way -of Wilmington, to Honiton. - -A quarter of a mile before reaching that town the traveller comes upon a -singular debased Gothic toll-house. If he walks or cycles he may pass -freely, but all carts and cattle have still to pay toll. This queer -survival is known as King’s Road Gate, or by the more popular name of -‘Copper Castle,’ from its once having a peaked copper roof above its -carpenter-gothic battlements. - -[Illustration: ‘COPPER CASTLE.’] - -[Sidenote: _THE LAST COACH_] - -Honiton, whose name is locally ‘Honeyton,’ is a singularly uninteresting -town, with its mother-parish church half a mile away from the one broad -street that forms practically the whole of the place. Clean, quiet, and -neither very old nor very new, so far as outward appearance goes, -Honiton must be of a positively deadly dulness to the tourist on a rainy -day; when to go out of doors is to get wet, and to remain in, thrown on -the slender resources for amusement afforded by the local papers and the -ten-years-old county directory in the hotel coffee-room, is a -weariness. - -Once a year, during Honiton Great Fair, this long, empty street is not -too wide; but all the year round, and every year, the broad highway -hence on to Exeter is a world too spacious for its shrunken traffic. -Broad selvedges of grass encroach as slyly as a land-grabbing, enclosing -country gentleman upon this generous width of macadamised surface, and -are allowed their will of all but a narrow strip sufficient for the -present needs of the traffic. It is fifty-five years since the Great -Western Railway was opened through to Exeter, and during that more than -half a century these long reaches of the road have been deserted. Do -belated cyclists, wheeling on moonlit nights along this tree-shaded -road, ever conjure up a picture of the last mail down; the farewells at -the inns, the cottagers standing at their doors, or leaning out of their -windows, to see the visible passing away of an epoch; the flashing of -the lamps past the hedgerows, and the last faint echoes of the horn -sounding in melancholy fashion a mile away? If they do not, why then -they must be sadly lacking in imagination, or ill-read in the Story of -the Roads. - -Where the roads branch in puzzling fashion, four and a half miles from -Honiton, and all ways seem to lead to Exeter, there stands on the grassy -plot at the fork a roadside monument to a missionary bishop, Dr. -Patteson, who, born 1st April 1827, met martyrdom, together with two -other workers in the missionfield, in New Zealand, in 1871. He was the -eldest son of Sir John Patteson, of Feniton Court, near by, hence the -placing of this brick and stone column here, surmounted by a cross, and -plentifully inscribed with texts. The story of his and his friends’ -death is set forth as having been ‘in vengeance for wrongs suffered at -the hands of Europeans by savage men whom he loved and for whose sake he -gave up home and country and friends dearer than his life.’ - -This memorial also serves the turn of finger-post, for directions are -carved on its four sides; and very necessary too, for where two roads go -to Exeter, the one by Ottery St. Mary some two miles longer than the -other, the passing rustic is not wholly to be depended upon for clear -and concise information. Cobbett in his day found that exasperating -direction of the rustics to the inquiring wayfarer, to ‘keep straight -on,’ just as great a delusion as the tourist now discovers it to be. The -formula, according to him, was a little different in his time, being -‘keep _right_ on.’ - -‘Aye,’ says he, ‘but in ten minutes, perhaps, you come to a [Y] or a -[T], or to a [X]. A fellow once told me, in my way from Chertsey to -Guildford, “keep _right on_, you can’t miss your way.” I was in the -perpendicular part of the [T], and the top part was only a few yards -from me. “_Right on_,” said I, “what, over _that bank_ into the -wheat?”--“No, no,” said he, “I mean _that road_, to be sure,” pointing -to the road that went off to the _left_.’ - -Here a branch of the river Otter crosses the road in the wooded dell of -Fenny Bridges, and in the course of another mile, on the banks of -another stream, stands the ‘Fair Mile Inn,’ the last stage into - -[Sidenote: _EXETER_] - -[Illustration: ‘THE LONG REACHES OF THE EXETER ROAD.’] - -Exeter in coaching times. Lonely the road remains, passing the scattered -cottages of Rockbeare, and the depressing outlying houses of Honiton -Clyst, situated on the little river Clyst, with the first of the -characteristic old red sandstone church-towers of the South Devon -looking down upon the road from the midst of embowering foliage. Then -the squalid east end of Exeter and the long street of Heavitree, where -Exeter burnt her martyrs, come into view, and there, away in front, with -its skyline of towers and spires, is Exeter, displayed in profile for -the admiration of all who have journeyed these many miles to where she -sits in regal grandeur upon her hill that descends until its feet are -bathed in the waters of her godmother, the Exe. Her streets are steep -and her site dignified, although it is partly the level range of the -surrounding country, rather than an intrinsic height, which confers that -look of majesty which all travellers have noticed. The ancient city -rises impressive in contrast with the water-meadows, rather than by -reason of actual measurement. Wayfarers approaching from any direction -brace themselves and draw deep breaths preparatory to scaling the -streets, which, at a distance, assume abrupt vistas. Villas, with -spacious gardens, and snug, prebendal-looking houses, eloquent of a -thousand a year and cellars full of old port, clothe the lower slopes of -this rising ground, to give place, by degrees, to streets which, as the -traveller advances, grow narrower and more crooked, their lines of -houses becoming ever older, more picturesque, and loftier as they near -the heart of the city. Modernity inhabits the environs, antiquity is -seated, impressive, in the centre, where, on a plateau, closely hemmed -in from the bustling, secular life of the streets, rises the sombre mass -of the cathedral, the pride of this western land. - - - - -XLIII - - -Exeter is called by those who know her best and love her most the ‘Queen -City of the West.’ To historians she is perhaps better epithetically -remembranced as the ‘Ever Faithful,’ loyal and staunch through the good -fortune or adversity of the causes for which she has, with closed and -guarded gates, held fast the Key of the West. She has suffered much at -different periods of her history for this loyalty; from the time when, -declaring against the usurpation of Stephen, her citizens fought and -starved within the walls; through the centuries to the time of Perkin -Warbeck, the impostor, and so on to the Civil War between King and -Parliament, when the citizens were more loyal than their rulers and were -disarmed and kept under surveillance until the Royalists came and took -the place, themselves to be dispossessed a few years later. - -[Sidenote: _THE KEY OF THE WEST_] - -Loyalty, tried for so many centuries at so great a cost, broke down -finally in 1688, and the city gates were opened to the Prince of Orange. -Had James been less of a bigot, and had his hell-hounds, Jeffreys and -Kirke, been animated with less zeal, who knows what these Devonshire men -would have done? Possibly it may be said that William’s fleet would, -under such circumstances, never have found its way into Tor Bay, nor -that historic landing have been consummated at Brixham. True enough; but -granting the landing, the proclamation at Newton Abbot, and the advance -to the gates of Exeter, how then if James had been less of the stubborn -oak and more of the complaisant willow? Can it be supposed that they -would have welcomed this frigid, hawk-nosed foreigner of the cold eye -and silent tongue? And if the Dutchman and his mynheers had been -ill-received at Exeter, what then? Take the map and study it for answer. -You will see that the ‘Ever Faithful’ stands at the Gates of the West. -The traveller always has had to enter these portals if he would go in -either direction, and the more imperative was this necessity to those -coming from West to East. Even now the traveller by railway passes -through Exeter to reach further Devon and Cornwall, equally with him who -fares the high-road. - -What chance, then, of success would a foreign expedition command were -its progress barred at this point? Less mobile than a single traveller, -or party of mere travellers, it could not well evade the struggle for a -passage by taking another route. William and his following might, in -such an event, have at great risk forced the passage of the treacherous -Exe estuary, but even supposing that feat achieved, there is difficult -country beyond, before the road to London is reached. To the northwards -of his march from Brixham lies Dartmoor and its outlying hills, and let -those who have explored those inhospitable wastes weigh the chances of -a force marching through the hostile countryside in the depth of winter -to outflank Exeter. - -But all hope for James’s cause was gone, and although the spirits of the -ambitious William sank when, on entering the streets of Exeter, he was -only received with a chilly curiosity, he was not to know--for how could -that most stony of champions read into the hearts of these people?--that -their generous enthusiasm for faith and freedom was quite crushed out of -existence by the bloody work of three years before, when the peasantry -saw with horror the progress of the fiendish Jeffreys marked by a line -of gibbets; when they could not fare forth upon the highways and byeways -without presently arriving at some Golgotha rubricated with the -dishonoured remains of one or other of their fellows; and when many a -cottage had its empty chair, the occupants dead or sold into a slavery -worse than death. - -The people received William with a well-simulated lack of interest, -because they knew what would be their portion were he defeated and James -again triumphant. They could not have cherished any personal affection -for the Prince of Orange, but can only, at the best of it, have had an -impersonal regard for him as a champion of their liberties; and of -helping such champions they had already acquired a bitter surfeit. Thus -it was that the back of loyalty was broken, and Exeter, for once in her -story, belied her motto, _Semper Fidelis_, the gift of Queen Elizabeth. - -[Sidenote: _THE CITY SWORD-BEARER_] - -The gifts that loyalty has brought Exeter may soon be enumerated, for -they comprise just a number of charters conferred by a long line of -sovereigns; an Elizabethan motto; a portrait of his sister, presented by -Charles the Second; a Sword of Honour, and an old hat, the gifts of -Henry the Seventh in recognition of Exeter’s stand against Perkin -Warbeck in 1497. Against these parchments, this picture, and the -miscellaneous items of motto, sword, and old hat, there are centuries of -lighting and of spoliation on account of loyalty to be named. It seems a -very one-sided affair, even though the old hat be a Cap of Maintenance -and heraldically notable. Among the maces and the loving-cups, and all -the civic regalia of Exeter, these objects are yet to be seen. Old -headgear will wear out, and so the Cap, in its present form, dates back -only to the time of James the First. It is by no means a gossamer, -weighing, as it does, seven pounds. As may be seen by the accompanying -illustration, it is a broad-brimmer of the most pronounced type. - -The crown fixed upon the point of the sword-sheath belongs to the same -period, while a guinea of the same reign may be seen let into the metal -of the pommel. On occasions of State, at Exeter, this sword is carried -before the Mayor and Corporation by their official Sword-Bearer. - -[Illustration: THE EXETER CITY SWORD-BEARER.] - -The dignified effect of the affair, however, is generally spoiled by -the commonplace black kid gloves worn by him, and by his everyday -clothes visible under the official robes, which can be seen in the -illustration. - -Of late the Cap has been replaced by one built on the lines of those -worn by the Yeomen of the Guard in the Tower of London, the old Cap -being thought too historical to be any longer exposed to the danger of -being worn, while possibly some feelings of humanity towards the -Sword-Bearer may have dictated the replacing of the seven-pound hat by -something lighter. It is now preserved in the Guildhall, where it may be -seen by curious visitors. - - - - -XLIV - - -It is a relief to turn from the thronging streets to the absolute quiet -of the cathedral precincts, shaded by tall elms and green with trim -lawns. - -Externally, the cathedral is of the grimiest and sootiest aspect--black -as your hat, but comely. Not even the blackest corners of St. Paul’s -Cathedral, in London, show a deeper hue than the west front of St. -Peter’s, at Exeter. The battered, time-worn array of effigies of saints, -kings, crusaders, and bishops that range along the screen in mutilated -array under Bishop Grandison’s great west window are black, too, and so -are the gargoyles that leer with stony grimaces down upon you from the -ridges and string-courses of the transepts, where they lurk in an -enduring crepuscule. - -[Sidenote: _A COACHING STRONGHOLD_] - -The sonorous note of Great Peter, the great bell of the cathedral, -sounding from the south transept tower is in admirable keeping with the -black-browed gravity of the close, and keeps the gaiety of the -surrounding hotels within the limits of a canonical sobriety. - -Elsewhere are ancient hostelries innumerable, with yawning archways -under which the coaches entered in the byegone days. The ‘Elephant,’ the -‘Mermaid,’ and the ‘Half Moon’ are the chief among these, and have the -true Pickwickian air, which is the outstanding note of all inns of the -Augustan age of coaching. It must have been worth the journey to be so -worthily housed at the end of the alarums and excursions which more or -less cheerfully enlivened the way. - -Exeter and the far West of England were the last strongholds of the -coaching interest. The Great Western Railway was opened to Exeter on 1st -May 1844, and up to that time over seventy coaches left that city daily -for London and the cross-country routes. Nor did coaching languish -towards the close. On the contrary, it died game, and, until finally -extinguished by the opening of the railway, coaching on the old road -between London and Exeter was a matter of the utmost science and the -best speed ever attained by the aid of four horses on a turnpike road. -Charles Ward, the best-known driver of the old ‘Telegraph’ Exeter coach, -driven from his old route, retreated westwards and took the road between -Exeter and Devonport, retiring into Cornwall when the railway was opened -to Plymouth on 1st May 1848; but not before he had brought the time of -the ‘Telegraph’ between London and Exeter down to fifteen hours. - -The ‘Half Moon’ is the inn from which the ‘Telegraph’ started at 6.30 in -the morning, breakfasting at Ilminster, dining at Andover, and stopping -for no other meal, reaching Hyde Park Corner at 9.30 P.M. It was kept in -1777 by a landlord named Hemming, who had a very good understanding with -the highwaymen Boulter and Caldwell, and doubtless with many another. -There is a record of those two knights of the road being here, one of -them with a stolen horse, when a Mr. Harding, of Bristol, being in the -yard, recognised it. ‘Why, Mr. Hemming,’ said he, ‘that is the very mare -my father-in-law, Mr. James, lost a few months ago; how came she here?’ -To which the landlord replied, ‘She has been my own mare these twelve -months, and how should she be your father-in-law’s?’ - -‘Well,’ replied Harding, ‘if I had seen her in any other hands, or met -her on the road, I could have sworn to her.’ Boulter and Caldwell were -at that moment in the house at dinner, so the landlord took the first -opportunity of warning them. - -For the rest, Exeter is still picturesque. It possesses many quaint and -interesting churches, placed in the strangest positions; while that of -St. Mary Steps has a queer old clock with grotesque figures that strike -the hours and chime the quarters. The seated figure is intended to -represent Henry the Eighth, and those on either side of him men-at-arms, -but the local people have a rhyming legend which - -[Sidenote: _EXETER CASTLE_] - -[Illustration: EXETER, FROM THE DUNSFORD ROAD.] - -would have it that the King is a certain ‘Matty the Miller’:-- - - The people around would not believe - That Matty the Miller was dead; - For every hour on Westgate tower, - Matty still nods his head. - -And, in fact, the King kicks his heels against the bell and nods with -every stroke. The Jacobean Guildhall of Exeter, too, is among the most -striking relics of this old-world city; while away from the High Street, -but near the continual clashing of a great railway station, there stand -the remains of Exeter Castle, the appropriately named Rougemont, that -cruel Blunderbore, drunken in the long ago with the blood of many a -gallant gentleman. At the end of a long line of those who suffered were -Colonel John Penruddocke and Hugh Grove, captured at South Molton after -that ineffectual Salisbury rising. Executed in the Castle Yard, in the -very heart of this loyal city of Exeter, many a heart must have ached on -that fatal morning for these unhappy men. ‘This, I hope,’ said -Penruddocke, ascending the scaffold, ‘will prove like Jacob’s Ladder; -though the feet of it rest upon the earth, yet I doubt not but the top -of it reaches to Heaven. The crime for which I am now to die is Loyalty, -in this age called High Treason.’ - -[Illustration: ‘MATTY THE MILLER.’] - -They knew both how to fight and how to die, those dauntless Cavaliers. -The Earl of Derby, who suffered at Bolton, Sir Charles Lucas and Sir -George Lisle, barbarously shot at the taking of Colchester; gray-haired -Sir Nicholas Kemys at Chepstow, and many another died as valiantly as -their master-- - - Who nothing little did, nor mean, - But bowed his shapely head - Down, as upon a bed. - -It is away through the city and across the Exe, to where the road rises -in the direction of Dartmoor, that one of the finest views back upon the -streets and the cathedral is obtained. Exeter from the Dunsford road, -glimpsed by the ancient and decrepit elm pictured here, is worth seeing -and the view itself is worth preserving, for elm and old-world -foreground, with the inevitable changes which the growth of Exeter is -bringing about, will not long remain. Like many another relic of a past -era along this old highway, they are vanishing even while the busy -chronicler of byegone days is hastening to record them. - -[Illustration: THE END] - - - - -INDEX - - -Abbot’s Ann, 153 - -Alderbury, 183 - -Amesbury, 1, 2, 8, 12, 154, 195, 209 - -Andover, 1, 94, 123, 132-145, 217, 219 - -Ashe, 124 - -Automobile Club, 212 - -Axminster, 2, 9, 296 - - -Bagshot, 3, 18, 69, 89, 96-98, 103 - -Bagshot Heath, 95-98 - -Basing House, siege of, 114-120, 123 - -Basing, Old, 113, 122 - -Basingstoke, 101, 113, 122 - -Bedfont, East, 78-80 - -Bedford Park, 92 - -Blackwater, 100, 101 - -Blandford, 2, 7, 9, 12, 242-216, 256-265 - -‘Bloody Assize,’ 273-275 - -Bokerley Dyke, 237 - -Bredy, Little, 283 - -Bredy, Long, 283, 284, 286, 289 - -Brentford, 16, 33, 34, 53, 56-63, 92, 93 - -Bridehead, 283 - -Bridport, 2, 94, 220, 280, 290-292, 295 - -‘Broad Stone,’ the, 280 - -Bryanstone, 265 - - -Camberley, 99, 101 - -Cambridge Town, 99, 101 - -Charlton Downs, 265 - -Charmouth, 293-296 - -Chettle Common, 247 - -Chideock, 292 - -Chilcombe, 285 - -Chiswick High Road, 92 - -Clerken Green, 124 - -Coaches-- - ‘Celerity,’ 12, 195 - ‘Comet,’ 15, 18, 25 - ‘Defiance,’ 12, 105, 195 - Devonport Mail (_see_ ‘Quicksilver’) - ‘Diligence,’ 186 - ‘Exeter Fly,’ 2, 9, 15, 292 - ‘Express,’ 91 - ‘Fly Vans,’ 10, 106 - ‘Herald,’ 12 - ‘Old Times,’ 91 - ‘Pilot,’ 12 - ‘Post Coach,’ 186 - ‘Prince George,’ 12 - ‘Quicksilver,’ 3, 8, 11, 12, 22, 25, 27, 30, 33 - ‘Regulator,’ 8, 12, 21, 25, 105 - ‘Royal Mail,’ 8, 9, 11, 32, 69, 162-165, 186 - Short Stages, 33 - ‘Sovereign,’ 8, 12 - Stage Waggons, 11, 106 - ‘Subscription,’ 12, 195 - ‘Telegraph,’ 2, 3, 8, 10, 11, 30, 33, 69, 195, 309, 310 - ‘Traveller,’ 12 - -Coaching, 2, 7-31, 62, 69, 81, 91, 102-108, 127, 141, - 157, 162-165, 184-188, 195, 309 - -Coaching Notabilities-- - Mountain, Mrs., 29 - Nelson, Mrs., 2 - ‘Nimrod,’ 12 - Nobbs, Moses James, 31 - Ward, Charles, 69, 309 - -Coombe Bissett, 234, 242 - -Cranborne Chase, 237, 238, 245-250, 254 - -Cuckold’s Corner, 285, 286 - - -_Dead Drummer_, the, 238-242 - -Deane, 124 - -Deer-stealers, 246-248 - -Dickens, Charles, 184-186, 212-215 - -Dodington, George Bubb, 250-255 - -Dorchester, 2, 12, 94, 95, 227, 268-279 - - -Eastbury Park, 250-256 - -Egham, 86, 89-91, 94 - -Exeter, 2, 3, 4, 6, 10, 11, 30, 31, 33, 93, 94, 95, 303-314 - - -Fares, 11, 22, 28, 106 - -Feltham Industrial School, 77 - -Fenny Bridges, 300 - -Fordington, 271, 272 - -Freefolk, 126 - - -Gay, John, 59, 85, 292 - -Gibbon, Edward, 261 - -Great Western Railway, 31, 299, 309 - -Gunnersbury, 92, 93 - - -Hammersmith, 56, 89, 254 - -Hardy, Thomas, 155, 166, 268, 276 - -Hartford Bridge, 21, 22, 102-110 - -Hartford Bridge Flats, 22, 101 - -Hartley Row, 100, 101, 221, 222 - -Hatton, 73 - -Hazlitt, William, 73, 157-162, 186 - -Highwaymen, 70, 74, 98, 187, 215-232 - Biss, 216, 310 - Blagden, Isaac, 217 - Boulter, Thomas, 217 - Boulter, Thomas, junr., 218-228, 310 - Caldwell, James, 223-228, 310 - Davis, William, 98, 216 - Du Vail, Claude, 70, 99 - ‘Golden Farmer,’ the (_see_ Davis, William) - Peare, William, 228 - Turpin, Richard, 70 - Whitney, Capt. James, 216 - -Highwaywoman (Mary Sandall), 228 - -Holloway College, 90 - -Honiton, 1, 2, 95, 297-299 - -Hook, 101, 110 - -Hounslow, 16, 17, 32, 65, 69, 92 - -Hounslow Heath, 69-71, 75-78 - -Hurstbourne Priors, 125, 131 - -Hurstbourne Tarrant, 132 - -Hyde Park Corner, 1, 16, 33, 38, 40, 62 - - -Inns (mentioned at length)-- - ‘Anchor,’ Charmouth, 295 - ‘Bell,’ Hounslow, 65 - ‘Bells of Ouseley,’ Old Windsor, 87-89 - ‘Black Dog,’ East Bedfont, 79 - ‘Bull,’ Aldgate, 2 - ‘Bull and Mouth,’ St. Martin-le-Grand, 12 - ‘Cashmoor,’ 242, 247 - ‘Deptford,’ Wilton, 13 - ‘Elephant,’ Exeter, 309 - ‘Fair Mile,’ 300 - ‘George,’ Andover, 136, 142-145 - ‘George,’ Axminster, 296 - ‘Gloucester Coffee House,’ Piccadilly, 34, 38 - ‘Goose and Gridiron,’ St. Paul’s Churchyard, 37 - ‘Green Dragon,’ Alderbury, 183 - ‘Green Man,’ Hatton, 74 - ‘Half Moon,’ Exeter, 2, 310 - ‘Hotel Victoria,’ Northumberland Avenue, 91 - ‘Jolly Farmer,’ Bagshot, 99 - ‘King’s Arms,’ Bagshot, 97, 98 - ‘King’s Arms,’ Dorchester, 275, 276 - ‘Mermaid,’ Exeter, 310 - ‘New London,’ Exeter, 8, 12 - ‘Old White Hart,’ Hook, 110 - ‘Park House,’ Amesbury, 1, 195 - ‘Queen’s Arms,’ Charmouth, 295 - ‘Ship,’ Morecomblake, 294 - ‘Swan-with-Two-Necks,’ Lad Lane, 8, 11, 12, 62 - ‘Thickthorn,’ 242 - ‘Thorney Down,’ 242 - ‘Traveller’s Rest, 286-289, 290 - ‘Wheatsheaf,’ Virginia Water, 91 - ‘White Bear,’ Piccadilly, 26 - ‘White Hart,’ Hook, 110 - ‘White Hart,’ Milborne St. Andrew, 267 - ‘White Hart,’ Whitchurch, 127, 123 - ‘White Horse Cellars,’ Piccadilly, 26 - ‘Winterslow Hut,’ 110, 156-165, 186, 218, 223 - ‘Woodyates,’ 94, 234-241, 247 - - -Jeffreys, Judge, 273 - - -Kensington, 53-56, 89 - -Kilmington, 297 - -Kingston Russell, 283 - -Knightsbridge, 48 - - -Laverstoke, 125 - -Lioness attacks Mail, 162-165 - -Little Ann, 153 - -Little Bredy, 283, 289 - -Little Wallop, 155, 265 - -Lobcombe Corner, 156 - -Long Bredy, 283, 284 - - -M’Adam, John Loudon, 17, 29 - -Mail coaches established, 9 - -Mapledurwell Hatch, 113 - -Market-gardens, 73-76 - -_Martin Chuzzlewit_, 183-186 - -Matcham, Jarvis, 241 - -_Mayor of Casterbridge_, 146, 155, 271, 276 - -Middle Wallop, 155 - -Milborne St. Andrew, 266 - -Monmouth’s Rebellion, 237, 273, 291, 297 - -Morecomblake, 95, 292-294 - -Mullen’s Pond, 1, 195 - - -Nately Scures, 110 - -Nether Wallop, 154-156 - -New Sarum, 167, 170 - - -Oakley, 124 - -Old Basing, 113, 122 - -Old Sarum, 94, 167-170, 191 - -Old Windsor, 87 - -Old-time travellers-- - Charles II., 291, 293-296 - Cobbett, Richard, 75, 89, 90-101, 109, 110, 125, 142-145, 192, 300 - Conyngham, Lord Albert, 140 - George III., 238, 275 - Knighton, Sir William, 10, 187 - Monmouth, Duke of, 237, 291, 297 - Newman, Cardinal, 127 - Payne, George, 141 - Pepys, Samuel, 187, 19 - Taylor, John (the ‘Water Poet’), 80 - Trollope, Thomas Adolphus, 26-30 - -Omnibuses, 34, 40 - -Overton, 124, 125 - -Over Wallop, 154-156 - - -Patteson, Dr., 299 - -Piccadilly, 2 - -Piddletown, 265, 267 - -Pimperne, 248, 256 - -Police, the, 51 - - -Roman Roads, 8, 82-85, 92-95, 279 - -Russells, the, 283 - - -St. George’s Hospital, 38, 40 - -St. Mary Bourne, 94 - -Salisbury, 1, 4, 9, 165-183, 313 - -Salisbury Plain, 102, 191, 195-199, 203, 209, 212-217, 230-232, 238, 242 - -Sarum, New, 167, 170 - -Sarum, Old, 94, 167-170, 191 - -Shrub’s Hill, 92, 93, 95 - -Shute Hill, 297 - -Staines, 1, 17, 72, 81-86, 92 - -Staines Stone, 82-84 - -Stevens, Alfred, 262 - -Stonehenge, 188, 196-212 - -Sunningdale, 89, 95 - -Sunninghill, 89 - - -Tarrant Gunville, 248, 256 - -Tarrant Hinton, 242, 256, 265 - -Thorney Down, 94, 242 - -Troy Town, 268 - -Turnham Green, 56, 92 - -Turnpike Gates, 44-48, 154, 267, 298 - - -Upper Wallop, 154-156 - - -Virginia Water, 89, 91, 95 - - -Wallops, the, 154-156, 265 - -Watchmen, the old, 51 - -Wesley, Rev. Bartholomew, 295 - -Wesley, John, 265 - -West Harnham, 234 - -Weyhill, 1, 94, 154 - -Weyhill Fair, 133, 142, 145-152 - -Whitchurch, 1, 32, 124, 127-131, 221 - -Wilmington, 297 - -Windsor, Old, 87 - -Winterborne Abbas, 280 - -Winterborne Whitchurch, 265, 267 - -Worting, 115, 123 - - -Yellowham Hill, 268 - -Yeovil, 1, 12 - -York Town, 99, 100, 101 - -Young’s Corner, 92 - - - _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_. - - -FOOTNOTES: - - [1] ‘Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where - is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your - souls.’ - - [2] Yes, but the time was cut down to fourteen hours a few years later. - - [3] Waggons travelling at the rate of not more than four miles an hour - were exempt from excise duty. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Exeter Road, by Charles G. 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Harper - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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/license - - -Title: The Exeter Road - the story of the west of England highway - -Author: Charles G. Harper - -Release Date: February 9, 2017 [EBook #54140] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EXETER ROAD *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, deaurider and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="306" height="500" alt="Image unavailable: Book's cover" /></a> -</div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td><p class="c"> - -<a href="#PREFACE"><span class="smcap">Preface</span>. </a><br /> -<a href="#List_of_Illustrations"> <span class="smcap">List of Illustrations</span></a><br /> - -<span class="nonvis">(In certain versions of this etext [in certain browsers] -clicking on the image will bring up a larger version.)</span></p> -<p class="c"> -<a href="#THE_ROAD_TO_EXETER"><span class="smcap">The Road to Exeter</span></a><br /> -<a href="#I">Chapter I, </a> -<a href="#II">II, </a> -<a href="#III">III, </a> -<a href="#IV">IV, </a> -<a href="#V">V, </a> -<a href="#VI">VI, </a> -<a href="#VII">VII, </a> -<a href="#VIII">VIII, </a> -<a href="#IX">IX, </a> -<a href="#X">X, </a> -<a href="#XI">XI, </a> -<a href="#XII">XII, </a> -<a href="#XIII">XIII, </a> -<a href="#XIV">XIV, </a> -<a href="#XV">XV, </a> -<a href="#XVI">XVI, </a> -<a href="#XVII">XVII, </a> -<a href="#XVIII">XVIII, </a> -<a href="#XIX">XIX, </a> -<a href="#XX">XX, </a> -<a href="#XXI">XXI, </a> -<a href="#XXII">XXII, </a> -<a href="#XXIII">XXIII, </a> -<a href="#XXIV">XXIV, </a> -<a href="#XXV">XXV, </a> -<a href="#XXVI">XXVI, </a> -<a href="#XXVII">XXVII, </a> -<a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII, </a> -<a href="#XXIX">XXIX, </a> -<a href="#XXX">XXX, </a> -<a href="#XXXI">XXXI, </a> -<a href="#XXXII">XXXII, </a> -<a href="#XXXIII">XXXIII, </a> -<a href="#XXXIV">XXXIV, </a> -<a href="#XXXV">XXXV, </a> -<a href="#XXXVI">XXXVI, </a> -<a href="#XXXVII">XXXVII, </a> -<a href="#XXXVIII">XXXVIII, </a> -<a href="#XXXIX">XXXIX, </a> -<a href="#XL">XL, </a> -<a href="#XLI">XLI, </a> -<a href="#XLII">XLII, </a> -<a href="#XLIII">XLIII, </a> -<a href="#XLIV">XLIV.</a><br /> -<a href="#INDEX"><span class="smcap">Index</span></a>: -<a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Y">Y</a>. -</p> - -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="c">THE EXETER ROAD</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i"></a>{i}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii"></a>{ii}</span> </p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border:2px solid black;padding:1em;"> -<tr><td class="csans">WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR</td></tr> -<tr><td class="c">———</td></tr> -<tr><td><b>THE BRIGHTON ROAD</b>: Old Times and New on a Classic Highway.</td></tr> -<tr><td><b>THE PORTSMOUTH ROAD</b>, and its Tributaries, To-day and in Days Old.</td></tr> -<tr><td><b>THE DOVER ROAD</b>: Annals of an Ancient Turnpike.</td></tr> -<tr><td><b>THE BATH ROAD</b>: History, Fashion, and Frivolity on an Old Highway.</td></tr> -<tr><td><b>THE GREAT NORTH ROAD</b>:<br /> -Vol. I. <span class="smcap">London to York.</span></td><td align="left">[<i>In the Press.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td> II. <span class="smcap">York to Edinburgh.</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii"></a>{iii}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv"></a>{iv}</span><a name="front" id="front"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_f04_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_f04_sml.jpg" width="432" height="285" alt="Image unavailable: THE LIONESS ATTACKING THE EXETER MAIL, ‘WINTERSLOW HUT’ -(AFTER JAMES POLLARD)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE LIONESS ATTACKING THE EXETER MAIL, ‘WINTERSLOW HUT’ -(AFTER JAMES POLLARD).</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a>{v}</span></p> - -<h1> -<small><small>THE</small></small> -<br /> -E X E T E R R O A D</h1> - -<p class="c"><a name="title" id="title"></a> -<i>THE STORY OF<br /> -THE WEST OF ENGLAND HIGHWAY</i><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">By</span> CHARLES G. HARPER<br /> -<br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Author of ‘The Brighton Road,’ ‘The Portsmouth Road,’<br /> -‘The Dover Road,’ and ‘The Bath Road’</span></small><br /> -<br /> -<a href="images/i_f05_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_f05_sml.jpg" width="86" height="150" alt="Image unavailable: colophon" /></a> - -<br /> -<i>Illustrated by the Author, and from Old-Time<br /> -Prints and Pictures</i><br /> -<br /> -<span class="rdd"><span class="smcap">London: CHAPMAN & HALL, Limited</span></span><br /> -<br /> -1899<br /> -<br /> -<i>All rights reserved</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi"></a>{vi}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vii" id="page_vii"></a>{vii}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a> -<a href="images/i_f07_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_f07_sml.jpg" alt="PREFACE" /></a></h2> - -<p class="nind"><i><span class="letra">T</span>HIS, the fifth volume in a series of works purporting to tell the -Story of the Great Roads, requires but few forewords; but occasion may -be taken to say that perhaps greater care has been exercised than in -preceding volumes to collect and put on record those anecdotes and -floating traditions of the country, which, the gossip of yesterday, will -be the history of to-morrow. These are precisely the things that are -neglected by the County Historians at one end of the scale of writers, -and the compilers of guide-books at the other; and it is just because -this gossip and these local anecdotes are generally passed by and often -lost that those which are gathered now will become more valuable as time -goes on.</i></p> - -<p><i>For the inclusion of these hitherto unconsidered trifles much -archæology and much purely guide-book<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii"></a>{viii}</span> description have been suppressed; -nor for this would it seem necessary to appear apologetic, even although -local patriotism is a militant force, and resents anything less than a -detailed and favourable description of every village, interesting or -not.</i></p> - -<p><i>How militant parochial patriots may be the writer already knows. You -may criticise the British Empire and prophesy its downfall if you feel -that way inclined, and welcome; but it is the Unpardonable Sin to say -that Little Pedlington is anything less than the cleanest, the neatest, -and the busiest for its size of all the Sweet Auburns in the land! Has -not the writer been promised a bad quarter of an hour by the local -press, should he revisit Crayford, after writing of that uncleanly place -in the</i> <span class="smcap">Dover Road</span>? <i>and have the good folks of Chard still kept the tar -and feathers in readiness for him who, daring greatly, presumed to say -the place was so quiet that when the stranger appeared in its streets -every head was out of doors and windows?</i></p> - -<p><i>Point of view is everything. The stranger finds a place charming -because everything in it is old, and quiet reigns supreme. Quietude and -antiquity, how eminently desirable and delightful when found, he thinks. -Not so the dweller in such a spot. He would welcome as a benefactor any -one who would rebuild his house in modern style, and would behold<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ix" id="page_ix"></a>{ix}</span> with -satisfaction the traffic of Cheapside thronging the grass-grown -market-place.</i></p> - -<p><i>No brief is held for such an one in these pages, nor is it likely that -the professional antiquary will find in them anything not already known -to him. The book, like all its predecessors, and like those that are to -follow it, is intended for those who journey down the roads either in -person or in imagination, and to their judgment it is left. In -conclusion, let me acknowledge the valuable information with regard to -Wiltshire afforded me by Cecil Simpson, Esq., than whom no one knows the -county better.</i></p> - -<p class="r"> -CHARLES G. HARPER.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -<span class="smcap">Petersham, Surrey</span>,<br /> -<i>October 1899</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_x" id="page_x"></a>{x}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xi" id="page_xi"></a>{xi}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="List_of_Illustrations" id="List_of_Illustrations"></a> -<a href="images/i_f11_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_f11_sml.jpg" alt="List of Illustrations" /></a> -</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="margin:auto;max-width:70%;"> - -<tr><th class="c" colspan="3">SEPARATE PLATES</th></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td> </td> -<td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"> -<a href="#front">1.</a></td> -<td valign="top"> -<a href="#front"> <span class="smcap">The Lioness -attacking the Exeter Mail, ‘Winterslow Hut.’</span> -(<i>After James Pollard</i>)</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"> -<a href="#front">Frontispiece.</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_013">2.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_013"><span class="smcap">The ‘Comet’</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_013">13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_019">3.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_019"><span class="smcap">The ‘Regulator’ on Hartford Bridge Flats</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_019">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_023">4.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_023"><span class="smcap">The ‘Quicksilver’ Mail:—‘Stop, Coachman, I have lost my Hat and Wig</span>’</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_023">23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_035">5.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_035"><span class="smcap">The West Country Mails starting from the Gloucester Coffee House, Piccadilly.</span> (<i>After James Pollard</i>)</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_035">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_039">6.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_039"><span class="smcap">The Duke of Wellington’s Statue</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_039">39</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_041">7.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_041"><span class="smcap">The Wellington Arch and Hyde Park Corner, 1851</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_041">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_043">8.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_043"><span class="smcap">St. George’s Hospital, and the Road to Pimlico, 1780</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_043">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_045">9.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_045"><span class="smcap">Knightsbridge Toll-Gate, 1854</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_045">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_049">10.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_049"><span class="smcap">Knightsbridge Barracks Toll-Gate</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_049">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_057">11.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_057"><span class="smcap">Brentford</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_057">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_067">12.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_067"><span class="smcap">Hounslow: The Parting of the Ways</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_067">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_111">13.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_111"><span class="smcap">The ‘White Hart,’ Hook</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xii" id="page_xii">{xii}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_117">14.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_117"><span class="smcap">The Ruins of Basing House</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_129">15.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_129"><span class="smcap">Whitchurch</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_159">16.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_159">‘<span class="smcap">Winterslow Hut</span>’</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_159">159</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_171">17.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_171"><span class="smcap">Salisbury Cathedral.</span> (<i>After Constable, R.A.</i>)</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_171">171</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_189">18.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_189"><span class="smcap">View of Salisbury Spire from the Ramparts of Old Sarum</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_189">189</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_193">19.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_193"><span class="smcap">Old Sarum.</span> (<i>After Constable, R.A.</i>)</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_193">193</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_197">20.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_197"><span class="smcap">The Great Snowstorm of 1836; The Exeter ‘Telegraph,’ assisted by Post-Horses, driving through the Snow-drifts at Amesbury.</span> (<i>After James Pollard</i>)</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_197">197</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_201">21.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_201"><span class="smcap">Stonehenge</span> (<i>After Turner, R.A.</i>)</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_201">201</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_207">22.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_207"><span class="smcap">Sunrise at Stonehenge</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_207">207</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_213">23.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_213"><span class="smcap">Ancient and Modern: Motor Cars at Stonehenge, Easter 1899</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_213">213</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_235">24.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_235"><span class="smcap">Coombe Bissett</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_235">235</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_239">25.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_239"><span class="smcap">The Exeter Road, near ‘Woodyates Inn’</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_239">239</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_243">26.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_243"><span class="smcap">Tarrant Hinton</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_243">243</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_259">27.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_259"><span class="smcap">Blandford</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_259">259</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_263">28.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_263"><span class="smcap">Town Bridge, Blandford</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_263">263</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_269">29.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_269"><span class="smcap">The ‘White Hart,’ Dorchester</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_269">269</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_277">30.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_277"><span class="smcap">Dorchester</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_277">277</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_281">31.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_281"><span class="smcap">Winterbourne Abbas</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_281">281</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_287">32.</a></td> -<td valign="top"> <a href="#page_287">‘<span class="smcap">Traveller’s Rest</span>’</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_287">287</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_033">33.</a></td> -<td valign="top"> <a href="#page_301">‘<span class="smcap">The Long Reaches of the Exeter Road</span>’</a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_301">301</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="rt" valign="top"><a href="#page_311">34.</a></td> -<td valign="top"><a href="#page_311"><span class="smcap">Exeter, from the Dunsford Road</span></a></td> -<td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_311">311</a><span class="pagenum"> -<a name="page_xiii" id="page_xiii"></a>{xiii}</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><th valign="top" class="c" colspan="2">ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT</th></tr> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#title">Vignette</a></td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#title">(<i>Title-page</i>)</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_vii">Preface (Stonehenge)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_vii">vii</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_xi">List of Illustrations (Hartford Bridge Flats)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_xi">xi</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_001">The Exeter Road</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_038">‘An Old Gentleman, a Cobbett-like Person’</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_038">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_047">The Pikeman</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_047">47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_051">The ‘New Police’</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_051">51</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_053">Tommy Atkins, 1838</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_053">53</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_054">Old Kensington Church</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_054">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_056">The Beadle</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_056">56</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_065">The ‘Bell,’ Hounslow</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_065">65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_072">The ‘Green Man,’ Hatton</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_073">The Highwayman’s Retreat, the ‘Green Man’</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_073">73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_079">East Bedfont</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_079">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_084">The Staines Stone</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_088">The ‘Bells of Ouseley’</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_088">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_097">Bagshot</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_097">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_103">Roadside Scene. (<i>After Rowlandson</i>)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_104">Roadside Scene. (<i>After Rowlandson</i>)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_105">Roadside Scene. (<i>After Rowlandson</i>)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_107">Roadside Scene. (<i>After Rowlandson</i>)</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_107">107</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_154">Funeral Garland, Abbot’s Ann</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_154">154</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiv" id="page_xiv"></a>{xiv}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_182">St. Anne’s Gate, Salisbury</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_182">182</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_231">Highway Robbery Monument at Imber</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_231">231</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_233">Where the Robber fell Dead</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_233">233</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_273">Judge Jeffreys’ Chair</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_273">273</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_284">Kingston Russell</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_284">284</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_285">Chilcombe Church</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_285">285</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_293">Chideock</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_293">293</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_294">Sign of the ‘Ship,’ Morecomblake</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_294">294</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_295">Interior of the ‘Queen’s Arms,’ Charmouth</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_295">295</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_298">‘Copper Castle’</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_298">298</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_307">The Exeter City Sword-bearer</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_307">307</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_313">‘Matty the Miller’</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_313">313</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#page_314">The End</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_314">314</a></td></tr> - -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xv" id="page_xv"></a>{xv}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_ROAD_TO_EXETER" id="THE_ROAD_TO_EXETER"></a>THE ROAD TO EXETER</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td valign="top">London (Hyde Park Corner) to—</td></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>MILES</small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top">Kensington—</td></tr> -<tr><td> St. Mary Abbots </td><td class="rt">1¼</td></tr> -<tr><td> Addison Road</td><td class="rt">2½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hammersmith</td><td class="rt">3¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Turnham Green</td><td class="rt">5</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Brentford—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Star and Garter</td><td class="rt">6</td></tr> -<tr><td> Town Hall (cross River Brent and Grand Junction Canal)</td><td class="rt">7</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Isleworth (Railway Station)</td><td class="rt">8½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hounslow (Trinity Church)</td><td class="rt">9¾</td></tr> -<tr><td> (Cross the Old River, a branch of the River Colne).</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Baber Bridge (cross the New River, a branch of the River Colne)</td><td class="rt">11¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">East Bedfont</td><td class="rt">13¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Staines Bridge (cross River Thames)</td><td class="rt">16½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Egham</td><td class="rt">18</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Virginia Water—</td></tr> -<tr><td> ‘Wheatsheaf’</td><td class="rt">20¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Sunningdale—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Railway Station</td><td class="rt">22¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Bagshot—</td></tr> -<tr><td> ‘King’s Arms’</td><td class="rt">26¼</td></tr> -<tr><td> ‘Jolly Farmer’{xvi}</td><td class="rt">27¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Camberley</td><td class="rt">29</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">York Town</td><td class="rt">29¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Blackwater (cross River Blackwater)</td><td class="rt">30¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hartford Bridge</td><td class="rt">35½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hartley Row</td><td class="rt">36½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hook</td><td class="rt">40</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Water End (for Nately Scures)</td><td class="rt">41¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Mapledurwell Hatch (cross River Loddon)</td><td class="rt">43</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Basingstoke—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Market Place</td><td class="rt">45¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Worting</td><td class="rt">47¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Clerken Green, and Oakley—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Railway Station</td><td class="rt">49¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Dean</td><td class="rt">51¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Overton</td><td class="rt">53½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Laverstoke, and Freefolk</td><td class="rt">55½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Whitchurch—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Market House</td><td class="rt">56¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Hurstbourne Priors</td><td class="rt">58½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Andover—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Market Place (cross River Anton)</td><td class="rt">63½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Little Ann</td><td class="rt">65½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Little (or Middle) Wallop (cross River Wallop)</td><td class="rt">70½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Lobcombe Corner</td><td class="rt">73¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">‘Winterslow Hut’ (cross River Bourne)</td><td class="rt">75</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Salisbury—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Council House</td><td class="rt">81½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">West Harnham (cross River Avon)</td><td class="rt">82¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Coombe Bissett (cross a branch of the River Avon) </td><td class="rt">84¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">‘Woodyates Inn’</td><td class="rt">91¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">‘Cashmoor Inn’</td><td class="rt">96¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Tarrant Hinton (cross River Tarrant)</td><td class="rt">99</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Pimperne{xvii}</td><td class="rt">101½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Blandford—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Market Place (cross River Stour)</td><td class="rt">103¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Winterbourne Whitchurch (cross River Winterbourne) </td><td class="rt">108¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Milborne St. Andrews (cross River Milborne)</td><td class="rt">111½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Piddletown (cross River Piddle)</td><td class="rt">115</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Troy Town (cross River Frome)</td><td class="rt">116¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Dorchester—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Town Hall</td><td class="rt">120</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Winterbourne Abbas (cross River Winterbourne)</td><td class="rt">124½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">‘Traveller’s Rest’</td><td class="rt">131¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Bridport—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Market House (cross River Brit)</td><td class="rt">134½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Chideock</td><td class="rt">137¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Morecomblake</td><td class="rt">138¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Charmouth (cross River Char)</td><td class="rt">141½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">‘Hunter’s Lodge Inn’</td><td class="rt">145</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Axminster—</td></tr> -<tr><td> Market Place (cross River Axe)</td><td class="rt">147</td></tr> -<tr><td> (Cross River Yart)</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Kilmington</td><td class="rt">148¾</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Wilmington (cross River Coly)</td><td class="rt">153</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Honiton</td><td class="rt">156½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Fenny Bridges (cross River Otter)</td><td class="rt">159½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Fairmile</td><td class="rt">161½</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Rockbeare</td><td class="rt">166</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Honiton Clyst (cross River Clyst)</td><td class="rt">168¼</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Heavitree</td><td class="rt">171</td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top">Exeter</td><td class="rt">172¾</td></tr> - -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xviii" id="page_xviii"></a>{xviii}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span> </p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_p001.jpg" width="500" height="211" alt="THE EXETER ROAD" /> -</div> - -<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">From</span> Hyde Park Corner, whence it is measured, to the west end of -Hounslow town, the Exeter Road is identical with the road to Bath. At -that point the ways divide. The right-hand road leads to Bath, by way of -Maidenhead; the Exeter Road goes off to the left, through Staines, to -Basingstoke, Whitchurch, and Andover; where, at half a mile beyond that -town, there is a choice of routes.</p> - -<p>The shortest way to Exeter, the ‘Queen City of the West,’ is by taking -the right-hand road at this last point and proceeding thence through -Weyhill, Mullen’s Pond, Park House, and Amesbury to Deptford Inn, -Hindon, Mere, Wincanton, Ilchester, Ilminster, and Honiton. This ‘short -cut,’ which is the hilliest and bleakest of all the bleak and hilly -routes to Exeter, is 165 miles, 6 furlongs in length. Another way, not -much more than 2¼ miles longer, is by turning to the left at this fork -just outside Andover, and going thence to Salisbury, Shaftesbury, -Sherborne, Yeovil, Crewkerne, and Chard, to meet the other route at -Honiton; at which point, in fact, all routes met. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span> third way, over 4½ -miles longer than the last, instead of leaving Salisbury for -Shaftesbury, turns in a more southerly direction, and passing through -Blandford, Dorchester, Bridport, and Axminster, reaches Exeter by way of -the inevitable Honiton in 172 miles, 6 furlongs.</p> - -<p>It is thus, by whichever way you elect to travel, a far cry to Exeter, -even in these days; whether you go by rail from Waterloo or -Paddington—171½ and 194 miles respectively, in three hours and -three-quarters—or whether you cycle, or drive in a motor car, along the -road, when the journey may be accomplished by the stalwart cyclist in a -day and a half, and by a swift car in, say, ten hours.</p> - -<p>But hush! we are observed, as they say in the melodramas. Let us say -fourteen hours, and we shall be safe, and well within the legal limit -for motors of twelve miles an hour.</p> - -<p>Compare these figures with the very finest performances of that crack -coach of the coaching age, the Exeter ‘Telegraph,’ going by Amesbury and -Ilchester, which, with the perfection of equipment, and the finest -teams, eventually cut down the time from seventeen to fourteen hours, -and was justly considered the wonder of that era; and it will -immediately be perceived that the century has well earned its reputation -for progress.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OLD ROUTES</i></div> - -<p>It may be well to give a few particulars of the ‘Telegraph’ here before -proceeding. It was started in 1826 by Mrs. Nelson, of the ‘Bull,’ -Aldgate, and originally took seventeen hours between Piccadilly and the -‘Half Moon,’ Exeter. It left Piccadilly at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> 5.30 <small>A.M.</small>, and arrived at -Exeter at 10.30 <small>P.M.</small> Twenty minutes allowed for breakfast at Bagshot, -and thirty minutes for dinner at Deptford Inn. The ‘Telegraph,’ be it -said, was put on the road as a rival to the ‘Quicksilver’ Devonport -mail, which, leaving Piccadilly at 8 <small>P.M.</small>, arrived at Exeter at 12.34 -next day; time, sixteen hours, thirty-four minutes. Going on to -Devonport, it arrived at that place at 5.14 <small>P.M.</small>, or twenty-one hours, -fourteen minutes from London. There were no fewer than twenty-three -changes in the 216 miles.</p> - -<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">But</span> those travellers who, in the early days of coaching, a century and a -half ago, desired the safest, speediest, and most comfortable journey to -Exeter, went by a very much longer route than any of those already -named. They went, in fact, by the Bath Road and thence through Somerset. -The Exeter Road beyond Basingstoke was at that period a miserable -waggon-track, without a single turnpike; while the road to Bath had, -under the management of numerous turnpike-trusts, already become a -comparatively fine highway. The Somersetshire squires were also -bestirring themselves to improve their roads, despite the strenuous -opposition encountered from the peasantry and others on the score of -their rights being invaded, and the anticipated ruin of local trade.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span></p> - -<p>A writer of that period, advocating the setting up of turnpikes on the -direct road to Exeter, anticipated little trouble in converting that -‘waggon-track’ into a first-class highway. Four turnpikes, he -considered, would suffice very well from Salisbury to Exeter; nor would -the improvement of the way over the Downs demand much labour, for the -bottom was solid, and one general expense for pickaxe and spade work, -for levelling, and for widening at the approaches to the villages would -last a long while; experience proving so much, since those portions of -the road remained pretty much the same as they had been in the days of -Julius Cæsar.</p> - -<p>‘It may be objected,’ continues this reformer, ‘that the peasantry will -demolish these turnpikes so soon as they are erected, but we will not -suppose this is in a well-governed happy state like ours. <i>Lex non -supponet odiosa.</i> If such terrors were to take place, the great -legislative power would lie at the mercy of the rabble. If the mob will -not hear reason they must be taught it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A PLEA FOR GOOD ROADS</i></div> - -<p>‘It may be urged that there are not passengers enough on the Western -Road to defray the expenses of erecting these turnpikes. To this I -answer by denying the fact; ’tis a road very much frequented, and the -natural demands from the West to London and all England on the one part, -and from all the eastern counties to Exeter, Plymouth, and Falmouth, -etc., on the other are very great, especially in war-time. Besides, were -the roads more practicable, the number of travellers would increase, -especially of those who make best for towns and inns—namely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span> such -people of fashion and fortune as make various tours in England for -pleasure, health, and curiosity. In picturesque counties, like Cornwall -and Devon, where the natural curiosities are innumerable, many gentlemen -of taste would be fond of making purchases, and spending their fortunes, -if with common ease they could readily go to and return from their -enchanted castles. Whereas, a family, as things now stand, or a party of -gentlemen and ladies, would sooner travel to the South of France and -back again than down to Falmouth or the Land’s End. And ’tis easier and -pleasanter—so that all beyond Sarum or Dorchester is to us <i>terra -incognita</i>, and the mapmakers might, if they pleased, fill the vacuities -of Devon and Cornwall with forests, sands, elephants, savages, or what -they please. Travellers of every denomination—the wealthy, the man of -taste, the idle, the valetudinary—would all, if the roads were good, -visit once at least the western parts of this island. Whereas, every man -and woman that has an hundred superfluous guineas must now turn bird of -passage, flit away across the ocean, and expose themselves to the -ridicule of the French. Now, what but the goodness of the roads can -tempt people to make such expensive and foolish excursions, since, out -of fifty knight-and lady-errants, not two, perhaps, can enounce half a -dozen French words. Their inns are infinitely worse than ours, the -aspect of the country less pleasing; men, manners, customs, laws are no -objects with these itinerants, since they can neither speak nor read the -language. I have known twelve at a time ready to starve at Paris and lie -in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span> streets, though their purses were well crammed with <i>louis -d’or</i>. When they wanted to go to bed, they yawned to the chambermaid, or -shut their eyes; when hunger attacked, they pointed to their mouths. -Even pretty Miss K., and Miss G., realised not the distortion of their -labial muscles, but cawed like unfledged birds for food. They paid -whatever the French demanded, and were laughed at (not before their -faces, indeed) most immeasurably. And yet simpletons of this class spent -near £100,000 last year in France.</p> - -<p>‘But to return. A rich citizen in London, a gentleman of large fortune -eastwards, has, perhaps, some very valuable relations or friends in the -West. Half a dozen times in his lifetime he hears of their welfare by -the post, and once, perhaps, receives a token when the Western curate -posts up to town to be initiated into a benefice—and that is all. He -thinks no more of visiting them than of traversing the deserts of Nubia, -considering them as a sort of separate beings, which might as well be in -the moon, or in <i>Limbo Patrum</i>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>CONSERVATIVES</i></div> - -<p>‘I hear the nobility and gentry of Somersetshire have exerted a laudable -spirit, and are now actually erecting turnpikes, which will give that -fruitful county a better intercourse with its neighbours, and bring an -accession of wealth into it; for every wise traveller who goes from -London to Exeter, etc. will surely take Bath in his way (as the -digression is a mere nothing). At least, all the expensive people with -coaches certainly will—and then the supine inhabitants of Wilts and -Dorset may repine in vain; for when a road once comes into repute, and -persons<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span> find a pleasant tour and good usage, they will never return to -that which is decried as out of vogue; unless, indeed, they should -reason as a Marlborough stage-coachman did when turnpikes were first -erected between London and Bath. A new road was planned out, but still -my honest man would go round by a miserable waggon-track called -“Ramsbury narrow way.” One by one, from little to less, he dawdled away -all his passengers, and when asked why he was such an obstinate idiot, -his answer was (in a grumbling tone) that he was now an aged man; that -he relished not new fantasies; that his grandfather and father had -driven the aforesaid way before him, and that he would continue in the -old track to <i>his</i> death, though his four horses only drew a -passenger-fly. But the proprietor saw no wit in this: the old -<i>Automedon</i> “resigned” (in the Court phrase), and was replaced by a -youth less conscientious. As a man of honour, I would not conclude -without consulting the most solemn-looking waggoner on the road. This -proved to be Jack Whipcord, of Blandford. Jack’s answer was, that roads -had but one object—namely, waggon-driving; that he required but 5 feet -width in a lane (which he resolved never to quit), and all the rest -might go to the devil. That the gentry ought to stay at home and be -damned, and not run gossiping up and down the country. No turnpikes, no -improvements of roads for him. The Scripture for him was Jeremiah vi. -16.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Thus, finding Jack an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> ill-natured brute and a profane country -wag, I left him, dissatisfied.’</p> - -<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">In</span> these pages, which purport to show the old West of England highway as -it was in days of old and as it is now, it is not proposed to follow -either of the two routes taken by the ‘Telegraph’ coach or the -‘Quicksilver’ Devonport mail, by Amesbury or by Shaftesbury, although -there will be occasion to mention those smart coaches from time to time. -We will take the third route instead, for the reasons that it is -practically identical with the course of the <i>Via Iceniana</i>, the old -Roman military way to Exeter and the West; and, besides being thus in -the fullest sense the Exeter Road, is the most picturesque and historic -route. This way went in 1826, according to <i>Cary</i>, those eminently safe -and reliable coaches, the ‘Regulator,’ in twenty-four hours; the ‘Royal -Mail,’ in twenty-two hours; and the ‘Sovereign,’ which, as no time is -specified, would seem to have journeyed down the road in a haphazard -fashion. Of these, the ‘Mail’ left that famous hostelry, the ‘Swan with -Two Necks’ (known familiarly as the ‘Wonderful Bird’), in Lad Lane, -City, at 7.30 every evening, and Piccadilly half an hour later, arriving -at the ‘New London Inn,’ Exeter, by six o’clock the following evening.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>EARLY COACHING DAYS</i></div> - -<p>But even these coaches, which jogged along in so leisurely a fashion, -went at a furious and breakneck—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span>not to say daredevil—pace compared -with the time consumed by the stage coach advertised in the <i>Mercurius -Politicus</i> of 1658 to start from the ‘George Inn,’ Aldersgate Without, -‘every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. To Salisbury in two days for xxs. -To Blandford and Dorchester in two days and a half for xxxs. To -Exminster, Nunnington, Axminster, Honiton, and Exeter in four days xls.’</p> - -<p>The ‘Exeter Fly’ of a hundred years later than this, which staggered -down to Exeter in three days, under the best conditions, and was the -swiftest public conveyance down this road at that time, before the new -stages and mails were introduced, had been known, it is credibly -reported, to take six.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>FARES</i></div> - -<p>Palmer’s mail coaches, which were started on the Exeter Road in the -summer of 1785, rendered all this kind of meandering progress obsolete, -except for the poorest class of travellers, who had still for many a -long year (indeed, until road travel was killed by the railways) to -endure the miseries of a journey in the great hooded luggage waggons of -Russell and Company, which, with a team of eight horses, started from -Falmouth, and travelling at the rate of three miles an hour, reached -London in twelve days. A man on a pony rode beside the team, and with a -long whip touched them up when this surprising pace was not maintained. -The travellers walked, putting their belongings inside; and when night -was come either camped under the ample shelter of the lumbering waggon, -or, if it were winter, were accommodated for a trifle in the stable -lofts of the inns they halted at. Messrs. Russell and Company were in -business for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span> many years as carriers between London and the West, and at -a later date—from the ’20’s until the close of the coaching era—were -the proprietors of an intermediate kind of vehicle between the waggon at -one extreme and the mail coaches at the other. This was the ‘Fly Van,’ -of which, unlike their more ancient conveyances which set out only three -times a week, one started every week-day from either end. This -accommodated a class of travellers who did not disdain to travel among -the bales and bundles, or to fit themselves in between the knobbly -corners of heavy goods, but who would neither walk nor consent to the -journey from the Far West occupying the best part of a fortnight. So -they paid a trifle more and travelled the distance between Exeter and -London in two days, in times when the ‘Telegraph,’ according to Sir -William Knighton, conveyed the aristocratic passenger that distance in -seventeen hours. He writes, in his diary, under date of 23rd September -1832, that he started at five o’clock in the morning of that day from -Exeter in the ‘Telegraph’ coach for London. The fare, inside, was £3: -10s., and, in addition, four coachmen and one guard had to be paid the -usual fees which custom had rendered obligatory. They breakfasted at -Ilminster and dined at Andover. ‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘can exceed the -rapidity with which everything is done. The journey of one hundred and -seventy-five miles was accomplished in seventeen hours<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>—breakfast and -dinner were so hurried that the cravings of appetite could hardly be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span> -satisfied, and the horses were changed like lightning.’ The fare, -inside, was therefore practically 5d. a mile, to which must be added at -least fifteen shillings in tips to those four coachmen and that guard, -bringing the cost of the smartest travelling between London and Exeter -up to £4: 5s. for the single journey; while the fares by waggon and ‘Fly -Van’ would be at the rate of a halfpenny and twopence per mile -respectively, something like 7s. 6d. and 29s. 6d.; without, in those -cases, the necessity for tipping.</p> - -<p>There were, however, more degrees than these in the accommodation and -fares for coach travellers. The proper mail coach fare was 4d. a mile, -but the mails were not the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of speed and comfort even on -this road, where the ‘Quicksilver’ mail ran a famous course. Hence the -5d. a mile by the ‘Telegraph.’ But it was left to the ‘Waggon Coach’ to -present the greatest disparity of prices and places. This was a vehicle -which, under various names, was seen for a considerable period on most -of the roads, and can, with a little ingenuity, be looked upon as the -precursor of the three classes on railways. There were the first-class -‘insides,’ the second-class ‘outsides,’ and those very rank outsiders -indeed, the occupants of the shaky wickerwork basket hung on behind, -called the ‘crate’ or the ‘rumble-tumble,’ who were very often noisily -drunken sailors and people who did not mind a little jolting more or -less.</p> - -<p>Some very fine turns-out were on this road at the end of the ’30’s. -Firstly, there was the ‘Royal Mail,’ between the ‘Swan with Two Necks,’ -in Lad Lane,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span> and the ‘New London Inn,’ Exeter, both in those days inns -of good solid feeding, with drinking to match. It was of the first-named -inn, and of another equally famous, that the poet (who must have been of -the fleshly and Bacchic order) wrote:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At the Swan with Two Throttles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I tippled two bottles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bothered the beef at the Bull and the Mouth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>One can readily imagine the sharp-set and shivering traveller, fresh -from the perils of the road, ‘bothering the beef’ with his huge -appetite, and tippling the generous liquor (which, of course, was port) -with loud appreciative smackings of the lips.</p> - -<p>Then there were the ‘Sovereign,’ the ‘Regulator,’ and the ‘Eclipse,’ -going by the Blandford and Dorchester route; the ‘Prince George,’ -‘Herald,’ ‘Pilot,’ ‘Traveller,’ and ‘Quicksilver,’ by Crewkerne and -Yeovil; and the ‘Defiance,’ ‘Celerity,’ and ‘Subscription,’ by Amesbury -and Ilminster; to leave unnamed the short stages and the bye-road -coaches, all helping to swell the traffic in those old days, now utterly -forgotten.</p> - -<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">A very</span> great authority on coaching—the famous ‘Nimrod,’ the mainstay of -the <i>Sporting Magazine</i>—writing in 1836, compares the exquisite -perfection to which coaching had attained at that time with the era<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A RIP VAN WINKLE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p013_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p013_sml.jpg" width="466" height="244" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘COMET.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘COMET.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">of the old Exeter ‘Fly,’ and imagines a kind of Rip Van Winkle old -gentleman, who had been a traveller by that crazy conveyance in 1742, -waking up and journeying by the ‘Comet’ of 1836. Rousing from his long -sleep, he determines to go by the ‘Fly’ to Exeter. In the lapse of -ninety-four years, however, that vehicle has been relegated to the -things that were, and has been utterly forgotten. He waits in -Piccadilly. ‘What coach, your honour?’ asks a ruffianly-looking fellow.</p> - -<p>‘I wish to go home to Exeter,’ replies the old gentleman.</p> - -<p>‘Just in time, your honour, here she comes—them there gray horses; -where’s your luggage?’</p> - -<p>But the turn-out is so different from those our Rip Van Winkle knew, -that he says, ‘Don’t be in a hurry, that’s a gentleman’s carriage.’</p> - -<p>‘It ain’t, I tell you,’ replies the cad; ‘it’s the “Comet,” and you must -be as quick as lightning.’ Whereupon, vehemently protesting, the ‘cad’ -and a fellow ruffian shove him forcibly into the coach, despite his -anxiety about his luggage.</p> - -<p>The old fellow, impressed by the smartness of the Jehu—a smartness to -which coachmen had been entire strangers in his time—asks, ‘What -gentleman is going to drive us!’</p> - -<p>‘He is no gentleman,’ replies the proprietor of the coach, who happens -to be sitting at his side; ‘but he has been on the “Comet” ever since -she started, and is a very steady young man.’</p> - -<p>‘Pardon my ignorance,’ says our ancient, ‘from the cleanliness of his -person, the neatness of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span> apparel, and the language he made use of, I -mistook him for some enthusiastic bachelor of arts, wishing to become a -charioteer after the manner of the illustrious ancients.’</p> - -<p>‘You must have been long in foreign parts, sir,’ observes the -proprietor.</p> - -<p>Presently they come to Hyde Park Corner. ‘What!’ exclaims Rip, ‘off the -stones already?’</p> - -<p>‘You have never been on the stones,’ says a fellow-passenger; ‘no stones -in London now, sir.’</p> - -<p>The old gentleman is engaged upon digesting this information and does -not perceive for some time that the coach is a swift one. When he -discovers that fact, and mentions it, he is met with the rejoinder, ‘We -never go fast over this stage.’</p> - -<p>So they pass through Brentford. ‘Old Brentford still here?’ he exclaims; -‘a national disgrace!’ Then Hounslow, in five minutes under the hour. -‘Wonderful travelling, but much too fast to be safe. However, thank -Heaven, we are arrived at a good-looking house; and now, waiter, I hope -you have got breakf——’</p> - -<p>Before the last syllable, however, of the word can be pronounced, the -worthy old gentleman’s head strikes the back of the coach with a jerk, -and the waiter, the inn, and indeed Hounslow itself, disappear in the -twinkling of an eye. ‘My dear sir,’ exclaims he, in surprise, ‘you told -me we were to change horses at Hounslow. Surely they are not so inhuman -as to drive those poor animals another stage at this unmerciful rate!’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE GALLOPING GROUND</i></div> - -<p>‘Change horses, sir!’ says the proprietor; ‘why,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span> we changed them while -you were putting on your spectacles and looking at your watch. Only one -minute allowed for it at Hounslow, and it is often done in fifty seconds -by those nimble-fingered horse-keepers.’</p> - -<p>Then the coach goes fast and faster on the way to Staines. ‘We always -spring ’em over these six miles,’ says the proprietor, in reply to the -old gentleman’s remark that he really does not like to go so fast. ‘Not -a pebble as big as a nutmeg on the road, and so even that the -equilibrium of a spirit-level could not be disturbed.’</p> - -<p>‘Bless me!’ exclaims the old man, ‘what improvements; and the roads!!!’</p> - -<p>‘They are at perfection, sir,’ says the proprietor. ‘No horse walks a -yard in this coach between London and Exeter—all trotting-ground now.’</p> - -<p>‘A little <i>galloping</i> ground, I fear,’ whispers the senior to himself. -‘But who has effected all this improvement in your paving?’</p> - -<p>‘An American of the name of M’Adam,’ is the reply; ‘but coachmen call -him the Colossus of Roads.’</p> - -<p>‘And pray, my good sir, what sort of horses may you have over the next -stage?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, sir, no more bo-kickers. It is hilly and severe ground and requires -cattle strong and staid. You’ll see four as fine horses put to the coach -at Staines as ever you saw in a nobleman’s carriage in your life.’</p> - -<p>‘Then we shall have no more galloping—no more springing them as you -term it?’</p> - -<p>‘Not quite so fast over the next stage,’ replies the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span> proprietor; ‘but -he will make good play over some part of it; for example, when he gets -three parts down a hill he lets them loose, and cheats them out of half -the one they have to ascend from the bottom of it. In short, they are -half-way up it before a horse touches his collar; and we <i>must</i> take -every advantage with such a fast coach as this, and one that loads so -well, or we should never keep our time. We are now to a minute; in fact, -the country people no longer look to the <i>sun</i> when they want to set -their clocks—they look only to the <i>Comet</i>.’</p> - -<p>Determined to see the changing of the team at the next stage, the old -gentleman remarks one of the new horses being led to the coach with a -twitch fastened tightly to his nose. ‘Holloa, Mr. Horsekeeper!’ he says, -‘you are going to put an unruly horse in.’—‘What! this here <i>’oss</i>,’ -growls the man; ‘the quietest hanimal alive, sir.’ But the good faith of -this pronouncement is somewhat discounted by the coachman’s caution, -‘Mind what you are about, Bob; don’t let him touch the roller-bolt.’ -Then, ‘Let ’em go, and take care of yourselves,’ his next remark, seems -a little alarming. More alarming still the next happening. The near -leader rears right on end, the thoroughbred near-wheeler draws himself -back to the extent of his pole-chain, and then, darting forward, gives a -sudden start to the coach which nearly dislocates the passengers’ necks.</p> - -<p>We will not follow every heart-beat of our old friend on this exciting -pilgrimage. He quits the coach at Bagshot, congratulating himself on -being still safe and sound, and rings the bell for the waiter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘REGULATOR’</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p019_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p019_sml.jpg" width="498" height="280" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘REGULATOR’ ON HARTFORD BRIDGE FLATS." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘REGULATOR’ ON HARTFORD BRIDGE FLATS.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<p>A well-dressed person appears, whom he takes for the landlord. ‘Pray, -<i>sir</i>,’ says he, ‘have you any <i>slow</i> coach down this road -to-day?’—‘Why, yes, sir,’ replies the waiter. ‘We shall have the -“Regulator” down in an hour.’</p> - -<p>He has breakfast, and at the appointed time the ‘Regulator’ appears at -the door. It is a strong, well-built <i>drag</i>, painted chocolate colour, -bedaubed all over with gilt letters—a Bull’s Head on the doors, a -Saracen’s Head on the hind boot, and drawn by four strapping horses; but -it wants the neatness of the other. The waiter announces that the -‘Regulator’ is full inside and in front; ‘but,’ he says, ‘you’ll have -the <i>gammon-board</i> all to yourself, and your luggage is in the hind -boot.’</p> - -<p>‘Gammon-board! Pray, what’s that? Do you not mean the <i>basket</i>?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh no, sir,’ says John, smiling, ‘no such a thing on the road now. It’s -the hind-dickey, as some call it.’</p> - -<p>Before ascending to his place, our friend has cast his eye on the team -that is about to convey him to Hartford Bridge, the next stage. It -consists of four moderate-sized horses, full of power, and still fuller -of condition, but with a fair sprinkling of blood; in short, the eye of -a judge would have found something about them not very unlike galloping. -‘All right!’ cries the guard, taking his key-bugle in his hand; and they -proceed up the village at a steady pace, to the tune of ‘Scots wha hae -wi’ Wallace bled,’ and continue at that pace for the first five miles. -The old gentleman again congratulates<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span> himself, but prematurely, for -they are about to enter upon Hartford Bridge Flats, which have the -reputation at this time of being the best five miles for a coach in all -England. The coachman now ‘springs’ his team and they break into a -gallop which does those five miles in twenty-three minutes. Half-way -across the Flats they meet the returning coachman of the ‘Comet,’ who -has a full view of his quondam passenger—and this is what he saw. He -was seated with his back to the horses—his arms extended to each -extremity of the guard-irons—his teeth set grim as death—his eyes cast -down towards the ground, thinking the less he saw of his danger the -better. There was what was called a top-heavy load, perhaps a ton of -luggage on the roof, and the horses were of unequal stride; so that the -lurches of the ‘Regulator’ were awful.</p> - -<p>Strange to say, the coach arrives safely at Hartford Bridge, but the -antiquated passenger has had enough of it, and exclaims that he will -<i>walk</i> into Devonshire. However, he thinks perhaps he will post down, -and asks the waiter, ‘What do you charge per mile, posting?’</p> - -<p>‘One and sixpence, sir.’—‘Bless me! just double! Let me see—two -hundred miles at two shillings per mile, postboys, turnpikes, etc., £20. -This will never do. Have you no coach that does not carry luggage on the -top?’—‘Oh yes, sir,’ replies the waiter; ‘we shall have one to-night -that is not allowed to carry a bandbox on the roof.’—‘That’s the one -for me; pray, what do you call it?’—‘The “Quicksilver” Mail, sir; one -of the best out of London.’—‘Guarded and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘QUICKSILVER’ MAIL</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p023_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p023_sml.jpg" width="426" height="242" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘QUICKSILVER’ MAIL:—‘STOP, COACHMAN, I HAVE LOST MY -HAT AND WIG.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘QUICKSILVER’ MAIL:—‘STOP, COACHMAN, I HAVE LOST MY -HAT AND WIG.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">lighted?’—‘Both, sir; blunderbuss and pistols in the sword-case; a lamp -each side the coach, and one under the footboard—see to pick up a pin -the darkest night of the year.—‘Very fast?’—‘Oh no, sir, <i>just keeps -time, and that’s all</i>.’—‘That’s the ‘coach for me, then,’ says our -hero.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, the ‘Devonport’ (commonly called the ‘Quicksilver’) mail -is half a mile faster in the hour than most in England, and is, indeed, -one of the miracles of the road. Let us then picture this unfortunate -passenger seated in this mail on a pitch-dark night in November. It is -true she has no luggage on the roof, nor much to incommode her -elsewhere; but she is a mile in the hour faster than the ‘Comet,’ at -least three miles quicker than the ‘Regulator.’ and she performs more -than half her journey by lamplight. It is needless to say, then, our -senior soon finds out his mistake; but there is no remedy at hand, for -it is dead of night, and all the inns are shut up. The climax of his -misfortunes then approaches. He sleeps, and awakes on a stage called the -fastest on the journey—it is four miles of ground, and twelve minutes -is the time. The old gentleman starts from his seat, dreaming the horses -are running away. Determined to see if it is so, although the passengers -assure him it is ‘all right,’ and assure him he will lose his hat if he -looks out of window, he <i>does</i> look out. The next moment he raises his -voice in a stentorian shout: ‘Stop, coachman, stop. I have lost my hat -and wig!’ The coachman hears him not—and in another second the broad -wheels of a road waggon have for ever demolished the lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span> headgear. And -so we leave him, hatless, wigless, to his fate.</p> - -<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> late Thomas Adolphus Trollope, brother of the better-known Anthony, -was never tired of writing voluminously about old times, and what he has -to say about the coaches on the Exeter Road is the more interesting and -valuable as coming from one who lived and travelled in the times of -which he speaks.</p> - -<p>The coaches for the South and West of England, he says, started from the -‘White Horse Cellars,’ Piccadilly, which was one of the fashionable -hotels of 1820, the time he treats of.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>COACH CONSTRUCTION</i></div> - -<p>The ‘White Bear,’ Piccadilly, he adds, was looked upon with contempt, as -being the place whence only the slow coaches started. The mails and -stages moved off to the accompaniment of news-vendors pushing the sale -of the expensive and heavily taxed newspapers of the period, and the -cries of the Jew-boys who sold oranges and cedar pencils on the pavement -at sixpence a dozen. Once clear of town, his enthusiasm over the travel -of other days finds scope, and he begins: ‘What an infinite succession -of teams! What an endless vista of ever-changing miles of country! What -a delicious sense of belonging to some select and specially important -and adventurous section of humanity as we clattered through the streets -of quiet little country towns at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span> midnight, or even at three or four -o’clock in the morning; ourselves the only souls awake in all the place. -What speculations as to the immediate bestowal and occupation of the -coachman as he “left you here, sir,” in the small hours!’</p> - -<p>Then he goes on to give a kind of gossipy history of the smart mails put -on the road about 1820.</p> - -<p>‘A new and accelerated mail-coach service was started under the title of -the “Devonport Mail,” at that time the fastest in England. Its -performances caused a sensation in the coaching world, and it was known -in such circles as the “Quicksilver Mail.” Its early days had chanced, -unfortunately, to be marked by two or three accidents, which naturally -gave it an increased celebrity.</p> - -<p>‘And if it is considered what those men and horses were required to -perform, the wonder was, not that the “Quicksilver” should have come to -grief two or three times, but rather that it ever made its journey -without doing so. What does the railway traveller of the present day, -who sees a travelling Post Office and its huge tender, crammed with -postal matter, think of the idea of carrying all that mass on one, or -perhaps two, coaches? The guard, occupying his solitary post behind the -coach on the top of the receptacle called, with reference to the -constructions of still earlier days, the <i>hinder</i>-boot, sat on a little -seat made for one, with his pistol and blunderbuss in a box in front of -him. And the original notion of those who first planned the modern mail -coach was that the bags containing the letters should be carried in the -<i>hinder</i>-boot. The fore-boot, beneath the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span> driver’s box, was considered -to be appropriated to the baggage of the three outside and four inside -passengers, which was the <i>Mail’s</i> entire complement. One of the -outsiders shared the box with the driver, and two occupied the seat on -the roof behind him, their backs to the horses, and facing the guard, -who had a seat all to himself. The accommodation provided for these two -was not of a very comfortable description. They were not, indeed, -crowded, as the four who occupied a similar position on another coach -often were; but they had a mere board to sit on, whereas the seats on -the roof of an ordinary stage coach were provided with cushions. The -fares by the mail were nearly always somewhat higher than those by even -equally fast, or, in some cases, faster, coaches; and it seems -unreasonable, therefore, that the accommodation should have been -inferior. I can only suppose that the patrons of the mail were -understood to be compensated for its material imperfections by the -superior dignity of their position. The <i>box</i>-seat, however, was well -cushioned.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE COACHING AGE</i></div> - -<p>‘But if the despatches, which it was the mail’s business to carry, could -once upon a time be contained in the hinder-boot, such soon ceased to be -the case. The bulk of postal matter which had to be carried was -constantly and rapidly increasing, and often as many as nine enormous -sacks, which were as long as the coach was broad, were heaped upon the -roof. The huge heap, three or four tiers high, was piled to a height -which prevented the guard, even when standing, from seeing or -communicating with the coachman. If to these considerations the reader -will add<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span> the consideration of the Devon and Somerset roads, over which -this top-heavy load had to be carried at twelve miles an hour, it will -not seem strange that accidents should have occurred. Not that the roads -were bad. They, thanks to M’Adam, were good, hard, and smooth, but the -hills were numerous and steep.</p> - -<p>‘The whole of the service was well done and admirable, and the drivers -of such a coach were masters of their profession. Work hard, but -remuneration good. There were fewer passengers by the mail to “remember” -the coachman, but it was more uniformly full, and somewhat more was -expected from a traveller by the mail. It was a splendid thing to see -the beautiful teams going over their short stage at twelve miles an -hour. None but good cattle in first-rate condition could do the work. A -saying of old Mrs. Mountain, for many years the well-known proprietress -of one of the large coaching inns in London, used to be quoted as having -been addressed by her to one of her drivers: “You find whip-cord, John, -and I’ll find oats.” And, as it used to be said, the measure of the corn -supplied to a coach-horse was—his stomach!</p> - -<p>‘It was a pretty sight to see the changing of the horses. There stood -the fresh team, two on the off side, two on the near side, and the coach -was drawn up with the utmost exactitude between them. Four ostlers jump -to the splinter-bars and loose the traces; the reins have already been -thrown down. The driver retains his seat, and, within the minute (more -than once, within fifty seconds by the watch) the coach is again on its -onward journey.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<p>‘Then how welcome was breakfast at an excellent old-world country -inn—twenty minutes allowed. The hot tea, after your night’s drive, the -fresh cream, butter, eggs, hot toast, and cold beef, and then, with your -cigar alight, back to the box and off again.</p> - -<p>‘I once witnessed on that road—not quite <i>that</i> road, for the -“Quicksilver” took a somewhat different line—the stage of four miles -between Ilchester and Ilminster done in <i>twenty</i> minutes, and a trace -broken and mended on the road. The mending was effected by the guard -almost before the coach stopped. It is a level bit of road, four miles -only for the entire stage, and was performed at a full gallop. That was -done by a coach called the “Telegraph,” started some years after the -“Quicksilver,” to do the distance between Exeter and London in one day. -We started at 5 <small>A.M.</small> from Exeter and reached London between 9 and 10 -that night, with time for breakfast and dinner on the road. I think the -performance of the Exeter “Telegraph” was the <i>ne plus ultra</i> of -coach-travelling. One man drove fifty miles, and then meeting the other -coach on the road, changed from one box to another and drove the fifty -miles back. It was tremendously hard work. “Not much work for the whip -arm?” I asked a coachman. “Not much, sir; but just put your hand on my -left arm.” The muscle was swollen to its utmost, and as hard as iron. -Many people who have not tried it think it easier work to drive such a -coach and such a team as this than to have to flog a dull team up to -eight miles an hour.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>AN OLD MAIL-GUARD</i></div> - -<p>Thomas Adolphus Trollope’s reminiscences may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> fitly supplemented by -those of Moses James Nobbs, who died in June 1897, at the age of eighty -years, and was one of the last of the mail-guards on the Exeter Road. To -say that he was actually <i>the</i> last would be rash, for coachmen, -postboys, and guards were a long-lived race, and it would not be at all -surprising to learn that some ancient veterans still survive. Nobbs -entered the service of the Post Office in 1836, and was transferred from -the Bristol and Portsmouth to the London, Yeovil, and Exeter Mail in -1837.</p> - -<p>Retiring at the close of 1891, he therefore saw fifty-five years’ -service, and vividly recollected the time when the mails were conveyed -in bags secured on the roof of the coach. At Christmas-time the load was -always heavy; but although the correspondence of that season sometimes -severely strained the capacity of the vehicle, it is not recorded that -the mail had to be duplicated, as had to be done sometimes in after -years when railways had superseded coaches.</p> - -<p>When the Great Western Railway was opened through to Exeter in 1844 and -the last mail coach on this route had been withdrawn, Nobbs was given -the superintendence of the receiving and despatching of the mails from -Paddington, and often spoke of the extraordinary growth of the Post -Office business during the railway era. At one Christmas-tide he -despatched from Paddington in a single day no less than twenty tons of -letters and parcels.</p> - -<p>He had not been without his adventures. ‘We had a very sad accident,’ he -says, ‘with that mail<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> on one occasion, between Whitchurch and Andover. -The coach used to start from Piccadilly, where all the passengers and -baggage were taken up. On this occasion the bags were brought up in a -cart, as usual, and we were off in a few seconds. My coachman had been -having a drinking bout with a friend that day, and when we had got a few -miles on the road, I discovered that he was the worse for drink and that -it was not safe for him to drive. So when we reached Hounslow I made him -get off the box-seat; and after securing the mail-bags and putting him -in my seat and strapping him in, I took the ribbons. At Whitchurch the -coachman unstrapped himself and exchanged places with me, but we had not -proceeded more than three miles when, the coach giving a jolt over a -heap of stones, he fell between the horses, and the wheels of the coach -ran over him, killing him on the spot. The horses, having no driver, -broke into a full gallop, so, as there was no front passenger, I climbed -over the roof, to gather up the reins, when I found that they had fallen -among the horses’ feet and were trodden to bits. Returning over the -roof, I missed my hold and fell into the road, but fortunately with no -worse accident than some bruises and a sprained ankle. The horses kept -on till they reached Andover, where they pulled up at the usual spot. -Strange to say, no damage was done to the coach, though there was a very -steep hill to go down. The “Old Exeter Mail,” which came behind our -coach, found the body of my coachman on the road, and, a mile farther, -picked me up.’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE SHORT STAGES</i></div> - -<p>Suppose, instead of taking one of the fast mails to Exeter, and -journeying straight away, we book a seat in one of the ‘short stages’ -which were the only popular means of being conveyed between London and -the suburbs in the days before railways, omnibuses, and tramways -existed. We will take the stage to Brentford, because that is on our -way.</p> - -<p>What year shall we imagine it to be? Say 1837, because that date marks -the accession of Her Majesty and the opening of the great Victorian Era, -in which everything except human nature (which is still pretty much what -it used to be) has been turned inside out, altered, and ‘improved.’</p> - -<p>If, in the year 1837, we wished to reach Brentford and could not afford -to hire a trap or carriage, practically the only way, other than walking -the seven miles, would have been to take the stage; and as these stages, -starting from the City or the Strand, were comparatively few, it was -always advisable to go down to the starting-places and secure a seat, -rather than to chance finding one vacant at Hyde Park Corner.</p> - -<p>‘How we hate the Putney and Brentford stages that draw up in a line in -Piccadilly, after the mails are gone,’ says Hazlitt, writing of the -romance of the Mail Coach. Well, it may be that their five or ten mile -journeys afforded no hold for the imagination, compared with the dashing -‘Quicksilver’ and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span> lightning ‘Telegraph’ to Exeter; but what on -earth the Londoner of modest means who desired to travel to Putney or to -Brentford would in those pre-omnibus times have done without those -stages it is impossible to conceive. We, in these days, might just as -well find romance in the majesty of the beautiful Great Western Express -locomotives that speed between Paddington and Penzance, and then turn to -the omnibuses that run to Hammersmith, and say, ‘How we hate the -’buses!’</p> - -<p>All these suburban stages started from public-houses. There were quite a -number which went to Brentford and on to Hounslow, and they set out from -such forgotten houses as the ‘New Inn,’ Old Bailey; the ‘Goose and -Gridiron,’ St. Paul’s Churchyard; the ‘Old Bell,’ Holborn; the -‘Gloucester Coffee House,’ Piccadilly; the ‘White Hart,’ ‘Red Lion,’ and -‘Spotted Dog,’ Strand; and the ‘Bolt-in-Tun,’ Fleet Street. It is to be -feared that those stages were not ‘Swiftsures,’ ‘Hirondelles,’ or -‘Lightnings.’ Nor, indeed, were ‘popular prices’ known in those days. -Concessions had been made in this direction, it is true, some seven -years before, when the man with the extraordinary name—Mr. -Shillibeer—introduced the first omnibus, which ran between the -‘Yorkshire Stingo,’ in the New Road, Marylebone, and the City; and the -very name ‘omnibus’ was originally intended as a kind of finger-post to -point out the intended popularity of the new conveyance, but as the fare -to the City was one shilling, it may readily be supposed that Bill -Mortarmixer, Tom Tenon, and the whole of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘GOOSE AND GRIDIRON’</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p035_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p035_sml.jpg" width="418" height="295" alt="Image unavailable: THE WEST COUNTRY MAILS STARTING FROM THE GLOUCESTER -COFFEE HOUSE, PICCADILLY (AFTER JAMES POLLARD)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE WEST COUNTRY MAILS STARTING FROM THE GLOUCESTER -COFFEE HOUSE, PICCADILLY (AFTER JAMES POLLARD).</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">their artisan brethren, who did not in those times aspire to -one-and-twopence per hour, preferred to walk. For the same reason, they -were only the comparatively affluent who could afford the eighteenpenny -fare, or the two-hours journey, to Brentford by the ‘stage.’</p> - -<p>Let us suppose ourselves to be of that fortunate company, and, paying -our one-and-sixpence, set out from the ‘Goose and Gridiron.’</p> - -<p>That old-fashioned hostelry, which stood modestly back from the roadway -on the north side of St. Paul’s Churchyard, was, unhappily, demolished -in 1894, after a good deal more than two centuries’ record for good -cheer. It was originally the ‘Swan and Harp,’ but some irreverent wag, -probably as far back as the building of the house in Wren’s time, found -the other name for it, and the effigies of the goose and the gridiron -remained even to our own time.</p> - -<p>This year of our imaginary journey affords a strange contrast with the -appearance the streets will possess some sixty years later. Ludgate -Hill, in 1837 an exceedingly narrow thoroughfare, paved with rough -granite setts, will in the last decade of the century present a very -different aspect. Instead of the dingy brick warehouses there will be -handsome premises of some architectural pretensions, and the Hill will -be considerably widened. The setts will have disappeared, to be replaced -by wood pavement, and the traffic will have increased tenfold; until, in -fact, it has become a continuous stream. There will be strange vehicles, -too, unknown in 1837,—omnibuses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span> hansom-cabs, and motor cars, and -where Ludgate Hill joins Fleet Street there will be a Circus and an -obstructive railway-bridge.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 87px;"> -<a href="images/i_p038_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p038_sml.jpg" width="87" height="172" alt="Image unavailable: ‘AN OLD GENTLEMAN, A COBBETT-LIKE PERSON.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">‘AN OLD GENTLEMAN, A COBBETT-LIKE PERSON.’</span> -</div> - -<p>We proceed in leisurely fashion down Ludgate Hill, and halt for -passengers and parcels at the ‘Bolt-in-Tun,’ Fleet Street, which is now -a railway receiving office. Thence by slow degrees, calling at the ‘Red -Lion,’ ‘Spotted Dog,’ and the ‘White Hart,’ we eventually reach the -‘Gloucester Coffee House,’ Piccadilly, re-built many years ago, and now -the ‘Berkeley Hotel.’ Beyond this point, progress is fortunately -speedier, and we reach Hyde Park Corner in, comparatively speaking, the -twinkling of an eye. Hyde Park Corner in 1837, this year of the Queen’s -accession, has begun to feel the great changes that are presently to -alter London so marvellously. We have among our fellow-travellers by the -stage an old gentleman, a Cobbett-like person, who wears a rustic, -semi-farmer kind of appearance, and recollects many improvements here; -who can ‘mind the time, look you,’ when the turnpike-gate (which was -removed in 1825) stood at the corner; when St. George’s Hospital was a -private mansion, the residence of Lord Lanesborough; and when the road -leading past it to Pimlico was quite wild country, as in the picture on -page 43, where sportsmen shot snipe in those marshes that were in future -years<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p039_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p039_sml.jpg" width="268" height="353" alt="Image unavailable: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S STATUE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S STATUE.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">to become the site of Belgrave Square and other aristocratic quarters.</p> - -<p>At this spot Mr. Decimus Burton had already built the great Triumphal -Arch forming the entrance to Constitution Hill, together with the -Classic Screen at Hyde Park Corner. The Screen was built in 1828, and -the Arch, which is a copy of the Arch of Titus at Rome, in 1832. -Already, in 1820, Apsley House had become the residence of the Iron -Duke, but it was not until 1846 that what Thackeray justly names ‘the -hideous equestrian monster’ was placed on the summit of that Arch, -opposite the Duke’s windows. Here is an illustration of it, before it -was hoisted up to that height. Beside it you see the Duke himself, in -his characteristic white trousers, in company with several weirdly -dressed persons. Again, over page, may be seen the Arch, with the statue -on it, and the neighbourhood vastly changed from the appearance it wears -in the picture of the ‘North-East Prospect of St. George’s Hospital.’ -Instead of the great hooded waggons starting for the West Country, the -road is occupied with very crowded traffic, and among the vehicles may -be noticed two omnibuses, one going to Chelsea, the other (for this is -the year 1851) to the Exhibition,—the first exhibition that ever was. -If, ladies and gentlemen, you will be pleased to look at those -omnibuses, you will see that they have neither knifeboards nor seats on -the roof, and that passengers are squatting up there in the most -supremely uncomfortable, not to say dangerous, positions. Also, in those -dark ages of London locomotion, the ascent to that uncomfortable roof -was of itself perilous, for no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p041_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p041_sml.jpg" width="361" height="255" alt="Image unavailable: THE WELLINGTON ARCH AND HYDE PARK CORNER, 1851." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE WELLINGTON ARCH AND HYDE PARK CORNER, 1851.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p043_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p043_sml.jpg" width="354" height="204" alt="Image unavailable: ST. GEORGE’S HOSPITAL, AND THE ROAD TO PIMLICO, 1780." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ST. GEORGE’S HOSPITAL, AND THE ROAD TO PIMLICO, 1780.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">one had as yet dreamed of the staircase. Other curious points will be -noticed by the observant, and among them the fact that ’buses then had -doors. The present historian vividly recollects a door being part of the -equipment of every ’bus, and of the full-flavoured odour of what Mr. W. -S. Gilbert calls ‘damp straw and squalid hay’ which assailed the -nostrils of the ‘insides’ when that door was shut; but in what -particular year did the door vanish altogether? Alas! the straw, with -the door, is gone for evermore, and passengers no longer lose their -small change in it to the great gain of the conductor, who, by the way, -used to be called ‘the cad,’ even although he commonly wore a ‘top hat’ -and a frock coat, as per the picture. The word ‘cad’ has since then -acquired a much more offensive meaning, and if you addressed a conductor -by that name nowadays, he would probably express a desire to punch your -head.</p> - -<p>The hideous statue of the Duke and his charger ‘Copenhagen,’ which the -French said ‘avenged Waterloo,’ was removed to Aldershot in 1884, when -the alterations were made at Hyde Park Corner.</p> - -<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">And</span> now we come to the first toll-gate, which, removed to this spot in -1825, opposite where the Alexandra Hotel now stands, stood here until -1854.</p> - -<p>There were many troublesome survivals in 1837 which have long since been -swept away. Toll-gates,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE PIKEMEN</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p045_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p045_sml.jpg" width="312" height="224" alt="Image unavailable: KNIGHTSBRIDGE TOLL-GATE, 1854." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">KNIGHTSBRIDGE TOLL-GATE, 1854.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">for instance. The toll or turnpike gate of sixty, fifty, forty years ago -was a very real grievance, both on country roads and in London itself, -or in those districts which we now call London. Many people objected to -pay toll then, and a favourite amusement of the young bloods was -fighting the pikeman for his halfpenny, his penny, or his sixpence, as -the case might be. Sometimes the pikeman won, sometimes those gay young -sparks; and the pikeman always took those terrific encounters as part of -the day’s work, and never summoned those sportsmen for assault and -battery. In fact, they were such sporting times that, whether the -pikeman or the Corinthian youth won, the latter would probably chuck his -antagonist a substantial coin of the realm, whereupon the pikeman would -say that ‘his honour was a gemman,’ and exeunt severally to purchase -beef-steaks for the reduction of black eyes.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 146px;"> -<a href="images/i_p047_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p047_sml.jpg" width="146" height="178" alt="Image unavailable: THE PIKEMAN." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE PIKEMAN.</span> -</div> - -<p>The present generation has, of course, never seen a pikeman. He wore a -tall black glazed hat and corduroy breaches, with white stockings. But -the most distinctive part of his costume was his white linen apron. No -one knows why he wore an apron; neither did he, and the reason of it -must now needs be lost in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span> the mists of history, because the last -pikeman, whom otherwise we might have asked, is dead, and gone to Hades, -where he probably is still going through a series of shadowy encounters -beside the shores of the Styx with the ghosts of the Toms and Jerrys of -long ago, and offering to fight Charon for the price of his ferry across -the stream.</p> - -<p>But here we are at rural Knightsbridge, in 1837 as quiet a spot as you -could find round London, with scattered cottages of the rustic, -rose-embowered kind. Knightsbridge Green <i>was</i> a green in those days, -and not, as it is now, a squalid paved court. Then, and for many years -afterwards, the soldiers from the neighbouring barracks would walk with -the nursemaids in the country lanes, and take tea in the tea-gardens -which stood away behind the highroad and were a feature of Brompton. -Where are those tea-gardens now, and where the toll-gate that barred the -road by the barracks? Gone, my friends; swept away like the gossamer -threads of the spiders that spun webs in the arbours of those gardens -and dropped in the nursemaids’ tea and the soldiers’ beer. Those -soldiers and those nursemaids are gone too, else it would be a pleasing, -a curious, and an instructive thing to take them, tottering in their old -age, by the hand and say: ‘Here, my gallant warrior of eighty years or -so,’ and ‘Here, my pretty maiden of four-score, is Knightsbridge, the -self-same Knightsbridge you knew, but with some new, and somewhat -larger, buildings.’ They would be as strangers in a strange land, and, -dazed by the din of the thronging traffic amid the sky-scraping -buildings, beg to be taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘NEW POLICE’</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p049_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p049_sml.jpg" width="337" height="212" alt="Image unavailable: KNIGHTSBRIDGE BARRACKS TOLL-GATE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">KNIGHTSBRIDGE BARRACKS TOLL-GATE.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">away. But to bring back the policeman of that era, if that were -possible, and set him to control this traffic, would be more instructive -still. When the last years of the coaching age along this road were -still running their course, ‘Robert,’ the ‘Peeler,’ or the ‘New Police,’ -as he was variously named, had an easy time of it here. Not so his -successors, who have to deal with an almost continual block, all day -long and every day.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 69px;"> -<a href="images/i_p051_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p051_sml.jpg" width="69" height="157" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘NEW POLICE.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘NEW POLICE.’</span> -</div> - -<p>The ‘New Police’ were a novel body of men in the early years of the -reign, having been introduced in 1829 by Sir Robert Peel. Hence the -brilliant appropriateness of those nicknames. There still, however, -lingered in various parts of the Metropolis that ancient institution, -the Watchman, who patrolled the streets at night and announced the hours -in a curious sing-song voice with remarks upon the state of the weather -added. Those who sat up late were familiar with the chant: ‘Twelve -o’clock, and a stormy night!’ and found comfort in the companionship of -that voice.</p> - -<p>The watchmen, although scarce anyone now living can have seen one of -those many-caped, tottering old fellows, seem strangely familiar to us. -That is because we have read so much about them in the exploits of Tom -and Jerry, the Corinthian youth of the glorious days of George the -Fourth, when the most popular forms of sport were knocker-wrenching, -bilking a pikeman, and thrashing a Charley. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span> ‘Charley’ was, of course, -a watchman. The thrashing of a ‘Charley’ was not an heroic pursuit, but -(or, rather, therefore) it was extremely popular. They were generally -old men, and not capable of very serious reprisals upon the gangs of -muscular youths who thumped, whacked, larrupped, and beat them -unmercifully, and overturned their watch-boxes on to them, so that those -poor old men were imprisoned until some Samaritan came by and released -them. No one ever attempted that sort of thing with the ‘New Police,’ -who were not old and decrepit men, but tall, lusty, upstanding fellows. -Perhaps that was why the ‘New Police’ were so violently objected to, -although the ostensible grounds of objection were founded on the -supposition that the continental system of a semi-military <i>gendarmerie</i> -was intended. The authorities were therefore at great pains to keep the -police a strictly citizen force, and although a uniform was, of course, -necessary, one as nearly as possible like civilian dress was chosen. The -present uniform of the police, and the police themselves, if they had -then worn a helmet, would have been howled out of existence by the -violent Radicals and Chartists who troubled the early years of the -Queen’s reign. They did not, therefore, wear a helmet at all, but a tall -glazed hat of the chimney-pot kind. A swallow-tailed coat, tightly -buttoned up, with a belt round the waist, a stiff stock under the chin, -and trousers of white duck gave him, altogether, a very respectable and -citizen-like aspect. It has been left to later years to alter this -uniform.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>KENSINGTON</i></div> - -<p>But we must not forget that we are travelling to Brentford sixty-two -years ago. Let us, therefore, whip up the horses, and, passing the first -milestone at the corner of the lane which a future generation to that of -1837 is to know by the name of the Exhibition Road, hurry on to -Kensington.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 59px;"> -<a href="images/i_p053_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p053_sml.jpg" width="59" height="202" alt="Image unavailable: TOMMY ATKINS, 1838." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">TOMMY ATKINS, 1838.</span> -</div> - -<p>Kensington in this year of the accession of Her Majesty Queen Victoria -is having an unusual amount of attention paid to it. Every one is -bursting with loyalty towards the girl of eighteen suddenly called upon -to rule over the nation, and crowds throng the old-fashioned High Street -of Kensington at the end by Palace Green, eager to see Her Majesty drive -forth from Kensington Palace. They are kept at a respectful distance by -a sentry in a dress which succeeding generations will think absurd. -White trousers, coatee, stiff stock, rigid cross-belts, and a shako like -the upper part of the funnel of a penny steamer were whimsical things to -go a-soldiering in, but the Tommy Atkins of that time had no other or -easier kind of uniform, and it will be left for the Crimean War, -seventeen years later, to prove the folly of it.</p> - -<p>The palace is well guarded, for the Government, for their part, have not -yet learned to trust the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span> people; nor, indeed, are the people at this -time altogether to be trusted. The long era of the Georges did not breed -loyalty, and for William the Fourth, just dead, the people had an amused -contempt. They called him ‘Silly Billy.’ At this time, also, aristocracy -drew its skirts daintily from any possible contact with the lower herd. -Alas! poor lower herd, and still more, alas! for aristocracy.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p054_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p054_sml.jpg" width="217" height="176" alt="Image unavailable: OLD KENSINGTON CHURCH." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">OLD KENSINGTON CHURCH.</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>REMINISCENCES</i></div> - -<p>Our fellow-traveller in the Brentford stage has a friend with him, and, -as we jolt from Kensington Gore into the High Street, points out the -palace, and tells how William the Third and Queen Mary lived and died -there, amid William’s stolid Hollanders. He tells a story which he heard -from his grandfather, of how Dr. Radcliffe, called in to look at the -King’s dropsical ankles, said, when asked what he thought of them, ‘Why, -truly, I would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span> have your Majesty’s two legs for your three -kingdoms.’ He tells the friend that the King procured a more courtly and -less blunt medical adviser; and we can well believe it. More stories -beguile the way: how Queen Anne and Prince George of Denmark ended here -in the fulness of time; how their successor, George the First, furious -with Sir Robert Walpole, with his queen, with the servants, and anything -and everything, used to tear off his wig and jump on it, in transports -of rage. How he would gaze up at the vane on the clock-tower entrance to -the palace (which we can just glimpse as we pass), anxious for favouring -winds to waft his ships to England with despatches from his beloved -Hanover, and how he died suddenly at breakfast one morning after being -disappointed in those breezes.</p> - -<p>These are hearsay stories. Our friend, however, has reminiscences of his -own, and can recollect the Princess Caroline, the eccentric wife of the -Prince Regent, living at the palace between the years 1810 and 1814—‘a -red-faced huzzy, sir, with yellow towzled hair, all spangles and scarlet -cloak, like a play-actress, making Haroun-al-Raschid visits among the -people, and bothering the house-agents in the neighbourhood for houses -to let.’ The old gentleman who says this is a Radical, and, like all of -that political creed, likes to see Royalty ‘behaving as sich, and not -like common people such as you an’ me.’ Whereupon another passenger in -the stage, on whom the speaker’s eye has fallen, audibly objects to -being called, or thought, or included among common persons; so that -relations<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> among the ‘insides’ are strained, and so continue, past -Kensington Church, a very decrepit and nondescript kind of building; -past the Charity School, the Vestry Hall, where a gorgeous beadle in -plush breeches, white stockings, scarlet cloak trimmed with gold -bullion, a wonderful hat, and a wand of office, is standing, and so into -the country. Presently we come to the village of Hammersmith, innocent -as yet of whelk-stalls and fried-fish shops, and so at last, past -Turnham Green, to Brentford.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 158px;"> -<a href="images/i_p056_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p056_sml.jpg" width="158" height="197" alt="Image unavailable: THE BEADLE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE BEADLE.</span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Brentford</span> was dismissed somewhat summarily in the pages of the <span class="smcap">Bath -Road</span>, for which let me here apologise to the county town of Middlesex. -Not that I will renounce one jot as to the dirtiness of the place; for -what says Gay?—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Brentford, tedious town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For dirty streets and white-legged chickens known.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p057_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p057_sml.jpg" width="412" height="253" alt="Image unavailable: BRENTFORD." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BRENTFORD.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">‘<i>BRENTFORD, TEDIOUS TOWN</i>’</div> - -<p>Now, if Brentford is certainly not tedious nowadays, it is -unquestionably as dirty as ever. If you would know the true, poignant, -inner meaning of tediousness, you must make acquaintance, say, with -Gower Street on a winter’s day; a typical street of suburban villas, -each ‘villa’ as like its neighbour as one new sixpence is to another; or -the Cromwell Road at any time or under any conditions. Then you will -have known tedium. At Brentford, however, all is life, movement, dirt, -and balmy odours from a quarter of a mile of roadside gasworks. The -bargees and lightermen of this riverside town are swearing picturesquely -at one another all day, while the gasmen, the hands at the waterworks, -and the railwaymen join in occasionally. Sometimes the profanity so -cheerfully bandied about leads to a fight, but not often, because when a -bargee addresses his dearest friend by a string of epithets that might -make a typical old-time stage-manager blush, it is all taken as a token -of friendship. These are the shibboleths of the place.</p> - -<p>When, however, Gay alludes to the ‘white-legged chickens,’ for which, he -says, Brentford was known, we are at a loss to identify the breed. That -kind of chicken must long since have given up the attempt to be -white-legged, and have changed, by process of evolution, into some less -easily soiled variety. For the dirt of Brentford is always there. It -only varies in kind. In times of drought it makes itself obvious in -clouds of black dust, composed of powdered coals and clinkers; and when -a day of rain has laid this plague, it is forthwith re-incarnated in the -shape of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span> seas of oily black mud. The poet Thomson might have written -yesterday—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">E’en so, through Brentford town, a town of mud;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">while Dr. Johnson adds his weighty testimony, for when a contemporary, a -native of Glasgow, was praising Glasgow to him, the Doctor cut his -eloquence with the query: ‘Pray, sir, have you ever seen Brentford?’ -Here was sarcasm indeed! Happily, however, the Glaswegian had <i>not</i> seen -Brentford, and so was not in a position to appreciate the retort. But -Boswell, who, ubiquitous man, was of course present, knew, and told the -Doctor this was shocking. ‘Why, then, sir,’ rejoined Johnson, ‘<i>you</i> -have never seen Brentford!’</p> - -<p>Then, when we have all this delightful testimony as to Brentford’s dirt, -comes Shenstone, the melancholy poet who ‘found his warmest welcome at -an inn,’ to testify as to the character of its inhabitants. ‘No -persons,’ says he, ‘more solicitous about the preservation of rank than -those who have no rank at all. Observe the humours of a country -christening; and you will find no court in Christendom so ceremonious as -“the quality” of Brentford.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ODD STREET-NAMES</i></div> - -<p>Despite these criticisms, it must be acknowledged that Brentford is a -town of high interest. Its filthy gasworks, its waterworks, its docks -have not sufficed to sweep away the old-fashioned appearance of the -place. It may, in fact, be safely said that no other such truly -picturesque town as Brentford exists near London. This will not long -remain true of it, for, even now, new buildings are here and there -taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span> the place of the old. For one thing, Brentford has a quite -remarkable number of old inns, and the great stableyards and courtyards -of other old coaching hostelries which themselves have disappeared. This -was, in fact, the end of the first stage out of London in the coaching -era, and the beginning of the last stage in; and in consequence, as -befitted a town on the great highway to the West, had ample -accommodation, both for man and beast. One of these old yards, -indeed,—Red Lion Inn Yard—is historic, for it is traditionally the -spot where Edmund Ironside, the king, was murdered by the Danes in 1016, -after he had defeated them here. The most famous, however, of all the -Brentford inns, the <i>Three Pigeons</i>, was brutally demolished many years -ago, although it had associations with Shakespeare and ‘rare’ Ben -Jonson. The ‘Tumbledown Dick,’ another vanished hostelry, whose sign was -a satire on the nerveless rule and swift overthrow of the Protector’s -son, Richard Cromwell, was a well-known house; while the names of some -of the old yards—Green Dragon Yard and Catherine Wheel Yard—are -reminiscent of once-popular signs.</p> - -<p>Then Brentford has the queerest of street names. What think you of ‘Half -Acre’ for the style and title of a thoroughfare? or ‘Town Meadow,’ which -is less a meadow than a slum? Then there are ‘The Butts,’ with some -fine, dignified Queen Anne and Georgian red-brick houses, situated in a -quiet spot behind the High Street; and ‘The Hollows,’ a thoroughfare -hollow no longer, if ever it was.</p> - -<p>Fronting on to the High Street is the broad and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span> massive old stone tower -of St. Lawrence’s Church, the parish church of the so-called ‘New’ -Brentford, itself old beyond compute. The tower dates back four hundred -years or so, but the body of the church was rebuilt in Georgian days and -is very like, and only a little less hideous than, the gasworks up the -street.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>SION</i></div> - -<p>An extraordinary story is told by Cyrus Redding, in his <i>Fifty Years’ -Recollections</i>, of a countryman’s adventures in London just before the -introduction of railways. The adventures began at Brentford: ‘I had a -relative,’ he says, ‘who, on stating his intention to come up to town, -was solicited to accept as his fellow-traveller a man of property, a -neighbour, who had never been thirty miles from home in his life. They -travelled by coach. All went well till they reached Brentford, where the -countryman supposed he was nearly come to his journey’s end. On seeing -the lamps mile after mile, he expressed more and more impatience, -exclaiming, “Are we not yet in London, and so many miles of lamps?” At -length, on reaching Hyde Park Corner, he was told they had arrived. His -impatience increased from thence to Lad Lane. He became overwhelmed with -astonishment, They entered the “Swan with Two Necks,” and my relative -bade his companion remain in the coffee-room until he returned. On -returning, he found the bird flown, and for six long weeks there were no -tidings of him. At length it was discovered that he was in the custody -of the constables at Sherborne in Dorsetshire, his mind alienated. He -was conveyed home, came partially to his reason for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span> short time, and -died. It was gathered from him that he had become more and more confused -at the lights and the long distances he was carried among them; it -seemed as if they could have no end. The idea that he could never be -extricated from such a labyrinth superseded every other. He could not -bear the thought. He went into the street, inquired his way westward, -and seemed to have got into Hyde Park, and then out again into the Great -Western Road, walking until he could walk no longer. He could relate -nothing more that occurred until he was secured. Neither his watch nor -money had been taken from him.’</p> - -<p>The country-folks who now journey up to town do not behave in this -extraordinary fashion on coming to the infinitely greater and more -distracting London of to-day.</p> - -<p>At the western end of Brentford, just removed from its muddy streets, is -Sion, the Duke of Northumberland’s suburban residence. The great square -embattled stone house stands in the midst of the park, screened from -observation from the road by great clusters of forest trees. Through the -ornamental classic stone screen and iron gateway, erected in the -well-known ‘Adam style’ by John Adam about 1780, the green sward may be -glimpsed; the fresher and more beautiful by contrast with the dusty -highroad. Above the arched stone entrance stands the Percy Lion, -<i>statant</i>, as heralds would say, with tail extended.</p> - -<p>Sion is well named, for no fairer scene can be imagined than this in the -long days of summer, when the lovely gardens are at their best and the -Thames<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span> flows by the park with glittering golden ripples. The Daughters -of Sion, whose religious retreat this was, belonged to the Order of St. -Bridget. Their abbey, with its lands and great revenues, was suppressed -and confiscated by Henry the Eighth in 1532. Nine years later his Queen, -Katherine Howard, was imprisoned within the desecrated walls before -being handed over to the headsman, and in another seven years the body -of the King himself lay here a night on its journey to Windsor. There is -a horrid story that tells how the unwieldy corpse of the bloated royal -monster burst, and how the dogs drank his blood.</p> - -<p>In the reign of his daughter, Queen Mary, Sion enjoyed a few years’ -restitution of its rights and property, but when Elizabeth ascended the -throne, the ‘Daughters’ were finally dispossessed. They wandered to -Flanders, and thence, by devious ways, and with many hardships, -eventually to Lisbon. The Abbey of Sion yet exists there, and the -sisters are still solely Englishwomen. It is on record that they still -cherish the hope of returning to their lost home by the banks of the -Thames, and have to this day the keys of that abbey. Seventy years or so -since, the then Duke of Northumberland, travelling in Portugal, called -upon them, and was told of this fond belief. They even showed him the -keys. But he was equal to the occasion, and cynically remarked that the -locks had been altered since those days!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HOUNSLOW</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p065_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p065_sml.jpg" width="289" height="238" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘BELL,’ HOUNSLOW." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘BELL,’ HOUNSLOW.</span> -</div> - -<p>Hounslow, to which we now come, being situated, like all the other -places between this and Hyde Park Corner, on the Bath Road, as well as -on the road to Exeter, has been referred to at some length in the book -on that highway. Coming to the place again, there seems no reason to -alter or add much to what was said in those pages. The long, long -uninteresting street is just as sordid as ever, and the very few houses -of any note facing it are fewer. There remains, it is true, that old -coaching inn, the ‘George,’ modernised with discretion, and at the -parting of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span> ways the gallows-like sign of the ‘Bell’ still keeps its -place on the footpath, with the old original bell still depending from -it, although, at the moment of writing, the house itself is being pulled -down. But the angle where the roads divide is under revision, and the -hoardings that now hide from sight the old shops and the red-brick -house, with high-pitched roof and dormer windows, that has stood here so -long, will give place shortly to some modern building with plate-glass -shop-fronts and a general air of aggressive modernity which will be -another link gone with the Hounslow of the past. Thus it is that an -illustration is shown here of the ‘parting of the ways’ before the -transformation is complete; for although the fork of the roads leading -to places so distant from this point, and from one another, as Bath and -Exeter must needs always lend something to the imagination, yet a -commonplace modern street building cannot, for another hundred years, -command respect or be worth sketching, even for the sake of the -significant spot on which it stands.</p> - -<p>The would-be decorative gas-lamp that stands here in the centre of the -road bears two tin tablets inscribed respectively, ‘To Slough’ and ‘To -Staines,’ in a somewhat parochial fashion. They had no souls, those -people who inscribed these legends. Did they not know that we stand here -upon highways famed in song and story; not merely the flat and -uninteresting seven and ten miles respectively to Staines and Slough, -but the hundred and fifty-five miles to Exeter and the ninety-five miles -to Bath?</p> - -<p>Here, then, we see the Bath Road going off to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>AN OLD COACHMAN</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p067_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p067_sml.jpg" width="433" height="256" alt="Image unavailable: HOUNSLOW: THE PARTING OF THE WAYS." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">HOUNSLOW: THE PARTING OF THE WAYS.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">right and the Exeter Road to the left in semi-suburban fashion. Had it -not been for the winter fogs this level stretch would have invariably -been the delight of the old coachmen; but when the roads were wrapped in -obscurity they were hard put to it to keep on the highway. Sometimes -they did not even succeed in doing so, but drove instead into the -noisome ditches, filled with evil-smelling black mud, which at that time -divided the road from Hounslow Heath.</p> - -<p>Charles Ward, whom the coaching critics of his age united to honour as -an artist with ‘the ribbons,’ drove the famous Exeter ‘Telegraph’ the -thirty miles to Bagshot, reaching that village usually at 11 <small>P.M.</small>, and -taking the up coach from thence to London at four o’clock in the -morning. He tells how in the winter the mails had often to be escorted -out of London with flaring torches, seven or eight mails following one -another, the guard of the foremost lighting the one following, and so -on, travelling at a slow pace, like a funeral procession. ‘Many times,’ -he says, ‘I have been three hours going from London to Hounslow. I -remember one very foggy night, instead of arriving at Bagshot at eleven -o’clock, I did not get there till one in the morning. On my way back to -town, when the fog was very bad, I was coming over Hounslow Heath, when -I reached the spot where the old powder-mills used to stand. I saw -several lights in the road and heard voices which induced me to stop. -The old Exeter mail, which left Bagshot thirty minutes before I did, had -met with a singular accident. It was driven by a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span> named Gambier; his -leaders had come in contact with a hay-cart on its way to London, which -caused them to suddenly turn round, break the pole, and blunder down a -steep embankment, at the bottom of which was a narrow deep ditch, filled -with water and mud. The mail coach pitched on the stump of a willow tree -that overhung the ditch; the coachman and the outside passengers were -thrown over into the meadow beyond, and the horses went into the ditch. -The unfortunate wheelers were drowned or smothered in the mud. There -were two inside passengers, who were extricated with some difficulty, -but fortunately no one was injured. I managed to take the passengers -with the guard and mail bags on to London, leaving the coachman to wait -for daylight before he could make an attempt to get the mail up the -embankment. They endeavoured to accomplish this with cart horses and -chains, and they had nearly reached the top of the bank when something -gave way, and the poor old mail went back into the ditch again. I shall -never forget the scene. There were about a dozen men from the -powder-mills trying to render assistance, and with their black faces, -each bearing a torch in his hand, they presented a curious spectacle. -This happened about 1840. Posts and rails were erected at the spot after -the accident. I passed the place in 1870, and they were there still, as -well as the old pollard willow stump.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HIGHWAYMEN</i></div> - -<p>The old-time associations of Hounslow Heath are almost forgotten now, -for, where Claude du Vall and Dick Turpin waited patiently for -travellers, there are nowadays long rows of suburban villas which have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span> -long since changed the dreary scene. Nothing so romantic as the meeting -of the lawyer with the redoubtable Dick is likely to befall the -traveller in these times:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As Turpin was riding on Hounslow Heath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lawyer there he chanced for to meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who said, ‘Kind sir, ain’t you afraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Turpin, that mischievous blade?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Oh! no, sir,’ says Turpin, ‘I’ve been more acute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ve hidden my money all in my boot.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘And mine,’ says the lawyer, ‘the villain can’t find,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I have sewed it into my cape behind.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They rode till they came to the Powder Mill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Turpin bid the lawyer for to stand still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Good sir,’ quoth he, ‘that cape must come off,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my horse stands in need of a saddle-cloth.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ah, well,’ says the lawyer, ‘I’m very compliant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll put it all right with my next coming client.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Then,’ says Turpin, ‘we’re both of a trade, never doubt it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only you rob by law, and I rob without it.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The last vestige is gone of the bleak and barren aspect of the road, and -even the singular memorial of a murder, which, according to the writer -of a road-book published in 1802, stood near by, has vanished: ‘Upon a -spot of Hounslow Heath, about a stone’s throw from the road, on leaving -that village, a small wood monument is shockingly marked with a bloody -hand and knife, and the following inscription: “Buried with a stake -through his body here, the wicked murderer, John Pretor, who cut the -throat of his wife and child, and poisoned himself, July 6, 1765.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span><span class="lftspc">’</span></p> - -<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> is a splendidly surfaced road that runs hence to Staines, and the -fact is sufficiently well known for it to be crowded on Saturday -afternoons and Sundays with cyclists of the ‘scorcher’ variety, members -of cycling clubs out for a holiday, and taking their pleasure at sixteen -miles an hour, Indian file, hanging on to one another’s back wheel, with -shoulders humped over handle-bars and eyes for nothing but the road -surface.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p072_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p072_sml.jpg" width="279" height="206" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘GREEN MAN,’ HATTON." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘GREEN MAN,’ HATTON.</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HATTON</i></div> - -<p>But there are quiet, deserted bye-lanes where these highway crowds never -come. Just such a lane is that which leads off here, by the river Crane -and the Bedfont Powder Mills, to the right, and makes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span> for -Hatton—‘Hatton-in-the-Hinterland,’ one might well call it.</p> - -<p>Have you ever been to Hatton? Have you, indeed, ever even heard of it? I -suppose not, for Hatton is a remote hamlet, tucked away in that -triangular corner of Middlesex situated between the branching Bath and -Exeter Roads which is practically unexplored. Yet the place, after the -uninteresting, unrelieved flatness of the market gardens that stretch -for miles around, is almost pretty. It boasts a few isolated houses, and -has (what is more to the point in this connection) a neat and -cheerful-looking old inn, fronted by a large horse-pond.</p> - -<p>The ‘Green Man’ at Hatton looks nowadays a guileless place, with no -secrets, and yet it possesses behind that innocent exterior a veritable -highwayman’s hiding-place. This retiring-place of modest worth, eager to -escape from the embarrassing attentions of the outer world, may be seen -by the curious traveller in the little bar-parlour on the left hand as -you enter the front door.</p> - -<p>It is a narrow, low-ceiled room, with an old-fashioned fire-grate in it, -filling what was once a huge chimney-corner. At the back of this grate -is a hole leading to a passage which gives access to a cavernous nook in -the thickness of the wall. Through this hole, decently covered at most -times with an innocent-looking fire-back, crawled those exquisite -knights of the road, what time the Bow Street runners were questing -almost at their heels.</p> - -<p>And here, it is related, one of these fine fellows nearly revealed his -presence while the officers of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span> law were refreshing themselves with -a dram in that room. What with a cold in the head, and the accumulated -soot and dust of his hiding-place, he could not help sneezing, although -his very life depended on the question ‘To sneeze or not to sneeze.’</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p074_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p074_sml.jpg" width="280" height="275" alt="Image unavailable: THE HIGHWAYMAN’S RETREAT, THE ‘GREEN MAN.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE HIGHWAYMAN’S RETREAT, THE ‘GREEN MAN.’</span> -</div> - -<p>The minions of the law were not so far gone in liquor but that they -heard the muffled sound of that sneeze, and it took all the landlord’s -eloquence to persuade them that it was the cat!</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>MARKET GARDENS</i></div> - -<p>Where footpads and highwaymen lurked on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span> scrubby heath, and the -troopers of King James the Second, sent here to overawe London, lay -encamped, there stretch nowadays the broad market gardens, where in -spring-time the yellow daffodils, and in early summer the wallflowers, -are grown by the acre for Covent Garden and the delight of Londoners. -Orchards and vast fields of vegetables take up almost all the rest of -the reclaimed waste, and if the country for many miles be indeed as flat -as, or flatter than, your hand, and with never a tree but the scraggy -hedgerow elms that grow here in such fantastic shapes, why amends are -made in the scent of the blossoms, the bounteous promise of nature, and -in the free and open air that resounds with the gladsome shrilling of -the lark.</p> - -<p>These market gardens that surround London have an interest all their -own. Such scenes as that of Millet’s ‘Angelus’—the rough toil, that is -to say, without the devotion—are the commonplaces of these wide fields, -stretching away, level, to the horizon. All day long the men, women, and -children are working, according to the season, in the damp, heavy clay, -or in the sun-baked rows of growing produce, digging, hoeing, sowing, -weeding, or gathering the cabbages, potatoes, peas, lettuces, and beans -that go to furnish the myriad tables of the ‘Wen of wens,’ as Cobbett -savagely calls London. He thought very little of Hounslow Heath, which -he describes as ‘a sample of all that is bad in soil and villainous in -look. Yet,’ he says, writing in 1825, ‘all this is now enclosed, and -what they call “cultivated.”<span class="lftspc">’</span></p> - -<p>What they <i>call</i> cultivated! That is indeed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span> excellent. It would be well -if Cobbett could take a ‘Rural Ride’ over the Heath to-day and see this -cultivation, not merely so called, which raises some of the finest -market-garden produce ever seen, and supplies London with the most -beautiful spring blossoms. If it would not suffice to see the growing -crops, it would perhaps be better to watch the loading of the clumsy -market waggons with the gathered wealth of the soil. Tier upon tier of -cabbages, neatly packed to an alarming height; bundles of the finest -lettuces; bushels of peas; in short, a bounteous quantity of every -domestic vegetable you care to name, being packed for the lumbering, -rumbling, three-miles-an-hour journey overnight from the market gardens -to the early morning babel of Covent Garden.</p> - -<p>The market waggons, going to London, or returning about eight o’clock in -the morning, form, in short, one of the most characteristic features of -the first fifteen miles of this road. The waggoners, more often than not -asleep, are jogged up to town by the philosophic horses who know the way -just as well as the blinking fellows who are supposed to drive them. -Drive them? One can just imagine the horse-laughs of those particularly -knowing animals, who move along quite independently of the reclining -figure above, stretched full length, face downwards, on the mountainous -pile of smelly cabbages, if the idea could be conveyed to them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A REFORMATORY</i></div> - -<p>There is an exquisite touch of appropriateness in the fact that on -converted Hounslow Heath, where these terrors of the peaceful traveller -formerly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span> practised their unlicensed trade, reformatories should be -nowadays established. One of them, called by the prettier name of the -‘Feltham Industrial School,’ is placed just to the south of the road, -near East Bedfont. It houses and educates for honest careers the young -criminals and the waifs and strays brought before the Middlesex -magistrates. The neighbourhood of this huge institution is made evident -to the traveller across these wide-spreading levels by the strange sight -of a full-sized, fully-rigged ship on the horizon. The stranger who -journeys this way and has always supposed Hounslow Heath to be anything -rather than the neighbour to a seaport, feels in some doubt as to the -evidence of his senses or the accuracy of his geographical -recollections. Strange, he thinks, that he should have forgotten the sea -estuary on which the Heath borders, or the ship canal that traverses -these wilds. But if he inquires of any one with local knowledge whom he -may meet, he will learn that this is the model training-ship built in -the grounds of the Industrial School. The ‘Endeavour,’ as she is called, -if not registered A1 at Lloyd’s, or not at all a seaworthy craft, is at -any rate well found in the technical details of masts and spars, and the -rigging appropriate to a schooner-rigged Blackwall liner. Those among -the seven hundred or so of the young vagabonds who are being educated -here in the way they should go—those among them who think they would -like a life on the bounding main, are here taught to climb the rigging -with the agility of cats; to furl the sails or shake them free, or to -keep a sharp look-out for the iron reefs that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span> lurk on the inhospitable -coasts of Hounslow Heath, lest all on board should be cast away and -utterly undone. It is an odd experience to walk around the great hull, -half submerged—half buried, that is to say—in the asphalt paths of the -parade ground, but the oddest experiences must be those of the boys who, -when they get aboard a floating ship, come to it thoroughly trained in -everything save ‘sea-legs’ and the keeping of an easy stomach when the -breezes blow and the surges rock the vessel.</p> - -<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> village of East Bedfont, three miles from Hounslow, is a picturesque -surprise, after the long flat road. The highway suddenly broadens out -here, and gives place to a wide village green, with a pond, and real -ducks! and an even more real village church whose wooden extinguisher -spire peeps out from a surrounding cluster of trees, and from behind a -couple of fantastically clipped yews guarding the churchyard gate.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE BEDFONT PEACOCKS</i></div> - -<p>The ‘Bedfont Peacocks,’ as they are called, are not so perfect as they -were when first cut in 1704, for the trimming of them was long -neglected, and these curiously clipped evergreens require constant -attention. The date on one side, and the churchwardens’ initials of the -period on the other, once standing out boldly, are now only to be -discerned by the Eye of Faith. The story of the Peacocks is that they -were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span> cut at the costs and charges of a former inhabitant of the -village, who, proposing in turn to two sisters also living here, was -scornfully refused by them. They were, says the legend, ‘as proud as -peacocks,’ and the mortified suitor chose this spiteful method of -typifying the fact. Of course, the story was retailed to travellers on -passing through Bedfont by every coachman and guard; nor, indeed, would -it be at all surprising to learn that they, in fact, really invented it, -for they were masters in the art of romancing. So the Fame of the -Peacocks grew. An old writer at once celebrates them, and the then -landlord of the ‘Black Dog,’ in the rather neat verse:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Harvey, whose inn commands a view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Bedfont’s church and churchyard too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where yew-trees into peacock’s shorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vegetable torture mourn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p079_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p079_sml.jpg" width="255" height="176" alt="Image unavailable: EAST BEDFONT." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">EAST BEDFONT.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span></p> - -<p>At length they were immortalised by Hood, the elder, in a quite serious -poem:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where erst two haughty maidens used to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In pride of plume, where plumy Death hath trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trailing their gorgeous velvet wantonly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Most unmeet pall, over the holy sod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, gentle stranger, thou may’st only see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two sombre peacocks. Age, with sapient nod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marking the spot, still tarries to declare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How once they lived, and wherefore they are there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! that breathing vanity should go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where pride is buried; like its very ghost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unrisen from the naked bones below,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In novel flesh, clad in the silent boast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gaudy silk that flutters to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shedding its chilling superstition most<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On young and ignorant natures as is wont<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To haunt the peaceful churchyard of Bedfont!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>If any one can unravel the sense from the tangled lines of the second -verse,—as obscure as some of Browning’s poetry—let him account himself -clever.</p> - -<p>The ‘Black Dog,’ once the halting-place of the long extinct ‘Driving -Club,’ of which the late Duke of Beaufort was a member, has recently -been demolished. A large villa stands on the site of it, at the corner -of the Green, as the village is left behind.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>STAINES</i></div> - -<p>The flattest of flat, and among the straightest of straight, roads is -this which runs from East Bedfont into Staines. That loyal bard, John -Taylor, the ‘Water Poet,’ was along this route on his way to the Isle of -Wight in 1647. He started from the ‘Rose,’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span> in Holborn, on Thursday, -19th October, in the Southampton coach:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We took one coach, two coachmen, and four horses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And merrily from London made our courses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We wheel’d the top of the heavy hill call’d Holborn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Up which hath been full many a sinful soul borne),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so along we jolted to St. Giles’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which place from Brentford six, or nearly seven, miles is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Staines that night at five o’clock we coasted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, at the Bush, we had bak’d, boil’d, and roasted.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Staines</span>, where the road leaves Middlesex and crosses the Thames into -Surrey, is almost as commonplace a little town as it is possible to find -within the home counties. Late Georgian and Early Victorian stuccoed -villas and square, box-like, quite uninteresting houses struggle for -numerical superiority over later buildings in the long High Street, and -the contest is not an exciting one. Staines, sixteen miles from London, -is, in fact, of that nondescript—‘neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good -red-herring’—character that belongs to places situated in the marches -of town and country. Almost everything of interest has vanished, and -although the railway has come to Staines, it has not brought with it the -life and bustle that are generally conferred by railways on places near -London. But, of course, Staines is on the London and South-Western -Railway, which explains everything.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<p>Staines disputes with Colnbrook, on the Bath Road, the honour of having -been the Roman station of <i>Ad Pontes</i>, and has the best of it, according -to the views of the foremost authorities. ‘At the Bridges’ would -doubtless have been an excellently descriptive name for either place, in -view of the number of streams at both, and the bridges necessary to -cross them; but the very name of Staines should of itself be almost -sufficient to prove the Roman origin of the place, even if the Roman -remains found in and about it were not considered conclusive evidence. -There are those who derive ‘Staines’ from the ancient stone still -standing on the north bank of the Thames, above the bridge, marking the -historic boundary up-stream of the jurisdiction exercised over the river -by the City of London; but there can be no doubt of its real origin in -the paved Roman highway, a branch of the Akeman Street, on which this -former military station of <i>Ad Pontes</i> stood. The stones of the old road -yet remained when the Saxons overran the country, and it was named ‘the -Stones’ by that people, from the fact of being on a paved highway. The -very many places in this county with the prefixes, Stain, Stone, Stan, -Street, Streat, and Stret, all, or nearly all, originate in the paved -Roman roads (or ‘streets’) and fords; and there is little to support -another theory, that the name of Staines came from a Roman <i>milliarium</i>, -or milestone, which may or may not have stood somewhere here on the -road.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>STAINES STONE</i></div> - -<p>The stone column, very like a Roman altar, standing on three steps and a -square panelled plinth, and placed in a meadow on the north bank of the -river, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span> known variously as ‘Staines Stone,’ and ‘London Stone.’ It -marks the place where the upper and lower Thames meet; is the boundary -line of Middlesex and Buckinghamshire; and is also the boundary mark of -the Metropolitan Police District. Besides these manifold and important -offices, it also delimits the western boundary of the area comprised -within the old London Coal and Wine Duties Acts, by which a tax, similar -to the <i>octroi</i> still in force at the outskirts of many Continental -towns, was levied on all coals, coke, and cinders, and all wines, -entering London. Renewed from time to time, the imposts were finally -abolished in 1889, but the old posts with cast-iron inscriptions -detailing the number and date of the several Acts of Parliament under -which these dues were levied, are still to be found beside the roads, -rivers, and canals around London.</p> - -<p>Much weather-worn and dilapidated, ‘London Stone’ still retains long -inscriptions giving the names of the Lord Mayors who have officially -visited the spot as <i>ex-officio</i> chairmen of the Thames Conservancy;—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Conservators of Thames from mead to mead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great guardians of small sprites that swim the flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warders of London Stone,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">as Tom Hood mock-heroically sings.</p> - -<p>Above all is the deeply cut aspiration, ‘God Preserve the City of -London, <small>A.D.</small> 1280.’ The pious prayer has been answered, and six hundred -and twenty years later the City has been, like David, delivered out of -the hands of the spoiler and from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span> the enemies that compassed it round -about; by which Royal Commissions and the London County Council may be -understood.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p084_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p084_sml.jpg" width="199" height="305" alt="Image unavailable: THE STAINES STONE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE STAINES STONE.</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>AD PONTES</i></div> - -<p>If the Roman legionaries could return to <i>Ad Pontes</i> and see Staines -Bridge and the hideous iron girder bridge by which the London and -South-Western Railway crosses the Thames they would be genuinely -astonished. The first-named, which is the stone bridge built by Rennie -in 1832, carries the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span> Exeter Road over the river, and is of a severe -classic aspect which might find favour with the resurrected Romans; but -what <i>could</i> they think of the other?</p> - -<p>We may see an additional importance in this situation of <i>Ad Pontes</i> in -the fact that between Staines Bridge and London Bridge there was -anciently no other passage across the river, save by the hazardous -expedient of fording it at certain points. The only way to the West of -England in mediæval times, it was then of wood, and zealously kept in -repair by the grant of trees from the Royal Forest of Windsor and by the -<i>pontage</i>, or bridge toll levied from passengers. Still, it was often -broken down by floods. The poet Gay, in his <i>Journey to Exeter</i>, says, -passing Hounslow:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thence, o’er wide shrubby heaths, and furrowed lanes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We come, where Thames divides the meads of Staines.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We ferried o’er; for late the Winter’s flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shook her frail bridge, and tore her piles of wood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>That would probably have been about the year 1720. In 1791 an Act of -Parliament authorised the building of a new bridge, and accordingly a -stone structure was begun, and eventually opened in 1797. This had to be -demolished, almost immediately, owing to a failure of one of its piers, -and an iron bridge was built in its stead, presently to meet with much -the same fate. This, then, gave place to the existing bridge.</p> - -<p>The ‘Vine Inn,’ which once stood by the bridge and was a welcome sight -to travellers, has disappeared, together with most of the old hostelries -that once<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span> rendered Staines a town of inns. Gone, too, is the ‘Bush,’ -and others, although not demolished, have either retired into private -life, or are disguised as commonplace shops. The ‘Angel’ still remains, -but not the ‘Blue Boar,’ kept, according to Dean Swift, by the -quarrelsome couple, Phyllis and John. Phyllis had run away from home on -her wedding morn with John, who was her father’s groom, and a -good-for-naught. At the inn they were installed at last, John as the -drunken landlord, Phyllis as the kind landlady:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They keep at Staines the Old Blue Boar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are cat and dog—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">and other things unfitted for ears polite.</p> - -<p>The church is without interest, but there lies in its churchyard, among -the other saints and sinners, Lady Letitia Lade, the foul-mouthed -cast-off <i>chère amie</i> of the Prince Regent, who married her off to John -Lade, his coachman, whom he knighted for his complaisance.</p> - -<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>RUNEMEDE</i></div> - -<p>Staines is no sooner left behind than we come to Egham, once devoted -almost wholly to the coaching interest, then the scene of suburban -race-meetings, and now that those blackguardly orgies have been -suppressed, just a dead-alive suburb—dusty, uninteresting. The old -church has been modernised,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span> and the old coaching inns either mere -beer-shops or else improved away altogether. The last one to remain in -its old form—the ‘Catherine Wheel’—has recently lost all its old -roadside character, and has become very much up-to-date.</p> - -<p>Here we are upon the borders of Windsor Great Park, and a road turning -off to the right hand leads beside the Thames to Old Windsor, past -Cooper’s Hill and within sight of Runemede and Magna Charta island, -where the ‘Palladium of our English liberties’ was wrung from the -unwilling King John. A public reference to the ‘Palladium’ used -unfailingly to ‘bring down the house,’ but it has been left to the -present generation to view the very spot where it was granted, not only -without a quickening of the pulse, but with the suspicion of a yawn. You -cannot expect reverence from people who possibly saw King John as the -central and farcical figure of last year’s pantomime, with a low-comedy -nose and an expression of ludicrous terror, handing Magna Charta to -baronial supers armoured with polished metal dish-covers for -breastplates and saucepans for helmets. ‘Nothing is sacred to a sapper,’ -is a saying that arose in Napoleon’s campaigns. Let us, in these piping -times of peace, change the figure, and say, ‘Nothing is sacred to a -librettist.’</p> - -<p>Long years before Egham ever became a coaching village, in the dark ages -of road travel, when inns were scarce and travellers few, the ‘Bells of -Ouseley,’ the old-fashioned riverside inn along this bye-road, was a -place of greater note than it is now. Although forgotten by the crowds -who keep the high-road, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span> an inn happier in its situation than -most, for it stands on the banks of the Thames at one of its most -picturesque points, just below Old Windsor.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p088_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p088_sml.jpg" width="262" height="191" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘BELLS OF OUSELEY.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘BELLS OF OUSELEY.’</span> -</div> - -<p>The sign, showing five bells on a blue ground, derives its name from the -once-famed bells of the long-demolished Oseney Abbey at Oxford, -celebrated, before the Reformation swept them away, for their silvery -tones, which are said to have surpassed even those</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bells of Shandon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which sound so grand on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pleasant waters of the River Lea,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘BELLS OF OUSELEY’</i></div> - -<p class="nind">of which ‘Father Prout’ sang some forty-five years ago. The abbey, -however, possessed <i>six</i> bells. They were named Douce, Clement, Austin, -Hauctetor, Gabriel, and John.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span></p> - -<p>The ‘Bells of Ouseley’ had at one time a reputation for a very much less -innocent thing than picturesqueness, for a hundred and fifty years ago, -or thereabouts, it was very popular with the worst class of footpads, -who were used to waylay travellers by the shore, or on the old Bath and -Exeter Roads, and, robbing them, were not content, but, practically -applying the axiom that ‘dead men tell no tales,’ gave their victims a -knock over the head, and, tying them in sacks, heaved them into the -river. These be legends, and legends are not always truthful, but it is -a fact that, some years ago, when the Thames Conservancy authorities -were dredging the bed of the river just here, they found the remains of -a sack and the perfect skeleton of a human being.</p> - -<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Regarding</span> the country through which the road passes, between Kensington, -Egham, Sunningdale, Virginia Water, and Bagshot, Cobbett has some -characteristic things to say. Between Hammersmith and Egham it is ‘as -flat as a pancake,’ and the soil ‘a nasty stony dirt upon a bed of -gravel.’ Sunninghill and Sunningdale, ‘all made into “grounds” and -gardens by tax-eaters,’ are at the end of a ‘blackguard heath,’ and are -‘not far distant from the Stock-jobbing crew. The roads are level, and -they are smooth. The wretches can go from the “<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Change” without any -danger to their worthless necks.’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span></p> - -<p>There are now, sad to say, after the lapse of nearly eighty years, a -great many more of the ‘crew’ here, and they journey to and from Capel -Court with even less danger to their necks, bad luck to them!</p> - -<p>Egham Hill surmounted, the Holloway College for Women is a prominent -object on the left-hand side of the road, the fad of Thomas Holloway, -whose thumping big fortune was derived from the advertising enterprise -which lasted wellnigh two generations, and during the most of that -period rendered the advertisement columns of London and provincial -papers hideous with beastly illustrations of suppurating limbs, and the -horrid big type inquiry, ‘Have you a Bad Leg?’ Pills and ointments, what -sovereign specifics you are—towards the accumulation of wealth! -All-powerful unguents, how beneficent—towards the higher education of -woman!</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>VIRGINIA WATER</i></div> - -<p>No less a sum than £600,000 was expended on the building and equipment -of this enormous range of buildings, opened in 1887, and provided -royally with everything a college requires except students, whose number -yet falls far short of the three hundred and fifty the place is -calculated to house and teach. A fine collection of the works of modern -English painters is to be seen here, where study is made easy for the -‘girl graduates’ by the provision of luxuriously appointed class-rooms -and shady nooks where ‘every pretty domina can study the phenomena’ of -integral calculus and other domestic sciences. It seems a waste of good -money that, although a sum equal to £500 a year for each student is -expended on the higher education of women here, no prophetess<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span> has yet -issued from Egham with a message for the world; and that, consequently, -Mr. Thomas Holloway and his medicated grease have as yet missed that -posthumous fame for which so big a bid was made.</p> - -<p>In two miles Virginia Water is reached, passing on the right hand the -plantations of Windsor Great Park. To this spot runs every day in -summer-time the ‘Old Times’ coach, which, first put on this road in the -spring of 1879, kept running every season until 1886, when it was -transferred to the Brighton Road, there to become famous through Selby’s -historic ‘record’ drive. Another coach, called the ‘Express,’ was put on -the Virginia Water trip in 1886 and 1887; but, following upon Selby’s -death in the November of the latter year, the ‘Old Times’ was reinstated -on this route, and has been running ever since, leaving the Hotel -Victoria, Northumberland Avenue, every week-day morning for the -‘Wheatsheaf,’ and returning in the evening.</p> - -<p>This same ‘Wheatsheaf’ is probably one of the very ugliest houses that -ever bedevilled a country road, and looks like a great public-house -wrenched bodily from London streets and dropped down here at a venture. -But it is for all that a very popular place with the holiday-makers who -come here to explore the beauties and the curiosities of Virginia Water.</p> - -<p>There are artificial lakes here, just within the Park of Windsor—lakes -which give the place its name, and made so long ago that Nature in her -kindly way has obliterated all traces of their artificiality. It is a -hundred years since this pleasance of Virginia Water was formed by -imprisoning the rivulets that run into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span> this hollow, and banking up the -end of it; nearly a hundred years since the Ruined Temple was built as a -ready-made ruin; and there is no more, nor indeed any other such, -delightful spot near London. It is quite a pity to come by the knowledge -that the ruins were imported from Greece and Carthage, because without -that knowledge who knows what romance could not be weaved around those -graceful columns, amid the waters and the wilderness? Beyond Virginia -Water we come to Sunningdale.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ROMAN ROADS</i></div> - -<p>From Turnham Green to Staines, and thence to Shrub’s Hill we are on the -old Roman Road to that famous town which has been known at different -periods of its existence as Aquae Solis, Akemanceaster, and Bath. The -Saxons called the road Akeman Street. Commencing at a junction with the -Roman Watling Street at the point where the Marble Arch now stands, it -proceeded along the Bayswater Road, and so by Notting Hill, past -Shepherd’s Bush, and along the Goldhawk Road, where, instead of turning -sharply to the left like the existing road that leads to Young’s Corner, -it continued its straight course through the district now occupied by -the modern artistic colony of Bedford Park, falling into the present -Chiswick High Road somewhere between Turnham Green and Gunnersbury. -Through Brentford, Hounslow, and Staines the last vestiges of the actual -Roman Road were lost in the alterations carried out for the improvement -of the highway under the provisions of the Hounslow and Basingstoke Road -Improvement Act of 1728, but there can be little doubt that the road -traffic of to-day from Hounslow to Shrub’s Hill<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span> follows in the tracks -of the pioneers who built the original road in <small>A.D.</small> 43; while as for -old-world Brentford, it would surprise no one if the veritable Roman -paving were found deep down below its High Street, long buried in the -silt and mud that have raised the level of the highway at the ford from -which the place-name derives.</p> - -<p>The present West of England road turns off from the Akeman Street at the -bend in the highway at Shrub’s Hill, leaving the Roman way to continue -in an unfaltering straight line across the scrubby wastes and solitudes -of Broadmoor, to Finchampstead, Stratfieldsaye, and Silchester. It is -there known to the country folk as the ‘Nine Mile Ride’ and the ‘Devil’s -Highway.’ The prefix of the place-name ‘Stratfieldsaye,’ as a matter of -fact, derives from its situation on this ‘street.’ Silchester is the -site of the Roman city <i>Calleva Atrebatum</i>, and the excavated ruins of -this British Pompeii prove how important a place this was, standing as -it did at the fork of the roads leading respectively to <i>Aquae Solis</i>, -and to <i>Isca Damnoniorum</i>, the Exeter of a later age. Branching off here -to <i>Isca</i>, the Roman road was for the rest of the way to the West known -as the <i>Via Iceniana</i>, the Icen Way, and was perhaps regarded as a -continuation of what is now called the Icknield Street, the road which -runs diagonally to Norfolk and Suffolk, the country of the Iceni.</p> - -<p>Very little of this old Roman road on its way to the West is identical -with any of the three existing routes to Exeter. There is that length -just named, from Gunnersbury to Shrub’s Hill; another piece, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span> mile or -so from Andover onward, by the Weyhill route; the crossing of the modern -highway between ‘Woodyates Inn’ and Thorney Down; and from Dorchester to -Bridport, where, as Gay says of his cavaliers’ journey to Exeter:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now on true Roman way our horses sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Graevius would kneel and kiss the sacred ground.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Onwards to Exeter the measurements of Antoninus and his fellows—those -literally ‘classic’ forerunners of Ogilby, Cary, Paterson, and Mogg—are -hazy in the extreme, and it is difficult to say how the Roman road -entered into the Queen City of the West.</p> - -<p>Oh! for one hour with the author of the Antonine Itinerary, to settle -the vexed questions of routes and stations along this road to the -country of the Damnonii. ‘Here,’ one would say to him, ‘is your -starting-point, <i>Londinium</i>, which we call London. Very good; now kindly -tell us whether we are correct in giving Staines as the place you call -<i>Ad Pontes</i>; and is Egham the site of <i>Bibracte</i>? <i>Calleva</i> we have -identified with Silchester, but where was your next station, <i>Vindomis</i>? -Was it St. Mary Bourne?’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE HEATHS</i></div> - -<p>In the meanwhile, until spiritualism becomes more of an exact science, -we must be content with our own deductions, and, with the aid of the -Ordnance map, trace the Roman <i>Via Iceniana</i> by Quarley Hill and -Grateley to the hill of Old Sarum, which is readily identified as the -station of <i>Sorbiodunum</i>. Thence it goes by Stratford Toney to -‘Woodyates Inn’ and Gussage Cow Down, where the utterly vanished -<i>Vindogladia</i> is supposed to have stood. Between<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span> this and Dorchester -there was another post whose name and position are alike unknown, -although the course of the road may yet be faintly traced past the -fortified hill of Badbury Rings, the <i>Mons Badonicus</i> of King Arthur’s -defeat, to Tincleton and Stinsford, and so into Dorchester, the -<i>Durnovaria</i> of the Romans, through what was the Eastgate of that city. -The names and sites of two more stations westward are lost, and the -situation of <i>Moridunum</i>, the next-named post, is so uncertain that such -widely sundered places as Seaton, on the Dorset coast, and Honiton, in -Devon, eighteen miles farther, are given for it. Morecomblake, a mile -from Seaton, is, however, the most likely site. Thence, on to Exeter, -this Roman military way is lost.</p> - -<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">From</span> Virginia Water up to the crest of Shrub’s Hill, Sunningdale, is a -distance of a mile and a quarter, and beyond, all the way into Bagshot, -is a region of sand and fir-trees and attempts at cultivation, varied by -newly-built villas, where considerable colonies of Cobbett’s detested -stock-jobbers and other business men from the ‘Wen of wens’ have set up -country quarters. And away to right and left, for miles upon miles, -stretches that wild country known variously as Bagshot and Ascot Heaths -and Chobham Ridges.</p> - -<p>The extensive and dreary-looking tract of land,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span> still wild and barren -for the most part, called Bagshot Heath, has during the last century -been the scene of many attempts made to bring it under cultivation. -These populous times are ill-disposed to the continued existence of -waste and unproductive lands, which, when near London, are especially -valuable, if they can be made to grow anything at all. One thing which, -above all others, has led to the beginning of the end of these old-time -wildernesses, formerly the haunts of highwaymen, is the modern discovery -of the country and of the benefits of fresh air. When the nineteenth -century was yet young the townsman still retained the old habits of -thought which regarded the heaths and the hills with aversion. He pigged -away his existence over his shop or warehouse in the City, and thought -the country fit only for the semi-savages who grew the fruit and -vegetables that helped to supply his table, or cultivated the wheat of -which his daily bread was compounded. It has been left to us, his -descendants, to love the wilds, and thus it is that villa homes are -springing up amid the heaths and the pines of this region, away from -Woking on the south to Ascot in the north.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BAGSHOT</i></div> - -<p>One comes downhill into the large village or small (very small) town of -Bagshot, which gives a name to these surrounding wastes of scrubby -grass, gorse, and fir-trees. The now quiet street faces the road in the -hollow, across which runs the Bourne brook that perhaps originated the -place-name, ‘Beck-shot’ being the downhill rush of the stream or beck. -The many ‘shotts’ that terminate the names of places in Hants and Surrey -have this common origin, and are similarly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span> situated in the little -hollows watered by descending brooks.</p> - -<p>Bagshot has nearly forgotten the old coaching days in the growing -importance of its military surroundings, and most of its once celebrated -inns have retired into private life, all except the ‘King’s Arms.’</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p097_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p097_sml.jpg" width="256" height="202" alt="Image unavailable: BAGSHOT." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BAGSHOT.</span> -</div> - -<p>The ground to the north of the Exeter Road, on the west of Bagshot -village, was once a peat moor. Hazel-nuts and bog-oak were often dug up -there. Then began the usual illegal encroachments on what was really -common land, and stealthily the moor was enclosed and subsequently -converted into a nursery-ground for rhododendrons, which flourish -amazingly on this soil when it has once been trenched. Beneath the black -sand which usually covers this ground there frequently occurs a very -hard iron rust, or thin stratum<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span> of oxide of iron, which prevents -drainage of the soil, with a blue sandy clay underlying. This stratum of -iron rust requires to be broken through, and the blue clay subsoil -raised to the surface and mixed with the black sand, before anything -will grow here.</p> - -<p>There is to be seen on the summit of the steep hill that leads out of -Bagshot an old inn called the ‘Jolly Farmer.’ This is the successor of a -still older house which stood at the side of the road, and was famous in -the annals of highway robbery, having been once the residence of William -Davis, the notorious ‘Golden Farmer,’ who lived here in the century -before last.</p> - -<p>The agriculturist with this auriferous name was a man greatly respected -in the neighbourhood, and acquired the nickname from his invariable -practice of paying his bills in gold. He was never known to tender -cheques, bank-notes, or bills, and this fact was considered so -extraordinary that it excited much comment, while at the same time -increasing the respect due to so substantial a man. But respect at last -fell from Mr. William Davis like a cloak; for one night when a coach was -robbed (as every coach was robbed then) on Bagshot Heath by a peculiar -highwayman who had earned a great reputation from his invariable -practice of returning all the jewellery and notes and keeping only the -coin, the masked robber, departing with his plunder, was shot in the -back by a traveller who had managed to secrete a pistol.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘GOLDEN FARMER’</i></div> - -<p>Bound hand and foot, the wounded highwayman was hauled into the lighted -space before the entrance to the ‘King’s Arms,’ when the gossips of the -place recognised in him the well-known features of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span> ‘Golden Farmer.’ -A ferocious Government, which had no sympathy with highway robbery, -caused the ‘Golden Farmer’ to be hanged and afterwards gibbeted at his -own threshold.</p> - -<p>The present inn, an ugly building facing down the road, does not occupy -the site of the old house, which stood on the right hand, going -westwards. A table, much hacked and mutilated, standing in the parlour -of the ‘Jolly Farmer,’ came from the highwayman’s vanished home. A tall -obelisk that stood on the triangular green at the fork of the roads -here—where the signpost is standing nowadays—has long since -disappeared. It was a prominent landmark in the old coaching days, and -was inscribed with the distances of many towns from this spot. A still -existing link with the times of the highwaymen is the so-called ‘Claude -du Vail’s Cottage,’ which stands in the heathy solitudes at some -distance along Lightwater Lane, to the right-hand of the road. The -cottage, of which there is no doubt that it often formed a hiding-place -for that worthy, has lost its ancient thatch, and is now covered with -commonplace slates.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately after leaving the ‘Jolly Farmer’ behind, the road -grows hateful, passing in succession the modern townships of Cambridge -Town Camberley, and York Town. The exact point where one of these modern -squatting-places of those who hang on to the skirts of Tommy Atkins -joins another may be left to local experts; to the traveller they -present the appearance of one long and profoundly depressing street.</p> - -<p>Cobbett knew the road well, and liked this shabby<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span> line of military -settlements little. Coming up to ‘the Wen’ in 1821, and passing -Blackwater, he reached York Town, and thus he holds forth: ‘After -<i>pleasure</i> comes <i>pain</i>’, says Solomon, and after the sight of Lady -Mildmay’s truly noble plantations (at Hartley Row) came that of the -clouts of the ‘gentleman cadets’ of the ‘<i>Royal Military College of -Sandhurst</i>!’ Here, close by the roadside, is the <i>drying ground</i>. -Sheets, shirts, and all sorts of things were here spread upon lines -covering perhaps an acre of ground! We soon afterwards came to ‘<i>York</i> -Place’ on ‘<i>Osnaburg</i> Hill.’ And is there never to be an <i>end</i> of these -things? Away to the left we see that immense building which contains -children <i>breeding up to be military commanders</i>! Has this place cost so -little as two millions of pounds? I never see this place (and I have -seen it forty times during the last twenty years) without asking myself -this question, ‘Will this thing be suffered to go on; will this thing, -created by money <i>raised by loan</i>; will this thing be upheld by means of -taxes <i>while the interest of the Debt is reduced</i>, on the ground that -the nation is <i>unable to pay the interest in full</i>?’</p> - -<p>It is painful to say that ‘this thing’ has gone on, and that ‘the sweet -simplicity of the Three per Cents’ has given place to very much reduced -interest. But one little ray of sunshine breaks on the gloomy picture. -If Cobbett could ride this way once more he would discover that the acre -of drying ‘sheets, shirts, and other things’ is no longer visible to -shock the susceptibilities of old-fashioned wayfarers, or of that new -feature of the road, the lady cyclist.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BLACKWATER</i></div> - -<p>There is a great deal more of Cambridge Town, Camberley, and York Town -now than when Cobbett last journeyed along the road; there are more -‘children breeding up to be military commanders,’ more Tommies, more -drinking-shops, and an almost continuous line of ugly, and for the most -part out-at-elbows, houses for a space of two miles. It is with relief -that the traveller leaves behind the last of these wretched blots upon -the country and descends into Blackwater, where the river of that name, -so called from the sullen hue it obtains on running through the peaty -wastes of this wild, heathy country, flows beneath a bridge at the -entrance to the pretty village. Over this bridge we enter Hampshire, -that county of hogs and chalky downs, but no sign of the chalk is -reached yet, until coming upon the little stream in the level between -Hartley Row and Hook, called the Whitewater from the milky tinge it has -gained on coming down from the chalky heights of Alton and Odiham. This -tinge is, however, more imaginary than real, and the characteristically -chalky scenery of Hampshire is not seen by the traveller along the Great -Western Road until Basingstoke and its chalk downs are reached.</p> - -<p>Blackwater until recently possessed a picturesque old coaching inn, the -‘White Hart,’ which has unhappily been rebuilt. But it remains, as ever, -a village of old inns. Climbing out of its one street we come to a wild -and peculiarly unprepossessing tableland known as Hartford Bridge Flats.</p> - -<p>To the lover of scenery this is a quite detestable piece of road, but -the old coachmen simply revelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> in it, for here was the best stretch -of galloping ground in England, and they ‘sprang’ their horses over it -for all they were worth, through Hartley Row and Hook, and well on -towards Basingstoke.</p> - -<p>The famous (or infamous let us rather call them) Hartford Bridge Flats -are fully as dreary as any of the desolate Californian mining flats of -which Bret Harte has written so eloquently. Salisbury Plain itself, save -that the Plain is more extensive, is no worse place in which to be -overtaken by bad weather. Excessively bleak and barren, the Flats are -well named, for they stretch absolutely level for four miles: a black, -open, unsheltered heath, with nothing but stunted gorse bushes for miles -on either side, and the distant horizon closed in by the solemn -battalions of sinister-looking pine-woods. The road runs, a straight and -sandy strip, through the midst of this wilderness, unfenced, its -monotony relieved only by a group of ragged firs about half-way. The -cyclist who toils along these miles against a head wind is as unlikely -to forget Hartford Bridge Flats as were the unfortunate ‘outsides’ on -the coaches when rain or storm made the passage miserable.</p> - -<p>Hartford Bridge, at the foot of the hill below this nightmare country, -is a pretty hamlet of yellow sand and pine-woods, sand-martins and -rabbits uncountable. The place is interesting and unspoiled, because its -development was suddenly arrested when the Exeter Road became deserted -for the railway in the early ’40’s; and so it remains, in essentials, a -veritable old hamlet of the coaching days. Even more eloquent of old -times is the long, long street of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p103_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p103_sml.jpg" width="259" height="187" alt="Image unavailable: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HARTLEY ROW</i></div> - -<p>Hartley Row which adjoins. Hartley Row was absolutely called into -existence by the demand in the old days of road travel for stabling, -inns, and refreshments, and is one of the most thoroughly representative -of such roadside settlements. Half a mile to the south of the great -highway is the parent village of Hartley Wintney, unknown to and -undreamt of by travellers in those times, and probably much the same as -it was in the Middle Ages. The well-named ‘Row,’ on the other hand, -sprang lip, grew lengthy, and flourished exceedingly during the sixty -years of coaching prosperity, and then, at one stroke, was ruined. What -Brayley, the historian of Surrey, wrote of Bagshot in 1841, applies even -more eloquently to Hartley Row: ‘Its trade has been entirely ruined by -the opening of the Southampton and Great Western Railroads, and its -numerous inns<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span> and public-houses, which had long been profitably -occupied, are now almost destitute of business. Formerly thirty stage -coaches passed through the village, now every coach has been taken off -the road.’ The ‘Southampton Railroad,’ referred to here, is of course -the London and South-Western Railway, which has drained this part of the -road of its traffic, and whose Winchfield station lies two miles away.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p104_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p104_sml.jpg" width="253" height="163" alt="Image unavailable: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON).</span> -</div> - -<p>Before the crash of the ’40’s Hartley Row possessed a thriving industry -in the manufacture of coaches, carried on by one Fagg, who was also -landlord of the ‘Bell Inn,’ Holborn, and in addition horsed several -stages out of London.</p> - -<p>Some day the coming historian of the nineteenth century will, in his -chapter on travel, cite Hartley Row as the typical coaching village, -which was called into existence by coaching, lived on coaching, and with -the death of coaching was stranded high and dry in this dried-up channel -of life. All the houses<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p105_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p105_sml.jpg" width="264" height="169" alt="Image unavailable: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON).</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OLD TRAVELLERS</i></div> - -<p class="nind">of a village like this, which lived on the needs of travellers, faced -the road in one long street, and almost every fourth or fifth house was -an inn, or ministered in some way to the requirements of those who -travelled. It is remarkable to find so many of these old inns still in -existence at Hartley Row. Here they still stand, ruddy-faced, -substantial but plain buildings, with, notwithstanding their plainness, -a certain air of distinction. The wayfarer, well read in the habits of -the times when they were bustling with business, can imagine untold -comforts behind those frontages; can reconstruct the scenes in the -public waiting-rooms, where travellers, passing the interval between -their being set down here by the ‘Defiance’ or the ‘Regulator’ Exeter -coach and the arrival of the Odiham and Alton bye-stage, could warm -themselves by the roaring fire; can sniff in imagination the coffee of -the breakfasts and the roast<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span> beef of the dinners; or perceive through -the old-fashioned window-frames the lordly posting parties, detained -here by stress of weather, making the best of it by drinking of the old -port or brown sherry which the cellars of every self-respecting coaching -inn could then produce. Not that these were the only travellers familiar -to the roadside village in those days. Not every one who fared from -London to Exeter could afford the luxuries of the mail or stage coach, -or of the good cheer and the lavender-scented beds just glimpsed. For -the poor traveller there were the lumbering so-called ‘Fly-vans’ of -Russell and Co., which jogged along at the average pace of three -miles<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> an hour—the pace decreed by Scotland Yard for the modern -policeman. The poor folk who travelled thus might perhaps have walked -with greater advantage, ‘save for the dignity of the thing,’ as the -Irishman said when the floor of his cab fell out and he was obliged to -run along with the bottomless vehicle. Certainly they paid more for the -misery of being conveyed thus than the railway traveller does nowadays -for comfort at thirty to fifty miles an hour. Numbers <i>did</i> walk, -including the soldiers and the sailors going to rejoin their regiments -or their ships, who appear frequently in the roadside sketches of that -period by Rowlandson and others. The poor travellers probably rode -because of their—luggage I was about to write, let us more correctly -say bundles.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>PICTURESQUE OLD DAYS</i></div> - -<p>When they arrived at a village at nightfall, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> camped under the -ample shelter of the great waggon; or, perhaps, if they had anything to -squander on mere luxuries, spent sixpence or ninepence on a supper of -cold boiled beef and bread, to be followed by a shake-down on straw or -hay in the stable-lofts, which were quite commonly put to this use among -the second- and third-rate inns of the old times.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p107_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p107_sml.jpg" width="257" height="142" alt="Image unavailable: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON).</span> -</div> - -<p>Those were the days of the picturesque; if, indeed, Rowlandson and -Morland and the other delightfully romantic artists of the period did -not invent those roadside scenes. Here, for instance, is Rowlandson’s -charming group of three old topers boozing outside the ‘Half Moon.’ I -cannot tell you where this ‘Half Moon’ was. Probably the artist imagined -it; but at anyrate the <i>kind</i> of place, and scenes of this description, -must have existed in his time. Here, you will observe, the landlord has -come out with a mug of ‘humming ale’ or ‘nut-brown October’ for the -thirsty driver of the curricle, who is apparently going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span> market, if -we may judge by the basket of fowls tied on to the back of the -conveyance.</p> - -<p>Scenes so picturesque as this are not to be observed in our own time, -nor are the tramps who yet infest the road, singly or in families, of -the engaging appearance of this family party. The human form divine was -wondrously gnarled and twisted, or phenomenally fat, a hundred years -ago, according to Rowlandson and Gillray. Legs like the trunks of -contorted apple-trees, stomachs like terrestrial globes, mouths -resembling the mouths of horses, and noses like geographical features on -a large scale were the commonplaces of their practice, and this example -forms no exception to the general rule.</p> - -<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>TREE-PLANTING</i></div> - -<p>The ruin that descended upon Hartley Row in common with other coaching -towns and villages, nearly sixty years ago, has long since been lived -down, and the long street, although quiet, has much the same cheerful -appearance as it must have worn in the heyday of its prosperity. It is a -very wide street, fit for the evolutions of many coaches. Pleasant -strips of grass now occupy, more or less continuously, one side, and at -the western end forks the road to Odiham, through a pretty common with -the unusual feature of being planted with oak trees. These oak glades do -not look particularly old; but, as it happens, we can ascertain their -exact age and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> at the same time note how slow-growing is the oak tree by -a reference to Cobbett’s <i>Rural Rides</i>, where, in 1821, he notes their -being planted: ‘I perceive that they are planting oaks on the -“<i>wastes</i>,” as the <i>Agriculturasses</i> call them, about <i>Hartley Row</i>; -which is very good, because the herbage, after the first year, is rather -increased than diminished by the operation; while, in time, the oaks -arrive at a timber state, and add to the beauty and the <i>real wealth</i>, -of the country, and to the real and solid wealth of the descendants of -the planter who, in every such case, merits unequivocal praise, because -he plants for his children’s children. The planter here is Lady Mildmay, -who is, it seems, Lady of the Manors about here.’</p> - -<p>This planting was accomplished in days before any one so much as dreamt -of the time to come, when the navies of the world should be built like -tin kettles. Oaks were then planted with a view to being eventually -worked up into the ‘wooden walls of Old England,’ among other uses, and -the squires who laid out money on the work were animated by the glow of -self-satisfaction that warms the breasts of those who can combine -patriotism with the provision of a safe deferred investment. Unhappily, -the ‘wooden walls’ have long since become a dim memory before these -trees have attained their proper timber stage, and now stand, to those -who read these facts, as monuments to blighted hopes. But they render -this common extremely beautiful, and give it a character all its own. -All this is quite apart from the legal aspect of the case; whether, that -is to say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> the lord of a manor has any right to make plantations of -common lands for his own or his descendants’ benefit. Cobbett, it will -be perceived, calls these lands ‘wastes,’ following the term conferred -upon them by the ‘Agriculturasses’—whoever they may have been. If -technically ‘wastes of the manors,’ then the landowner’s right to do as -he will is incontestable; but, with the contentious character of Cobbett -before one, is it not remarkable that he should praise this planting and -not question the right to call the land ‘wastes,’ instead of common? But -perhaps Cobbett the tree-planter was contending with Cobbett the -agitator, and the tree-planter got the best of it.</p> - -<p>Hook, which succeeds Hartley Row, is a hamlet of the smallest size, but -that fact does not prevent its possessing two old coaching inns, the -‘White Hart’ and the ‘Old White Hart,’ both very large and very near to -one another. The Exeter Road certainly did not lack entertainment for -man and beast in those days, with fine hostelries every few miles, -either in the towns and villages, or else set down, solitary, amid the -downs, like Winterslow Hut.</p> - -<p>Nately Scures, whose second name is supposed to derive from the -Anglo-Saxon <i>scora</i>, a shaw, or coppice (whence we get such place-names -as Shawford, near Winchester; Shaugh Prior on Dartmoor; Shaw, in -Berkshire, and many of the ‘scors’ forming the first syllables of -place-names all over the country), is a place even smaller than Hook, -with a tiny church, one of the many ‘smallest’ churches; standing in a -meadow, to which access is had through rick-yards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p111_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p111_sml.jpg" width="395" height="251" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘WHITE HART,’ HOOK." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘WHITE HART,’ HOOK.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OLD BASING</i></div> - -<p>It is worth while halting a moment to gain a sight of the little church, -which is late Norman, and one of the few dedicated to that Norman -bishop, Saint Swithun.</p> - -<p>Returning to the highway, and coming to the place known to the old -coachmen as Mapledurwell Hatch, where that fine old coaching inn, the -‘King’s Head,’ still stands, a road goes off to Old Basing, on the -right, while the highway continues in a straight line, rising toward the -town of Basingstoke.</p> - -<p>The hasty traveller who knows nothing of the delights that await -explorers in the byeways, misses a great deal here by keeping strictly -to the highroad. If, instead of continuing direct to Basingstoke, this -turning to the right hand is taken, it brings one in half a mile to the -pretty village of Old Basing, celebrated for one of the most stubborn -and protracted defences recorded in history. It was here that the -equally crafty and courteous Sir William Paulet, first Marquis of -Winchester, and Lord Treasurer during the reigns of Henry the Eighth, -Edward the Sixth, Mary, and Elizabeth, built an immense palace on the -site of Basing Castle. There can be little doubt that this magnificent -person, who possessed no principles, and so kept place and power through -the troublous times that these reigns comprised, must have had his hands -in the Royal coffers to some purpose, or else have used his position for -the sale of preferments. ‘No oak, but an osier,’ as his contemporaries -said, he bowed before the tempests of religious persecution and the -whirlwinds of conspiracies which passed him harmlessly by and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span> left him -still peculating. He had become a hoary-headed sinner by the time -Elizabeth reigned, or there is no knowing but that he might have become -a Prince Consort; for when he entertained Her Majesty here in 1560: ‘By -my troth,’ said she, ‘if my Lord Treasurer were but a young man, I could -find it in my heart to have him for a husband before any man in -England.’ But she had said this kind of thing of many another.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BASING HOUSE</i></div> - -<p>The successors of this gorgeous nobleman—not being Lords -Treasurers—could not afford to keep up so immense a palace, and so -demolished a part of it, and found the remainder ample. To this place, -fitting alike by its situation at a strategic point on the Western Road, -and by the splendidly defensible nature of its site, crowded the King’s -Hampshire adherents who were not engaged at Winchester and Southampton -at the outbreak of the war between Charles and his Parliament. John, -fifth Marquis of Winchester, then ruled. ‘<i>Aimez Loyaulté</i>,’ he wrote -with his diamond ring on every window of his great mansion, and, -provisioning his cellars, awaited events. As ‘Loyalty’ the house -speedily became known to the flying bands of the King’s men who, pursued -through the country by the Roundheads, made for its shelter as birds do -for trees in a storm. The rebels might hold Basingstoke for a time, and -lay siege to Basing House, but troops from Royalist Oxford would come -and take the town and reprovision this stronghold. It was a mixed -company in this palace-fortress. My lord, loyalist, soldier, amateur of -the arts; reposing after the warlike<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span> fatigues of the day in a bed whose -gorgeous trappings made it worth £1300; witty and brave cavaliers; a -company of Roman Catholic priests; men-at-arms, drinking, dicing, and -fighting by turns and with equal zest; and such representatives of the -arts as Inigo Jones, the architect, and Hollar, the engraver. Gay and -careless though they were, they fought well, and slew and were slain to -the number of two thousand during this long siege. Sometimes this varied -garrison was hard pressed for food, when relief would come in whimsical -fashion, as when Colonel Gage and his thousand horsemen appeared with -sword in one hand and holding on to a bag of provisions with the other; -a fitting contrast with the typical Puritan, a Psalm-book in his left -hand and a pike in his right. Basing House, indeed, in the words of -Carlyle, ‘long infested the Parliament in these quarters, and was an -especial eye-sorrow to the trade of London with the Western parts. It -stood siege after siege for four years, ruining poor Colonel This and -then poor Colonel That, till the jubilant Royalists had given it the -name of <i>Basting</i> House.’</p> - -<p>But the end was at hand after Fairfax had reduced the garrisons in the -West and the Parliamentary troops could be spared from other places. -Cromwell himself was charged with the business of taking ‘Loyalty.’ It -was in September that he came to Basingstoke with horse and foot, and -established a post of observation on the summit of Winklebury, a hill -crowned with prehistoric earthworks that overlooks Worting and the -Exeter Road, two miles on the other side of the town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span></p> - -<p>Little over a fortnight later Cromwell wrote that ‘Thank God he was able -to give a good account of Basing.’ The house was taken by storm on the -14th October, ‘while the garrison was card-playing,’ as the persistent -Hampshire legend would have us believe. ‘Clubs are trumps, as when -Basing House was taken,’ is still an expression often heard at Hampshire -card-parties, and some colour is lent to this story by the poor defence -with which the furious onrush of Cromwell’s troops was met. The -attacking force lost few men, but a hundred of the defenders were -killed, and three hundred more taken prisoners. Then the place caught -fire and was utterly burnt, many perishing miserably in the great brick -vaults of the house, where they were when the fire reached them. Fuller, -that quaint seventeenth-century historian, who had been staying here, -had, fortunately, left before the arrival of Cromwell’s expedition. The -continual fighting and the booming of the guns had distracted his -attention from his work! There were others not so fortunate. Thomas -Johnson, a peaceful botanist, was killed, and one Robinson, an actor and -unarmed, was slaughtered by Harrison, the fanatic. ‘Cursed is he that -doeth the Lord’s work negligently,’ exclaimed the Puritan, as he cut him -down. Other soldiers slew the daughter of Dr. Griffith who was charging -them with being violent to her father.</p> - -<p>Fanaticism and cupidity were fully satisfied on this occasion, save that -there were those who grumbled because the lives of the Marquis of -Winchester and his lieutenant were spared. The sack of Basing House -yielded £200,000 worth of plunder, in objects<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE RUINS OF BASING HOUSE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p117_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p117_sml.jpg" width="401" height="281" alt="Image unavailable: THE RUINS OF BASING HOUSE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE RUINS OF BASING HOUSE.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">of art, gold and silver plate, coin, and provisions; and all partook of -it, from Cromwell to the rank and file. ‘One soldier had a hundred and -twenty pieces of gold for his share, others plate, others jewels.’ No -wonder they had, with this dazzling prospect before them, rushed to the -assault ‘like a fire-flood.’</p> - -<p>They made a rare business of this pillage, taking away the valuables, -and selling the provisions to the country folks, who ‘loaded many -carts.’ The bricks and building materials were given away, probably -because they could not wait for the long business of selling them. -‘Whoever will come for brick or stone shall freely have the same for his -pains,’ ran the proclamation, and, considering this, it is quite -remarkable that even the existing scanty ruins of Basing House are left.</p> - -<p>The area comprised within the defences measures fourteen and a half -acres, now a tumbled and tangled stretch of ground, a mass of grassy -mounds and hollows, overgrown in places with thickets. These ruins are -entered from the road by an old brick gateway, still bearing the ‘three -swords in pile’ on a shield, the arms of the Paulets, with ivy -overhanging and tall trees behind. A tall curtain wall of brick, with a -quaintly peaked-roofed tower at either end, now looks down upon the -Basingstoke Canal, which many strangers think is the moat, but though a -picturesque addition to the scene, it cannot claim any such historic -associations, for it was only constructed close upon a hundred years -ago.</p> - -<p>Near by is Old Basing church, with square tower built of red brick, -similar to that seen in the ruins<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span> of the House. It is said to be of -foreign make. Bullets have up to recent years been extracted from the -south door of the church, the original oak door in use two hundred and -sixty years ago; and the flint and stone south walls and buttresses bear -vivid witness, in their patching of brick, to the ruin that befell this -part of the building in those troubled times. Strange to say, a -beautiful group of the Virgin and Child still occupies a tabernacle over -the west window, uninjured, although it can scarce have escaped the -notice of the fanatical soldiery. Within the church are memorials of the -loyal Paulets, Marquises of Winchester, and for a period Dukes of -Bolton. Their glory has departed with their great House, and although a -smaller residence was built in the meadows, close at hand, that has -vanished too.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘GREY LADY’</i></div> - -<p>When Basing House was laid in ruins the Marquis of Winchester retired to -his hunting lodge of Hawk Wood, to the south of Basingstoke, and, -enlarging it, made the place his residence. His son, created Duke of -Bolton, employed Inigo Jones to build a new house on the site of the -lodge, and this is the present Hackwood Park. The existing house stands -in the midst of dense and tangled woodlands, and although imposing, is a -somewhat gloomy pile, with a ghost story. That bitter lawyer, Richard -Bethell, of whom it was said that he ‘dismissed Hell, with costs, and -took away from orthodox members of the Church of England their last hope -of everlasting damnation,’ when he became Lord Chancellor and was -created Baron Westbury, purchased Hackwood Park, and it was to one of -his friends that the ‘Grey Lady’ of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span> the mansion presented herself. Lord -Westbury and a party of his friends had arrived from town soon after the -purchase, and at a late hour they retired to rest, saying good-night to -one another in the corridor. One of the guests woke up in the middle of -the night and found his room strangely illuminated, with the indistinct -outlines of a human figure visible in the midst of the uncanny glow. -Thinking this some practical joke, and feeling very drowsy, he turned -round and fell off to sleep again, to wake at a later hour and see the -figure of a woman in a long, old-fashioned dress. With more courage than -most people would probably have shown under the circumstances, he, -instead of putting his head under the bed-clothes, jumped out, whereupon -the lady modestly retired. Instead of going to bed again, he sat down -and wrote an account of the occurrence; but when at breakfast Lord -Westbury and his other friends kept continually asking him how he had -slept, his suspicions as to a practical joke having been played upon him -were renewed. He accordingly parried all these queries and said he had -slept excellently, until Lord Westbury said, ‘Now, look here, we saw -that lady dressed in grey follow you into your room last night, you -know!’ Explanations followed, but the story of the ‘Grey Lady’ remains -mysterious to this day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> whereabouts of Basingstoke may be noted from afar by the huge and -odd-looking clock-tower of the Town Hall, added to that building in -1887. Its windy height, visible from many miles around, is also -favourable to the hearing at a distance of its sweet-toned carillons, -modelled on the pattern of the famous peal of Bruges. When the shrieking -of the locomotives at the railway station is hushed, and the wind is -favourable, you may hear those tuneful bells far away over the -melancholy wolds that hem in Basingstoke to the north and west, or -listen to them by the waters of the Loddon eastward, or the undulating -farm-lands of the south.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HOLY GHOST CHAPEL</i></div> - -<p>We have seen how Old Basing became of prime military importance from its -situation at the point where many roads from the south and west of -England converged and fell into one great highway to London; and from -the same cause is due the commercial prosperity of Basingstoke. -Basingstoke, with a record as a town going back to the time when the -Domesday Book was compiled, is yet a mere modern settlement compared -with the mother-parish of Old Basing; but it was an important place in -the sixteenth century, when silks and woollens were manufactured here. -At later periods this junction of the roads brought a great coaching -trade, and has finally made Basingstoke a railway junction. Silks and -woollens have given place to engineering works and machine-shops, and -the town, with its modern reputation for the manufacture of -agricultural<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span> machinery, bids fair at no distant date to become to -Hampshire what Colchester and Ipswich are to Essex and Suffolk.</p> - -<p>When the Parliamentary Generals were engaged in the long business of -besieging Basing House, it may well be supposed that the town suffered -greatly at the hands of their soldiery. They, who were experts at -wrecking churches and cathedrals in a few hours, had ample opportunities -for destruction in the four years that business was about. Their -handiwork may be seen to this day—together with that of modern Toms, -Dicks, and Harrys, who have not the excuse of being fanatics—in the -ruined walls of Holy Ghost Chapel on the northern outskirts of the town. -Within the roofless walls of the chapel, unroofed by those Roundheads -for the sake of their leaden covering, are two recumbent effigies, sadly -mutilated. Perhaps Sergeant Humility-before-the-Lord Mawworm slashed -them with his pike in his hatred of worldly pomp; but his zeal did not -do the damage wrought on the marble by the recording penknives of the -past fifty years. A stained-glass window, pieced together from the -fragments of those destroyed here, is still to be seen in Basingstoke -Parish Church.</p> - -<p>The Exeter Road leaves Basingstoke at its southwestern end, where a fork -of the highway gives a choice to the traveller of continuing to Andover -on the right, or making on the left to Winchester. The first village on -the way to Exeter is Worting, below the shoulder of Battle Down, a -village—nay, a hamlet, let us call it—of a Sundayfied stillness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span> Yet -Worting has had its bustling times, for here was one of the most famous -coaching inns on the road, the ‘White Hart.’ Another ‘White Hart,’ at -Whitchurch, is scarcely less celebrated in the annals of the road. In -fact, the ‘White Harts’ are so many and so notable on this road that the -historian of the highways becomes almost as ashamed of mentioning them -as of recounting the places which Cromwell stormed, or where Charles the -Second hid; the houses in which Queen Elizabeth slept, or the inns where -Pepys made merry.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OVERTON</i></div> - -<p>Worting is followed in quick succession by the outskirts of Oakley, -Clerken Green, Deane, Ashe, and Overton. Except Overton, which is a -picturesque village lining the road, of the old coaching, or -‘thoroughfare’ type, these places are all shy and retiring, tucked away -up bye-lanes, with great parks on their borders, in whose midst are very -vast, very hideous country mansions where dwell the local J.P.’s, like -so many Rogers de Coverley in miniature, with churches rebuilt or -restored to their glory and the glory of God, and a general air of -patronage bestowed upon the villagers and wayfarers from the outside -world by those august partners. These parks, with their mile after mile -of palings bordering the road, and their dense foliage overhanging it, -are given over to solitude. An occasional gamekeeper, or a much more -than occasional rabbit or hare, are the only signs of life, with perhaps -the hoarse ‘crock’ of a pheasant’s call from the neighbouring coverts. -The air beneath the overarching trees along the road is stale and -stagnant, and typical of the life<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span> here, like the green damp on the -entrance lodges of Hall Place, where heraldic lions, sitting on their -rumps and holding what at a distance look like quart-pots from the -country inn opposite, scowl at one another across the gravelled drive.</p> - -<p>It is a relief to emerge from this stifling atmosphere upon the open -road where Overton stands. We are fully entered here into the valley of -the Test, or Anton, a sparkling little stream whose course we follow -henceforward as far as Hurstbourne Priors. Fishermen love Overton and -this valley well, for there is royal sport here among the trout and -grayling, and in the village a choice of those old inns which the angler -appreciates as much as any one. Picturesque Overton is a doubly ruined -village, for it has lost its silk industry, together with the coaching -interest; but like the splendid bankrupts of modern high finance who -fail for millions and continue to live like princes, it continues -cheerful. Perhaps every one in the place made a competency before the -crash, and put it away where no one could touch it!</p> - -<p>The valley broadens out delightfully beyond Overton, and the road, -reaching Laverstoke, commands beautiful views over the water-meadows, -and the open park in whose midst stands Laverstoke House, clearly seen -in passing. In this village, in the neat and clean paper-mill by the -road, is made the paper for Bank of England notes. It was so far back as -1719 that this industry was established here by the Portal family, -French Protestants emigrating from their country for conscience’ sake. -Cobbett, who hated paper-money as much as he did the ‘Wen’ in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span> which it -is chiefly current, passed this spot in a fury. He says, with a sad lack -of the prophetic faculty, ‘We passed the mill where the Mother-Bank -paper is made! Thank God! this mill is likely soon to want employment. -Hard by is a pretty park and house, belonging to “<i>’Squire</i>” Portal, the -<i>paper-maker</i>. The country people, who seldom want for sarcastic -shrewdness, call it “Rag Hall!”<span class="lftspc">’</span> And again, ‘I hope the time will come -when a monument will be erected where that mill stands, and when on that -monument will be inscribed “<i>the Curse of England</i>.” This spot ought to -be held accursed in all time henceforth and for evermore. It has been -the spot from which have sprung more and greater mischief than ever -plagued mankind before.’</p> - -<p>Unhappily for Cobbett’s wishes and predictions, the mill is still in -existence and is busier than it was when he wrote in 1821. There are as -many as two hundred and fifty people now employed here in the making of -the ‘accursed’ paper.</p> - -<p>Now comes Freefolk village, with a wayside drinking-fountain and a tall -cross, with stone seat, furnished with some pious inscription; the whole -erected by a Portal in 1870, and intended to further the honour and -glory of that family. There is plenty water everywhere around, in the -river and its many runlets amid the water-meadows, but the fountain is -dry. Passing tramps are properly sarcastic, and the dry fountain and its -texts, so far from leading in the paths of temperance and godliness, are -the occasion of much blasphemy. But the pious Portals have their -advertisement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>NEWMAN AT WHITCHURCH</i></div> - -<p>Whitchurch, two miles down the road, is approached past the -much-quarried hills that rise on the right hand and shelter that decayed -little town from the buffetings of the north-easterly winds. If there be -those who are curious to learn what a decayed old coaching town is like, -let them journey to Whitchurch. After much tiresome railway travelling, -and changing at junctions, they will arrive in the fulness of time at -Whitchurch station, whence the omnibus of the ‘White Hart’ will drive -them, rumbling over the stone-pitched streets of the town, to the door -of that quaint inn, in one of whose rooms the future Cardinal Newman -wrote the beginning of the <i>Lyra Apostolica</i>:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are these the tracks of some unearthly friend?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>2nd December 1832, while waiting for the mail to Falmouth. He had come -from Oxford that morning by the Oxford-Southampton coach.</p> - -<p>‘Here I am,’ he says, writing to his mother, ‘from one till eleven,’ -waiting for the down Exeter mail. Think, modern railway traveller, what -would you say were it your lot to wait ten hours, say at Templecombe -Junction, for a connection! Moreover, a bore claiming to be the brother -of an acquaintance claimed to share his room and his society at the -‘White Hart,’ and eventually journeyed to Exeter with him. The future -Cardinal did not like this. He writes: ‘I am practising for the first -time the duty of a traveller, which is sorely against the grain, and -have been talkative and agreeable without end,’ adding (one can almost -imagine the sigh of the retiring scholar!), ‘Now<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span> that I have set up for -a man of the world, it is my vocation.’</p> - -<p>The latter part of his journey was accomplished at night. Travelling -thus through Devonshire and Cornwall is, he remarks, ‘very striking for -its mysteriousness.’ It was a beautiful night, ‘clear, frosty, and -bright, with a full moon. Mere richness of vegetation is lost by night, -but bold features remain. As I came along, I had the whole train of -pictures so vividly upon my mind that I could have written a most -interesting account of it in the most approved picturesque style of -modern composition, but it has all gone from me now, like a dream.’</p> - -<p>‘The night was enlivened by what Herodotus calls a “night engagement” -with a man, called by courtesy a gentleman, on the box. The first act -ended by his calling me a d——d fool. The second by his insisting on -two most hearty shakes of the hand, with the protest that he certainly -did think me very injudicious and ill-timed. I had opened by telling him -he was talking great nonsense to a silly goose of a maidservant stuck -atop of the coach; so I had no reason to complain of his giving me the -retort uncourteous.’</p> - -<p>There are corridors in the ‘White Hart’ with up and down twilight -passages, in which the guests of another day lost themselves with -promptitude and despatch. There is also a barbarically coloured -coffee-room, snug and comfortable, which looks as though Washington -Irving could have written an eloquent essay around it; and, more -essential than anything else in days of old, a capacious yard with huge -yawning stables. For Whitchurch is at the cross<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BRIBERY AND CORRUPTION</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p129_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p129_sml.jpg" width="400" height="257" alt="Image unavailable: WHITCHURCH." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">WHITCHURCH.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">roads, along which in one direction went the Exeter mails, while at -right angles goes the road between Southampton, Winchester, Newbury, -Didcot, and Oxford, little used now, but once an important route. -Whitchurch, in the gay old times when few men had votes but every voter -had his price, used to send two members to Parliament. Horrid Reform and -Bribery Acts which, together with the extension of the franchise and the -adoption of secret voting, have brought about the disfranchising of -rotten boroughs and the decay of such home industries as electoral -corruption, personation, and the like, have taken away much of the -prosperity of the town, which, like Andover, used to live royally from -one election to another on the venality of the ‘free and independent.’ -But the last visit of the ‘Man in the Moon’ was paid to Whitchurch very -many years ago, and not even the oldest inhabitant can recollect the -days when cash was given for votes and the electors, gloriously and -incapably drunk, were herded together to plump for the candidate with -the longest purse.</p> - -<p>When it is said that Whitchurch is a tiny town of very steep, narrow, -and crooked streets, that it still boasts some vestiges of its old silk -industry, and that it is a ‘Borough by prescription,’ all its salient -points have been exhausted. Reform has not only reformed away the -Parliamentary representation of the town, but has also swept away the -municipal authority. Mayor and bailiff are both elected every year, but -the offices carry no power nowadays.</p> - -<p>Leaving Whitchurch, the road presently comes to the village of -Hurstbourne Priors, which stands in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> hollow on the Bourne, an affluent -of the Anton, and on the verge of the Ancient and Royal Forest of -Harewood. Not only does the village stand on the banks of the stream and -the edge of the woods, but it also derives the first of its two names -from these circumstances, ‘Hurstbourne’ being obviously descriptive of -woodlands and brooklet, while the ‘Priors’ is a relic of its old lords -of the manor, the abbots of Saint Swithun’s at Winchester. These -historic and geographical facts, however, are apt to be lost in the -local corruption of the place-name, and that of Hurstbourne Tarrant, a -few miles higher up the stream; for they are, according to Hampshire -speech, respectively ‘Up Husband’ and ‘Down Husband.’</p> - -<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ANDOVER</i></div> - -<p>The road between this point and Andover, ascending the high ground -between the Ann and the Test, is utterly without interest, and brings -the traveller down into the town at the south side of the market square -without any inducement to linger on the way. Except on the Saturday -market-day, Andover is given over to a dreamy quiet. The butchers’ dogs -lie blinking sleepily on the thresholds, or on the kerbs, and regard -with a pained surprise, rather than with any active resentment, the -intrusive passage of a stray customer. Tradesmen’s assistants leisurely -open casual crates of goods on the pavements, with long intervals for -gossip between the drawing of each nail,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span> and no one objects to the -blocking of the footpath. A chance cyclist manœuvres in the empty -void of the road in the midst of the square, and collides with no one, -for the simple reason that there is nobody to collide with, and one -acquaintance talks to another across the wide space and is distinctly -heard. Formal but not unpleasing houses front on to this square, -together with the usual Town Hall, and a great modern, highly -uninteresting Gothic church, erected after the model of Salisbury -Cathedral, on the site of the old building.</p> - -<p>For fifty-one weeks of the fifty-two that comprise the year, this is the -weekly six-days aspect of the place, varied occasionally by the advent -of a travelling circus, or the arrival of a route-marching detachment of -the Royal Artillery, who park their guns in the square, and may be seen -in the stable-yards of the inns on which they are billeted, in various -stages of dishevelment, in shirt-sleeves rolled up to elbows, and braces -dangling at waists, littering down their horses, or smoking very short -and very foul pipes.</p> - -<p>All this idyllic quiet is blown to the winds during the week of Weyhill -Fair, the October pandemonium held three and a half miles away. Then -hordes of cattle-and horse-jobbers, hop growers and buyers, -cheese-factors, and the travellers of firms dealing in machinery, seeds, -oil-cake, tarpaulins, and half a hundred other everyday agricultural -requisites, descend upon the town. Then are dragged out from mysterious -receptacles the most antiquated of ‘flys,’ and waggonettes, and -nondescript vehicles, to be pressed into the service of conveying -visitors to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span> Fair, some three and a half miles from the town. Whence -they come, and where they are hidden away afterwards, is more than the -stranger can tell, but it is quite certain that their retreat is in some -corner where spiders dwell, and earwigs and other weird insects have a -home. Add to these facts the all-important one that it is generally -possible to walk the distance in a shorter time, and you have a full -portraiture of the average Weyhill conveyance.</p> - -<p>This sleepy old place, older by many more centuries than the oldest -house remaining here can give any hint of, was not always so quiet. -There were alarums and excursions (ending, however, with not so much as -a cut finger) when James the Second, falling back from Salisbury before -the advance of his son-in-law, William of Orange, halted here. There -might have been a battle in Andover’s streets, or under the shadow of -Bury Hill, had James put a bolder front on the business; but instead of -cutting up William’s Dutchmen, he just dined overnight, and hearing in -the morning that his other son-in-law, Prince George of Denmark, had -slunk off with Lords Ormond and Drumlanrig, went off himself, -strategically to the rear. He was an obstinate and ridiculous bigot, and -a quite unlovable monarch, but he had a power of sarcasm. ‘What,’ said -he, hearing of the Prince’s desertion, and bitterly mimicking the absurd -intonation of that recreant’s French catch-phrase, ‘is “<i>Est-il -possible?</i>” gone too? Truly, a good trooper would have been a greater -loss.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OLD ELECTIONS</i></div> - -<p>After these events, that era of bribery and corruption set in, which is -mistakenly supposed to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span> been brought to an end through the agency -of the several Reform Acts, passed by well-meaning Legislatures to -secure the purity of Parliamentary elections. As if treating, and the -crossing of horny hands with gold were the only ways of corrupting a -constituency that the wit of man, or the address of a candidate, could -discover! The palm no longer receives the coin; but who has not heard of -the modern art of ‘nursing a constituency,’ by which the candidate, -eager for Parliamentary honours, sits down before a town, or a county -division, subscribes liberally to hospitals and horticultural societies, -cricket and football clubs, opens bazaars, and presides at Young Men’s -Christian Associations, thereby winning the votes which would in other -days have been acquired by palming the men and kissing all the babies? -This tea-fight business gives us no picturesque situations like that in -which Charles James Fox figured. Fox was canvassing personally, and -called upon one of the bluff and blunt order of voters, who listened to -his eloquence, and remarked, ‘Sir, I admire your abilities, but damn -your principles!’ To which Fox supplied the obvious retort, ‘Sir, I -admire your sincerity, but damn your manners!’</p> - -<p>Andover no longer sends a representative to Parliament, but in the brave -old days it elected two. With a knowledge of the wholesale purchasing of -votes that then went on, it will readily be perceived that Andover, with -two members to elect, must have been a place flowing with milk and -honey; or, less metaphorically, a happy hunting-ground for guineas and -free drinks. It was somewhere about a hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> and fifty years ago that -Sir Francis Blake Delaval, a prominent rake and practical humorist of -the period, was canvassing Andover. One voter amid the venal herd was, -to all appearance, proof against all temptations. Money, wine, place, -flattery had no seductions for this stoic. The baffled candidate was -beside himself in his endeavours to discover the man’s weak point; for -of course it was an age in which votes were so openly bought and sold -that the saying ‘Every man has his price’ was implicitly believed. Only -what <i>was</i> this particular voter’s figure? Strange to say, he had no -weakness for money, but was possessed with an inordinate desire to see a -fire-eater, and doubted if there existed people endowed with that -remarkable power. ‘Off went Delaval to London, and returned with Angelo -in a post-chaise. Angelo exerted all his genius. Fire poured from his -mouth and nostrils—fire which melted that iron nature, and sent it off -cheerfully to poll for Delaval!’</p> - -<p>This was that same Delaval whose attorney sent him the following bill of -costs after one of his contests:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>To being thrown out of the window of the George Inn, Andover; to my -leg being thereby broken; to surgeon’s bill, and loss of time and -business; all in the service of Sir Francis Delaval, £500.</p></div> - -<p>And cheap too.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>PRACTICAL JOKING</i></div> - -<p>They kept this sort of thing up for many years; not always, however, -throwing solicitors out of hotel windows; although rival political -factions often expressed their determination to throw one another’s -candidate in the Anton, after the fashion of the bills<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span> posted in the -town during a contest in the ’40’s, which announced in displayed type—</p> - -<p class="c"> -LORD HUNTINGTOWER FOR EVER!<br /> - -<small>SIR JOHN POLLEN IN THE RIVER!!<br /> - -CATCHING FISH FOR HIS LORDSHIP’S DINNER!!!</small><br /> -</p> - -<p>History does not satisfy us on the point whether or not those furious -partisans carried out their threat; or whether, if they did, their -victim afforded good bait.</p> - -<p>This Lord Huntingtower was the eldest son of the late Earl of Dysart, -and a well-matched companion of the late Marquis of Waterford. Roaming -the country-side on dark nights, mounted on stilts, with sheets over -their clothes and hollowed turnips on their heads with scooped-out holes -for eyes and mouth, and lit with candles, they frightened many a timid -rustic out of his dull wits. In daytime they played practical jokes on -the tradesfolk of Andover. For example, entering a little general shop -in the town, Lord Huntingtower asked for a pound of treacle. ‘Where -shall I put it?’ asked the old woman who kept the shop, seeing that the -usual basin was not forthcoming.</p> - -<p>‘P-pup-pup-put it in my hat,’ said my Lord, who stuttered in -yard-lengths, holding out his ‘topper.’ The pound of treacle was -accordingly poured into the Lincoln and Bennett, and the next instant it -was on the shopkeeper’s head.</p> - -<p>This was the manner in which Lord Huntingtower endeared himself to the -people—those, that is to say, who were not the victims of his -pleasantries.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span></p> - -<p>That kind of person is quite extinct now. They should have (but -unfortunately they have not) a stuffed specimen in the Natural History -Museum at South Kensington; because he is numbered with the Dodo, the -Plesiosaurus, and the Mastodon. The Marquis of Winchester who flourished -at the same period as my Lords Huntingtower and Waterford was of the -same stamp. He had the fiery Port Countenance which was the sign of the -three-bottle man, and his life and the deeds that he did are still -fondly remembered at Andover, for his country-house was at Amport, in -the immediate neighbourhood. He was the Premier Marquis of England, and -although up to his neck in mortgages and writs, an extremely Great -Personage. Let us, therefore, take our hats off as humbly as we know how -to do.</p> - -<p>When he was at his country-place he worshipped at the little village -church of Amport. Sometimes he did not worship, but slept, lulled off to -the Land of Nod by the roaring fire he kept in his room-like pew. On one -occasion it chanced that he was wide awake, and, like the illustrious -Sir Roger de Coverley, leant upon the door of that pew, and gazed around -to satisfy himself that all his tenantry were present. Then an awful -thing happened, the hinges of the door broke, and it fell with a great -clatter to the ground, and the Marquis with it. He said ‘Damn!’ with -great fervour and unction, and everybody laughed. No one thought it—as -they should have done—shocking, which shows the depravity of the age.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE MARQUIS AND THE SQUIRE</i></div> - -<p>There is no doubt whatever about that depravity, which, like the worm in -the bud, has wrought ruin<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span> among our manners since then. How sad it is -that we are not now content to call upon Providence to</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bless the squire and his relations<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And keep us in our proper stations;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">but are all too intent upon ‘getting on,’ to defer to rank, or take a -spell at the delightful occupations of tuft-hunting and boot-licking! -Even in those days this horrid decadence had begun to manifest itself, -as you will see by the story of this same Marquis and Mr. Assheton Smith -of Tedworth Park. Mr. Smith could (as the saying goes) have ‘bought up’ -the impoverished Marquis of Winchester several times over, and not have -felt any strain upon his resources. Moreover, he was a Squire of great -consideration in these parts, and as Master of the Tedworth Hunt, -something of a rival in importance. For which things, and more, the -Marquis hated him, and on one occasion took an opportunity of reproving -him publicly before the whole field, in the fine florid language of -which he had so ready a command. Possibly Mr. Smith had committed the -unpardonable indignity of showing my lord the way over a particularly -stiff fence he was hesitating at. At any rate the language of the -Premier Marquis was violent, and contained some reference to the -disparity between their respective ranks. But the Squire was ready with -his retort. He said, ‘Anyhow, I’d sooner be a rich Squire than a poor -Marquis!’ The field smiled, because the reduced circumstances of the -Marquis of Winchester had been notorious ever since his father had been -secretly buried at midnight in the family<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span> vault at Amport, for fear the -bailiffs should seize the body for debt.</p> - -<p>There are, for good or ill, no such sportsmen nowadays as there were in -the times before railways came and brought more competition into -existence, making life a business and a struggle, instead of the -light-hearted and irresponsible game that the sporting squires at least -found it. Noble sportsmen do not nowadays, when detained by stress of -weather in a country inn, while away the tedium of the afternoon by -backing the raindrops racing down the window-panes and betting fortunes -on the result. No, that very real bogey, ‘agricultural depression,’ has -stopped that kind of full-blooded prank, and the titled in these -progressive times find their account on the ‘front page’ of -company-promoters’ swindles instead. They barter good names for gold, -and lick the boots of wealthy rogues, instead of kicking their bodies. -Where their fathers scorned to go the sons delight to be. Would the -fathers have done the like had ‘agricultural depression’ come earlier?</p> - -<p>The noblemen and the sporting squires of old lived in one mad whirl of -excitement. They gambled on every incident in their lives, and sometimes -even on their death-beds; like the old gamester who, when the doctor -told him he would be dead the next morning, offered to bet him that he -would not! We are not told whether or not the medical man backed his -professional opinion.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OLD SPORTSMEN</i></div> - -<p>One of the most illuminating side-lights on these truly Corinthian folk -is the story which tells how Lord Albert Conyngham and that classic -sportsman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span> Mr. George Payne, were travelling from London to Poole by -post-chaise in the last decade of the coaching days—that is to say, -between 1830 and 1840. They found the journey tedious, and so played -écarté, in which they grew so interested that they continued playing all -day and into the night, the chaise being lit with the aid of a patent -lamp which Mr. Payne always took with him on a long journey. The play -was high; £100 a game, with bets on knaves and sequences, and had been -continued with varying success, until when they were passing in the -darkness of night through the New Forest, Mr. Payne, who had been a -heavy loser for some time, had a run of luck. In midst of this exciting -play the post-boy, who, in the secluded glades of the Forest, had -managed to lose the road, stopped the chaise and, dismounting, tapped at -the window. But so engrossed were the two travellers in the cards that -they had not noticed that the conveyance was standing still, and the -post-boy stood tapping there for a long while before he was heard.</p> - -<p>‘What on earth do you want?’ angrily asked the winning gambler, -indignant at this interruption.</p> - -<p>‘Please, sir,’ replied the post-boy, ‘I’ve lost my way.’</p> - -<p>‘Then,’ rejoined Mr. Payne, pulling up the window with a bang, ‘come and -tell us when you’ve found it, and be damned to you!’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Cobbett</span>, that sturdy Radical and consistent grumbler, had an adventure -at Andover, at the ‘George Inn.’ It was in October 1826, on returning -from Weyhill Fair, that he took occasion to dine here. Of course he had -no business or pleasure at the ‘George,’ for he had secured a lodging -elsewhere; but with that obsession of his for agitation he must needs -repair to the inn and dine at the ordinary; less we may be sure for the -sake of the meal than to embrace the opportunity of addressing the -farmers, the cattle-dealers, cheese and hop factors, and bankers whom he -knew would be dining there at Fair-time. It was an opportunity not to be -missed.</p> - -<p>He must have been sadly disappointed at first, for there were only about -ten people dining; but when it was seen that this was the well-known -Cobbett, the diners increased, and, after the meal was over, the room -became inconveniently crowded; guests coming from other inns until at -length the room door was left open so that the crowd in the passage and -on the stairs, which were crammed from top to bottom, might listen to -the inevitable harangue on the sins of kings, and governments, and of -landowners, and the criminal stupidity of every one else.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>COBBETT</i></div> - -<p>At this stage of the proceedings, just as the dinner was done, one of -the two friends by whom he was accompanied gave Cobbett’s health. This, -naïvely adds the arch-agitator, ‘was of course followed by a <i>speech</i>; -and, as the reader will readily suppose, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> have an opportunity of -making a speech was the main motive for my going to dine at <i>an inn</i>, at -any hour, and especially at <i>seven o’clock</i> at night.’ That, at any -rate, is frank enough.</p> - -<p>After he had been thus holding forth on ruin, past, present, and to -come, for half an hour or so, it seems to have occurred to the landlord -that the company upstairs were drinking very little for so large a -concourse, and he accordingly forced his way through the crowd, up the -staircase, and along the passage into the dining-room. Cobbett had -already cast an unfavourable eye upon that licensed victualler, and -describes him as ‘one Sutton, a rich old fellow, who wore a -round-skirted sleeved fustian waistcoat, with a dirty white apron tied -round his middle, and with no coat on; having a look the <i>eagerest</i> and -the <i>sharpest</i> that I ever saw in any set of features in my whole -lifetime; having an air of authority and of mastership, which, to a -stranger, as I was, seemed quite incompatible with the meanness of his -dress and the vulgarity of his manners: and there being, visible to -every beholder, constantly going on in him a pretty even contest between -the servility of avarice and the insolence of wealth.’</p> - -<p>The person who called forth this severe description having forced his -way into the room, some one called out that he was causing an -interruption, to which he replied that that was, in fact, what he had -come to do, because all this speechifying injured the sale of his -liquor! Can it be doubted that this roused all the lion in Cobbett’s -breast? He first of all tells us that ‘the disgust and abhorrence which -such conduct could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span> not fail to excite produced, at first, a desire to -quit the room and the house, and even a proposition to that effect. But, -after a minute or so, to reflect, the company resolved not to quit the -room, but to turn him out of it who had caused the interruption; and the -old fellow, finding himself <i>tackled</i>, saved the labour of shoving, or -kicking, him out of the room, by retreating out of the doorway, with all -the activity of which he was master.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>WEYHILL FAIR</i></div> - -<p>The speech at last finished, the company began to settle down to what -Cobbett calls the ‘real business of the evening, namely, drinking, -smoking, and singing.’ It was a Saturday night, and as there was all the -Sunday morning to sleep in, and as the wives of the company were at a -convenient distance, the circumstances were favourable to an extensive -consumption of ‘neat’ and ‘genuine’ liquors. At this juncture the -landlord announced, through the waiter, that he declined to serve -anything so long as Mr. Cobbett remained in the room! This uncorked all -the vials of wrath of which Cobbett had so large and bitter a supply. -‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘born and bred, as you know I was, on the borders -of this county, and fond as I am of bacon, Hampshire hogs have with me -always been objects of admiration rather than of contempt; but that -which has just happened here induces me to observe that this feeling of -mine has been confined to hogs of four legs. For my part, I like your -company too well to quit it. I have paid this fellow six shillings for -the wing of a fowl, a bit of bread, and a pint of small beer. I have a -right to sit here; I want no drink, and those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> do, being refused it -here, have a right to send to other houses for it, and to drink it -here.’</p> - -<p>Mine host, alarmed at this declaration of independence, withdrew the -prohibition, and indeed brought up pipes, tobacco, and the desired -drinks himself; and soon after this entered the room with two gentlemen -who had inquired for Mr. Cobbett, and laying his hand on Cobbett’s knee, -smiled and said the gentlemen wished to be introduced. ‘Take away your -paw,’ thundered the agitator, shaking the strangers by the hand; ‘I am -happy to see you, even though introduced by this fellow.’ After which -they all indulged in the English equivalent of the Scotch ‘willie -waucht’ until half-past two in the morning.</p> - -<p>‘But,’ remarks Cobbett, as a parting shot, ‘the next time this old -sharp-looking fellow gets <i>six shillings</i> from me for a dinner, he -shall, if he choose, <i>cook me</i>, in any manner that he likes, and season -me with hand so unsparing as to produce in the feeders thirst -unquenchable.’</p> - -<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Weyhill</span> Fair, which brought Cobbett and the people he harangued into -Andover, is a thoroughly old English institution, and although the old -custom of fairs is gradually dying out, and this, the Largest Fair in -England, is not so important as it was a hundred years ago, it is still -a place where much money changes hands once a year. Weyhill is supposed -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span> be one of the places mentioned in <i>Piers Plowman’s Vision</i>, in the -line:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At Wy and at Wynchestre I went to ye fair,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">and it is the ‘Weydon Priors’ of the <i>Mayor of Casterbridge</i>, where -Henchard sells his wife.</p> - -<p>Weyhill Fair was once—in the fine fat days of agricultural prosperity, -when England was always at war with France, and corn was dear—a -six-days fair. As the ‘oldest inhabitant’ to be discovered nowadays at -Weyhill will complain, shaking his head sadly the while, ‘There warn’t -none o’ them ’ere ’sheenery fal-lals about in them days to do the wark -o’ men and harses so’s no-one can’t get no decent living like, d’ye -see?’ If by ‘’sheenery,’ you understand mechanical -appliances—‘machinery,’ in fact—to be meant, you will see how -distrustfully the agricultural mind still marches to the modern -quick-step of progress. There is always plenty of machinery on view at -Weyhill Fair: ploughs and harrows, and such like inanimate things, and -machinery in motion; steam threshers, winnowers, binders, and the like, -threshing, and winnowing, and binding the empty air.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">‘<i>JOHNNY’S SO LONG AT THE FAIR</i>’</div> - -<p>There are special days set apart—and more or less rigorously -observed—for Hiring, for Pleasure, for the Hop Fair, and for the sale -of sheep. This great annual fixture begins on Old Michaelmas Eve, 10th -October, and lasts four days, as against the six days, that were all too -short in which to do the business, up to fifty years ago. Railways have -dealt the old English institution of fairs a deadly blow all over the -country, and before many more years have gone the majority<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span> of them will -be things of the past. Their reason for existing will then be quite -gone, even as it is now going. Before railways came into being the -farmer travelled little, and his men not at all. From one year’s end to -the other they probably never saw a town beyond their nearest marketing -centre, and they certainly never made the acquaintance of London. So, -since the farmer and his men, the mistress and her maids, could not get -about to buy, it follows that those who had goods to sell had need to -take all the advantage possible of that great and glorious institution, -the Fair.</p> - -<p>Bitterly disappointed in the old days were those who, from some reason -or another, were prevented from coming to this Promised Land of gay and -glittering stalls and booths. Jolly and convivial, on the other hand, -were those who had the luck to be able to come. ‘Oh, dear! what can the -matter be? Johnny’s so long at the Fair,’ commences an old country song. -We can guess pretty well what the matter was, just as certainly as if we -had been there ourselves. Johnny, of course, had got too much cider, or -strong, home-brewed October ‘humming ale’ into him, and, as the rustics -would put it, ‘couldn’t stir a peg, were’t ever so.’ And so the girl he -left behind him at the farmhouse had need of all the patience at her -command while she waited for his return. She probably didn’t much -care—for Johnny’s sake; rather for another reason. As thus:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He promised he’d buy me a fairing to please me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bunch of blue ribbons to tie up my bonny brown hair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span></p> - -<p>It was the blue ribbons she wanted, you see. Let us, dear friends, hope -she got them.</p> - -<p>Many dangers threatened the Johnnies—the Colin Clouts of that time. The -fair was the happy hunting-ground of Sergeant Kite, who used to treat -the dull-witted fellows until they were stupid as owls, when, <i>hey -presto!</i> the Queen’s Shilling was clapped into their nerveless palms, -and they woke the next morning to find themselves duly enlisted, with a -bunch of parti-coloured ribbons fixed in their hats as a token and badge -of their military servitude. Then ‘what price’ those blue ribbons lying -forgotten in the pocket for the disconsolate fair one? Nothing under a -fine of twenty pounds sterling sufficed to release a recruit in those -days, and as few families could then afford that ransom, the fair was a -turning-point in the career of many a lusty fellow.</p> - -<p>The recruiting sergeant still does a little business at Weyhill, but his -claws are nowadays cut very close.</p> - -<p>Weyhill, as you approach it, is situated, much to your surprise, not on -a hill at all, but rather on the flat. It is a mere nothing of a -village, and beyond the parish church, the inevitable inn, and the -equally inevitable farmhouse, houses are very much to seek.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE HORSE FAIR</i></div> - -<p>The stranger who happens upon the place at any other than fair time is -astonished by the large numbers of open sheds and the numerous clusters -of long, low, thatched, and white-washed cottages, situated on a wide, -open, grassy common beside the road, all empty, and every one bearing -boldly-painted announcements, in black paint, of ‘Hot Dinners,’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span></p> - -<p>‘Refreshments,’ and the like. The stranger might be excused if he -thought this some bankrupt settlement whose vanished inhabitants, like -the people of that mythical place who ‘eked out a precarious existence -by taking in one another’s washing,’ had lived on selling refreshments -to each other until they had finally all died of indigestion. He would -be very much mistaken, however, in his surmise, for this is Weyhill -Fair-ground in undress. If you wish to see it in full swing, you must -visit the spot between 10th and 13th October, when it is lively enough.</p> - -<p>The first day is the Sheep Fair. As many as 150,000 sheep have been sold -here on this day. The Horse Fair is held every day; and an astonishing -number and variety of horses there are too. Irish horses, brought all -the way from Cork, Scotch horses, Welsh horses; every kind of horse, -from the Suffolk Punch to the New Forest Pony. Great lumbering young -cart-horses stand behind their pens with manes and tails plaited to -wonderment with straw, for all the world like beauties dressed for the -County Ball, and just as proud and self-conscious. Do you want to buy a -horse of any kind at the Fair? Then don’t!—unless, indeed, you know all -that is to be known about horses, and a bit over; otherwise the dealer -will ‘have’ you, for a dead certainty. To see them showing off a horse’s -good qualities and hiding his bad ones is a liberal education, but see -that you acquire your knowledge at some one else’s expense. With this -determination you can afford to be well amused with the waving of -coloured flags on long sticks, by which the horses are made to -pirouette<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span> before the eyes of likely purchasers, and can safely smile at -the wily dealer’s exclamations of ‘There’s blood!’ ‘Get up, my beauty!’ -and ‘Here’s the quality!’</p> - -<p>The very pick of the horseflesh, however, does not reach Weyhill. The -dealers bring their stock with them by road from Milford, Holyhead, -Scotland, at the rate of ten miles a day, and as they thus have to come -a hundred or a hundred and fifty miles, the journey takes from ten days -to a fortnight. This would be a serious expense and loss of time were it -not for the fact that dealers always look to make sales along the road.</p> - -<p>The second day of the Fair is known as Mop Fair, or Molls’ and Johns’ -Day. Its official title is the Hiring, or Statute Fair. At twelve -o’clock, mid-day, farm-servants, men or women, ‘Molls’ or ‘Johns,’ leave -their employ, and, drawing their wages, offer themselves to be hired for -the coming twelvemonth. They stand in long lines, the carters with a -length of plaited whipcord in their hats, the shepherds with a lock of -wool, and wait while the farmers come and bargain with them. When they -have struck up an agreement, the men proceed to fix coloured ribbons in -their hats, and do their best to have a merry time with the wages they -have just received.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>MINOR TRADES</i></div> - -<p>There is certainly every opportunity of spending money on the spot. -Steam merry-go-rounds keep up a continual screeching and bellowing; -stalls with all manner of toys and nick-nacks of the most grotesque -shapes and hideous colouring; cake and sweetmeat stalls, loaded, as -Weyhill stalls have been from time immemorial, with Salisbury -gingerbread; Aunt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span> Sallies; try-your-strength machines, and a hundred -others compete for the rustic’s coin. Then, if he wants a new suit of -clothes, here is the clothier’s stall, where Hodge can bespeak a suit, -wear it during the next twelve months, and pay for it next Fair, just as -his father and grandfather used to do before him. All the booths -visited, the horse medicines stall inspected, the latest improvements in -agricultural machinery gaped at, Hodge repairs to the refreshment -hovels, wherein certain crafty men who have come down for the occasion -from London are awaiting him, to treat the unsuspecting yokel to drinks, -to lure him on to play cards, and finally to cheat him and pick his -pockets in the most finished and approved fashion. For these gentry, and -for the disorderly in general, there is a police-station on the ground, -with cells all complete, and with local magistrates every morning to -hear cases, and to consign prisoners, if necessary, to Winchester Gaol, -sixteen miles away.</p> - -<p>The third and fourth days are now given up to the Pleasure and Hop -Fairs. One of the smaller trades connected with the malting and general -agricultural industries is that of malt-shovel and barn-shovel making. -These are wooden shovels of a peculiar shape, and are sold only at one -stall. Another of the minor businesses is that of umbrella selling. The -umbrellas are very fine and large, and of a kind that would make a -marked man of any Londoner who should use one in town.</p> - -<p>The Cheese Fair is now a small one, dealings generally being confined to -local folks, who delight in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span> the Blackmore and ‘Blue Vinney’ cheeses of -this and the adjoining counties. London dealers still attend the Hop -Fair, in which many thousands of pounds’ worth of hops change hands to -the drinking of much champagne, brought on to the ground by the -cart-load, as in the brave days of yore. There are two distinct hop -markets, the Farnham Row and the Country Side. Hops from Farnham, -Bentley, Petersfield, Liphook, and other neighbouring places find a -ready market. They are sold more exclusively by sample than formerly, -and so only a few ‘pockets,’ as the tightly packed sacks are named, are -visible. Round them dealers may be seen, rubbing the hops in their hands -and smelling them with a knowing look, while the vendor cuts another -sample out of the pocket for the next likely customer. He does this with -a singular steel instrument called a ‘sample drawer.’ First a sharp and -long-bladed knife is thrust into the hard mass, and two sides cut, and -then the broad-bladed ‘drawer’ driven in and screwed tight, bringing out -a compact square of hops to be tested.</p> - -<p>By nine o’clock every night all the booths and stalls have to be closed, -and stillness reigns over the scene, save for the cough of the sheep, -the occasional lowing of the cattle, or the fretful whinnying of a -wakeful horse. And when the last day of the Fair is done, the booths are -all shut up and deserted, and desolation reigns again for a year.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ABBOT’S ANN</i></div> - -<p>The trail of the Romans is over all the surroundings of Andover, and -they must have loved this fishful and fertile valley well, for ample -relics of extensive settlements and gorgeous villas have been unearthed -by the plough. Some of the fine mosaic pavements discovered here are now -in the British Museum, and every now and again the shepherd or the -ploughman picks up a worn and battered coin of the Cæsars in the -neighbouring fields. One of the finest Roman pavements came from the -village of Abbot’s Ann, a short distance away, under the shadow of the -great bulk of Bury Hill, which, crowned with prehistoric earthworks of -cyclopean size, frowns down upon the valley. The whimsical name of this -village and that of Little Ann derive from the stream, the Ann, or -Anton, on whose banks they are situated.</p> - -<p>In this village of Abbot’s Ann there still prevails a remarkable custom. -On the death of a young unmarried person of the parish, his or her -friends and relatives make a funeral garland, or chaplet, similar to the -one sketched overleaf, in paper, and hang it from the ceiling of the -church. The interior of the building now holds quite a number of these -singular mementoes, the oldest dating back to the last century. They are -fashioned of cardboard and white paper, something in the shape of a -crown, with elaborately cut rosettes and with five paper gloves -suspended, on two of which are recorded the name, the age, and the date -of death of the deceased whose memory is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> thus kept alive, while the -other three are inscribed with texts or verses from favourite hymns. The -particulars of age and death are repeated on a little wooden shield -above.</p> - -<div class="figleft" style="width: 64px;"> -<a href="images/i_p154_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p154_sml.jpg" width="64" height="96" alt="Image unavailable: FUNERAL GARLAND, ABBOT’S ANN." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">FUNERAL GARLAND, ABBOT’S ANN.</span> -</div> - -<p>During the last eight years three of these memorials have been added. -They are placed here after having been carried in front of the coffin on -the day of the funeral. On such occasions the garland is carried by two -girls, dressed in white, with curiously folded handkerchiefs on their -heads. There is now only one other place in England, at Matlock, in -Derbyshire, where this curious custom survives.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE WALLOPS</i></div> - -<p>These villages, together with Amport, Thruxton, Monxton, and East -Cholderton, lie in the triangular district between the branching of the -two great routes of the road to Exeter. Just out of Andover, on the -rising road, stands the old toll-house that commanded either route, with -the mileage to various towns still displayed prominently on its walls. -The right-hand road leads to the Weyhill and Amesbury branch of the -Exeter Road, while the left-hand fork is the main road to Salisbury. -Passing this toll-house, the old road runs through an inhospitable -succession of uplands which are for the most part a weariness alike to -mind and body, whether you walk, or cycle, or drive a horse, or urge -forth your wild career on a motor-car. Going westwards, the gradient is -chiefly a rising one for a long distance after leaving Andover behind, -and it is not until ‘the Wallops’ are reached,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span> at Little (or Middle) -Wallop, lying in a hollow where a little stream trickles across the -road, that any relief is experienced.</p> - -<p>It must be Little Wallop to which Mr. Thomas Hardy refers in the <i>Mayor -of Casterbridge</i>, where the ruined and broken-hearted Henchard, after -taking up his early occupation of hay-trusser, becomes employed at a -‘pastoral farm near the old western highway.... He had chosen the -neighbourhood of this artery from a sense that, situated here, though at -a distance of fifty miles, he was virtually nearer to her whose welfare -was so dear than he would be at a roadless spot only half as remote.’</p> - -<p>The Wallops are interesting places, despite their silly name. There are -Over, and Nether, and Middle, or, as they are otherwise styled, Upper, -Lower, and Little Wallop. According to one school of antiquaries (who -must by no means be suspected of joking), the Wallop district is to be -identified with the ‘Gualoppum’ described by an old chronicler, a -district, appropriately enough, the scene of a great battle in which -Vortigern was defeated by the Saxons. There are, of course, local -derivations of the meaning of this place-name, together with a belief -that to Sir John Wallop, an ancestor of the Earl of Portsmouth, who -‘walloped the French’ in one or other of our many mediæval battles with -that nation, we owe that very active, not to say slangy verb, ‘to -wallop.’ But, unhappily for unscientific theories, there is a little -stream, called the Wallop, flowing through these villages, to which they -owe their generic name; the name of the stream itself deriving from the -Anglo-Saxon<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> ‘Weallan,’ to boil or bubble; the root of our English word -‘well.’</p> - -<p>Of these villages, Little Wallop alone is on the road, and is merely an -offshoot of the others, called into existence by the traffic which -followed this course in the old coaching days. Since railways have left -the roads lonely it has simply slumbered, ‘far from the madding crowd’s -ignoble strife,’ and its inhabitants are presumably happy in their -retirement; although, when days are short and nights are long, and the -stormy winds do blow, it is quite conceivable that there are more -cheerful and warmer situations.</p> - -<p>Three miles from here the road leaves Hampshire and enters Wilts, and -two miles onwards from that point, after passing ‘Lobcombe Corner,’ the -junction of the Stockbridge road, is seen that famous old coaching inn, -the ‘Pheasant,’ known much better under its other name, ‘Winterslow -Hut.’</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HAZLITT</i></div> - -<p>There are few more desolate and cheerless places in England than the -spot where this old coaching inn stands beside the open road, with the -unenclosed downs stretching away to the far horizon, fold after fold. -Somewhere amid these hills and hollows, but quite hidden, is the village -of West Winterslow, from which the ‘Hut’ obtains its name. The place, -save for the periodical passing of the coaches, was as solitary in old -times as it is now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span> and its quiet as profound. The very name is -chilling, and as excellently descriptive as it is possible for a name to -be.</p> - -<p>When, coming within sight of its isolated roof-tree from the summit of -the hills on either side, the coach-guards used to blow fanfares on -their bugles as a reminder for the ostler to have his fresh teams ready, -the inn and its surrounding stables woke into life, and when they were -gone their several ways, it dozed again. Save that it doubtless looked -more prosperous then, the present appearance of ‘Winterslow Hut’ is -identical with its aspect of sixty years ago. The same horse-pond by the -roadside, the same trees, only older and more decrepit, the same -prehistoric dykes and tumuli on the unchanging downs; it must have been -capable of absorbing the fun and jollity of a fair, and still presenting -its characteristically dour and dreary aspect; but now that, sitting in -the bay window of the parlour that commands the road in either -direction, you may watch the highway by the half-hour and see no -traveller, the emptiness is appalling.</p> - -<p>To this solitary outpost of civilisation came William Hazlitt, critic -and essayist, during several years, for quietude. For four years, from -1808 to 1812, he and his wife lived in a cottage at West Winterslow, on -the small income derived from her other cottage property there, -supplemented by the sums the wayward Hazlitt earned fitfully by the -practice of literature. Then they removed to London, where they -disagreed, Hazlitt retiring to the ‘Hut’ in 1819, and leaving his wife -in town. Nervous and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span> irritable, he wanted quiet, nor can it be doubted -that in this spot he found what he sought. He was cursed, according to -the widely different beliefs of his friends, with ‘an ingrained -selfishness,’ or ‘a morbid self-consciousness,’ and oil the downs he -would walk, for the pleasure of having the neighbourhood all to himself, -from forty to fifty miles a day. He wrote his <i>Winterslow</i> essays here, -and his <i>Napoleon</i>, for whom he had an almost insane reverence. The -‘diabolical scowl’ of Hazlitt when Napoleon or any other of his pet -susceptibilities were abused must have been worth seeing.</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ says a literary hero-hunter, who has visited ‘Winterslow Hut,’ as -a place of pilgrimage,—‘now it is a desolate place, fallen into decay, -and tenanted by a labouring man and his family, cultivating a small farm -of some thirty acres, and barely able to make a living out of it. In -winter two or three weeks will sometimes elapse without even a beggar or -tramp or cart passing the door. On the ground floor, looking out upon a -horse-pond, flanked by two old lime-trees, is a little parlour, which -was the one probably used by Hazlitt as his sitting-room. At the other -end of the house is a large empty room, formerly devoted to -cock-fighting matches and singlestick combats. It was with a strange and -eerie feeling that I contemplated this little parlour, and pictured to -myself the many solitary evenings during which Hazlitt sat in it -enjoying copious libations of his favourite tea (for during the last -fifteen years of his life he never tasted alcoholic drinks of any kind) -perhaps reading <i>Tom Jones</i> for the tenth time, or enjoying<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A LITERARY RECLUSE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p159_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p159_sml.jpg" width="390" height="243" alt="Image unavailable: ‘WINTERSLOW HUT.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">‘WINTERSLOW HUT.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">one of Congreve’s comedies, or Rousseau’s <i>Confessions</i>, or writing, in -his large flowing hand, a dozen pages of the essay on <i>Persons one would -Wish to have Seen</i>, or <i>On Living to One’s Self</i>. One cannot imagine any -retreat more consonant with the feelings of this lonely thinker, during -one of his periods of seclusion, than the out-of-the-world place in -which I stood. In winter time it must have been desolate beyond -description—on wild nights especially—“heaven’s chancel-vault” blind -with sleet—the fierce wind sweeping down from the bare wolds around, -and beating furiously against the doors and windows of the unsheltered -hostelry.’</p> - -<p>It is not to be supposed that Hazlitt was insensible to the dreariness -of the spot. ‘Here, <i>even</i> here,’ he says, as though the dolour of the -place had come home to him, ‘with a few old authors I can manage to get -through the summer or winter months without ever knowing what it is to -feel <i>ennui</i>. They sit with me at breakfast; they walk out with me -before dinner. After a long walk through unfrequented tracts, after -starting the hare from the fern, or hearing the wing of the raven -rustling above my head, or being greeted by the woodman’s “stern -good-night,” as he strikes into his narrow homeward path, I can “take -mine ease at mine inn,” beside the blazing hearth, and shake hands with -Signor Orlando Friscobaldo, as the oldest acquaintance I have.’</p> - -<p>His <i>Farewell to Essay Writing</i> was written here 20th February 1828. He -had long given up the intemperance of former years, and cultivated -literature on copious tea-drinking. ‘As I quaff my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> libations of tea in -a morning,’ he says, ‘I love to watch the clouds sailing from the west, -and fancy that “the spring comes slowly up this way.” In this hope, -while “fields are dank, and ways are mire,” I follow the same direction -to a neighbouring wood, where, having gained the dry, level greensward, -I can see my way for a mile before me, closed in on each side by -copse-wood, and ending in a point of light more or less brilliant, as -the day is bright or cloudy.’ And so this harbinger of our own literary -neurotics continues, dropping into a morbid introspective strain, -pulling up his soul, like a plant, by the roots, to see how it is -growing, and babbling to the world, between the jewel-work of his -literature, of his follies and his unrest. Strange, that this wiry -pedestrian, this apostle of fresh air, should be of the same dough of -which the degenerates of our time are compounded.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> was here, however, that one of the most thrilling episodes of the -road was enacted in the old days. The Mail from Exeter to London had -left Salisbury on the night of 20th October 1816, and proceeded in the -usual way for several miles, when what was thought to be a large calf -was seen trotting beside the horses in the darkness. The team soon -became extremely nervous and fidgety, and as the inn was approached they -could scarcely be kept under control.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>AN ESCAPED LIONESS</i></div> - -<p>At the moment when the coachman pulled up to deliver his bags, one of -the leading horses was suddenly seized by the supposed calf. The horses -kicked and plunged violently, and it was with difficulty the driver -could prevent the coach from being overturned. The guard drew his -blunderbuss and was about to shoot the mysterious assailant when several -men, accompanied by a large mastiff, appeared in sight. The foremost, -seeing that the guard was about to fire, pointed a pistol at his head, -swearing that he would be shot if the beast was killed.</p> - -<p>Every one then perceived that this ferocious ‘calf’ was nothing less -than a lioness. The dog was set on to attack her, and she thereupon left -the horse and turned on him. He turned and ran, but the lioness caught -him and tore him to pieces, carrying the remains in her mouth under a -granary. The spot was then barricaded to prevent her escape, and a noose -being thrown over her neck, she was secured and marched off to captivity -again.</p> - -<p>It is said that the horse when attacked fought with great spirit, and -would probably have beaten off his assailant with his fore-feet had he -been at liberty; but in his frantic plunges he became entangled in the -harness. The lioness, it seems, attacked him in front, springing at his -throat and fastening the claws of her fore-feet on either side of the -neck, while her hind-feet tore at his chest. The horse, although -fearfully mangled, survived. The showmen of the time were evidently -quite as enterprising as those of these latter days, for the menagerie -proprietor purchased the horse and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span> exhibited him the next day at -Salisbury Fair, with excellent results in the shape of increased -gate-money.</p> - -<p>The passengers on this extraordinary occasion were absolutely -terror-stricken. Bounding off the coach, they made a wild rush for the -inn, and, reaching the door, slammed it to and bolted it, to the -exclusion of one poor fellow who, not active enough, found himself shut -out in the road. The lioness, pursuing the dog, actually brushed against -him. When she was secured, the poltroons inside the house opened the -door and let the half-fainting traveller in. They gave him refreshments, -and he recovered sufficiently to be able to write an account of the -event for the local papers; but in a few days he became a raving maniac, -and was sent to an asylum at Laverstock. For over twenty-seven years he -lived there, incurable, and died in 1843.</p> - -<p>The leader attacked by the lioness was a famous horse, even before that -affair. There were many such in the coaching age. Animals unmanageable -on the racecourse were frequently sold to coach-proprietors, and soon -learnt discipline on the roads. ‘Pomegranate’ was his name. A ‘thief’ on -the course, and a bad-tempered brute in the stable, he had worked on the -Exeter Mail for some time before this dramatic episode in his career -found him, for a time, a home in a menagerie.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>SALISBURY</i></div> - -<p>The fame of the affair was great and lasting. That coaching specialist, -James Pollard, drew, and R. Havell engraved, a plate showing the -dramatic scene, which was dedicated to Thomas Hasker,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> Superintendent of -His Majesty’s Mails. In it you see Joseph Pike, the guard, rising to -shoot the very heraldic-looking lioness, and the passengers encouraging -him in the background, from the safe retreat of the first-floor windows. -It will be observed that this is apparently the lioness’s first spring, -and yet those passengers are already upstairs: at once a striking -testimony to their agility and a warranty of the exquisite truth of the -saying that fear lends wings to the feet.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> spire and the distant city come with the welcome surprise of a -Promised Land after these bleak downs. Even three miles away the -unenclosed wilds are done, and we drop continuously from Three Mile -Hill, down, down, down to the lowlands on a smooth and uninterrupted -road, to where the trees and the houses can be distinguished, nestling -around and below the graceful cathedral, a long way yet ahead. It is -coming thus with that needle-pointed spire, so long and so prominently -in view, that the story of its having been built to its extraordinary -height of 404 feet for the purpose of guiding the strayed footsteps of -travellers across the solitudes of Salisbury Plain may readily be -believed.</p> - -<p>Salisbury wears a bland and cheerful appearance, and has an air of -modernity that quite belies its age. Few places in England have so -well-ascertained an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> origin. We can fix the very year, six hundred and -eighty years ago, when it began to be, and yet, although there is the -cathedral to prove its age, with the Poultry Cross, and very many -ancient houses happily still standing, it has a general air of anything -but mediævalism. This curious feeling that strikes every visitor is -really owing to the generous and well-ordered plan on which the city was -originally laid out; broad streets being planned in geometrical -precision, and the blocks of houses built in regular squares.</p> - -<p>That phenomenally simple-minded person, Tom Pinch, thought Salisbury ‘a -very desperate sort of place; an exceedingly wild and dissipated -city’—a view of it which is not shared by any one else. I wish I could -tell you to which inn it was that he resorted to have dinner, and to -await the arrival of Martin. A coaching inn, of course, for Martin came -by coach from London. But whether it was the ‘White Hart,’ or the ‘Three -Swans’ (which, alas! is no longer an inn), or the ‘King’s Arms,’ or the -‘George,’ is more than I or any one else can determine.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>NEW SARUM</i></div> - -<p>Salisbury is by no means desperate or dissipated, even though it be -market-day, and although itinerant cutlery vendors may still sell -seven-bladed knives, with never a cut among them, to the unwary. It is -true that Mr. Thomas Hardy has given us, in <i>On the Western Circuit</i>, a -picture of blazing orgies at Melchester Fair, with steam-trumpeting -merry-go-rounds, glamour and glitter, glancing young women no better -than they ought to be, and an amorous young barrister much worse than he -should have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> been; and it is true that by ‘Melchester’ this fair city of -Salisbury is meant; but you can conjure up no very accurate picture of -this ancient place from those pages. The real Salisbury is extremely -urbane and polished, decorous and well-ordered. It is graceful and -sunny, and has, in fact, all the sweetness of mediævalism without its -sternness, and affords a thorough contrast with Winchester, which frowns -upon you where Salisbury smiles. One need not waver from one’s -allegiance to Winchester to admit so much.</p> - -<p>Salisbury is still known in official documents as ‘New Sarum.’ It is, -nevertheless, of a quite respectable antiquity, its newness dating from -that day, 28th April 1220, when Bishop Poore laid the foundation-stone -of the still existing cathedral. There are romantic incidents in the -exodus from Old Sarum on its windy height upon the downs, a mile and a -half away, to these ‘rich champaign fields and fertile valleys, -abounding with the fruits of the earth, and watered by living streams,’ -in this ‘sink of Salisbury Plain,’ where the Bourne, the Wylye, the -Avon, and the Nadder flow in innumerable runlets through the meads.</p> - -<p>Old Sarum was old indeed. Its history strikes rootlets deep down into -the Unknown. A natural hillock upon the wild downs, its defensible -position rendered it a camp for the earliest aboriginal tribes, who, -always at war with one another, lived for safety’s sake in such bleak -and inhospitable places when they would much rather be hunting and -enjoying life generally in the sheltered wooded vales<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span> and fertile -plains. These tribes heaped up the first artificial earthworks that ever -strengthened this historic hill, and they were succeeded during the long -march of those dim centuries by Romans, Saxons, and Danes. The Romans, -with their unerring military instinct, saw the importance of the hill, -and added to the simple defences they found there. They called the place -<i>Sorbiodunum</i>, and made it a great strategic station. The Saxons -strengthened the fortifications in their turn, and at the time of the -Norman Conquest a city had grown up under the shelter of the citadel.</p> - -<p>In its deserted state to-day, the site of Old Sarum vividly recalls the -appearance presented by an extinct volcano, the conical hill rising from -the downs with the suddenness of an upheaval, and the area enclosed -within the concentric rings of banks and ditches forming a hollow space -similar to a crater. The total area enclosed within these fortifications -is about 28 acres. Within this space was comprised that ancient city, -and in its very centre, overlooking everything else, and encompassed by -a circular fosse and bank, 100 feet in height, stood the citadel. The -site of this castle is now overgrown with dense thickets of shrubs and -brambles; the fragments of its flint and rubble walls, 12 feet thick, -and some remaining portions of its gateways affording evidence of its -old-time strength.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>OLD SARUM</i></div> - -<p>Within this city, enclosed for centuries by the ring-fence of these -fortifications, stood the cathedral, in a position just below the Castle -ward. Its exact site and size (although not a fragment of it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> -standing) were discovered in the summer of 1834. That portion of the -vanished city had been laid down as pasture, and the drought of that -year revealed the plan of the cathedral, in a distinct brown outline -upon the grass. This building, completed in 1092 by Bishop Osmund, -furnished the stone in later years for the spire of Salisbury Cathedral -and for the walls of the Close, in which, by St. Anne’s Gate, many -sculptured fragments of these relics from Old Sarum may yet be seen.</p> - -<p>A variety of circumstances brought about the removal of the cathedral -from Old Sarum. Water was lacking on that height, and winds raged so -furiously around it that the monks could not hear the priests say Mass; -and, worse than all, during the Papal Interdict, the King, in revenge -for many ecclesiastical annoyances, transferred the custody of the -Castle of Old Sarum from the bishops to his own creatures, who locked -the monks out of their monastery and church on one occasion when they -had gone on some religious procession. When the monks returned, they -found entrance denied them, and were forced to remain in the open air -during the whole of a frosty winter night. There was no end to the -hardships which those Men of Wrath brought upon the Church. No wonder -that Peter of Blois cried out, ‘What has the House of the Lord to do -with castles? It is the Ark of the Covenant in the Temple of Baalim. Let -us in God’s name descend into the plain.’</p> - -<p>The removal decided upon, it remained to choose a site. Tradition tells -us that the Virgin Mary appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span> to Bishop Poore in a vision, and told -him to build the church on a spot called Merryfield; and has it that the -site was chosen by the fall of an arrow shot from the ramparts of Old -Sarum. If that was the case, there must have been something miraculous -in that shot, for the place where Salisbury Cathedral is built is a mile -and a half away from those ramparts. But perhaps the bishop or the -legends used the long bow in a very special sense.</p> - -<p>The cathedral was completed in sixty years, receiving its final -consecration in 1260; but the great spire was not finished until a -hundred years later. The city was an affair of rapid growth, receiving a -charter of incorporation seven years after being founded. Seventeen -years later, Bishop Bingham dealt a final blow at the now utterly ruined -city of Old Sarum by diverting the old Roman road to the West from its -course through Old Sarum, Bemerton, and Wilton, and making a highway -running directly to New Sarum, and crossing the Avon by the new bridge -which he had built at Harnham. Old Sarum could by this time make little -or no resistance, for it was deserted, save for a few who could not -bring themselves to leave the home of their forefathers. Wilton, -however, which was a thriving town, bitterly resented this diversion of -the roads, and petitioned against it, but without avail. From that date -Wilton’s decline set in, and the rise of New Sarum progressed at an even -greater speed. A clothing trade sprang up and prospered, and many Royal -visits gave the citizens an air of importance. They waxed rich and -arrogant, and were eternally<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE MARTYRS</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p171_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p171_sml.jpg" width="390" height="309" alt="Image unavailable: SALISBURY CATHEDRAL (AFTER CONSTABLE, R.A.)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SALISBURY CATHEDRAL (AFTER CONSTABLE, R.A.).</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">quarrelling with the bishops, one of whom they murdered in the turbulent -times that prevailed during Jack Cade’s rebellion. Bishop Ayscough was -that unfortunate prelate. He had cautiously retired to Edington, but a -furious body of Salisbury malcontents marched out across the Plain, and -dragging him from the altar of the church, where he was saying Mass, -took him to an adjacent hill-top, and slew him with the utmost -barbarity. It was for the benefit of these unruly citizens that one of -Jack Cade’s quarters was consigned from London to Salisbury and elevated -there on a pole, as a preliminary warning. Full punishment followed a -little later.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> is really too great a task to follow the history of Salisbury through -the centuries to the present time; nor, indeed, since the city and the -cathedral are from our present point of view but incidents along the -Exeter Road, would it be desirable to dwell very long on their story, -which, as may have been judged from what has already been said, is an -exceedingly turbulent one. The fearful martyrdoms carried out in -Fisherton Fields by the bloody hell-hounds of the Marian Persecution -still stain the records of the Church; nor, although the very reading of -them turn brain and body sick, and make even the architectural -enthusiast almost turn away in disgust from that lovely cathedral, may -God grant<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> that they ever be forgotten, as in the England of to-day they -would almost seem to be. Hellish ferocity, damnable frauds, how they -smirch those sculptured stones and cry insistently for remembrance!</p> - -<p>Nicholas Shaxton, Bishop in the time of Henry the Eighth, was alive to -it all, and cleared away the false relics; the ‘stinking boots, mucky -combs, ragged rochetts, rotten girdles, pyled purses, great bullocks’ -horns, locks of hair, filthy rags, and gobbets of wood,’ which he found -here; but, with less courage than others, he recanted in Mary’s reign. -Sherfield, Recorder of Salisbury, was another reformer, but he lived in -less dangerous times for such men. It was in 1629 that he smashed the -stained-glass window, representing the Creation, in St. Edmund’s Church. -In other times he would assuredly have been burnt for this act; as it -was, he was summoned before the Star Chamber. He pleaded that the window -did not contain a true history of the Creation, and objected that God -was represented as ‘a little old man in a long blue coat,’ which he held -was ‘an indignity offered to Almighty God.’ He was committed to the -Fleet Prison for this, fined £500, and required to apologise to the -Bishop of Salisbury. Fortunate Mr. Sherfield!</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>MURDER OF THE HARTGILLS</i></div> - -<p>This fair city has been almost as much of a Golgotha as the settlements -of savage African kinglets are wont to be. Shakespeare has made mention -of the execution of the Duke of Buckingham here in 1484 by Richard the -Third, but many an one has suffered and left no such trace. That such -executions were generally unjust and almost always too<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span> severe is their -sufficient condemnation; but the hanging of Charles, Lord Stourton, in -1556, is an exception. The affair for which he was put to death was the -murder of the two Hartgills, father and son, at Kilmington, Somerset, -and it affords an unusually instructive glimpse into the manners of the -period. It seems that William Hartgill had long been steward to the -previous Lord Stourton, the father of Charles. Like most stewards, he -had profited by his stewardship, over and above his salary, to a -considerable extent. There was no friendship wasted between him and the -new lord, but the quarrels which had taken place between William -Hartgill and his son on the one side, and Charles, Lord Stourton, and -his servants on the other, finally came to a head when my lord demanded -a written undertaking from his mother that she would never marry again, -and that Hartgill should be bond for the undertaking being kept. The -widowed Lady Stourton was residing at the Hartgills’ house when this -demand was made. She refused to have anything to do with such a paper, -and Hartgill bluntly declined as well. Lord Stourton would then appear -to have determined on revenge for this defeat, and eventually, after the -Hartgills had been on several occasions waylaid, threatened, and -attacked by his servants, he conceived the devilish plan of a pretended -reconciliation over this and other disputes in the village churchyard of -Kilmington, the occasion to be used as a means of taking them off their -guard, and finally disposing of them. The two victims were suspicious of -this apparent friendliness; but, unhappily for them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> eventually agreed -to meet in that God’s Acre, on 12th January 1556, there to settle all -accounts and differences. They met, and, at a previously arranged -signal, Lord Stourton’s servants rushed upon the Hartgills and stabbed -and battered them to death in a revoltingly cruel manner, while their -master looked on with approval. The details of this cold-blooded -atrocity are fully set forth in the trials of that period, for the -satisfaction of any one greedy of horrors.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE DEVIL’S HEALTH</i></div> - -<p>This was in the reign of Queen Mary, when Protestants were burned at the -stake with the approval of Roman Catholics; but not even in those brutal -times could this affair be hushed up. Lord Stourton was arrested, -brought to trial in London, and, together with four of his servants, -found guilty of murder, and sentenced to death. Justice was commendably -swift. The two Hartgills had been done to death on the 12th of January, -and on the second day of March in the same year my lord set out under -escort from the Tower of London for Salisbury, the place of execution. -The melancholy cavalcade came down the Exeter Road, the chief figure in -it set astride a horse, with legs and arms pinioned. The first night -they lay at Hounslow, the second at Staines, the third at Basingstoke, -and thence to Salisbury, where, in the Market Place, on the morning of -the 6th of March, they hanged him with a silken cord. His servants were -turned off at the end of quite common hempen ropes, which doubtless did -their business quite as neatly. The body of this prime malefactor, the -organiser of the crime, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> buried with much ceremony in the cathedral, -but those of the lesser criminals were treated (we may suppose) with -less reverence, because you may search the building in vain for tomb or -epitaph to their memory. But—quaintest touch of all—the silken rope by -which Lord Stourton swung was suspended here, over his tomb, where it -remained for many a long year afterwards.</p> - -<p>The next outstanding landmark in the way of executions is the hanging of -a prisoner who had just been awarded a sentence when he threw a brickbat -at the Chief Justice. His lordship was considerably damaged and for this -assault pronounced sentence of death upon him. The execution took place -at once, outside the Council House, the unfortunate man’s right hand -being first struck off.</p> - -<p>The Civil War did not result in anything very tragical for Salisbury, -the operations in and around the city being quite unimportant. The -‘Catherine Wheel Inn,’ however, was the scene of much alarm among the -superstitious, when, according to a gruesome story, the Cavaliers -assembled there, having toasted the King and the Royal family, proceeded -to drink the health of the Devil,—and the Devil appeared, the room -becoming filled with ‘noisome fumes of sulphur, and a hideous monster, -which was the Devil, no doubt,’ entering, and grabbing the giver of the -toast, flying away with him out of the window.</p> - -<p>Salisbury was the scene of Penruddocke’s rising for the King in 1655. He -was a county gentleman, of Compton Chamberlayne, and with some others -and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span> band of a hundred and fifty horsemen, rode into the city at four -o’clock in the morning of 14th March. They seized the Judges of Assize -in their beds, opened the doors of the prison, and imprisoned the judges -in the place of the released convicts. Then, finding the citizens too -timid to join them in their revolt against Cromwell, they sped across -country, into Devon, where they were captured.</p> - -<p>Charles the Second was welcomed by Salisbury’s citizens, just as they -welcomed every one else; practising with much success St. Paul’s -admirable precept, to be ‘all things to all men.’ When James the Second -came here, on his way to meet, and fight, the Prince of Orange, he was -escorted, with every show of deference and respect, to his lodgings at -the Bishop’s Palace by the Mayor, and when he had slunk away, and the -Prince came, less than four weeks later, and was lodged in the same -house, the same Mayor did precisely the same thing.</p> - -<p>From the beginning of the seventeenth century onward the citizens began -to dearly love kings and great personages, or, if they did not love -them, effectually pretended to do so. When plague ravaged the city of -London, no one coming from that direction was allowed to enter -Salisbury, and even Salisbury’s own citizens returning home from that -infected centre were obliged to remain outside for three months, while -goods were not permitted to be brought nearer than Three Mile Hill. But -Charles the Second and his Court, flying from London from the disease, -were welcomed all the same!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BRUTAL SCENES</i></div> - -<p>Coach passengers entering Salisbury even so late as 1835 were sometimes -witnesses of shocking scenes that, however picturesque they might have -rendered mediæval times, were brutalising and degrading in a civilised -era. Almost every year of the nineteenth century up to that date was -fruitful in executions. In 1801 there were ten: seven for the crime of -sheep-stealing, one for horse-stealing, one for stealing a calf, and one -for highway robbery. The practice of hanging criminals on the scenes of -their crimes afforded spectacles of the most extraordinary character, as -instanced in the procession that accompanied two murderers, George -Carpenter and George Ruddock, from Fisherton Gaol, on the north-west of -the city, to the place of their execution on Warminster Down, 15th March -1813. Such parades were senseless, since no one ever dreamed of a rescue -being attempted; but, all the same, the condemned men, placed in a cart -and accompanied by a clergyman preaching of Kingdom Come, preceded by -the hangman and followed by eight men carrying two coffins, were -escorted all the way by a troop of Wiltshire Yeomanry, followed by some -two hundred constables and local gentlemen, all walking and carrying -white staves; with bailiffs, sheriffs, under-sheriffs, magistrates, a -hundred mounted squires, a posse of ‘javelin men,’ more clergymen, the -gaoler and his assistants, more javelin men and sheriff’s officers, more -yeomanry, and, at last, bringing up the rear, a howling mob,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span> numbering -many thousands. As for the central objects in this show, ‘they died -penitent,’ we are told; and indeed they could do nothing less, seeing to -what trouble they had thus put a goodly proportion of the county.</p> - -<p>Executions for all manner of crimes were so many that it would be idle -to detail them; but some stand out prominently by reason of their -circumstances. For example, the hanging of Robert Turner Watkins in -1819, for a murder near Purton, presents a lurid scene. His wife had -died of a broken heart shortly after his arrest, and his mother was -among the spectators of his end. The same kind of procession accompanied -him across Salisbury Plain to the place of execution, and a similar mob -made the occasion a holiday. Mother and son were able to bid one another -farewell, owing to an unexpected halt on the road; and when they made a -halt for the refreshments which the long journey demanded, the condemned -man’s children were brought to him.</p> - -<p>‘Mammy is dead,’ said one. ‘Ah!’ replied the man, ‘and so will your -daddy be, shortly.’ At the fatal spot he prayed with the chaplain, and -was allowed to read to the people a psalm which he had chosen. It was -Psalm 108, which, on reference, will not prove to be particularly -appropriate to the occasion. Then he blessed the fifteen thousand or so -present, felt the rope, and remarked that it could only kill the body, -and was turned off, amid the sudden and unexpected breaking of one of -the most terrific thunderstorms ever experienced on the Plain.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HUMANE JURIES</i></div> - -<p>They hanged a gipsy, one Joshua Shemp, in 1801,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span> for stealing a horse, -and afterwards discovered that he was innocent, according to a monument -still to be seen in Odstock churchyard. In 1802 John Everett suffered -death for uttering forged bank-notes, followed in 1820 by William Lee, -who died for the same offence. So late as 1835, two men were hanged for -arson; but public opinion had already been aroused against such -severity, judges and juries taking every advantage offered by faults in -the drawing up of indictments to acquit all those criminals not guilty -of murder whose crimes were then met by capital punishment. The statutes -left no choice but death for the convicted incendiary, the horse-or -sheep-stealer, and many another; and so many a guilty person was -acquitted by judges and juries horrified by the thought of incurring -blood-guiltiness by sending such men to the scaffold. The law allowed -loopholes for escape, and so when the <i>straw</i>-rick, to which a prisoner -was charged with setting fire, was proved to have been <i>hay</i>, he was -found ‘Not guilty.’ Blackstone called this action taken by juries ‘pious -perjury,’ and so it certainly was when, to avoid shedding blood, they -used to find £5 and £10 notes which prisoners sometimes were charged -with stealing, to be articles to the value of twelvepence or a few -shillings, according as the case required.</p> - -<p>The last lawless scenes around Salisbury were enacted at the close of -1830, when the so-called ‘Machinery Riots,’ which had spread all over -the country, culminated here in fights between the Wiltshire Yeomanry -and the discontented agricultural labourers, who, fearing that steam -machinery, then<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p182_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p182_sml.jpg" width="247" height="252" alt="Image unavailable: ST. ANNE’S GATE, SALISBURY." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ST. ANNE’S GATE, SALISBURY.</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ALDERBURY</i></div> - -<p class="nind">beginning to be adopted, was about to take away their livelihood, -scoured the country in bands, wrecking and burning farmsteads and barns. -The ‘Battle of Bishop Down,’ on the Exeter Road between ‘Winterslow Hut’ -and Salisbury, was fought on 23rd November, and was caused by the -collision of a large body of rioters who were marching to the city with -the avowed object of pillaging it, and a mixed force of yeomanry and -special constables. All the coaches, together with every other kind of -traffic, were brought to a standstill. Stone-throwing on the part of the -rioters, and bludgeoning by the special<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span> constables were succeeded by -charges of the yeomanry, and the contest resulted in the capture of -twenty-two rioters, who were locked up in Fisherton Gaol. The next day a -number of rioters were surprised in the ‘Green Dragon Inn,’ Alderbury, -and marched off to prison; and the day after, twenty-five were taken in -a fight near Tisbury, after one of their number had been killed. There -were no fewer than three hundred and thirty prisoners awaiting trial -when the Special Commissioners arrived for that purpose on 27th -December. Many of the prisoners were transported, and others had short -terms of imprisonment; but a leader, called ‘Commander’ Coote, who was -captured by two constables at the Compasses, Rockbourn, was hanged at -Winchester.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">And</span> now for some little-known literary landmarks. Salisbury, of course, -is the scene of some passages in <i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i>; but it is outside -the city that we must go, on the road to Southampton, to find the -residence of that eminent architect, Mr. Pecksniff; or the ‘Blue -Dragon,’ where Tom Pinch’s friend, Mrs. Lupin, was landlady. St. Mary’s -Grange, four miles from Salisbury, is the real name of Mr. Pecksniff’s -home, but the house is only vaguely indicated in the novel. It is -different with the ‘Blue Dragon,’ which is an undoubted portrait of the -‘Green Dragon Inn,’ at Alderbury, despite the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span> fact that the sign-board -has since disappeared. ‘A faded, and an ancient dragon he was; and many -a wintry storm of rain, snow, sleet, and hail had changed his colour -from a gaudy blue to a faint, lack-lustre shade of grey. But there he -hung; rearing in a state of monstrous imbecility on his hind legs; -waxing, with every month that passed, so much more dim and shapeless, -that as you gazed on him at one side of the sign-board, it seemed as if -he must be gradually melting through it, and coming out upon the other.’</p> - -<p>The ‘Green Dragon’ is a quaint gabled village inn, standing back from -the road. It is even more ancient than any one, judging only from its -exterior, would suppose, for a fine fifteenth-century mantelpiece, -adorned with carved crockets and heraldic roses, yet remains in the -parlour, a relic of bygone importance.</p> - -<p>As for Mrs. Lupin, the landlady, it is supposed that Dickens drew the -character from a real person. If so, how one would like to have known -that cheery woman. Do you remember how Tom Pinch left Salisbury to seek -his fortune in London? and how Mrs. Lupin met the coach on the London -road with his box in the trap, and a great basket of provisions, with a -bottle of sherry sticking out of it? and how the open-handed fellow -shared the cold roast fowl, the packet of ham in slices, the crusty -loaf, and the other half-dozen items—not forgetting the contents of the -bottle—with the coachman and guard as they drove along the old road to -London through the night?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A WORD-PICTURE</i></div> - -<p>‘Yoho, past hedges, gates, and trees; past cottages and barns, and -people going home from work. Yoho, past donkey-chaises, drawn aside into -the ditch, and empty carts with rampant horses, whipped up at a bound -upon the little watercourse, and held by struggling carters close to the -five-barred gate, until the coach had passed the narrow turning in the -road. Yoho, by churches dropped down by themselves in quiet nooks, with -rustic burial-grounds about them, where graves are green, and daisies -sleep—for it is evening—on the bosoms of the dead. Yoho, past streams -in which the cattle cool their feet, and where the rushes grow; past -paddock-fences, farms and rick-yards; past last year’s stacks, cut slice -by slice away, and showing in the waning light like ruined gables, old -and brown. Yoho, down the pebbly dip, and through the merry -water-splash, and up at a canter to the level road again. Yoho! Yoho!’</p> - -<p>Quite so. And an excellent picture of the coaching age, although ‘Yoho!’ -smacks too much of the sea for a coach. In his haste he wrote that word -when he surely meant ‘Tallyho!’ Nor is this a correct portrait of the -Exeter Road by any manner of means. Dickens, usually so precise in -topographical details, has generalised here. A true and stirring picture -of country roads in general, there are farms, and villages, and churches -all too many for this highway. It should have been ‘Yoho! across the -bleak and barren down. Yoho! by the blasted oak on the lonely common,’ -and so forth, so far as Andover, at any rate. And what was that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span> -water-splash doing on a main road in the flower of the coaching age, -when all the runnels and streams across the mail routes were duly -bridged? But it is not very odd that Dickens should have been so inexact -here, for he began <i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i> in 1843, and it was not until -long after the book was published, in 1848, that he really explored the -Exeter Road. Forster tells us that Dickens, in company with himself, -Leech, and Lemon, stayed at Salisbury in the March of that year, and -‘passed a March day in riding over every part of the Plain; visiting -Stonehenge, and exploring Hazlitt’s “Hut” at Winterslow.’</p> - -<p>It must be obvious how exquisitely fitted, both by reason of its -situation and circumstances, ‘Winterslow Hut’ is for the novelist’s use, -and that, had he explored it before, that wild spot would have found a -place in the pages of <i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i>, together with detailed -references to some of Salisbury’s old coaching inns, of which there were -many, this being a meeting-place of several roads, besides being on the -great highway to the West.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>VANISHED INNS</i></div> - -<p>So far back as 1786 there were three coaches passing through Salisbury -on their way from London to Exeter, daily. Firstly, the ‘Post Coach’ -every morning at eight o’clock, with the up coach to London every -afternoon at four o’clock, Saturdays excepted. Secondly, a mail coach, -specially advertised as carrying a guard all the way, every morning at -ten o’clock, Sundays excepted, and the up mail every night at ten -o’clock, Saturdays excepted. Thirdly, a ‘Diligence,’ which passed -through every night<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span> about eight o’clock, the up coach at twelve, -midnight. All these coaches stopped, and were horsed, at the ‘White -Hart.’ In 1797 there were five coaches to and from London, daily, and -three on alternate days; and three waggons, two every day, the other on -Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.</p> - -<p>In those times, when highwaymen were numerous and daring and travellers -appropriately anxious, stage-coach proprietors in Salisbury advertised -the fact of their conveyances being provided with an armed guard, and -that any one making an attempt at robbery would be handed over to -justice. But, notwithstanding such bold announcements, all the friends -and relatives of citizens daring the journey to London used to assemble -on the London road and tearfully watch the coaches as they toiled up -Bishop Down and over the crest of Three Mile Hill, into the Unknown. The -spot is still called ‘Weeping Cross.’</p> - -<p>Of the old Salisbury coaching inns, a goodly number have been either -pulled down or converted to other purposes. The ‘King’s Head,’ the -‘Maidenhead,’ the ‘Sun,’ the ‘Vine,’ the ‘Three Tuns,’ and others have -entirely disappeared; and the ‘Spread Eagle,’ the ‘Lamb,’ ‘Three Cups,’ -‘Antelope,’ and the ‘George’—where Pepys stayed and was -overcharged—have become shops or private residences; while the -beautiful old ‘Three Swans’ was converted into a Temperance Hotel five -years ago.</p> - -<p>There is a passage in Sir William Knighton’s Diary under date of 1832, -which, although written without any special emphasis, is highly -picturesque and informative<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span> on the subject of travelling at that time. -It gives in one phrase a glimpse of the waiting-room which was a feature -of all-coaching inns, and in another shows that it was possible to -bargain for fares. Only in this instance the bargain was not struck.</p> - -<p>He had come at half-past one in the morning into Salisbury by a -cross-country coach, and waiting for the arrival of the mail to Exeter, -‘sat quietly by the fire in the common dirty room appropriated to coach -passengers.’</p> - -<p>For twenty minutes, he says, he had for companion a man who had just -disengaged himself from an irritable rencontre with the coachman of the -mail. He had waited from two o’clock in the afternoon to go on to -Bristol, but when the time arrived he quarrelled with the coachman about -whether he should pay nine shillings or twelve, the passenger insisting -upon nine, the whip three shillings more; upon which the traveller -decided not to go, returned to the coachroom, and ordered his bed. Sir -William asked him if it really was worth while to lose the time and to -pay for a bed at the inn over this unsuccessful negotiation, and to this -the man replied that it was not. ‘In fact,’ said he, ‘we have both been -taken in. The coachman thought I would pay, and I thought he would take -my offer.’</p> - -<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> is a nine-miles journey, due north from Salisbury to Stonehenge, but -although it would, under<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>PEPYS AT OLD SARUM</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p189_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p189_sml.jpg" width="400" height="256" alt="Image unavailable: VIEW OF SALISBURY SPIRE FROM THE RAMPARTS OF OLD -SARUM." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VIEW OF SALISBURY SPIRE FROM THE RAMPARTS OF OLD -SARUM.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">other circumstances, be unduly extending the scope of this work to -travel so far from the highway, we need have no compunction in making -this trip, for it brings us to one of the most interesting places on the -Amesbury and Ilminster route to Exeter—to Stonehenge, in fact, and -passes by the wonderful terraced hill of Old Sarum. You can see Old -Sarum looming ahead immediately after passing the outlying houses of -Salisbury, and if you come upon it when a storm is impending, as in -Constable’s picture, the impression of size and strength created is one -not soon to be forgotten. As to coming upon it in the dark, as Pepys -did, the sight is awe-inspiring.</p> - -<p>Time and place conspired to frighten him. ‘So over the Plain,’ he says, -‘by the sight of the steeple, to Salisbury by night; but before I came -to the town, I saw a great fortification, and there alighted, and to it, -and in it; and find it prodigious, so as to fright me to be in it all -alone at that time of night, it being dark. I understand since it to lie -that that is called Old Sarum.’</p> - -<p>To climb the steep grassy ramparts, one after the other, and to descend -into and climb out of the successive yawning ditches is a tiring -exercise, but perhaps in no other way is it possible to gain anything -like a proper idea of the strength of the place. Nor in there any more -sure way of arriving at the relative scale of it than by observing the -stray cyclist standing on the topmost ramparts and gazing toward the -distant spire of Salisbury.</p> - -<p>There are other things than ancient history that make Old Sarum -memorable. It was the head and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span> front of the electoral scandals that -brought about the great Reform Act of 1832. Although it contained -neither a single house nor an inhabitant, Old Sarum survived as a -Parliamentary borough until that date, and regularly returned two -members. Lord John Russell, introducing the Reform Bill to the House of -Commons, remarked that Old Sarum was a green mound without a single -habitation upon it, and like Gatton, also an uninhabited borough, -returned two members, while great towns like Birmingham and Manchester -were entirely without Parliamentary representation. The two members sent -to Parliament were merely the nominees of the Lord of the Manor, elected -by two dummy electors who, shortly after each dissolution of Parliament, -were granted leases in the borough of Old Sarum—leases known as -‘burgage tenures.’ Their voting done, they quietly surrendered their -leases, which were not granted again until a like occasion arose. The -elections took place at the ‘Parliament Tree,’ which, until 1896 (when -it was blown down in a snowstorm), stood in a meadow between the mound -and the village of ‘Stratford-under-the-Castle.’ It was supposed to have -marked the site of the Town Hall of the vanished town. Cobbett, riding -horseback past the spot, anathematised this ‘rotten borough’ and the -system that allowed such things. He calls it ‘The Accursed Hill.’ The -only house standing near is the ‘Old Castle Inn.’</p> - -<p>Beyond it the road dips steeply to the downs, and so continues, with -regular undulations, unsheltered from storms or frosts, or the fierce -heat of the summer sun, to Amesbury.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p193_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p193_sml.jpg" width="396" height="255" alt="Image unavailable: OLD SARUM (AFTER CONSTABLE, R.A.)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">OLD SARUM (AFTER CONSTABLE, R.A.).</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>AMESBURY</i></div> - -<p>Amesbury is a sheltered village, lying in a valley between these downs. -It was on the alternative coach route taken by the ‘Telegraph,’ -‘Celerity,’ ‘Defiance,’ and ‘Subscription’ coaches, which, leaving -Andover, came by Weyhill, Mullen’s Pond, and ‘Park House Inn.’ This way -came the ‘Telegraph’ coach on its journey to London, 27th December 1836, -through the thick of that terrible snowstorm of which we find copious -mention on every one of the classic roads. It began when they reached -Wincanton, and from that place they struggled on up to the Plain, where -it was a white world of scurrying snowflakes, howling winds, and deep -drifts. Down into Amesbury, and to the hospitable ‘George’ there, was -but a momentary respite, for the determined coachman, although -immediately snowed up in the open country beyond the village, sent for -help and, assisted by a team of six fresh post-horses with a post-boy to -every pair, charged up the hills in the direction of Andover, with that -fortune which is said to favour the brave. That is to say, he and His -Majesty’s mails got through to London, where the story was duly -chronicled in the papers of the period.</p> - -<p>Here, or hereabouts, it was that the up Exeter ‘Celerity’ coach came -into collision with the ‘Defiance’ at one o’clock in the morning of 25th -July 1827, resulting in the death of a gentleman who was thrown off the -roof of the ‘Celerity’ and instantly killed, and in serious injuries to -others. Both coaches were overturned. The ‘Celerity’ coachman, according -to the evidence at the subsequent trial, was to blame for reckless -driving, and for endeavouring to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span> too much of the road; but the -lawyers found a flaw in the indictment, which stated that he was driving -three geldings and a mare, and as it could not be proved that this -description was correct, the matter dropped.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">And</span> now to Stonehenge and Salisbury Plain, up the steep road from -Amesbury taken by the coaches. Unless you can see Stonehenge in such an -awful thunderstorm as Turner shows in his picture of it, or can come -upon the place at dead of night either by moonlight, or in the blackness -of a moonless midnight, you will fail to be impressed; unless you are a -literary pilgrim and can be moved to sentiment, not by thoughts of the -mythical human sacrifices offered up here by imaginary Druids, but by -the last scenes in the tragedy of poor Tess. Then the place has an -immediate human interest which otherwise it lacks in the immeasurably -vast space of time dividing us from the period of its building and of -the heaping up of the sepulchral barrows that make a wide circle round -it on the Plain. Solitary, with nothing to give it scale, even the -brakes that convey irreverent excursionists help to confer a dignity on -the spot, when seen afar upon the ridge where this Mystery, sphinx-like, -offers an insoluble riddle to archæologists of all the ages.</p> - -<p>No one, despite the affected archaisms and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>STONEHENGE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p197_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p197_sml.jpg" width="399" height="271" alt="Image unavailable: THE GREAT SNOWSTORM OF 1836; THE EXETER ‘TELEGRAPH,’ -ASSISTED BY POST-HORSES, DRIVING THROUGH THE SNOW-DRIFTS AT AMESBURY -(AFTER JAMES POLLARD)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE GREAT SNOWSTORM OF 1836; THE EXETER ‘TELEGRAPH,’ -ASSISTED BY POST-HORSES, DRIVING THROUGH THE SNOW-DRIFTS AT AMESBURY -(AFTER JAMES POLLARD).</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">sham archæology, has described Stonehenge so impressively as that -‘wondrous boy’ Chatterton:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A wondrous pyle of rugged mountaynes standes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Placed on eche other in a dreare arraie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It ne could be the worke of human handes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It ne was reared up by menne of claie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here did the Britons adoration paye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the false god whom they did Tauran name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightynge hys altarre with greate fyres in Maie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roasteyng theire victims round aboute the flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twas here that Hengyst dyd the Brytons slee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they were met in council for to bee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Stonehenge was probably standing when the Romans came to Britain, and -doubtless astonished them when they first saw it as much as any one -else. Its surroundings were not very different then from now. A -farmstead, with ugly blue-slated roof, which has appeared on the ridge -of the down of late years, and possibly a road which did not exist in -days of old: these alone have changed the aspect of the vast solitude in -which the hoary monument stands. No hedges, no gates, never a sheep upon -the meagre grass. As Ingoldsby says of Salisbury Plain, in general:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a shrub, nor a tree, nor a bush can you see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hedges, no ditches, no gates, no stiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much less a house or a cottage for miles.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>This, saving that intrusive farmstead, still holds good here; and -although every one is inevitably disappointed with Stonehenge, as first -seen at a distance, looking <i>so small</i> and insignificant in the vastness -of the bare downs in which it is set, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span> place, and not the great -stones merely, impresses by its sadness and utter detachment from the -living world, its loves and hates and interests. The birds forget to -sing in this loneliness, which is awful in winter and not less awful in -the emptiness visible under the blue sky and blazing sun of summer. Just -the situation in which Stonehenge is placed, you understand, not -Stonehenge itself, gives these feelings. ‘Do not we gaze with awe upon -these massive stones?’ asks the high-falutin guide-book compiler. No, -indeed we don’t. It is a pity, but it can’t be done, and the average -description of Stonehenge which sets forth the grandeur and stupendous -size of these stones, is pumped-up fudge and flapdoodle of the -damnablest kind, which takes in no one. It is not merely the Philistine -who thinks thus, but even the would-be marvellers, and those of light -and leading are disquieted by secret thoughts that, had we a mind to it, -and if there was money in it, we could build a better and a bigger -Stonehenge by a long way.</p> - -<p>The earliest account of this mystic monument is found in the writings of -Nennius, who lived in the ninth century. The first-comer is entitled to -respect, and when Nennius tells us that Stonehenge was erected by the -surviving Britons, in memory of four hundred and sixty British nobles, -murdered here at a conference to which the Saxon chieftain, Hengist, had -invited King Vortigern and his Court, we are bound to pay some attention -to the statement, although to place implicit reliance upon it would be -rash, considering the fact that Nennius wrote four hundred years after -the event.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p201_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p201_sml.jpg" width="381" height="276" alt="Image unavailable: STONEHENGE (AFTER TURNER, R.A.)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">STONEHENGE (AFTER TURNER, R.A.).</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>WHO BUILT STONEHENGE?</i></div> - -<p>But there are, and have been, many theories which profess to give the -only true origin of these stone circles. An antiquary formerly living at -Amesbury went to the beginnings of creation and held that they were -erected by Adam. If so, it is to be hoped for Adam’s sake that he -finished the job in the summer, or that if it occupied him in winter -time, he had clothed himself with something warmer than the traditional -fig-leaf, in view of the rigours of these Wiltshire Downs. It would be -interesting also to have Adam’s opinion as to the comparative merits of -Salisbury Plain and the Garden of Eden.</p> - -<p>Then a tradition existed that Merlin, the sorcerer, arranged the -circles. Those who do not think much of this view may take more kindly -to the legend of our old friends the Druids, who, according to Dr. -Stukeley and others, made this their chief temple; while, according to -other views, the Britons before and after the Roman occupation, and the -Romans themselves, were the builders. Then there are others who conceive -this to have been the crowning-place of the Danish kings. The Saxons, -indeed, appear to be the only people who have not been credited with the -work; although, curiously enough, its very name is of Saxon derivation, -and the earliest writers refer to it as ‘Stanenges,’ from Anglo-Saxon -words meaning ‘the hanging-stones.’ That the Saxons discovered -Stonehenge, and were puzzled by it as greatly as it must have excited -the wonder of the Romans, hundreds of years before, seems obvious from -this name they gave the lonely place. Ignorant as to its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span> use, they -either saw in the upright stones and the imposts they carried a -resemblance to a gallows, or else, not being themselves expert builders, -marvelled that the great imposts should remain suspended in the air.</p> - -<p>Much of the legitimate wonderment in respect of Stonehenge lies in the -mystery of how the forgotten builders could have quarried and shaped -these stones, and could have cut the tenons and mortice-holes that held -the tall columns, and the flat stones above them, together. Camden, the -old chronicler, has a ready way out of this puzzling question. Beginning -with a description of this ‘huge and monstrous piece of work,’ he goes -on to say that ‘some there are that think them to be no natural stones, -hewn out of the rock, but artificially made out of pure sand, and, by -some glue or unctuous matter, knit and incorporate together.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ‘FRIAR’S HEEL’</i></div> - -<p>Stonehenge is considered to have consisted, when perfect, of an outer -circle of thirty tall stones, three and a half feet apart, and connected -together by a line of imposts, in whose extremities mortice-holes were -cut, fitting into corresponding tenons projecting from the upright -stones. The height of this circular screen was sixteen feet. A second -and inner circle consisted of smaller and rougher stones, some forty in -number, and six feet in height. Within this circle, again, rose five -tall groups of stone placed in an ellipse, each group consisting of two -uprights, with an impost above. These stones were the largest of all, -the tallest reaching to a height of twenty-five feet. They were named by -Dr. Stukeley, impressively<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span> enough, the Great Trilithons. Each of these -five groups would appear to have been accompanied on the inner side by a -cluster of three small standing stones, while a black flat monolith, -called the ‘Altar Stone,’ occupied the innermost position. A smaller -trilithon seems to have once stood near its big brethren, but it and -three of the great five are in ruins. Only six imposts of the outer -circle are left in their place overhead, and but sixteen of its thirty -upright stones are now standing. The smaller circles and groups are -equally imperfect. Some of this ruin has befallen within the historical -period; one of the Great Trilithons having been wrecked in 1620, in the -absurd treasure-seeking expedition of the Duke of Buckingham, while -another fell on the 3rd of January 1797, during a thaw.</p> - -<p>These circles seem to have been surrounded by an earthen bank, with an -avenue leading off towards the east. Very few traces of these enclosures -now remain. In midst of the avenue lies the flat so-called ‘Stone of -Sacrifice,’ with the rough obelisk of the ‘Friar’s Heel,’ as the most -easterly outpost of all, beyond. To the Friar’s Heel belongs a legend -which gives, by the way, an even more distinguished person than Adam as -the builder of Stonehenge. The Devil, according to this story, was the -architect, and when he had nearly finished his work, he chuckled to -himself that no one would be able to tell how it was done. A wandering -friar, however, who had been a witness of it all, remarked, ‘That’s more -than thee can tell,’ and thereupon ran away, the Devil flinging one of -the stones left over after him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span> It only just struck the friar on the -heel, and stuck there in the turf, where it stands to this day.</p> - -<p>The various stones of which Stonehenge is constructed derive from -widely-sundered districts. The outer circle and the five Great -Trilithons are said to have been fashioned from stones that came from -Marlborough Downs, and the second circle and innermost ellipse belong to -a rock formation not known to exist nearer than South Wales. The ‘Altar -Stone’ is different from any of the others, and the circumstance lends -some colour to the theory that it, coming from some unknown region, was -the original stone fetish brought from a distance by the prehistoric -tribe that settled here, around which grew by degrees the subsequent -great temple. There are those who will have it that this was a temple of -serpent-worshippers; and an argument not altogether unsupported by facts -would have us believe that Stonehenge is really a Temple of the Sun. It -is a singular accident (if it <i>is</i> an accident) that the ‘Friar’s Heel,’ -as seen from the centre of the circle, is in exact orientation with the -rising sun on the morning of the Longest Day of the year, 21st June. -Every year, on this occasion, great crowds of people set out from -Salisbury to see sunrise at Stonehenge. There have frequently been as -many as three thousand persons present on this occasion. As the spot is -nine miles from that cathedral city, and as the sun rises on this date -at the early hour of 3.44 <small>A.M.</small>, it requires some enthusiasm to rise -one’s self for the occasion, if indeed the more excellent way is not to -sit up all night. Great, therefore, is the disappointment when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>SUNRISE AT STONEHENGE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p207_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p207_sml.jpg" width="390" height="241" alt="Image unavailable: SUNRISE AT STONEHENGE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SUNRISE AT STONEHENGE.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">the morning is misty. If this sunrise phenomenon is not an accident, -then Stonehenge, as the Temple of the Sun, is the earliest cathedral in -Britain. But, as we have already seen, in these multitudes of guesses at -the truth, no one can arrive at the facts, and all we can do is to say -frankly, with old Pepys, who was here in 1668, ‘God knows what its use -was.’</p> - -<p>The present historian has waited for the sun to rise here. Arriving at -Amesbury village at half-past two in the morning, the street looked and -sounded lively with the clustered lights of bicycles and conveyances -gathered there; with the ringing of bicycle bells, the sounding of -coach-horns, and the talk of those who had come to pay their devoirs to -the rising luminary. The village inn was open all night for the needs of -travellers journeying to this shrine, and ten minutes was allowed for -each person, a policeman standing outside to see that they were duly -turned out at the end of that time.</p> - -<p>To one who arrived early on the scene, while the Plain remained shrouded -in the grayness of the midsummer night, and the rugged stones of -Stonehenge yet loomed vague and formless, the scene looking down towards -Amesbury was an impressive one. Dimly the ascending white road up to the -stones could be discerned by much straining of tired eyes, and along it -twinkled brightly the lights of approaching vehicles, now dipping down -into a hollow of this miscalled ‘Plain,’ now toiling slowly and -painfully up a corresponding ascent. It is not to be supposed that it -was a reverent crowd assembled here. Reverence is not a characteristic -of the age,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span> nor are cyclists as a rule, or agricultural folks, or -provincials generally, inclined greatly to worship the immeasurably old. -And of such this crowd was chiefly composed. It may very pertinently be -asked, ‘Why, if they don’t reverence the place, do they come here at -all?’ It is a question rather difficult to answer; but probably most -people visit it on this occasion as an excuse for being up all night. -There would seem to be an idea that there is something dashing and -eccentric about such a proceeding which must have its charm for those to -whom archæology, or those eternal and unsolvable questions, ‘Why was -Stonehenge built, and by whom?’ have no interest. There were, for -instance, two boys on the spot who had come over on their bicycles from -Marlborough School, over twenty miles away. Without leave, of course! -They hoped to get back as quietly as they had slipped away out of their -bedroom windows. Had they any archæological enthusiasm? Not a bit of it, -the more especially since it was evident they would have to hurry back -before the sun was due to rise.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>TRIPPERS AT STONEHENGE</i></div> - -<p>There were no fewer than fifteen police at Stonehenge, sent on account -of the disorderly scenes said to have taken place in previous years. But -this crowd was sufficiently quiet. Patiently the throng waited the -rising of the sun upon the horizon, and the coming of the shadow of the -gnomon-stone across the Stone of Sacrifice. The sky lightened, showing -up the tired faces, and transferring the Great Trilithons from the -realms of romance to those of commonplace reality. The larks began to -trill;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span> puce-and purple-coloured clouds floated overhead; the brutal -staccato notes of a banjo strummed to the air of a music-hall song stale -by some three or four seasons; a cyclist struck a match on a sarsen -stone; watches were consulted—and the sun refused to rise to the -occasion. That is to say, for the twelfth time or so consecutively, -according to local accounts, the morning was too cloudy for the sunrise -to be seen. So, tired and disappointed, all trooped back to Amesbury, -the snapshotters disgusted beyond measure, and breakfasted, or refreshed -in various ways, according to individual tastes, at the unholy hour of -half-past four o’clock in the morning.</p> - -<p>Those who say that Stonehenge will remain a monument to all time speak -without a knowledge of the facts. In reality the larger stones are -disintegrating; slowly, perhaps, but none the less surely. They are -weather-worn, and some of them very decrepit. Frosts have chipped and -cracked them, and other extremes of climate have found out the soft -places in the sandstone. Also, modern facilities for reaching such -out-of-the-way spots as this used to be have brought so many visitors of -all kinds here that, in one way and another Stonehenge is bound to -suffer. It is now the proper thing for every one who visits Stonehenge -to be photographed by the photographer who sits there for that purpose -all day long and every day; and although there is no occasion for such -insane fury, the picnic parties generally contrive to smash beer and -lemonade bottles against the stones until the turf is thickly strewn -with broken glass. Modernity also likes to range itself<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span> beside the -unfathomably ancient, and so when the Automobile Club visited -Stonehenge, on Easter Saturday 1899, all the cars and their occupants -were photographed beside the stones, to mark so historic an occasion.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Away</span> beyond Stonehenge stretches Salisbury Plain, in future to be -vulgarised by military camps and manœuvres, and to become an -Aldershot on a larger scale, but hitherto a solitude as sublime in its -own way as Dartmoor and Exmoor. Dickens gives us his meed of -appreciation of this wild country, and finds the boundless prairies of -America tame by comparison.</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ he says, writing when on his visit to America, ‘a prairie is -undoubtedly worth seeing, but more that one may say one <i>has</i> seen it, -than for any sublimity it possesses in itself.... You stand upon the -prairie and see the unbroken horizon all round you. You are on a great -plain, which is like a sea without water. I am exceedingly fond of wild -and lonely scenery, and believe that I have the faculty of being as much -impressed by it as any man living. But the prairie fell, by far, short -of my preconceived idea. I felt no such emotions as I do in crossing -Salisbury Plain. The excessive flatness of the scene makes it dreary, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span>but tame. Grandeur is certainly not its characteristic ... to say that -the sight is a</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>SALISBURY PLAIN</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p213_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p213_sml.jpg" width="432" height="292" alt="Image unavailable: ANCIENT AND MODERN: MOTOR CARS AT STONEHENGE, EASTER -1899." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">ANCIENT AND MODERN: MOTOR CARS AT STONEHENGE, EASTER -1899.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">landmark in one’s existence, and awakens a new set of sensations, is -sheer gammon. I would say to every man who can’t see a prairie—go to -Salisbury Plain, Marlborough Downs, or any of the broad, high, open -lands near the sea. Many of them are fully as impressive; and Salisbury -Plain is <i>decidedly</i> more so.’</p> - -<p>Salisbury Plain is the very core and concentrated essence of the wild -bleak scenery so characteristic of Wiltshire. An elevated tract of -country measuring roughly twenty-four miles from east to west, and -sixteen from north to south, and comprising the district between -Ludgershall and Westbury, and Devizes and Old Sarum, it is by no means -the Plain pictured by strangers, who, misled by that geographical -expression, have a mind’s-eye picture of it as being quite flat. As a -matter of fact, Salisbury Plain is not a bit like that. It is a long -series of undulating chalky downs, ‘as flat as your hand’ if you like, -because the hand is anything but flat, and the simile is excellently -descriptive of a rolling country that resembles the swelling contours of -an outstretched palm. Unproductive, exposed, and lonely, Salisbury Plain -opposes even to this day a very effectual barrier against intercourse -between north and south or east and west Wiltshire, and was the -lurking-place, until even so late as 1839, of highwaymen and footpads, -who shared the solitudes with the bustards, and attacked and robbed -those travellers whose business called them across the dreary wastes. -Many a malefactor has tried his prentice hand and learned his business -in these wilds, and has, after robbing elsewhere, retired here from -pursuit. Salisbury Plain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span> in short, bred a race of highwaymen who -preyed upon the neighbourhood and levied contributions from all the rich -farmers and graziers who travelled between the Cathedral City and other -parts, and sometimes graduated with such honours that they became -Knights of the Road at whose name travellers along the whole length of -the Exeter Road would tremble.</p> - -<p>Among them was William Davis, the ‘Golden Farmer,’ whom we have already -met at Bagshot. His career was a long one, and was continued, here and -in other parts of the country, for forty years. They hanged him, at the -age of sixty-nine, in 1689. His most famous exploit was on the borders -of the Plain, near Clarendon Park, when he attacked the Duchess of -Albemarle, single-handed, and, in the presence of her numerous -attendants, tore her diamond rings off her fingers, and would probably -have had her watch and money as well, despite her cursing and torrents -of full-flavoured abuse, had not the sound of approaching travellers -warned him to fly.</p> - -<p>‘Captain’ James Whitney, too, was another desperado who at times made -the Plain his headquarters, and harried the Western roads, in the time -of William the Third. He was probably a son of the Reverend James -Whitney, Rector of Donhead St. Andrews. He raised a troop of highwaymen, -and was captured at the close of 1692 after his band had been defeated -in battle with the Dragoon Guards. He ‘met a most penitent end’ at -Smithfield.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THOMAS BOULTER</i></div> - -<p>Then there was Biss, perhaps a descendant of the Reverend Walter Biss, -minister of Bishopstrow, near Salisbury, in the reign of Charles the -First. Biss<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span> the highwayman was hanged at Salisbury in 1695, and was not -succeeded by any very distinguished practitioner until Boulter appeared -on the scene.</p> - -<p>The distinguished Mr. Thomas Boulter was born of poor but dishonest -parents at Poulshot, near Devizes, and ran a brief but brilliant and -busy course which ended on the gallows outside Winchester. Mr. Boulter’s -parentage and the deeds that he did form splendid evidence to help -bolster up the doctrine of heredity. He came of a very numerous clan of -Boulters and Bisses, whose names are even to this day common at -Chiverell and Market Lavington, on the Plain. His father rented a grist -mill at Poulshot, stole grain for years, and was publicly whipped in -Devizes market-place for stealing honey from an old woman’s garden. -Shortly after that unfortunate incident, in 1775, on returning from -Trowbridge, he stole a horse, the property of a Mr. Hall, and riding it -over to Andover sold it for £6, although worth at least £15. This -injudicious deal aroused the suspicions of the onlookers, so that he was -arrested, and being convicted was sentenced to death. But the Boulters -and the Bisses made interest for him, so that his sentence was commuted -to transportation for fourteen years.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Boulter, the wife of this transported felon and the mother of the -greater hero, is said to have also suffered a public whipping at the -cart’s tail, and Isaac Blagden, his uncle, also did a little in the -footpad line on Salisbury Plain between the intervals of agricultural -labouring. He never attained eminence, having met in an early stage of -his career<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span> with a sad check while attempting to rob a gentleman near -Market Lavington. The traveller drew a pistol and lodged a couple of -slugs in his thigh, leaving him bleeding on the highway. Some humane -person passing by procured assistance, and had him conveyed to the -village. The wound was cured, but he remained a cripple ever afterwards, -and being unable to work was admitted into Lavington Workhouse. He was -never prosecuted for the attempted crime.</p> - -<p>Thomas Boulter, junior, the daring outlaw who shared with Hawkes the -title of the ‘Flying Highwayman,’ and whose name for very many years -afterwards was used as a bogey to frighten refractory children, was born -in 1748. He worked with his father, the miller, in the grist-mill at -Poulshot until 1774, when, his sister having opened a millinery business -in the Isle of Wight, he joined her there, and embarked his small -capital in a grocery business.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE BEGINNING OF A CAREER</i></div> - -<p>But the business did not flourish. Perhaps it could not be expected to -do so in the hands of so roving a blade, for he only gave it a year’s -perfunctory trial, and then, being pressed for money, set out to find it -on the road. He went to Portsmouth, procured two brace of pistols, -casting-irons for slugs, and a powder-horn, and, lying by a little -while, started in the summer of 1775, on the pretence of paying his -mother a visit at Poulshot. Setting out from Southampton, mounted on -horseback, he made for the Exeter Road, near ‘Winterslow Hut.’ In less -than a quarter of an hour the Salisbury diligence rewarded his patience -and enterprise by coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span> in sight across the downs. The perspiration -oozed out of his every pore, and he was so timid that he rode past the -diligence two or three times before he could muster sufficient -resolution to pronounce the single word ‘Stand!’ But at length he found -courage in the thought that he must begin, or go home as poor as he came -out, and so, turning short round, he ordered the driver to stop, and in -less than two minutes had robbed the two passengers of their watches and -money, saying that he was much obliged to them, for he was in great -want; and so, wishing them a pleasant journey, departed in the direction -of Salisbury and Devizes. By the time he reached Poulshot he had robbed -three single travellers on horseback and two on foot, and had secured a -booty of nearly £40 and seven watches.</p> - -<p>This filial visit coming to an end, he returned home to Newport, Isle of -Wight, by way of Andover, Winchester, and Southampton. On his way across -Salisbury Plain he stopped a post-chaise, several farmers on horseback, -one on foot, and two countrywomen returning from market, going in sight -of the last person into Andover, and putting up his horse at the ‘Swan,’ -where he stayed for an hour.</p> - -<p>This successful beginning fired our hero for more adventures, and the -autumn of the same year found him, equipped with new pistols, a fine -suit of clothes, and a horse stolen at Ringwood, making his way to -Salisbury, with the intention of riding into the neighbourhood of Exeter -before commencing business. But between Salisbury and Blandford he could -not resist the temptation of robbing a diligence and a gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span> on -horseback, resulting in the rather meagre booty of a gold watch, two -guineas, and some silver. He then pushed on through Blandford towards -Dorchester, robbing on the way; all in broad daylight. When night was -come he thought it prudent to break off from the Exeter Road and lie by -at Cerne Abbas until the next afternoon, when he regained the highway -near Bridport, very soon finding himself in company with a wealthy -grazier who was jogging home in the same direction. The grazier found -his companion so sociable that he not only expressed himself as glad of -his society, but gossiped at length upon the successful day he had -experienced at Salisbury market, where he had sold a number of cattle at -an advanced price. He was well known, he said, for carrying the finest -beasts to market, and could always command a better price than his -neighbours.</p> - -<p>Boulter broke in upon this self-satisfied talk with the wish that he had -been so lucky in his way of business. Unhappily, repeated misfortunes -had at last reduced him to distress, and he had taken to the road for -relieving his distresses, and was glad he had had the fortune to fall in -with a gentleman who appeared so well able to assist him. Suiting the -action to his words, he pulled out a pistol, and begged he might have -the pleasure of easing his companion of some of the wealth he had -acquired at Salisbury market.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ROBBERY BY WHOLESALE</i></div> - -<p>The grazier thought this was a joke and supposed that it was done to -frighten him; whereupon Boulter clapped the pistol close to his breast -and told him he<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span> should not advance a single step until he had delivered -his money. In a few minutes his trembling victim had handed over, in -bank-notes and cash, nearly £90. His watch, which he seemed to set a -value upon for its antiquity, together with some bills of exchange, -Boulter returned, and, wishing him good-day, and observing that he -should return to London, continued, instead, his journey to Exeter. -Altogether, in this trip, he secured a booty of £500, in money and -valuables, and spent the winter and these ill-gotten gains among his -relatives on Salisbury Plain.</p> - -<p>He opened his next campaign in May 1776, having first provided himself -with a splendid mare named ‘Black Bess,’ which he stole from Mr. Peter -Delmé’s stables at Erle Stoke. This horse, scarce inferior to Turpin’s -mare of the same name, is indeed supposed to have been a descendant of -hers. Starting from Poulshot, he rode to Staines, reaching that place on -the second night out. Rising at four o’clock the next morning, he was on -the road, in wait for the Western coaches; but he was a prudent man, and -at the sight of blunderbusses on their roofs, he concluded that to -attack them would be a tempting of Providence. Accordingly, he confined -his attentions to the diligences and the post-chaises, and was so active -that day that he visited Maidenhead, Hurley, Wokingham, Hartley Row, -Whitchurch, and Eversley, reaching Poulshot again the same night with -nearly £200, and with the ‘Hue and Cry’ of five counties at his heels. -His exploits on this occasion would not shame the first masters of the -art of highway robbery, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span> the performances of his mare were worthy of -her distinguished ancestry. At Hartley Row he called for a bottle of -wine, drank a glass himself, and pouring the remainder over a large -toast, gave it to his steed, repeating it at Whitchurch and Eversley.</p> - -<p>Two months’ retirement at Poulshot seemed advisable after this, but -during the latter part of the summer and through the autumn he was very -busy, his operations extending as far as Bath and Bristol. To give an -account of his many robberies would require a long and detailed -biography. He did not always meet with travellers willing to resign -their purses without a struggle, and on those occasions he generally -came off second best; as in the case of the butcher whom he met upon the -Plain. Although Boulter held a pistol at the heads of travellers, he -never really meant to use it, and it was his boast, at his last hour, -that he had never taken life. Perhaps the butcher knew this, for when -our friend presented his firearm at his head, and asked him to turn his -pockets out, he said, ‘I don’t get my money so easily as to part with it -in that foolish manner. If you rob me, I must go upon the highway myself -before I durst go home, and that I’d rather not do.’</p> - -<p>What was a good young highwayman, with conscientious scruples about -shedding blood, to do under those circumstances? It was an undignified -situation, but he retreated from it as best he could, and with the -words: ‘Good-night, and remember that Boulter is your friend,’ -disappeared.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BOULTER AND PARTNER</i></div> - -<p>In 1777 he took a journey up to York, and was laid by the heels there, -escaping the hangman by<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span> enlisting, a course then left open to criminals -by the Government, which did not tend to bring the Army into better -repute. After three days in barracks he deserted, and made the best of -his way southwards. Reaching Bristol, he found a fellow-spirit in one -James Caldwell, landlord of the ‘Ship Inn,’ Milk Street, and with him -entered upon a new series of robberies. But, first of all, he paid a -visit to his relatives at Poulshot, doing some business on the way, and -scouring the country round about that convenient retreat. He stopped the -diligence again at ‘Winterslow Hut,’ emptying the pockets of all the -passengers, and robbed a Salisbury gentleman near Andover, who, after -surrendering his purse, lamented that he had nothing left to carry him -home.</p> - -<p>‘How far have you to go home?’ asked Boulter.</p> - -<p>‘To Salisbury,’ said the traveller.</p> - -<p>‘Then,’ rejoined the highwayman, ‘here’s twopence, which is quite enough -for so short a journey.’</p> - -<p>Boulter, according to his biographers, had the light hair and complexion -of the Saxon. ‘His <i>bonhomie</i>, not untinctured with a quiet humour, -fascinated and disarmed his victims, who felt that, had he been so -disposed, he could have descended upon them like the hammer of Thor.’ -His companion henceforward, Caldwell, was of a dark complexion and -ferocious disposition. Together they visited the Midlands in 1777, and -with varying success brought that season to a close, Boulter returning -alone to Poulshot for a short holiday from professional cares. Riding on -the Plain early one morning, he was surprised to meet a -gentlemanly-looking horseman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span> who looked very hard at him, and who, -after passing him about a hundred yards, turned round and pursued him at -a gallop. ‘Well,’ thought Boulter, ‘this seems likely to prove a kind of -adventure on which I never calculated. I am about to be stopped myself -by a gentleman of the road. In what manner will it be necessary to -receive the attack.’</p> - -<p>The stranger came up rapidly, and whatever his intentions were, merely -observed, ‘You ride a very fine horse; would you like to sell her?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh yes,’ replied Boulter; ‘but for nothing less than fifty guineas.’</p> - -<p>‘Can she trot and gallop well?’</p> - -<p>‘She can trot sixteen miles an hour, and gallop twenty, or she would not -do for my business,’ said Boulter, with a significant look.</p> - -<p>By this time the stranger, becoming uneasy, desired to see her paces, -probably thinking thus to rid himself of so mysterious a character.</p> - -<p>‘With all my heart,’ rejoined the highwayman, ‘you shall see how she -goes, but I must first be rewarded for it,’ presenting his pistol with -the customary demand. That request having been complied with, Boulter -wished him good-morning, saying, ‘Now, sir, you have seen <i>my</i> -performance, you shall see the performance of my horse, which I doubt -not will perfectly satisfy you’; and putting spur to her, was soon but a -distant speck upon the Plain, leaving the stranger to bewail his foolish -curiosity.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A HUE AND CRY</i></div> - -<p>The winter of 1777 and the spring of 1778 were employed by Boulter and -Caldwell in scouring Salisbury Plain and the neighbouring country. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span> -reward had long been offered for the apprehension of the robber who -infested the district, and the appearance of a confederate now alarmed -Salisbury so greatly that private persons began to advertise in the -local papers their readiness to supplement this sum. A public -subscription, amounting to twenty guineas, was also raised at Devizes, -so that there was every inducement to the peasantry to make a capture. -Yet, strange to say, no one, either private or official persons, laid a -hand on them, even though Boulter appears to have been identified with -the daring horseman who robbed every one crossing the Plain. The -following advertisement appeared 10th January 1778:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Whereas</span> divers robberies have been lately committed on the road -from Devizes to Salisbury, and also near the town of Devizes: and -as it is strongly suspected that one Boulter, with an accomplice, -are the persons concerned in these robberies, a reward of thirty -guineas is offered for apprehending and bringing to justice the -said Boulter, and ten guineas for his accomplice, over and above -the reward allowed by Act of Parliament:—to be paid, on -conviction, at the Bank in Devizes. If either of these persons are -taken in any distant part of the country, reasonable charges will -also be allowed. Boulter is about five feet eleven inches high, -stout made, light hair, crooked nose, brownish complexion, and -about thirty years of age. His accomplice, about five feet nine -inches high, thin made, long favoured, black hair, and is said to -be about twenty-five years of age.</p></div> - -<p>This publicity did not hinder their enterprises, and speaking of -Boulter, a little later, the <i>Salisbury Journal</i> says: ‘The robberies he -has committed<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span> about Salisbury, the Plain, Romsey, and Southampton, and -the several roads to London, are innumerable.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>CAPTURE OF BOULTER</i></div> - -<p>But what local law and order could not accomplish was effected at -Birmingham, to which town the confederates had made a journey in the -spring of 1778, for the purpose of selling some of the jewellery and -watches they had accumulated. Boulter had approached a Jew dealer on the -subject, and was arrested, together with Caldwell, and thrown into -Birmingham Prison. They were sent thence to Clerkenwell, from which, -having already secured by bribery a jeweller’s saw and cut through his -irons, he escaped, with two other prisoners, carrying the irons away -with him, and hanging them in triumph on a whitethorn bush at St. -Pancras. With consummate impudence he took lodgings two doors away from -Clerkenwell Prison, and, procuring a new outfit, set off down to Dover, -to take ship across the Channel. But, unfortunately for him, the country -was on the eve of a war with France, and an embargo had been laid upon -all shipping. He could not even secure a small sailing-boat. Hurrying -off to Portsmouth, he found the same difficulty, and could not even get -across to the Isle of Wight. Thence to Bristol, haunted with a constant -fear of being arrested; but not a single vessel was leaving that port. -Then it occurred to him that the desolate Isle of Portland was the most -likely hiding-place. Setting out from Bristol, he reached Bridport, and -went to an inn to refresh himself and his horse. When he asked what he -could have for dinner, he was told there was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span> family ordinary just -ready. He accordingly sat down at table, beside the landlord and three -gentlemen, one of whom eyed him with a searching scrutiny, until, -becoming fully satisfied that this was none other than Boulter, the -escaped prisoner, he beckoned the landlord out of the room, and reminded -him of the duty and necessity which lay upon them of securing so -notorious an offender. The landlord then returned to the dining-room and -desired Boulter to accompany him to an adjoining parlour, where he -revealed to him the perilous state of affairs; but added, ‘As you have -never done me an injury, I wish you no harm, so just pay your reckoning, -and be off as quick as you can.’</p> - -<p>Boulter bade him tell the strangers that they were totally mistaken, -that he was a London rider (that is to say, a commercial traveller), and -that his name was White; but having no wish to be the cause of a -disturbance in his house, he would take his advice and go on his way.</p> - -<p>The landlord went back to his guests, and Boulter got on his horse with -all possible expedition. Once fairly seated in the saddle, a single -application of the spur would have launched him beyond the reach of -these hungry pursuers, nor in such an emergency as this would his pistol -be harmlessly pointed against those who thus sought to earn the rewards -offered for his capture. Alas! he had but placed his foot in the stirrup -when out rushed the false landlord and his guests. They secured him, and -being handed over to the authorities, he was lodged in Dorchester Gaol. -He was arraigned at Winchester with Caldwell (who<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span> had been removed from -London) on 31st July, and both being found guilty, they were hanged at -Winchester, 19th August 1778.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Soon</span> after those two comrades had met their end, there arose a -highway-woman to trouble the district. This was Mary Sandall, of -Baverstock, a young woman of twenty-four years of age, who had borrowed -a pair of pistols and a suit of his clothes from the blacksmith of -Quidhampton, and, bestriding a horse, set out one day in the spring of -1779, and meeting Mrs. Thring, of North Burcombe, robbed her of two -shillings and a black silk cloak. Mrs. Thring went home and raised an -alarm, with the result that Mary Sandall was captured, and committed for -trial at the next assizes. Although there seems to have been some idea -that this was a practical joke, the authorities were thick-headed -persons who had heard too much of the real thing to be patient with an -amateur highway-woman, and so they sentenced Mary Sandall to death in -due form, although she was afterwards respited as a matter of course.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>WILLIAM PEARE</i></div> - -<p>William Peare was the next notability of the roads, but it is not -certain that he was the one who stopped Mr. Jeffery, of Yateminster, on -his way home from Weyhill, 9th October 1780, and knocking him off his -horse, robbed him of £500 in bank-notes and £37 in coin. It was the same -unknown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span> doubtless, who during the same week robbed a Mrs. Turner, of -Upton Scudamore, of £45, in broad daylight. He was a ‘genteelly-dressed’ -stranger. Making a low bow, he requested her money, and that within -sight of many people working in the fields, who concluded, from his -polite manners, that he was a friend of the lady.</p> - -<p>William Peare was only twenty-three years of age when he was executed, -19th August 1783. His first important act was the robbing of the -Chippenham coach on the 2nd of February 1782. Captured, and lodged in -Gloucester Gaol, he escaped on the 19th of April, and began a series of -the most daring highway robberies. On the 8th of February 1783 he -stopped the Salisbury diligence just beyond St. Thomas’s Bridge, smashed -the window, and fired a shot into the coach, terrifying the lady and -gentleman who were the only two passengers, so that they at once gave up -their purses. He then went on to Stockbridge, where he stopped a -diligence full of military officers; but finding the occupants prepared -to fight for the military chest they were escorting, hurried off. After -many other crimes in the West, he was captured in the act of undermining -a bank at Stroud, in Gloucestershire. He was tried and sentenced at -Salisbury, and executed at Fisherton, going to the gallows with the -customary nosegay, which remained tightly held in his hand when his body -was cut down. A set of verses, purporting to be by his sweetheart, was -published that year, lamenting his untimely end:—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For me he dared the dangerous road,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My days with goodlier fare to bless;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He took but from the miser’s hoard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From them whose station needed less.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Highwaymen continued numerous at the dawn of the nineteenth century, as -may be judged from the executions at Fisherton Gaol, or on the scenes of -their misdeeds, that continued to afford a spectacle for the mob. For -highway robbery alone one man was hanged in 1806, one in 1816, two in -1817, and two in 1824; while three were sentenced to fifteen years’ -transportation in 1839 for a similar offence near Imber, in the very -centre of the Plain.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A TRAGEDY OF THE PLAIN</i></div> - -<p>The spot was Gore Cross, a solitary waste; time and date, seven o’clock -on the evening of 21st October 1839. Upon this wilderness entered Mr. -Matthew Dean, of Imber, returning on horseback from Devizes Fair, when -he was suddenly set upon by four men, dragged off his horse, and robbed -of £20 in notes of the North Wilts Bank, and £3: 10s. in coin. The gang -then made off, but Mr. Dean followed them on foot. On the way he met Mr. -Morgan, of Chitterne; but being afraid that the men carried pistols they -decided to get more help before pursuing them farther. So they called on -a Mr. Hooper, who joined the chase on horseback, armed with a -double-barrelled gun. Meeting a Mr. Sainsbury, he accompanied the party, -and, pressing on, they presently came in sight of the men. One ran away -for some miles at a great pace, and they could not overtake him until -about midway between Tilshead and Imber, where he fell down and lay -still on<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p231_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p231_sml.jpg" width="225" height="292" alt="Image unavailable: HIGHWAY ROBBERY MONUMENT AT IMBER." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">HIGHWAY ROBBERY MONUMENT AT IMBER.</span> -</div> - -<p class="nind">the grass. His pursuers thought this to be a feint, and were afraid to -seize him, so they continued the chase of the other three, who were -eventually captured. The next day the body of the unfortunate man was -found where he had fallen, quite dead. He had died from heart disease. -An inquest was held on him, and the curious verdict of <i>felo-de-se</i> -returned, according to the law which holds a person a suicide who -commits an unlawful act, the consequence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span> of which is his death. Two -memorial stones mark the spot where the robbery took place and the spot, -two miles distant, where the man fell.</p> - -<p>The times were still dangerous for wayfarers here, for a few weeks -later, on the night of 16th November, between nine and ten o’clock <small>P.M.</small>, -a Mr. Richard Brown, of Little Pannel, driving a horse and cart, was -attacked by two footpads near Gore Cross Farm. One seized the horse, -while the other gave him two tremendous blows on the head with a -bludgeon, which almost deprived him of his senses. Recovering, he -knocked the fellow down with his fist. Then the two jumped into the cart -and robbed him of ten shillings, running away when he called for help, -and leaving him with his purse containing £14 in notes and gold.</p> - -<p>With this incident the story of highway robbery on Salisbury Plain comes -to an end, and a very good thing too.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A DREARY ROAD</i></div> - -<p>If you want to know exactly what kind of a road the Exeter Road is -between Salisbury and Bridport, a distance of twenty-two miles, I think -the sketch facing page 238 will convey the information much better than -words alone. It is just a repetition of those bleak seventeen miles -between Andover and Salisbury—only ‘more so.’ More barren and hillier -than the Andover to Salisbury section, and less romantically wild than -the rugged stretches between Blandford,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span> Dorchester, and Bridport, it is -a weariness to man and beast. Buffeted by the winds which shriek across -the rolling downs, or nipped by the keen airs of these altitudes, -old-time travellers up to London or down to Exeter dreaded the passage, -and prepared themselves, accordingly, at Bridport or at Salisbury, while -exhausted nature was recruited at the several inns which found their -existence abundantly justified in those old times.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p233_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p233_sml.jpg" width="227" height="294" alt="Image unavailable: WHERE THE ROBBER FELL DEAD." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">WHERE THE ROBBER FELL DEAD.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span></p> - -<p>Passing through West Harnham, a suburb of Salisbury, the road -immediately begins to climb the downs, descending, however, in three -miles to the charming little village of Coombe Bissett, in the -water-meadows of the Wiltshire Avon, which runs prettily beside the -road. An ancient church, old thatched barns standing on stone staddles -whose feet are in the stream, bridges across the water, and the -inevitable downs closing in the view, make one of the rare picturesque -compositions to be found along this dreary stretch of country.</p> - -<p>Make much, wayfarer, of Coombe Bissett. Linger there, soothe your soul -with its rural graces before proceeding; for the road immediately leaves -this valley of the Avon, and the next bend discloses the unfenced -rolling downs, going in a mile-long rise, and so continuing, with a -balance in the matter of gradients against the traveller going -westwards, all the way to Blandford.</p> - -<p>At eight miles from Salisbury is situated the old ‘Woodyates Inn,’ -placed in this lonely situation, far removed from any village, in the -days when the coaching traffic made the custom of travellers worth -obtaining. It was in those days thought that after travelling eight -miles the passengers by coach or post-chaise would want refreshments. It -was a happy and well-founded thought; and if all tales be true, the -prowess of our great-grandfathers as trenchermen left nothing to be -desired—nor anything remaining in the larder when they had done.</p> - -<p>The curious, on the lookout for this old coaching inn, will scarcely -recognise it when seen, for it has<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>WOODYATES</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p235_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p235_sml.jpg" width="411" height="279" alt="Image unavailable: COOMBE BISSETT." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">COOMBE BISSETT.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">been garnished and painted, and rechristened of late years by the title -of the ‘Shaftesbury Arms.’ But there it is, and portions of it may be -found to date back to the old times.</p> - -<p>It was given the name of ‘Woodyates’ from its position standing at the -entrance to the wooded district of Cranborne Chase; the name meaning -‘Wood-gates.’ It also stands on the border-line dividing the counties of -Wilts and Dorset.</p> - -<p>Bokerley Dyke, a prehistoric boundary consisting of a bank and ditch, -intersects the road as you approach the inn, and goes meandering over -the downs among the gorse and bracken. Built, no doubt, more than -fifteen hundred years ago by savages, solely with the aid of their hands -and pointed sticks, it has outlasted many monuments of costly stones and -marbles, and when civilisation comes to an end some day, like the -blown-out flame of a candle, it will still be there, with the existing, -but more recent, Roman road still beside it. That road goes across the -open country like a causeway, or a slightly raised railway embankment.</p> - -<p>The Dyke may have sheltered the fugitive Duke of Monmouth on his flight -in 1685. The reading of that melancholy story of how the handsome and -gay Duke of Monmouth, a haggard fugitive from Sedgemoor Fight, -accompanied by his friend, Lord Grey, and another, left their wearied -horses near this spot, and, disguising themselves as peasants, set out -for the safe hiding-places of the New Forest, only to fall prisoners to -James’s scouts, paints the road and the downs with an impasto of -tragedy. All the countryside<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span> was being searched for him, and watchers -were stationed on the hills, looking down upon this open country where -the movement of a rabbit almost might be noted from afar. So he -doubtless skulked along in the shadow of the Dyke from the shelter of -Cranborne Chase down to Woodlands, where he was caught, under the shadow -of a tree still standing, called Monmouth Ash.</p> - -<p>Scattered all around are the inevitable barrows. The industry of a -byegone generation of antiquaries has explored them all. Pick and shovel -have scattered the ashes and the cinerary urns of the Britons or Saxons -who were buried here, and the only relics likely to be found by any -other ghouls are the discs of lead deposited by Sir Richard Colt Hoare, -or W. Cunnington, with the initials ‘R. C. H. 1815,’ or some such date; -or, ‘Opened by W. Cunnington 1804’ on them.</p> - -<p>George the Third always used to change horses at ‘Woodyates Inn’ when -journeying to or from Weymouth, and the room built for his use on those -occasions is still to be seen, with its outside flight of steps. When -the coaches were taken off the road, the inn became for a time the -training establishment of William Day.</p> - -<p>The road near this old inn is the real scene of the Ingoldsby legend of -the <i>Dead Drummer</i>, and not Salisbury Plain, on ‘one of the rises’ where</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">An old way-post shewed<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Where the Lavington road<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Branched off to the left from the one to Devizes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p239_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p239_sml.jpg" width="399" height="265" alt="Image unavailable: THE EXETER ROAD, NEAR ‘WOODYATES INN.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE EXETER ROAD, NEAR ‘WOODYATES INN.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A HIGHWAY MURDER</i></div> - -<p>It was on Thursday, 15th June 1786, that two sailors, paid off from -H.M.S. <i>Sampson</i>, at Plymouth, and walking up to London, came to this -spot. Their names were Gervase (or Jarvis) Matcham, and John Shepherd. -Near the ‘Woodyates Inn’ they were overtaken by a thunderstorm, in which -Matcham startled his companion by showing extraordinary marks of horror -and distraction, running about, falling on his knees, and imploring -mercy of some invisible enemy. To his companion’s questions he answered -that he saw several strange and dismal spectres, particularly one in the -shape of a female, towards which he advanced, when it instantly sank -into the earth, and a large stone rose up in its place. Other large -stones also rolled upon the ground before him, and came dashing against -his feet. He confessed to Shepherd that, about seven years previously, -he had enlisted as a soldier at Huntingdon, and shortly afterwards was -sent out from that town in company with a drummer-boy, seventeen years -of age, named Jones, son of a sergeant in the regiment, who was in -charge of some money to be paid away. They quarrelled because the lad -refused to return and drink at a public-house on the Great North Road -which they had just passed, four miles from Huntingdon. Matcham knocked -him down, cut his throat, and taking the money (six guineas) made off to -London, leaving the body by the roadside. He now declared that, with -this exception, he had never in his life broken the law, and that, -before the moment of committing this crime, he had not the least design -of injuring the deceased, who had given him no other provocation than -ill-language.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span> But from that hour he had been a stranger to peace of -mind; his crime was always present to his imagination, and existence -seemed at times an insupportable burden. He begged his companion to -deliver him into the hands of Justice in the next town they should -reach. That was Salisbury. He was imprisoned there, brought to trial, -found guilty, and hanged.</p> - -<p>Barham in his legend of the <i>Dead Drummer</i> has taken many liberties with -the facts of the case, both as regards place and names, and makes the -scene of the murderer’s terror identical with the site of the crime, -which he (for purely literary purposes) places on Salisbury Plain, -instead of the Great North Road, between Buckden and Alconbury.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Three</span> more inns were situated beside the road between this point and -Blandford in the old days. Of them, two, the ‘Thorney Down Inn,’ and the -‘Thickthorn Inn’ (romantic and shuddery names!), have disappeared, while -the remaining one,—the ‘Cashmoor Inn’—formerly situated between the -other two, ekes out a much less important existence than of old, as a -wayside ‘public.’</p> - -<p>Then comes a village—the first one since Coombe Bissett was passed, -fifteen miles behind, and so more than usually welcome. A pretty -village, too, Tarrant Hinton by name, lying in a hollow, with its -little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>CRANBORNE CHASE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p243_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p243_sml.jpg" width="403" height="273" alt="Image unavailable: TARRANT HINTON." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">TARRANT HINTON.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">street of cottages, along a road running at right angles to the Exeter -highway, with its church tower peeping above the orchards and thick -coppices, and a sparkling stream flowing down from the hillside. In this -and other respects, it bears a striking similarity to Middle and Over -Wallop.</p> - -<p>The quiet, not to say sleepy, Dorsetshire villager who, lounging at the -bend of the road, replies to your query by saying that this is ‘Tarnt -Hinton,’ is the peaceable descendant of very desperate and bloody-minded -men, and the like circumstances that, a mere hundred years ago, rendered -them savages, would do the same by him, were they revived. The peasantry -are what the law and social conditions make them. Oppress the sturdy -rustic and you render him a brutal and resentful rebel, who, having an -unbroken spirit, will give trouble. Treat him fairly, and he will live a -life of quiet industry, tempered by gossipy evenings in the village -‘pub.’; and although he will never rise to be the mincing Strephon -imagined by the eighteenth-century poets of rurality, he will raise -gigantic potatoes, and cultivate flowers for the local Horticultural -Society, and do nothing more tragical in all his life than the sticking -of the domestic porker, or the twisting of a fowl’s neck.</p> - -<p>The civilising of the rustic in these parts dates from the -disfranchising of Cranborne Chase in 1830. The Chase, which took its -name from the town of Cranborne, eight miles distant from this spot, was -originally a vast deer-forest, extending far into Hants, Wilts, and -Dorset. The great western highway entered it at Salisbury and did not -pass out of its bounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span> until Blandford was reached; while Shaftesbury -to the north, and Wimborne to the south, marked its extent in another -direction. Belonging anciently to great feudal lords or to the -Sovereign, it was Crown property from the time of Edward the Fourth to -the reign of James the First. James delighted in killing the buck here, -but that Royal prig granted the Chase to the Earl of Pembroke, from -whom, shorn of its oppressive laws, it has descended to Lord Rivers; -while the Earl of Shaftesbury also owns great tracts of woodlands here. -But, singularly enough, that part of the Chase which still retains the -wildest and densest aspect lies quite away from Cranborne, and in the -county of Wilts, around Tollard Royal. The nature of the country and the -character of the soil must needs always keep this vast tract wild, and, -in an agricultural sense, unproductive. Game will always abound here in -the thickets, and indeed the weird-looking hill-top plantations, called -by the rustics ‘hats of trees,’ are especially planted as cover, -wherever the country is open and unsheltered.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>DEER-STEALERS</i></div> - -<p>The severity of the laws which governed a Chase and punished -deer-stealers was simply barbarous. Cranborne had its courts and Chase -Prison where offenders and deer-stealers were punished by mutilation, -imprisonment, or fine, according to the crime, the status of the -offender, or the comparative state of civilisation of the period in -which the offence was committed. But whether the punishment for stealing -deer was the striking off of a hand, or imprisonment in a noisome -dungeon, or merely being mulcted in a larger or smaller sum, there were -always those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span> unlawfully killed the buck in these romantic glades. -Sometimes, for the devilment of it, the dashing young blades of the -countryside—sons of the squires and others—would hunt the deer.</p> - -<p>‘From four to twenty assembled in the evening, dressed in cap and jack -and quarter-staff, with dogs and nets. Having set the watchword for the -night and agreed whether they should stand or run if they should meet -the keepers, they proceeded to the Chase, set their nets, and let slip -their dogs to drive the deer into the nets; a man standing at each net, -to strangle the deer as soon as they were entangled. Frequent desperate -and bloody battles took place; the keepers, and sometimes the hunters, -were killed.’</p> - -<p>Other law-breakers were of a humbler stamp, and ferocious enough to -murder keepers at sight. Thus, in 1738, a keeper named Tollerfield was -murdered on his way home from Fontmell Church; and another at Fernditch, -near ‘Woodyates Inn.’ For the latter crime a man named Wheeler was -convicted, and suffered the extreme penalty of the law; his body being -hanged in chains at the scene of the murder. His friends, however, in -the course of a few nights cut the body down, and threw it into a very -deep well, some distance away. The weight of the irons caused it to -sink, and it was not discovered until long afterwards.</p> - -<p>One of the most exciting of these encounters between the deer-stealers -and the keepers took place on the night of 16th December 1781. Chettle -Common, away at the back of the ‘Cashmoor Inn,’ was the scene of this -battle. The stealers, assembling in disguise at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span> Pimperne, marched up -the road through the night, and headed by a Sergeant of Dragoons, then -quartered at Blandford, poured through the Thickthorn Toll-gate, armed -with weapons called ‘swindgels,’ which appear to have been hinged -cudgels, like flails. It would seem that the object of this expedition -was the bludgeoning of a few keepers, rather than the stealing of deer. -At any rate, the keepers expected them, and armed with sticks and -hangers, awaited the attack. The fight was by no means a contemptible -one, for in the result one keeper was killed and several disabled, while -the stealers were so badly knocked about that the whole expedition -surrendered, together with the Sergeant of Dragoons, who had a hand -sliced off at the wrist by a hanger. The hand was subsequently buried, -with military honours, in Pimperne churchyard.</p> - -<p>Leader and followers alike were committed to Dorchester Gaol, and were -eventually sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude, reduced to a -nominal term, in consideration of the severe wounds from which they were -suffering. One wonders how far mercy, and to what extent the wish not to -be at the expense of medically attending the prisoners, influenced this -decision. As for the Dr. Jameson of this raid, he retired from the -Dragoons on half-pay, and, coming to London, set up shop as a dealer in -game and poultry!</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>WILTSHIRE MOONRAKERS</i></div> - -<p>Ten years later, a keeper killed a stealer, and another murderous -encounter took place on 7th December 1816 near Tarrant Gunville, at a -gate in the woods which the melodramatic instincts of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span> peasantry -have named ‘Bloody Shard,’ while the wood itself is known as ‘Blood-way -Coppice.’</p> - -<p>Cranborne Chase was also at this time a haunt of smugglers, who found -its tangled recesses highly convenient for storing their ‘Free Trade’ -merchandise on its way up from the sea-coast. Whether or not the -original ‘Wiltshire moonrakers’ belonged to the Wilts portion of the -Chase or to some other part of the county, tradition does not say.</p> - -<p>That Wiltshire folk are called ‘moonrakers’ is generally known, and it -is usually supposed that they obtained this name for stupidity, -according to the story which tells how a party of travellers crossing a -bridge in this county observed a number of rustics raking in the stream -in which the great yellow harvest-moon was shining. Asked what they were -doing, the reply was that they were trying to rake ‘that cheese’ out of -the water. The travellers went on their way, laughing at the idiotcy of -the yokels. One tale, however, only holds good until the other is told. -The facts seem to be that the rustics were smugglers who were raking in -the river for the brandy-kegs they had deposited there in the gray of -the morning, and that the ‘travellers’ were really revenue-officers; -those ‘gaugers,’ or ‘preventive men’ who were employed to check the -smuggling which was rife a hundred years ago. It may be thought that the -seaside was the only place where smuggling could be carried on, but a -moment’s reflection will show that the goods had to be conveyed inshore -for inland customers. Smuggling, in fact, was so extensive, and brought -to such a perfection of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span> system that forwarding agents were established -everywhere. Kegs of spirits, being bulky, were hidden for the day in -ponds and watercourses, wherever possible, and removed at night for -another stage towards their destination, being deposited in a similar -hiding-place at the break of day, and so forth until they reached their -consignees. Thus the ‘moonrakers’ by this explanation are acquitted of -being monumental simpletons, at the expense of losing their reputation -in another way. But everyone smuggled, or received or purchased smuggled -goods, in those times, and no one was thought the worse for it.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">At</span> the distance of a mile up the bye-road from Tarrant Hinton, in -Eastbury Park, still stands in a lonely position the sole remaining wing -of the once-famed Eastbury House, one of those immense palaces which the -flamboyant noblemen and squires of a past era loved to build. Comparable -for size and style with Blenheim and Stowe, and built like them by the -ponderous Vanbrugh, the rise and fall of Eastbury were as dramatic as -the building and destruction of Canons, the seat of the ‘princely -Chandos’ at Edgware. Of Canons, however, no stone remains, while at -Eastbury a wing and colonnade are left, standing sinister, sundered and -riven, the melancholy relics of a once proud but hospitable mansion.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>DODINGTON</i></div> - -<p>Eastbury was begun on a scale of princely magnificence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span> by George -Dodington, a former Lord of the Admiralty, who, having presumably made -some fine pickings in that capacity, determined to spend them on -becoming a patron of the Arts and an entertainer of literary men, after -the fashion of an age in which painters were made to fawn upon the -powerful, and poets to sing their praises in the blankest of blank -verse. Every rich person had his henchmen among the followers of the -Muses, and they were petted or scolded, indulged or kept on the chain, -just as the humour of the patron at the moment decreed. Unfortunately, -however, for this eminently eighteenth-century ambition of George -Dodington, he died before he could finish his building. All his worldly -goods went to his grand-nephew, George Bubb, son of his brother’s -daughter, who had married a Weymouth apothecary named Jeremias Bubb. -Already, under the patronage of his uncle, a member of Parliament, and -an influential person, George on coming into this property assumed the -name of Dodington; perhaps also because the obvious nickname of ‘Silly -Bubb’ by which he was known might thereby become obsolete.</p> - -<p>George Bubb Dodington, as he was now known, immediately stopped the -works on his uncle’s palace, and thus the unfinished building remained -gaunt and untenanted from 1720 to 1738. Then, as suddenly as the -building was stopped, work was resumed again. The vast sum of £140,000 -was spent on the completion. Tapestries, gilding, marbles, everything of -the most costly and ornate character was employed, and the grounds which -had been newly laid out eighteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span> years before, and in the interval -allowed to subside into a wilderness, were set in order again. The -reason of this sudden activity was that Dodington had become infected -with that same ‘Patron’ mania which had caused his uncle to lay the -foundation stones of these marble halls. He was at this period -forty-seven years of age, and in those years had filled many posts in -the Government, and about the rival Whig and Tory Courts of the King and -the Prince of Wales. Scheming and intriguing from one party to the -other, he had always been ambitious of influence, and now that even -greater accumulations of wealth had come to him, he set up as the host -of birth, beauty, and intellect in these Dorsetshire wilds.</p> - -<p>The gossips of the time have left us a picture of the man. Fat, -ostentatious, extravagant, with the love of glitter and colour of a -barbarian, he was yet a wit of repute, and had undoubtedly some -learning. He possessed, besides, a considerable share of shrewdness. If -he lent £5000 to Frederick, Prince of Wales, and never got it back, we -are not to suppose that he ever expected to be repaid. That was, no -doubt, regarded as practically an entrance-fee to the exalted -companionship of a prince of whom it was written, when he came to an -untimely end:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But since it’s Fred who is dead, there’s no more to be said.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A WHIMSICAL FIGURE</i></div> - -<p>That same Fred thought <i>himself</i> the clever man when he remarked -‘Dodington is reckoned clever, but I have borrowed £5000 of him which he -will never see again’; but Dodington doubtless imagined the sum to have -been well laid out; which, indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span> would have been the case had not the -prince died early. Mæcenas was, in fact, working for a title, and this -was then regarded as the ready way to such a goal. They say the same -idea prevails in our own happy times; but that £5000 would not go far -towards the realisation of the object. But, be that as it may, Dodington -did not win to the Peerage as Lord Melcombe until 1761, and as he died -in the succeeding year, his enjoyment of the ermine was short. As, -however, the working towards an object and its anticipation are always -more enjoyable than the attainment of the end, he is perhaps not to be -regarded with pity, or thought a failure.</p> - -<p>One who partook of his hospitality at Eastbury, and did not think the -kindness experienced there a sufficient reason for silence as to his -host’s eccentricities and failings, has given us some entertaining -stories. The State bed of the gross but witty Dodington at Eastbury was -covered with gold and silver embroidery; a gorgeous sight, but closer -inspection revealed the fact that this splendour had been contrived at -the expense of his old coats and breeches, whose finery had been so -clumsily converted that the remains of the pocket-holes were clearly -visible. ‘His vast figure,’ continues this reminiscencing friend, ‘was -always arrayed in gorgeous brocades, and when he paid his court at St. -James’s, he approached to kiss the Queen’s hand, decked in an -embroidered suit of silk, with lilac waistcoat and breeches; the latter -in the act of kneeling down, forgot their duty and broke loose from -their moorings in a very indecorous and uncourtly manner.’ That<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span> must -have been a sore blow to the dignity of one who possessed, as we are -told, ‘the courtly and profound devotion of a Spaniard towards women, -with the ease and gaiety of a Frenchman to men.’</p> - -<p>Rolling down the Exeter Road, from his London mansion, or from his -suburban retreat of ‘La Trappe,’ at Hammersmith, in his gilded, -old-fashioned chariot, he gathered a variety of literary men at what -Young calls ‘Pierian Eastbury.’ Johnson, sick of the Chesterfields and -the whole gang of literary patrons, scornfully refused Dodington’s -proffered friendship; but Fielding, Thomson, Bentley, Cumberland, Young, -Voltaire, and others were not slow to revel in these more or less -Arcadian delights. Christopher Pitt wrote to Young, congratulating him -on his stay here:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where with your Dodington retired you sit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Charmed with his flowing Burgundy and wit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where a new Eden in the wild is found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the seasons in a spot of ground.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>While Thomson, moved to it by the Burgundy or the more potent punch, has -celebrated palace and park in his <i>Autumn</i>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>RUINED EASTBURY</i></div> - -<p>Dodington had either no stomach for fighting, or else was a good fellow -beyond the common run, as the following affair proves. Eastbury marches -with Cranborne Chase, and one day the Ranger found one of Dodington’s -keepers with his dogs in a part of the Chase called Burseystool Walk. -The keeper was warned that if he was found there again, his dogs would -be shot and himself prosecuted; but despite this warning he was found -near the same spot a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span> days later, when the Ranger, having a gun in -his hand, put his threat into execution and shot the three dogs as they -were drinking in a pool, with their heads close together, in one of the -Ridings. Dodington, in a first outburst of fury, sent a challenge to the -Ranger over this affair, and the Ranger bought a sword and sent a friend -to call on the challenger to fix time and place for the encounter; but -by that time Dodington had thought better of it, and instead of making -arrangements to shed the enemy’s gore, invited both him and his friend -to dinner. They met and had a jovial time together, and the sword -remained unspotted.</p> - -<p>On Dodington’s death his estates passed to Earl Temple, who could not -afford to keep up the vast place. He accordingly offered an income of -£200 a year to anyone who would live at Eastbury and keep it in repair. -No one came forward to accept these terms; and so, after the pictures, -objects of art, and the furniture had been sold, the great house was -pulled down, piecemeal, in 1795, with the exception of this solitary -fragment.</p> - -<p>There is room for much reflection in Eastbury Park to-day, by the -crumbling archway with the two large fir-trees growing between the -joints of its masonry; by the remaining wing, or the foundations of the -rest of the vanished house, which can still be distinctly traced in the -grass during dry summers. The stories of ‘Haunted Eastbury’ and of the -headless coachman and his four-in-hand are dying out, but the panelled -room in which Doggett, Earl Temple’s fraudulent steward, shot himself is -still to be seen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span> Doggett had embezzled money, and when discovered -found this the only way out of his trouble.</p> - -<p>When the church of Tarrant Gunville, just outside the Park gates, was -rebuilt in 1845 the workmen found his body, the legs tied together with -a yellow silk ribbon which was as bright and fresh as the day it was -tied.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Returning</span> to the road at Tarrant Hinton, a steep hill leads up to the -wild downs again, with a corresponding descent in three miles into the -village of Pimperne whose chief part is situated in the same manner, -along a byeway at a right angle to the coachroad. There is a battered -cross on an open space near the church, and the church itself has been -severely restored. Christopher Pitt was Rector of Pimperne, and it -requires no great stretch of imagination to conjure up a vision of him -pacing the road to Eastbury, and composing laudatory verses on Dodington -and his ‘flowing wit’; rendered, perhaps, the more eloquent by -anticipations of the flow of Burgundy already quoted. He died in 1748, -fourteen long years, alas! before the wine had ceased to flow at that -Pierian spot.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BLANDFORD</i></div> - -<p>From this haunt of the Muses it is two miles to the town of Blandford -Forum, whose name it is sad to be obliged to record is nowadays -shamefully docked to ‘Blandford,’ although the market, whence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a>{257}</span> the -distinctive appellation of ‘Forum’ derived, is still in existence.</p> - -<p>One comes downhill into Blandford, all the way from Pimperne, and it -remains a standing wonder how the old coachmen managed to drive their -top-heavy conveyances through the steep and narrow streets by which the -town is entered from London, without upsetting and throwing the -‘outsides’ through the first-floor windows.</p> - -<p>If the outskirts of Blandford town are of so mediæval a straitness, the -chief streets of it are spacious indeed and lined with houses of a -classic breadth and dignity, as classicism was understood in the days of -George the Second, when the greater part of the town was burnt down and -rebuilt. One needs not to be in love with classic, or debased classic, -architecture to love Blandford. The town is stately, and with a -thoroughly urban air, although its streets are so quiet, clean, and -well-ordered. Civilisation without its usual accompaniments of rush and -crowded pavements would seem to be the rule of Blandford. You can -actually stand in the street and admire the architectural details of its -houses without being run over or hustled off the pavement. In short, -Blandford can be <i>seen</i>, and not, like crowded towns, glimpsed with -intermittent and alternate glances at the place and at the traffic, for -fear of jostling or being jostled.</p> - -<p>Who, for instance, really <i>sees</i> London. You can stand in Hyde Park and -see that, or in St. Paul’s and observe all the details of it; but does -anyone ever really <i>see</i> Cheapside, Fleet Street, or the Strand, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a>{258}</span> -walking? The only way to make acquaintance with these thoroughfares is -to ride on the outside of an omnibus, where it is possible to give an -undivided attention to anything else than the crowds that throng the -pavements.</p> - -<p>The progress of Blandford seems to have been quietly arrested soon after -its rebuilding in 1731, and so it remains typical of that age, without -being actually decayed. So far, indeed, is it from decay that it is a -cheerful and prosperous, though not an increasing, town. Red moulded and -carved brick frontages to the houses prevail here, and dignity is -secured by the tall classic tower of the church, which, although not in -itself entirely admirable, and although the stone of it is of an -unhealthy green tinge, is not unpleasing, placed to advantage closing -the view at one end of the broad market-place, instead of being aligned -with the street.</p> - -<p>Most things in Blandford date back to ‘the fire,’ which forms a -red-letter day in the story of the town. This may well be understood -when it is said that only forty houses were left when the flames had -done their worst, and that fourteen persons were burnt, while others -died from grief, or shock, or injuries received. Blandford has been -several times destroyed by fire. In Camden’s time it was burned down by -accident, but was rebuilt soon after in a handsome and substantial form. -Again in 1677 and in 1713 the place was devastated in the same manner. -The memorable fire of 1731 began at a soap-boiler’s shop in the centre -of the town.</p> - -<p>A pump, placed in a kind of shrine under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a>{259}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>GIBBON</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p259_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p259_sml.jpg" width="426" height="277" alt="Image unavailable: BLANDFORD." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BLANDFORD.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>{260}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>{261}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">churchyard wall, bears an inscription recounting this terrible -happening:—</p> - -<p class="c"> -In remembrance<br /> -Of God’s dreadful visitation by Fire,<br /> -Which broke out the 4th of June, 1731,<br /> -and in a few Hours not only reduced the<br /> -Church, but almost the whole Town, to Ashes,<br /> -Wherein 14 Inhabitants perished,<br /> -But also two adjacent Villages;<br /> -And<br /> -In grateful Acknowledgement of the<br /> -Divine Mercy,<br /> -That has since raised this Town,<br /> -Like the Phœnix from its Ashes,<br /> -To its present flourishing and beautiful State;<br /> -and to prevent,<br /> -By a timely Supply of Water,<br /> -(With God’s Blessing) the fatal<br /> -Consequences of Fire hereafter:<br /> -This Monument<br /> -Of that dire Disaster, and Provision<br /> -Against the like, is humbly erected<br /> -By<br /> -John Bastard<br /> -A considerable Sharer<br /> -In the great Calamity,<br /> -1760.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Between 1760 and 1762 Gibbon, the historian of the <i>Decline and Fall of -the Roman Empire</i>, was constantly in the neighbourhood of Blandford, -camping on the downs which surround the town, and enjoying all the pomp -and circumstance which may have belonged to his position as a Captain of -Hants Militia.</p> - -<p>Of these amateur soldierings he speaks as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>{262}</span> ‘wandering life of military -service,’ a very amusing view of what everybody else but that pompous -historian regarded as mere picnics.</p> - -<p>But Gibbon, although his person was not precisely that of an ideal -military commander, and although the awkward squads he accompanied were -not easily comparable with the legions of old Rome, affected to believe -that the military knowledge he thus acquired among the hills and -woodlands of Hants and Dorset was of the greatest use in helping him to -understand the strategic feats of Cæsar and Hannibal in Britain or -across the Alps. Let us smile!</p> - -<p>In after years, when living at Lausanne, amid the eternal hills and -mountains of Switzerland, he looked back upon those days with regret, -alike for the good company of his brother officers, the jovial nights at -the ‘Crown’ in ‘pleasant, hospitable Blandford,’ and for the -interference those happy times caused to his studies; when, instead of -burning the midnight oil, he drank deeply of the -two-o’clock-in-the-morning punch-bowl.</p> - -<p>Many of Blandford’s natives have risen to more than local eminence. -Latest among her distinguished sons is Alfred Stevens, that fine artist -who designed the Wellington Monument in St. Paul’s Cathedral, as yet, -unhappily, incomplete. He came into contact with governments and -red-tape, and broken in spirit and in health by disappointments, died in -1875. A tablet on the wall of his birthplace in Salisbury Street records -the fact that he was born in 1817.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a>{263}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p263_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p263_sml.jpg" width="393" height="268" alt="Image unavailable: TOWN BRIDGE, BLANDFORD." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">TOWN BRIDGE, BLANDFORD.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>{264}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>{265}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII</h2> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>WINTERBORNE WHITCHURCH</i></div> - -<p>Sixteen and a quarter miles of very varied road brought the old coachmen -with steaming horses clattering from Blandford into Dorchester, past the -villages of Winterborne Whitchurch, Milborne St. Andrew, and the village -of Piddletown, which is by no means a town, and never was.</p> - -<p>It is a long, long rise out of Blandford, past tree-shaded Bryanstone -and over the Town Bridge, to the crest of Charlton Downs, a mile out; -where, looking back, the town is seen lying in a wooded hollow almost -surrounded by park-like trees in dense clumps—the woods of Bryanstone. -From this point of vantage it is clearly seen how Blandford is entered -downhill from east or west.</p> - -<p>Very hilly, very open, very white and hot and dusty in summer, and -covered with loose stones and flints after any spell of dry weather, the -road goes hence steeply down into Winterborne Whitchurch, where the -‘bourne,’ from which the place takes the first half of its name, goes -across the road in a hollow, and the church stands, with its -neighbouring parsonage and cottages, in a lane running at right angles -to the high-road, for all the world like Tarrant Hinton and Little -Wallop. John Wesley, the grandfather of the founder of the -‘Wesleyans’—or the ‘Methodys,’ as the country people call -Methodists—was Vicar of Winterborne Whitchurch for a time during the -Commonwealth; but as he seems never to have been regularly ordained, he -was thrown out at the Restoration<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a>{266}</span> by ‘malignants’ and began a kind of -John the Baptist life amid the hills and valleys of Dorsetshire, an -exemplar for the imitation of his grandsons in later days. Itineracy and -a sturdy independence thus became a tradition and a duty with the -Wesleys. Thus are sects increased and multiplied, and no more sure way -exists of producing prophets than by the persecution and oppression of -those who, left judiciously alone, would live and die unknown to and -unhonoured by the world.</p> - -<p>Milborne St. Andrew, close upon three miles onward, is placed in another -of these many deep hollows which, with streams running through them, are -so recurrent a feature of the Exeter Road; only the hollow here is a -broader one and better dignified with the title of valley. The stream of -the ‘mill-bourne,’ from which the original mill has long since vanished -(if, indeed, the name of the place is not, more correctly, ‘Melbourne,’ -‘mell’ in Dorsetshire meaning, like the prefix of ‘lew’ in Devon, a warm -and sheltered spot), is a tributary of the river Piddle, which, a few -miles down the road gives name to Piddletown, and along its course to -Aff-Piddle, Piddletrenthide, Piddlehinton, Tolpiddle, and Turner’s -Piddle.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>MILBORNE ST. ANDREW</i></div> - -<p>Milborne St. Andrew is a pretty place, and those who know Normandy may -well think it, with its surrounding meads and feathery poplars, like a -village in that old-world French province. Almost midway along the -sixteen and a quarter miles between Blandford and Dorchester, it still -keeps the look of an old coaching and posting village, although the last -coach<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a>{267}</span> and the days of road-travel are beyond the recollection of the -oldest inhabitant. Here, in the midst of the village, the street widens -out, where the old ‘White Hart,’ now the Post Office, with a great -effigy of a White Hart, and a number of miniature cannons on the porch -roof, waits for the coaches that come no more, and for the dashing -carriages and post-chaises that were driven away with their drivers and -their gouty red-faced occupants to Hades, long, long ago. Is the ‘White -Hart,’ standing like so many of these old hostelries beside the highway, -waiting successfully for the revival of the roads, and will it live over -the brave old days again with the coming of the Motor Car?</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, given fine weather, there are few pleasanter places to spend -a reminiscent afternoon in than Milborne St. Andrew.</p> - -<p>The old church is up along the hillside, reached with the aid of a -bye-road. Its tower, like that of Winterborne Whitchurch, shows the -curious and rather pleasing local fashion of building followed four -hundred years or so back, consisting of four to six courses of nobbled -flints alternating with a course of ashlar. A stone in the east wall of -the chancel to the memory of William Rice, servant to two of the local -squires here for more than sixty years, ending in 1826, has the curious -particulars:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>He superintended the Harriers, and was the first Man who hunted a -Pack of Roebuck Hounds.</p></div> - -<p>At a point a mile and a half farther used to stand Dewlish turnpike -gate, where the tolls were taken before coming down into Piddletown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a>{268}</span></p> - -<p>This large village is the ‘Weatherbury’ of some of Mr. Thomas Hardy’s -Wessex stories, and the Jacobean musicians’ gallery of the fine -unrestored church is vividly reminiscent of many humorous passages -between the village choir in <i>Under the Greenwood Tree</i>. An organ stands -there now, but the ‘serpent,’ the ‘clar’net,’ and the fiddles of Mr. -Hardy’s rustic choir would still seem more at home in that place.</p> - -<p>Between this and Dorchester, past that end of Piddletown called ‘Troy -Town,’ is Yellowham—one had almost written ‘Yalbury’—Hill, crowned -with the lovely woodlands described so beautifully under the name of -‘Yalbury Woods’ in that story, and drawn again in the opening scene of -<i>Far from the Madding Crowd</i>, where Gabriel Oak, invisible in his leafy -eyrie above the road, perceives Bathsheba’s feminine vanities with the -looking-glass.</p> - -<p>Descending the western side of the hill and passing the broad park-lands -of Kingston, we enter the town of Dorchester along the straight and -level road running through the water-meadows of the river Frome. Until a -few years ago this approach was shaded and rendered beautiful by an -avenue of stately old elms that enclosed the distant picture of the town -as in a frame; but they were cut down by the Duchy of Cornwall -officials, in whose hands much of the surrounding property is placed, -and only the pitiful stumps of them, shorn off close to the ground, -remain to tell of their existence. As Dorchester is approached the road -is seen in the distance becoming a street, and going, as straight as -ever, and with a continuous rise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a>{269}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">‘<i>CASTERBRIDGE</i>’</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p269_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p269_sml.jpg" width="405" height="295" alt="Image unavailable: THE ‘WHITE HART,’ DORCHESTER." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE ‘WHITE HART,’ DORCHESTER.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a>{270}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a>{271}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">through the town, with the square tower of St. Peter’s and the spiky -clock-tower of the Town Hall cresting the view in High West Street, and -in High East Street the modern Early English spire of All Saints nearer -at hand. The particular one among the many bridges and culverts that -carry the rivulets under the road here, mentioned by the novelist in his -<i>Mayor of Casterbridge</i> as the spot where Henchard, the ruined mayor, -lounged in his aimless idleness, amid the wastrels and ne’er-do-weels of -Casterbridge, is the bridge that finally brings the road into the town, -by the old ‘White Hart Inn.’ It is the inevitable lounging-stock for -Dorchester’s failures, who mostly live near by at Fordington, the east -end of the town, where the ‘Mixen Lane’ of the story, ‘the mildewed leaf -in the sturdy and flourishing Casterbridge plant’ was situated.</p> - -<p>It is a transfigured Dorchester that is painted by the novelist in that -story; or, perhaps more exactly, the Dorchester of fifty years ago. ‘It -is huddled all together; and it is shut in by a square wall of trees, -like a plot of garden-ground by a box-edging,’ is the not very apt -comparison with the tall chestnuts and sycamores of the surviving -avenues. ‘It stood, with regard to the wide fertile land adjoining, -clean-cut and distinct, like a chess-board on a green tablecloth. The -farmer’s boy could sit under his barley-mow and pitch a stone into the -window of the town-clerk; reapers at work among the sheaves nodded to -acquaintances standing on the pavement corner; the red-robed judge, when -he condemned a sheep-stealer, pronounced sentence to the tune of Baa, -that floated<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a>{272}</span> in at the window from the remainder of the flock browsing -hard by.’</p> - -<p>This peculiarity of Dorchester, a four-square clearly-defined <i>appliqué</i> -of town upon a pastoral country, has been gradually disappearing during -many years past, owing to an increase of population that has burst the -ancient bounds imposed by the town being almost completely surrounded by -the Duchy of Cornwall lands. This property, known by the name of -Fordington Field (and not the existence at any time of a ford on the -Frome), gives the eastern end of Dorchester its title. The land, let by -the Duchy in olden times, in quarters or ‘fourthings’ of a carucate, -gave the original name of ‘Fourthington.’ A great deal of this property -has now been sold or leased for building purposes, and so the avenues -that once clearly defined with their ramparts of greenery the bounds of -Dorchester are now of a more urban character.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE BLOODY ASSIZE</i></div> - -<p>Dorchester shares with Blandford and with Marlborough a solid -architectural character of a sober and responsible kind. As in those -towns, imaginative Gothic gables and quaint mediæval fancies are -somewhat to seek amid the overwhelming proportion of Renaissance, or -neo-classic, or merely Queen Anne and Georgian red-brick or stone -houses. The cause of this may be sought in the recurrent disastrous -fires that on four occasions practically swept the town out of -existence, as in the case of Marlborough and Blandford. The earliest of -these happened in 1613. Over three hundred houses were burnt on that -occasion, and property amounting to nearly a quarter of a million -sterling lost. This insistent scourge of the West of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a>{273}</span> England thatched -houses visited the town again, nine years later, and also in 1725 and -1775. Little wonder, then, that mediæval Dorchester has to be sought for -in nooks and corners. But if like those other unfortunate towns in these -circumstances, it is very different in appearance, the streets being -comparatively narrow and the houses of a more stolid and heavy -character; so that only in sunny weather does Dorchester strike the -stranger as being at all a cheerful place.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII</h2> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 140px;"> -<a href="images/i_p273_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p273_sml.jpg" width="140" height="176" alt="Image unavailable: JUDGE JEFFREYS’ CHAIR." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JUDGE JEFFREYS’ CHAIR.</span> -</div> - -<p>All the incidents in Dorchester’s history seem insignificant beside the -tremendous melodrama of the ‘Bloody Assize.’ The stranger has eyes and -ears for little else than the story of that terrible time, and longs to -see the Court where Jeffreys sat, mad with drink and disease, and -sentenced the unhappy prisoners to floggings, slavery, or death. -Unhappily, that historic room has disappeared, but ‘Judge Jeffreys’ -chair’ is still to be seen in the modern Town Hall, and one can approach -in imagination nearer to that awful year<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a>{274}</span> of 1685 by gazing at ‘Judge -Jeffreys’ Lodgings,’ still standing in High West Street, over Dawes’ -china shop.</p> - -<p>It must have been with a ferocious satisfaction that Jeffreys arrived -here to open that Assize, for Dorchester had been a ‘malignant’ town and -a thorn in the side of the Royalists forty years before. A kind of wild -retribution was to fall upon it now, not only for the share that this -district of the West had in Monmouth’s Rebellion in this unhappy year, -but for the Puritanism of a bygone generation.</p> - -<p>Jeffreys reached here on 2nd September and the Assize was opened on the -following day, lasting until the 8th. Macaulay has given a most -convincing picture of it:—</p> - -<p>‘The Court was hung, by order of the Chief Justice, with scarlet; and -this innovation seemed to the multitude to indicate a bloody purpose. It -was also rumoured that when the clergyman, who preached the assize -sermon, enforced the duty of mercy, the ferocious mouth of the Judge was -distorted by an ominous grin. These things made men augur ill of what -was to follow.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>GEORGE THE THIRD</i></div> - -<p>‘More than three hundred prisoners were to be tried. The work seemed -heavy; but Jeffreys had a contrivance for making it light. He let it be -understood that the only chance of obtaining pardon or respite was to -plead guilty. Twenty-nine persons who put themselves on their country, -and were convicted, were ordered to be tied up without delay. The -remaining prisoners pleaded guilty by scores. Two hundred and ninety-two -received sentence of death. The whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>{275}</span> number hanged in Dorsetshire -amounted to seventy-four.’</p> - -<p>It is a relief to turn from such things to the less tragical coaching -era. The ‘King’s Arms,’ which was formerly the great coaching hostelry -of Dorchester, still keeps pride of place here, and its capacious -bay-windows of old-fashioned design yet look down upon the chief street. -Instead, however, of the kings and princes and the great ones of the -earth who used to be driven up in fine style in their ‘chariots’ a -hundred years ago, and in place of the weary coach-travellers who used -to alight at the hospitable doors of the ‘King’s Arms,’ the commercial -travellers of to-day are deposited here by the hotel omnibus from the -railway station with little or no remains of that pomp and circumstance -which accompanied arrivals in the olden time. King George the Third was -well acquainted with this capacious house, for his horses were changed -here on his numerous journeys through Dorchester between London, -Windsor, and Weymouth. He kept a commonplace Court in the summer at -Weymouth for many years, and thus made the fortune of that town, while -his son, the Prince of Wales, was similarly making Brighthelmstone -popular. If we are to believe the story of the Duchesse d’Abrantes, -Napoleon had conceived the very theatrical idea of kidnapping the King -on one of these journeys. The exploit was planned for execution in the -wild and lonely country between Dorchester and Weymouth: possibly -beneath the grim shadow of sullen Maumsbury, or of prehistoric Maiden -Castle. The King and his escort were to have been surprised by a party<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>{276}</span> -of secretly-landed French sailors, and his Majesty forthwith hustled on -board an open boat which was then to be rowed across the Channel to -Cherbourg. According to this remarkable statement, the English -coastguards had been heavily bribed to assist in this affair. It was -magnificent, but it was not war—nor even business. As an elaborate -joke, the project has its distinctly humorous aspects, as one vividly -conjures up a picture of ‘Farmer George,’ helplessly sea-sick, leaning -on the gunwale of the row-boat, with the equally unhappy sailors toiling -away at rowing those seventy miles of salt water. Then, too, the thought -of that essentially unromantic King compelled to cut a ridiculous figure -as a kind of modern travesty of the imprisoned Richard Lionheart, raises -a smile. But, although Napoleon, who was not a gentleman, may very -possibly have entertained this rather characteristic notion, he -certainly never attempted to put it into execution, and the road to -Weymouth is by so much the poorer in incident.</p> - -<p>But to return to the ‘King’s Arms,’ which figures in Mr. Thomas Hardy’s -story. Here it was, looking in with the crowd on the street, that Susan -saw her long-lost husband presiding as Mayor at the banquet, the -beginning of all his troubles.</p> - -<p>Although the stranger who has no ties with Dorchester to help paint it -in such glowing colours as those used by that writer, who finds it ‘one -of the cleanest and prettiest towns in the West of England,’ cannot -subscribe to that description, the town is of a supreme interest to the -literary pilgrim, who can identify many spots hallowed by Mr. Hardy’s -genius.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a>{277}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE ROMAN ROAD</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p277_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p277_sml.jpg" width="422" height="308" alt="Image unavailable: DORCHESTER." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">DORCHESTER.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a>{278}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a>{279}</span></p> - -<p>There are those in Dorsetshire who bitterly resent the Tony Kytes, the -Car Darches, the Bathshebas, and in especial poor Tess, who flit through -his unconventional pages, and hold that he deprives the Dorset peasant -of his moral character; but if you hold no brief for the natives in -their relation to the Ten Commandments, why, it need matter little or -nothing to you whether his characters are intended as portraitures, or -are evolved wholly from a peculiar imagination. It remains only to say -that they are very real characters to the reader, who can follow their -loves and hatreds, their comedy and tragedy, and can trace their -footsteps with a great deal more personal interest than can be stirred -up over the doings of many historical personages.</p> - -<h2><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Exeter Road begins to rise immediately on leaving Dorchester. -Leaving the town by a fine avenue of ancient elms stretching for half a -mile, the highway runs, with all the directness characteristic of a -Roman road, on a gradual incline up the bare and open expanse of -Bradford Down, unsheltered as yet by the stripling trees newly planted -as a continuation of the dense avenue just left behind. The first four -miles of road from the town are identical with the Roman <i>Via Iceniana</i>, -the Icen Way or Icknield Street; and on the left rises, at the distance -of a mile away, the sombre Roman earthwork of Maiden<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a>{280}</span> Castle crowning a -hill forming with the earthen amphitheatre of Poundbury on the right -hand, evidence, if all else in Dorchester were wanting, of the -importance of the place at that remote period.</p> - -<p>At the fourth milestone the Exeter Road leaves that ancient military -way, and, turning sharply to the left, goes down steeply, amid loose -gravel and rain-runnels, to Winterborne Abbas, with an exceedingly -awkward fork to the road to Weymouth on the left hand half-way down. -Bold and striking views of the sullen ridge of Blackdown, with Admiral -Hardy’s pillar on the ridge, are unfolded as one descends.</p> - -<h2><a name="XL" id="XL"></a>XL</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Winterborne</span> Abbas, one of the twenty-five Winterbornes that plentifully -dot the map of Wilts and Dorset, lies on the level at the bottom of this -treacherous descent: a small village of thatched cottages with a church -too large for it, overhung by fir trees, and a remodelled old coaching -inn, apparently also too large, with its sign swinging picturesquely -from a tree-trunk on the opposite side of the road which, like the -majority of Dorsetshire roads, is rich in loose flints.</p> - -<p>Half a mile beyond the village, a railed enclosure on the strip of grass -on the left-hand side of the road attracts the wayfarer’s notice. This -serves to protect from the attentions of the stone-breaker a group of -eight prehistoric stones called the ‘Broad Stone.’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>{281}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE RUSSELLS</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p281_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p281_sml.jpg" width="403" height="281" alt="Image unavailable: WINTERBORNE ABBAS." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">WINTERBORNE ABBAS.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a>{282}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a>{283}</span></p> - -<p>The largest is 10 feet long by 5 feet, and 2 feet thick, lying down. A -notice informs all who care to know that this group is constituted by -the owner, according to the Act of Parliament, an ‘Ancient Monument.’ -The cynically-minded might well say that the hundreds of similar -‘ancient monuments’ with which the neighbouring downs are peppered might -also be railed off, to give a welcome fillip to the trade in iron -fencing, and certainly this caretaking of every misshapen stone without -a story is the New Idolatry.</p> - -<p>Just beyond this point is the castellated lodge of the park of -Bridehead, embowered amid trees. The place obtains its name from the -little river Bride or Bredy which rises in the grounds and flows away to -enter the sea at Burton (= ‘Bride-town’) Bradstock, eight miles away; -passing in its course the two other places named from it, Little Bredy -and Long Bredy.</p> - -<p>Now the road rises again, and ascends wild unenclosed downs which -gradually assume a stern, and even mountainous, character. Amid this -panorama, in the deep hollows below these stone-strewn heights, are -gracious wooded dells, doubly beautiful by contrast. In the still and -sheltered nooks of these sequestered spots the primrose blooms early, -and frosts come seldom, while the uplands are covered with snow or swept -with bleak winds that freeze the traveller’s very marrow. One of these -gardens in the wilderness is Kingston Russell, the spot whence the -Russells, now Dukes of Bedford, sprang from obscurity into wealth and -power. Deep down in their retirement, the world (or such small -proportion of it as travelled in those days) passed unobserved, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>{284}</span> -not far removed. For generations the Russells had inhabited their old -manor-house here, and might have done so, in undistinguished fashion, -for many years more, had it not been for the chance which brought John -Russell into prominence and preferment in 1502. He was the Founder of -the House and died an Earl, with vast estates, the spoil of the Church, -showered upon him. He was the first of all the Russells to exhibit that -gift of ‘getting on’ which his descendants have almost uniformly -inherited. Unlike him, however, they have rarely commanded affection, -and the Dukes of Bedford, with much reason, figure in the public eye as -paragons of meanness and parsimony.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p284_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p284_sml.jpg" width="253" height="157" alt="Image unavailable: KINGSTON RUSSELL." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">KINGSTON RUSSELL.</span> -</div> - -<p>At the cross roads, where on the left the bye-path leads steeply down -the sides of these immemorial hills to Long Bredy, and on the right in -the direction of Maiden Newton, used to stand Long Bredy Gate and the -‘Hut Inn.’ Here the high-road is continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a>{285}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p285_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p285_sml.jpg" width="251" height="199" alt="Image unavailable: CHILCOMBE CHURCH." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CHILCOMBE CHURCH.</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>CHILCOMBE</i></div> - -<p class="nind">along the very backbone of the ridge, exposed to all the rigours of the -elements. To add to the weird aspect of the scene, barrows and tumuli -are scattered about in profusion. We now come to a turning on the left -hand called ‘Cuckold’s Corner,’ why, no legend survives to tell us. -Steeply this lane leads to the downs that roll away boldly to the sea, -coming in little over a mile to ‘chilly Chilcombe,’ a tiny hamlet with a -correspondingly tiny church tucked away among the great rounded -shoulders of the hills, but not so securely sheltered but that the eager -winds find their way to it and render both name and epithet eminently -descriptive. The population of Chilcombe, according to the latest -census, is twenty-four, and the houses six; and it is, accordingly, -quite in order that the church should be regarded as the smallest<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>{286}</span> in -England. There are many of these ‘smallest churches,’ and the question -as to which really deserves the title is not likely to be determined -until an expedition is fitted out to visit all these rival claimants, -and to accurately measure them. Of course the remaining portions of a -church are not eligible for inclusion in this category. Chilcombe, -however, is a complete example. The hamlet was never, in all -probability, more populous than it is now, and the church certainly was -never larger. Originally Norman, it underwent some alterations in the -late Perpendicular period. The measurements are: nave 22 feet in length, -chancel 13 feet. It is a picturesque though unassuming little building, -without a tower, but provided instead with a quaint old stone bell-cote -on the west gable. This gives the old church the appearance of some -ancient ecclesiastical pigeon-house. The bell within is dated 1656. The -very fine and unusual altar-piece of dark walnut wood, with scenes from -the life of Christ, is credibly reported to have been brought here from -one of the ships of the ‘Invincible Armada,’ known to have been wrecked -on the beach at Burton Bradstock, some three miles away.</p> - -<p>Returning to the highway at ‘Cuckold’s Corner,’ we come to ‘Traveller’s -Rest,’ now a wayside inn on the left hand, situated on the tremendous -descent which commences a mile beyond Long Bredy turnpike, and goes -practically down into Bridport’s long street; a distance of five miles, -with a fall from 702 feet above the sea, to 253 feet at ‘Traveller’s -Rest,’ two miles farther on, and eventually to sea-level at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a>{287}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>HILLS ROUND BRIDPORT</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p287_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p287_sml.jpg" width="470" height="284" alt="Image unavailable: ‘TRAVELLER’S REST.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">‘TRAVELLER’S REST.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a>{288}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a>{289}</span></p> - -<p>Bridport, with several curves in the road and an intermediate ascent or -two between this point and the town. The cyclist who cares to take his -courage in both hands, and has no desire to linger over perhaps one of -the most magnificent scenic panoramas in England, can coast down this -long stretch with the speed of the wind, and chance the result. But it -is better to loiter here, for none of the great high-roads has anything -like this scenery to show. From away up the road the eye ranges over a -vast stretch of country westwards. South-west lies the Channel, dazzling -like a burnished mirror if you come here at the psychological moment for -this view—that is to say, the late afternoon of a summer’s day; with -the strangely contorted shapes of the hills round about suggesting -volcanic origin, and casting cool shadows far down into the sheltered -coombes that have been baking in the sun all day long. Near at hand is -Shipton Beacon, rising almost immediately beyond ‘Traveller’s Rest,’ and -looking oddly from some points of view like some gigantic ship’s hull -lying keel uppermost. Beyond are Puncknoll and Hammerdon, and away in -the distance, with the Channel sparkling behind it, and the sun making a -halo for its head, overlooking the sea at a height of 615 feet, the -grand crest of Golden Cap, which some hold to be so named from this -circumstance, while others have it that the picturesque title derives -from the yellow gorse that grows on its summit. To the right hand rises -the natural rampart of Eggardon, additionally fortified by art, a -thousand years ago, whether by Briton, Dane, or Saxon, let those -determine<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a>{290}</span> who will, with the village of Askerswell lying deep down, -immediately under this ridge on which the road goes, the roof of its -village church tower apparently so near that you could drop a stone -neatly on to its leads. But ‘one trial will suffice,’ as the -advertisements of much-puffed articles say, for the stone goes no nearer -than about a quarter of a mile.</p> - -<p>Very charming, this panorama, on a summer’s day; but how about the -winters’ nights, in the times when the ‘Traveller’s Rest’ was better -named than now; when the coaches halted here, and coachmen, guards, and -passengers alike, half-frozen and breathless from the blusterous heights -of Long Bredy, tumbled out for something warming? For this hillside was -reputed to be the coldest part of the journey between London and Exeter, -and it may be readily enough supposed by all who have seen the spot, -that this was indeed the fact.</p> - -<h2><a name="XLI" id="XLI"></a>XLI</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> last mile into Bridport has none of these terrify-descents, -although, to be sure, there are sudden curves in the road which it -behoves the cyclist to take slowly, for they may develop anything in the -way of traffic, from a traction engine to the elephantine advance-guard -of a travelling circus.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>BRIDPORT</i></div> - -<p>At Bridport, nine miles from the Devon border, the country already -begins to lose something of the Dorset character, and to look like the -county of junket and clotted cream. As for the town, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a>{291}</span> difficult to -say what character it possesses, for its featureless High Street is -redeemed only from tediousness by the belfry of the Town Hall which, -with the fine westward view, including the conical height of Colmer’s -Hill and the high table-land of Eype to the left, serves to compose the -whole into something remotely resembling an effect.</p> - -<p>Bridport is a town which would very much like to be on the sea, but is, -as a matter of fact, situated rather over a mile from it. Just where the -little river Bredy runs out and the sea comes banging furiously in, is a -forlorn concourse of houses sheltering abjectly one behind the other, -called variously Bridport Harbour and West Bay. This is the real port, -but it matters little, or nothing at all, by what name you call the -place; it remains more like a Port Desolation.</p> - -<p>Bridport almost distinguished itself in 1651 by the fugitive Charles the -Second having been nearly captured at the ‘George Inn’ by the Harbour, -an ostler recognising his face, which, it must be conceded, was one that -once seen could scarce have been mistaken when again met with. Charles -was then trying to reach the coast after the disastrous battle of -Worcester, and it is quite certain that if Cromwell’s troopers had laid -their hands on him, there would never have been any Charles the Second -in English history.</p> - -<p>The tragical comedy of the Stuarts throws a glamour over the Exeter Road -to its very end. The fugitive Charles, fleeing before the inquisitive -stare of the ostler, is a striking picture; and so, thirty-four years -later, is the coming of his partly acknowledged son, the Duke of -Monmouth, to upset James the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a>{292}</span> Second. Bridport was seized, and one of -the ‘Monmouth men’ slew Edward Coker, gentleman, of Mappowder, on the -14th of June 1685, as the memorial tablet to that slaughtered worthy in -Bridport parish church duly recounts. For their share in the rebellion, -a round dozen of Bridport men were hanged before the eyes of their -neighbours, ‘stabbed,’ as the ancient slang phrase has it, ‘with a -Bridport dagger.’ The ghastly imagery of this saying derives from the -old-time local manufacture of rope, twine, and string, and the -cultivation of hemp in the surrounding country. Rope-and twine-walks -still remain in the town.</p> - -<p>Leaving Bridport behind, the coach passengers by this route presently -came to its most wildly romantic part; only it is sad to reflect that -the travellers of a hundred years ago had not the slightest appreciation -of this kind of thing.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through Bridport’s stony lanes our way we take,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the proud steep descend to Morcombe’s lake.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Thus the poet Gay, but he writes from the horseman’s point of view, and -if he had bruised his bones along this road in the lurching Exeter Fly, -his tone would probably have been less breezy. Travellers, indeed, -looked upon hills with loathing, and upon solitude (notwithstanding the -poets of the time) with disgust; therefore it may well be supposed that -when they came to the rugged scenery around Morecomblake, and the next -village Chideock (called locally ‘Chiddick’), they did not enjoy -themselves.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A ROYAL FUGITIVE</i></div> - -<p>Here Stonebarrow Hill and Golden Cap, with many<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a>{293}</span> lesser eminences, frown -down upon the steep highway on every side, and render the scenery -nothing less than mountainous, so that strangers in these parts, -overcome with ‘terrour’ and apprehensions of worse to come, wished -themselves safe housed in the roadside inn of Morecomblake, whose -hospitable sign gave, and still gives, promise of good entertainment.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p293_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p293_sml.jpg" width="254" height="164" alt="Image unavailable: CHIDEOCK." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CHIDEOCK.</span> -</div> - -<p>The run down into Charmouth from this point is a breakneck one. At this -remote seaside place, in that same year, 1651, Charles the Second had -another narrow escape. Travelling in bye-ways from the disastrous field -of Worcester on horseback, with his staunch friends, Lord Wilmot and -Colonel Wyndham, arrangements had been made with the master of a trading -vessel hailing from Lyme, to put in at Charmouth with a boat in the -stillness of the night. But they had reckoned without taking into -account either the simplicity of the sailor, or the inquisitiveness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a>{294}</span> of -his wife, who wormed the secret out of him, of his being engaged in this -mysterious affair with a party of strangers. All the country was ringing -with the escape of Charles from Worcester and the hue and cry after him, -and the woman rightly guessed whom these people might be. She -effectually prevented her husband from putting in an appearance by the -threat that if he made any such attempt she would inform the magistrate.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p294_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p294_sml.jpg" width="222" height="175" alt="Image unavailable: SIGN OF THE ‘SHIP,’ MORECOMBLAKE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">SIGN OF THE ‘SHIP,’ MORECOMBLAKE.</span> -</div> - -<p>Wearied with watching for the promised boat, the King’s companions -reluctantly had to make Charmouth the resting-place of the party for the -night. In the morning it was found that the King’s horse had cast a -shoe. When it was taken to the blacksmith, that worthy remarked the -quaint circumstance that the three others had been replaced in three -different counties, and one of these three in Worcestershire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a>{295}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS</i></div> - -<p>When Charles heard that awkward discovery he was off in haste, for if a -rural blacksmith was clever enough to discover so much, it was quite -possible that he might apply his knowledge in a very embarrassing -manner.</p> - -<p>The little band had not hurried away a moment too soon, for the ostler -of the inn (what Sherlock Holmes’s all these Dorsetshire folks were, to -be sure!) who had already arrived independently at the conclusion that -this was King Charles, had in the meanwhile gone to the Rev. Bartholomew -Wesley, a local Roundhead divine, and told him his thoughts. Thence to -the inn, where legends tell us the landlady gave Mr. Wesley a fine -full-flavoured piece of her mind, and so eventually to the ears of a -captain of horse, this wondrous news spread. Horsemen scoured the -country; clergyman returned home to think over the loyal landlady’s -abuse; ostler, probably dismissed, had leisure to curse his -officiousness; while King and companions were off, whip and spur, to -Bridport, whence, after that alarming recognition at the Harbour, to -Broadwinsor.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p295_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p295_sml.jpg" width="139" height="156" alt="Image unavailable: INTERIOR OF THE ‘QUEEN’S ARMS,’ CHARMOUTH." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">INTERIOR OF THE ‘QUEEN’S ARMS,’ CHARMOUTH.</span> -</div> - -<p>This historic Charmouth inn is still existing. The ‘Anchor,’ as it is -now known, was for many years the ‘Queen’s Arms,’ but although the sign -has thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a>{296}</span> been altered and half of the building partitioned off as a -separate house, the interior remains very much the same as it was then, -and the original rough, stone-flagged passages, dark panelling, and -deep-embrasured windows add a convincing touch to the story of the -King’s flight through England with a price on his head.</p> - -<p>For the rest, Charmouth, which stands where the tiny river Char empties -itself into the sea, consists of one long street of mutually -antagonistic houses, of all shapes, sizes, and materials, and is the -very exemplar of a fishing village turned into an inchoate seaside -resort. But a sunny, sheltered, and pleasing spot.</p> - -<p>On leaving Charmouth, the road begins to ascend again, and leaves -Dorsetshire for Devon through a tunnel cut in the hillside, called the -‘New Passage,’ coming in four miles to ‘Hunter’s Lodge Inn,’ -picturesquely set amid a forest of pine trees. From this point it is two -and a half miles on to Axminster, a town which still gives a name to a -particular make of carpets, although since 1835 the local factories have -been closed and the industry transferred to Wilton, in Wiltshire. It was -in 1755 that the industry was started here.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>SHUTE HILL</i></div> - -<p>There is one fine old coaching inn, the ‘George,’ at Axminster, with -huge rambling stables and interminable corridors, in which one ought to -meet the ghosts of departed travellers on the Exeter Road. But they are -shy. There should, in fact, be many ghosts in this old town of many -memories; and so there are, to that clairvoyant optic, the ‘mind’s eye.’ -But they refuse to materialise to the physical organ, and it is only to -a vivid imagination that the streets<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a>{297}</span> are repeopled with the excited -peasantry who, in that fatal summer of 1685, flocked to the standard of -the Duke of Monmouth, whom ‘the Lord raised vp’ as the still existing -manuscript narrative of an Axminster dissenting minister says, to -champion the Protestant religion—with what results we already know.</p> - -<p>Pleasant meadow-lands lead by flat and shaded roads from Axminster by -the river Axe to Axmouth, Seaton, and the sea, but our way continues -inland.</p> - -<h2><a name="XLII" id="XLII"></a>XLII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">There</span> are steep ups and downs on the nine miles and a half between -Axminster, the byegone home of carpets, and Honiton, once the seat of -the lace industry, where all routes from London to Exeter meet. ‘Honiton -lace’ is made now in the surrounding villages, but not in the town -itself.</p> - -<p>The first hill is soon met with, on passing over the river Yart. This is -Shute Hill, where the coaches generally were upset, if either the -coachman or the horses were at all ‘fresh.’ Then it is a long run down -to Kilmington, where the travellers, having recovered their hearts from -their boots or their throats, according to their temperaments, and found -their breath, promptly cursed those coachmen and threatened them with -all manner of pains and penalties for reckless driving. Thence, by way -of Wilmington, to Honiton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a>{298}</span></p> - -<p>A quarter of a mile before reaching that town the traveller comes upon a -singular debased Gothic toll-house. If he walks or cycles he may pass -freely, but all carts and cattle have still to pay toll. This queer -survival is known as King’s Road Gate, or by the more popular name of -‘Copper Castle,’ from its once having a peaked copper roof above its -carpenter-gothic battlements.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p298_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p298_sml.jpg" width="252" height="182" alt="Image unavailable: ‘COPPER CASTLE.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">‘COPPER CASTLE.’</span> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE LAST COACH</i></div> - -<p>Honiton, whose name is locally ‘Honeyton,’ is a singularly uninteresting -town, with its mother-parish church half a mile away from the one broad -street that forms practically the whole of the place. Clean, quiet, and -neither very old nor very new, so far as outward appearance goes, -Honiton must be of a positively deadly dulness to the tourist on a rainy -day; when to go out of doors is to get wet, and to remain in, thrown on -the slender resources for amusement afforded by the local papers and the -ten-years-old<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a>{299}</span> county directory in the hotel coffee-room, is a -weariness.</p> - -<p>Once a year, during Honiton Great Fair, this long, empty street is not -too wide; but all the year round, and every year, the broad highway -hence on to Exeter is a world too spacious for its shrunken traffic. -Broad selvedges of grass encroach as slyly as a land-grabbing, enclosing -country gentleman upon this generous width of macadamised surface, and -are allowed their will of all but a narrow strip sufficient for the -present needs of the traffic. It is fifty-five years since the Great -Western Railway was opened through to Exeter, and during that more than -half a century these long reaches of the road have been deserted. Do -belated cyclists, wheeling on moonlit nights along this tree-shaded -road, ever conjure up a picture of the last mail down; the farewells at -the inns, the cottagers standing at their doors, or leaning out of their -windows, to see the visible passing away of an epoch; the flashing of -the lamps past the hedgerows, and the last faint echoes of the horn -sounding in melancholy fashion a mile away? If they do not, why then -they must be sadly lacking in imagination, or ill-read in the Story of -the Roads.</p> - -<p>Where the roads branch in puzzling fashion, four and a half miles from -Honiton, and all ways seem to lead to Exeter, there stands on the grassy -plot at the fork a roadside monument to a missionary bishop, Dr. -Patteson, who, born 1st April 1827, met martyrdom, together with two -other workers in the missionfield, in New Zealand, in 1871. He was the -eldest son of Sir John Patteson, of Feniton Court, near by,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>{300}</span> hence the -placing of this brick and stone column here, surmounted by a cross, and -plentifully inscribed with texts. The story of his and his friends’ -death is set forth as having been ‘in vengeance for wrongs suffered at -the hands of Europeans by savage men whom he loved and for whose sake he -gave up home and country and friends dearer than his life.’</p> - -<p>This memorial also serves the turn of finger-post, for directions are -carved on its four sides; and very necessary too, for where two roads go -to Exeter, the one by Ottery St. Mary some two miles longer than the -other, the passing rustic is not wholly to be depended upon for clear -and concise information. Cobbett in his day found that exasperating -direction of the rustics to the inquiring wayfarer, to ‘keep straight -on,’ just as great a delusion as the tourist now discovers it to be. The -formula, according to him, was a little different in his time, being -‘keep <i>right</i> on.’</p> - -<p>‘Aye,’ says he, ‘but in ten minutes, perhaps, you come to a <span class="sans">Y</span> or a -<span class="sans">T</span>, or to a <span class="sans">X</span>. A fellow once told me, in my way from Chertsey to -Guildford, “keep <i>right on</i>, you can’t miss your way.” I was in the -perpendicular part of the <span class="sans">T</span>, and the top part was only a few yards -from me. “<i>Right on</i>,” said I, “what, over <i>that bank</i> into the -wheat?”—“No, no,” said he, “I mean <i>that road</i>, to be sure,” pointing -to the road that went off to the <i>left</i>.’</p> - -<p>Here a branch of the river Otter crosses the road in the wooded dell of -Fenny Bridges, and in the course of another mile, on the banks of -another stream, stands the ‘Fair Mile Inn,’ the last stage into<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a>{301}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>EXETER</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p301_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p301_sml.jpg" width="400" height="266" alt="Image unavailable: ‘THE LONG REACHES OF THE EXETER ROAD.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">‘THE LONG REACHES OF THE EXETER ROAD.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>{302}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a>{303}</span></p> - -<p>Exeter in coaching times. Lonely the road remains, passing the scattered -cottages of Rockbeare, and the depressing outlying houses of Honiton -Clyst, situated on the little river Clyst, with the first of the -characteristic old red sandstone church-towers of the South Devon -looking down upon the road from the midst of embowering foliage. Then -the squalid east end of Exeter and the long street of Heavitree, where -Exeter burnt her martyrs, come into view, and there, away in front, with -its skyline of towers and spires, is Exeter, displayed in profile for -the admiration of all who have journeyed these many miles to where she -sits in regal grandeur upon her hill that descends until its feet are -bathed in the waters of her godmother, the Exe. Her streets are steep -and her site dignified, although it is partly the level range of the -surrounding country, rather than an intrinsic height, which confers that -look of majesty which all travellers have noticed. The ancient city -rises impressive in contrast with the water-meadows, rather than by -reason of actual measurement. Wayfarers approaching from any direction -brace themselves and draw deep breaths preparatory to scaling the -streets, which, at a distance, assume abrupt vistas. Villas, with -spacious gardens, and snug, prebendal-looking houses, eloquent of a -thousand a year and cellars full of old port, clothe the lower slopes of -this rising ground, to give place, by degrees, to streets which, as the -traveller advances, grow narrower and more crooked, their lines of -houses becoming ever older, more picturesque, and loftier as they near -the heart of the city. Modernity inhabits the environs, antiquity is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a>{304}</span> -seated, impressive, in the centre, where, on a plateau, closely hemmed -in from the bustling, secular life of the streets, rises the sombre mass -of the cathedral, the pride of this western land.</p> - -<h2><a name="XLIII" id="XLIII"></a>XLIII</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Exeter</span> is called by those who know her best and love her most the ‘Queen -City of the West.’ To historians she is perhaps better epithetically -remembranced as the ‘Ever Faithful,’ loyal and staunch through the good -fortune or adversity of the causes for which she has, with closed and -guarded gates, held fast the Key of the West. She has suffered much at -different periods of her history for this loyalty; from the time when, -declaring against the usurpation of Stephen, her citizens fought and -starved within the walls; through the centuries to the time of Perkin -Warbeck, the impostor, and so on to the Civil War between King and -Parliament, when the citizens were more loyal than their rulers and were -disarmed and kept under surveillance until the Royalists came and took -the place, themselves to be dispossessed a few years later.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE KEY OF THE WEST</i></div> - -<p>Loyalty, tried for so many centuries at so great a cost, broke down -finally in 1688, and the city gates were opened to the Prince of Orange. -Had James been less of a bigot, and had his hell-hounds, Jeffreys and -Kirke, been animated with less zeal, who knows what these Devonshire men -would have done? Possibly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>{305}</span> it may be said that William’s fleet would, -under such circumstances, never have found its way into Tor Bay, nor -that historic landing have been consummated at Brixham. True enough; but -granting the landing, the proclamation at Newton Abbot, and the advance -to the gates of Exeter, how then if James had been less of the stubborn -oak and more of the complaisant willow? Can it be supposed that they -would have welcomed this frigid, hawk-nosed foreigner of the cold eye -and silent tongue? And if the Dutchman and his mynheers had been -ill-received at Exeter, what then? Take the map and study it for answer. -You will see that the ‘Ever Faithful’ stands at the Gates of the West. -The traveller always has had to enter these portals if he would go in -either direction, and the more imperative was this necessity to those -coming from West to East. Even now the traveller by railway passes -through Exeter to reach further Devon and Cornwall, equally with him who -fares the high-road.</p> - -<p>What chance, then, of success would a foreign expedition command were -its progress barred at this point? Less mobile than a single traveller, -or party of mere travellers, it could not well evade the struggle for a -passage by taking another route. William and his following might, in -such an event, have at great risk forced the passage of the treacherous -Exe estuary, but even supposing that feat achieved, there is difficult -country beyond, before the road to London is reached. To the northwards -of his march from Brixham lies Dartmoor and its outlying hills, and let -those who have explored those inhospitable wastes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a>{306}</span> weigh the chances of -a force marching through the hostile countryside in the depth of winter -to outflank Exeter.</p> - -<p>But all hope for James’s cause was gone, and although the spirits of the -ambitious William sank when, on entering the streets of Exeter, he was -only received with a chilly curiosity, he was not to know—for how could -that most stony of champions read into the hearts of these people?—that -their generous enthusiasm for faith and freedom was quite crushed out of -existence by the bloody work of three years before, when the peasantry -saw with horror the progress of the fiendish Jeffreys marked by a line -of gibbets; when they could not fare forth upon the highways and byeways -without presently arriving at some Golgotha rubricated with the -dishonoured remains of one or other of their fellows; and when many a -cottage had its empty chair, the occupants dead or sold into a slavery -worse than death.</p> - -<p>The people received William with a well-simulated lack of interest, -because they knew what would be their portion were he defeated and James -again triumphant. They could not have cherished any personal affection -for the Prince of Orange, but can only, at the best of it, have had an -impersonal regard for him as a champion of their liberties; and of -helping such champions they had already acquired a bitter surfeit. Thus -it was that the back of loyalty was broken, and Exeter, for once in her -story, belied her motto, <i>Semper Fidelis</i>, the gift of Queen Elizabeth.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>THE CITY SWORD-BEARER</i></div> - -<p>The gifts that loyalty has brought Exeter may soon be enumerated, for -they comprise just a number of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a>{307}</span> charters conferred by a long line of -sovereigns; an Elizabethan motto; a portrait of his sister, presented by -Charles the Second; a Sword of Honour, and an old hat, the gifts of -Henry the Seventh in recognition of Exeter’s stand against Perkin -Warbeck in 1497. Against these parchments, this picture, and the -miscellaneous items of motto, sword, and old hat, there are centuries of -lighting and of spoliation on account of loyalty to be named. It seems a -very one-sided affair, even though the old hat be a Cap of Maintenance -and heraldically notable. Among the maces and the loving-cups, and all -the civic regalia of Exeter, these objects are yet to be seen. Old -headgear will wear out, and so the Cap, in its present form, dates back -only to the time of James the First. It is by no means a gossamer, -weighing, as it does, seven pounds. As may be seen by the accompanying -illustration, it is a broad-brimmer of the most pronounced type.</p> - -<p>The crown fixed upon the point of the sword-sheath belongs to the same -period, while a guinea of the same reign may be seen let into the metal -of the pommel. On occasions of State, at Exeter, this sword is carried -before the Mayor and Corporation by their official Sword-Bearer.</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 95px;"> -<a href="images/i_p307_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p307_sml.jpg" width="95" height="229" alt="Image unavailable: THE EXETER CITY SWORD-BEARER." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE EXETER CITY SWORD-BEARER.</span> -</div> - -<p>The dignified effect of the affair, however, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>{308}</span> generally spoiled by -the commonplace black kid gloves worn by him, and by his everyday -clothes visible under the official robes, which can be seen in the -illustration.</p> - -<p>Of late the Cap has been replaced by one built on the lines of those -worn by the Yeomen of the Guard in the Tower of London, the old Cap -being thought too historical to be any longer exposed to the danger of -being worn, while possibly some feelings of humanity towards the -Sword-Bearer may have dictated the replacing of the seven-pound hat by -something lighter. It is now preserved in the Guildhall, where it may be -seen by curious visitors.</p> - -<h2><a name="XLIV" id="XLIV"></a>XLIV</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> is a relief to turn from the thronging streets to the absolute quiet -of the cathedral precincts, shaded by tall elms and green with trim -lawns.</p> - -<p>Externally, the cathedral is of the grimiest and sootiest aspect—black -as your hat, but comely. Not even the blackest corners of St. Paul’s -Cathedral, in London, show a deeper hue than the west front of St. -Peter’s, at Exeter. The battered, time-worn array of effigies of saints, -kings, crusaders, and bishops that range along the screen in mutilated -array under Bishop Grandison’s great west window are black, too, and so -are the gargoyles that leer with stony grimaces down upon you from the -ridges and string-courses of the transepts, where they lurk in an -enduring crepuscule.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a>{309}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>A COACHING STRONGHOLD</i></div> - -<p>The sonorous note of Great Peter, the great bell of the cathedral, -sounding from the south transept tower is in admirable keeping with the -black-browed gravity of the close, and keeps the gaiety of the -surrounding hotels within the limits of a canonical sobriety.</p> - -<p>Elsewhere are ancient hostelries innumerable, with yawning archways -under which the coaches entered in the byegone days. The ‘Elephant,’ the -‘Mermaid,’ and the ‘Half Moon’ are the chief among these, and have the -true Pickwickian air, which is the outstanding note of all inns of the -Augustan age of coaching. It must have been worth the journey to be so -worthily housed at the end of the alarums and excursions which more or -less cheerfully enlivened the way.</p> - -<p>Exeter and the far West of England were the last strongholds of the -coaching interest. The Great Western Railway was opened to Exeter on 1st -May 1844, and up to that time over seventy coaches left that city daily -for London and the cross-country routes. Nor did coaching languish -towards the close. On the contrary, it died game, and, until finally -extinguished by the opening of the railway, coaching on the old road -between London and Exeter was a matter of the utmost science and the -best speed ever attained by the aid of four horses on a turnpike road. -Charles Ward, the best-known driver of the old ‘Telegraph’ Exeter coach, -driven from his old route, retreated westwards and took the road between -Exeter and Devonport, retiring into Cornwall when the railway was opened -to Plymouth on 1st May<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a>{310}</span> 1848; but not before he had brought the time of -the ‘Telegraph’ between London and Exeter down to fifteen hours.</p> - -<p>The ‘Half Moon’ is the inn from which the ‘Telegraph’ started at 6.30 in -the morning, breakfasting at Ilminster, dining at Andover, and stopping -for no other meal, reaching Hyde Park Corner at 9.30 <small>P.M.</small> It was kept in -1777 by a landlord named Hemming, who had a very good understanding with -the highwaymen Boulter and Caldwell, and doubtless with many another. -There is a record of those two knights of the road being here, one of -them with a stolen horse, when a Mr. Harding, of Bristol, being in the -yard, recognised it. ‘Why, Mr. Hemming,’ said he, ‘that is the very mare -my father-in-law, Mr. James, lost a few months ago; how came she here?’ -To which the landlord replied, ‘She has been my own mare these twelve -months, and how should she be your father-in-law’s?’</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ replied Harding, ‘if I had seen her in any other hands, or met -her on the road, I could have sworn to her.’ Boulter and Caldwell were -at that moment in the house at dinner, so the landlord took the first -opportunity of warning them.</p> - -<p>For the rest, Exeter is still picturesque. It possesses many quaint and -interesting churches, placed in the strangest positions; while that of -St. Mary Steps has a queer old clock with grotesque figures that strike -the hours and chime the quarters. The seated figure is intended to -represent Henry the Eighth, and those on either side of him men-at-arms, -but the local people have a rhyming legend which<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a>{311}</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>EXETER CASTLE</i></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p311_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p311_sml.jpg" width="459" height="282" alt="Image unavailable: EXETER, FROM THE DUNSFORD ROAD." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">EXETER, FROM THE DUNSFORD ROAD.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a>{312}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a>{313}</span></p> - -<p class="nind">would have it that the King is a certain ‘Matty the Miller’:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The people around would not believe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Matty the Miller was dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For every hour on Westgate tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Matty still nods his head.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>And, in fact, the King kicks his heels against the bell and nods with -every stroke. The Jacobean Guildhall of Exeter, too, is among the most -striking relics of this old-world city; while away from the High Street, -but near the continual clashing of a great railway station, there stand -the remains of Exeter Castle, the appropriately named Rougemont, that -cruel Blunderbore, drunken in the long ago with the blood of many a -gallant gentleman. At the end of a long line of those who suffered were -Colonel John Penruddocke and Hugh Grove, captured at South Molton after -that ineffectual Salisbury rising. Executed in the Castle Yard, in the -very heart of this loyal city of Exeter, many a heart must have ached on -that fatal morning for these unhappy men. ‘This, I hope,’ said -Penruddocke, ascending the scaffold, ‘will prove like Jacob’s Ladder; -though the feet of it rest upon the earth, yet I doubt not but the top -of it reaches to Heaven. The crime for which I am now to die is Loyalty, -in this age called High Treason.’</p> - -<div class="figright" style="width: 95px;"> -<a href="images/i_p313_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p313_sml.jpg" width="95" height="153" alt="Image unavailable: ‘MATTY THE MILLER.’" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">‘MATTY THE MILLER.’</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>{314}</span></p> - -<p>They knew both how to fight and how to die, those dauntless Cavaliers. -The Earl of Derby, who suffered at Bolton, Sir Charles Lucas and Sir -George Lisle, barbarously shot at the taking of Colchester; gray-haired -Sir Nicholas Kemys at Chepstow, and many another died as valiantly as -their master—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who nothing little did, nor mean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But bowed his shapely head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down, as upon a bed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>It is away through the city and across the Exe, to where the road rises -in the direction of Dartmoor, that one of the finest views back upon the -streets and the cathedral is obtained. Exeter from the Dunsford road, -glimpsed by the ancient and decrepit elm pictured here, is worth seeing -and the view itself is worth preserving, for elm and old-world -foreground, with the inevitable changes which the growth of Exeter is -bringing about, will not long remain. Like many another relic of a past -era along this old highway, they are vanishing even while the busy -chronicler of byegone days is hastening to record them.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_p314_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_p314_sml.jpg" width="165" height="88" alt="Image unavailable: THE END" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a>{315}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> - -<p class="c"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#I-i">I</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#U">U</a>, -<a href="#V-i">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Y">Y</a>.</p> - -<p class="nind"> -<a name="A" id="A"></a>Abbot’s Ann, <a href="#page_153">153</a><br /> - -Alderbury, <a href="#page_183">183</a><br /> - -Amesbury, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_154">154</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a>, <a href="#page_209">209</a><br /> - -Andover, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a>, <a href="#page_132">132-145</a>, <a href="#page_217">217</a>, <a href="#page_219">219</a><br /> - -Ashe, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Automobile Club, <a href="#page_212">212</a><br /> - -Axminster, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_009">9</a>, <a href="#page_296">296</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="B" id="B"></a>Bagshot, <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_018">18</a>, <a href="#page_069">69</a>, <a href="#page_089">89</a>, <a href="#page_096">96-98</a>, <a href="#page_103">103</a><br /> - -Bagshot Heath, <a href="#page_095">95-98</a><br /> - -Basing House, siege of, <a href="#page_114">114-120</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -Basing, Old, <a href="#page_113">113</a>, <a href="#page_122">122</a><br /> - -Basingstoke, <a href="#page_101">101</a>, <a href="#page_113">113</a>, <a href="#page_122">122</a><br /> - -Bedfont, East, <a href="#page_078">78-80</a><br /> - -Bedford Park, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Blackwater, <a href="#page_100">100</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Blandford, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_007">7</a>, <a href="#page_009">9</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_242">242-216</a>, <a href="#page_256">256-265</a><br /> - -‘Bloody Assize,’ <a href="#page_273">273-275</a><br /> - -Bokerley Dyke, <a href="#page_237">237</a><br /> - -Bredy, Little, <a href="#page_283">283</a><br /> - -Bredy, Long, <a href="#page_283">283</a>, <a href="#page_284">284</a>, <a href="#page_286">286</a>, <a href="#page_289">289</a><br /> - -Brentford, <a href="#page_016">16</a>, <a href="#page_033">33</a>, <a href="#page_034">34</a>, <a href="#page_053">53</a>, <a href="#page_056">56-63</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a>, <a href="#page_093">93</a><br /> - -Bridehead, <a href="#page_283">283</a><br /> - -Bridport, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_220">220</a>, <a href="#page_280">280</a>, <a href="#page_290">290-292</a>, <a href="#page_295">295</a><br /> - -‘Broad Stone,’ the, <a href="#page_280">280</a><br /> - -Bryanstone, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="C" id="C"></a>Camberley, <a href="#page_099">99</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Cambridge Town, <a href="#page_099">99</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Charlton Downs, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -Charmouth, <a href="#page_293">293-296</a><br /> - -Chettle Common, <a href="#page_247">247</a><br /> - -Chideock, <a href="#page_292">292</a><br /> - -Chilcombe, <a href="#page_285">285</a><br /> - -Chiswick High Road, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Clerken Green, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Coaches—<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Celerity,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Comet,’ <a href="#page_015">15</a>, <a href="#page_018">18</a>, <a href="#page_025">25</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Defiance,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_105">105</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Devonport Mail (<i>see</i> ‘Quicksilver’)</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Diligence,’ <a href="#page_186">186</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Exeter Fly,’ <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_009">9</a>, <a href="#page_015">15</a>, <a href="#page_292">292</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Express,’ <a href="#page_091">91</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Fly Vans,’ <a href="#page_010">10</a>, <a href="#page_106">106</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Herald,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Old Times,’ <a href="#page_091">91</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Pilot,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Post Coach,’ <a href="#page_186">186</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Prince George,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Quicksilver,’ <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_022">22</a>, <a href="#page_025">25</a>, <a href="#page_027">27</a>, <a href="#page_030">30</a>, <a href="#page_033">33</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Regulator,’ <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_021">21</a>, <a href="#page_025">25</a>, <a href="#page_105">105</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Royal Mail,’ <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_009">9</a>, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_032">32</a>, <a href="#page_069">69</a>, <a href="#page_162">162-165</a>, <a href="#page_186">186</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Short Stages, <a href="#page_033">33</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Sovereign,’ <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stage Waggons, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_106">106</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Subscription,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Telegraph,’ <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_010">10</a>, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_030">30</a>, <a href="#page_033">33</a>, <a href="#page_069">69</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a>, <a href="#page_309">309</a>, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Traveller,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> - -Coaching, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_007">7-31</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a>, <a href="#page_069">69</a>, <a href="#page_081">81</a>, <a href="#page_091">91</a>, <a href="#page_102">102-108</a>, <a href="#page_127">127</a>, <a href="#page_141">141</a>, <a href="#page_157">157</a>, <a href="#page_162">162-165</a>, <a href="#page_184">184-188</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a>, <a href="#page_309">309</a><br /> - -Coaching Notabilities—<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mountain, Mrs., <a href="#page_029">29</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nelson, Mrs., <a href="#page_002">2</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Nimrod,’ <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nobbs, Moses James, <a href="#page_031">31</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ward, Charles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a>{316}</span> <a href="#page_069">69</a>, <a href="#page_309">309</a></span><br /> - -Coombe Bissett, <a href="#page_234">234</a>, <a href="#page_242">242</a><br /> - -Cranborne Chase, <a href="#page_237">237</a>, <a href="#page_238">238</a>, <a href="#page_245">245-250</a>, <a href="#page_254">254</a><br /> - -Cuckold’s Corner, <a href="#page_285">285</a>, <a href="#page_286">286</a><br /> - -<br /> -<i><a name="D" id="D"></a>Dead Drummer</i>, the, <a href="#page_238">238-242</a><br /> - -Deane, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Deer-stealers, <a href="#page_246">246-248</a><br /> - -Dickens, Charles, <a href="#page_184">184-186</a>, <a href="#page_212">212-215</a><br /> - -Dodington, George Bubb, <a href="#page_250">250-255</a><br /> - -Dorchester, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_095">95</a>, <a href="#page_227">227</a>, <a href="#page_268">268-279</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="E" id="E"></a>Eastbury Park, <a href="#page_250">250-256</a><br /> - -Egham, <a href="#page_086">86</a>, <a href="#page_089">89-91</a>, <a href="#page_094">94</a><br /> - -Exeter, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_003">3</a>, <a href="#page_004">4</a>, <a href="#page_006">6</a>, <a href="#page_010">10</a>, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_030">30</a>, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_033">33</a>, <a href="#page_093">93</a>, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_095">95</a>, <a href="#page_303">303-314</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="F" id="F"></a>Fares, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_022">22</a>, <a href="#page_028">28</a>, <a href="#page_106">106</a><br /> - -Feltham Industrial School, <a href="#page_077">77</a><br /> - -Fenny Bridges, <a href="#page_300">300</a><br /> - -Fordington, <a href="#page_271">271</a>, <a href="#page_272">272</a><br /> - -Freefolk, <a href="#page_126">126</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="G" id="G"></a>Gay, John, <a href="#page_059">59</a>, <a href="#page_085">85</a>, <a href="#page_292">292</a><br /> - -Gibbon, Edward, <a href="#page_261">261</a><br /> - -Great Western Railway, <a href="#page_031">31</a>, <a href="#page_299">299</a>, <a href="#page_309">309</a><br /> - -Gunnersbury, <a href="#page_092">92</a>, <a href="#page_093">93</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="H" id="H"></a>Hammersmith, <a href="#page_056">56</a>, <a href="#page_089">89</a>, <a href="#page_254">254</a><br /> - -Hardy, Thomas, <a href="#page_155">155</a>, <a href="#page_166">166</a>, <a href="#page_268">268</a>, <a href="#page_276">276</a><br /> - -Hartford Bridge, <a href="#page_021">21</a>, <a href="#page_022">22</a>, <a href="#page_102">102-110</a><br /> - -Hartford Bridge Flats, <a href="#page_022">22</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Hartley Row, <a href="#page_100">100</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a>, <a href="#page_221">221</a>, <a href="#page_222">222</a><br /> - -Hatton, <a href="#page_073">73</a><br /> - -Hazlitt, William, <a href="#page_073">73</a>, <a href="#page_157">157-162</a>, <a href="#page_186">186</a><br /> - -Highwaymen, <a href="#page_070">70</a>, <a href="#page_074">74</a>, <a href="#page_098">98</a>, <a href="#page_187">187</a>, <a href="#page_215">215-232</a><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Biss, <a href="#page_216">216</a>, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blagden, Isaac, <a href="#page_217">217</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boulter, Thomas, <a href="#page_217">217</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boulter, Thomas, junr., <a href="#page_218">218-228</a>, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Caldwell, James, <a href="#page_223">223-228</a>, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Davis, William, <a href="#page_098">98</a>, <a href="#page_216">216</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Du Vail, Claude, <a href="#page_070">70</a>, <a href="#page_099">99</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Golden Farmer,’ the (<i>see</i> Davis, William)</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peare, William, <a href="#page_228">228</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turpin, Richard, <a href="#page_070">70</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whitney, Capt. James, <a href="#page_216">216</a></span><br /> - -Highwaywoman (Mary Sandall), <a href="#page_228">228</a><br /> - -Holloway College, <a href="#page_090">90</a><br /> - -Honiton, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_095">95</a>, <a href="#page_297">297-299</a><br /> - -Hook, <a href="#page_101">101</a>, <a href="#page_110">110</a><br /> - -Hounslow, <a href="#page_016">16</a>, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_032">32</a>, <a href="#page_065">65</a>, <a href="#page_069">69</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Hounslow Heath, <a href="#page_069">69-71</a>, <a href="#page_075">75-78</a><br /> - -Hurstbourne Priors, <a href="#page_125">125</a>, <a href="#page_131">131</a><br /> - -Hurstbourne Tarrant, <a href="#page_132">132</a><br /> - -Hyde Park Corner, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_016">16</a>, <a href="#page_033">33</a>, <a href="#page_038">38</a>, <a href="#page_040">40</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="I-i" id="I-i"></a>Inns (mentioned at length)—<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Anchor,’ Charmouth, <a href="#page_295">295</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Bell,’ Hounslow, <a href="#page_065">65</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Bells of Ouseley,’ Old Windsor, <a href="#page_087">87-89</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Black Dog,’ East Bedfont, <a href="#page_079">79</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Bull,’ Aldgate, <a href="#page_002">2</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Bull and Mouth,’ St. Martin-le-Grand, <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Cashmoor,’ <a href="#page_242">242</a>, <a href="#page_247">247</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Deptford,’ Wilton, <a href="#page_013">13</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Elephant,’ Exeter, <a href="#page_309">309</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Fair Mile,’ <a href="#page_300">300</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘George,’ Andover, <a href="#page_136">136</a>, <a href="#page_142">142-145</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘George,’ Axminster, <a href="#page_296">296</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Gloucester Coffee House,’ Piccadilly, <a href="#page_034">34</a>, <a href="#page_038">38</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Goose and Gridiron,’ St. Paul’s Churchyard, <a href="#page_037">37</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Green Dragon,’ Alderbury, <a href="#page_183">183</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Green Man,’ Hatton, <a href="#page_074">74</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Half Moon,’ Exeter, <a href="#page_002">2</a>, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Hotel Victoria,’ Northumberland Avenue, <a href="#page_091">91</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Jolly Farmer,’ Bagshot, <a href="#page_099">99</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘King’s Arms,’ Bagshot, <a href="#page_097">97</a>, <a href="#page_098">98</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘King’s Arms,’ Dorchester, <a href="#page_275">275</a>, <a href="#page_276">276</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Mermaid,’ Exeter, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘New London,’ Exeter, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Old White Hart,’ Hook, <a href="#page_110">110</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Park House,’ Amesbury, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Queen’s Arms,’ Charmouth, <a href="#page_295">295</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Ship,’ Morecomblake, <a href="#page_294">294</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Swan-with-Two-Necks,’ Lad Lane, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_062">62</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Thickthorn,’ <a href="#page_242">242</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Thorney Down,’ <a href="#page_242">242</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Traveller’s Rest, <a href="#page_286">286-289</a>, <a href="#page_290">290</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Wheatsheaf,’ Virginia Water, <a href="#page_091">91</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘White Bear,’ Piccadilly, <a href="#page_026">26</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘White Hart,’ Hook, <a href="#page_110">110</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘White Hart,’ Milborne St. Andrew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a>{317}</span> <a href="#page_267">267</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘White Hart,’ Whitchurch, <a href="#page_127">127</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘White Horse Cellars,’ Piccadilly, <a href="#page_026">26</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Winterslow Hut,’ <a href="#page_110">110</a>, <a href="#page_156">156-165</a>, <a href="#page_186">186</a>, <a href="#page_218">218</a>, <a href="#page_223">223</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">‘Woodyates,’ <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_234">234-241</a>, <a href="#page_247">247</a></span><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="J" id="J"></a>Jeffreys, Judge, <a href="#page_273">273</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="K" id="K"></a>Kensington, <a href="#page_053">53-56</a>, <a href="#page_089">89</a><br /> - -Kilmington, <a href="#page_297">297</a><br /> - -Kingston Russell, <a href="#page_283">283</a><br /> - -Knightsbridge, <a href="#page_048">48</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="L" id="L"></a>Laverstoke, <a href="#page_125">125</a><br /> - -Lioness attacks Mail, <a href="#page_162">162-165</a><br /> - -Little Ann, <a href="#page_153">153</a><br /> - -Little Bredy, <a href="#page_283">283</a>, <a href="#page_289">289</a><br /> - -Little Wallop, <a href="#page_155">155</a>, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -Lobcombe Corner, <a href="#page_156">156</a><br /> - -Long Bredy, <a href="#page_283">283</a>, <a href="#page_284">284</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="M" id="M"></a>M’Adam, John Loudon, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_029">29</a><br /> - -Mail coaches established, <a href="#page_009">9</a><br /> - -Mapledurwell Hatch, <a href="#page_113">113</a><br /> - -Market-gardens, <a href="#page_073">73-76</a><br /> - -<i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i>, <a href="#page_183">183-186</a><br /> - -Matcham, Jarvis, <a href="#page_241">241</a><br /> - -<i>Mayor of Casterbridge</i>, <a href="#page_146">146</a>, <a href="#page_155">155</a>, <a href="#page_271">271</a>, <a href="#page_276">276</a><br /> - -Middle Wallop, <a href="#page_155">155</a><br /> - -Milborne St. Andrew, <a href="#page_266">266</a><br /> - -Monmouth’s Rebellion, <a href="#page_237">237</a>, <a href="#page_273">273</a>, <a href="#page_291">291</a>, <a href="#page_297">297</a><br /> - -Morecomblake, <a href="#page_095">95</a>, <a href="#page_292">292-294</a><br /> - -Mullen’s Pond, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_195">195</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="N" id="N"></a>Nately Scures, <a href="#page_110">110</a><br /> - -Nether Wallop, <a href="#page_154">154-156</a><br /> - -New Sarum, <a href="#page_167">167</a>, <a href="#page_170">170</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="O" id="O"></a>Oakley, <a href="#page_124">124</a><br /> - -Old Basing, <a href="#page_113">113</a>, <a href="#page_122">122</a><br /> - -Old Sarum, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_167">167-170</a>, <a href="#page_191">191</a><br /> - -Old Windsor, <a href="#page_087">87</a><br /> - -Old-time travellers—<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Charles II., <a href="#page_291">291</a>, <a href="#page_293">293-296</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cobbett, Richard, <a href="#page_075">75</a>, <a href="#page_089">89</a>, <a href="#page_090">90-101</a>, <a href="#page_109">109</a>, <a href="#page_110">110</a>, <a href="#page_125">125</a>, <a href="#page_142">142-145</a>, <a href="#page_192">192</a>, <a href="#page_300">300</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Conyngham, Lord Albert, <a href="#page_140">140</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">George III., <a href="#page_238">238</a>, <a href="#page_275">275</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Knighton, Sir William, <a href="#page_010">10</a>, <a href="#page_187">187</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Monmouth, Duke of, <a href="#page_237">237</a>, <a href="#page_291">291</a>, <a href="#page_297">297</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Newman, Cardinal, <a href="#page_127">127</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Payne, George, <a href="#page_141">141</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pepys, Samuel, <a href="#page_187">187</a>, <a href="#page_019">19</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Taylor, John (the ‘Water Poet’), <a href="#page_080">80</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Trollope, Thomas Adolphus, <a href="#page_026">26-30</a></span><br /> - -Omnibuses, <a href="#page_034">34</a>, <a href="#page_040">40</a><br /> - -Overton, <a href="#page_124">124</a>, <a href="#page_125">125</a><br /> - -Over Wallop, <a href="#page_154">154-156</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="P" id="P"></a>Patteson, Dr., <a href="#page_299">299</a><br /> - -Piccadilly, <a href="#page_002">2</a><br /> - -Piddletown, <a href="#page_265">265</a>, <a href="#page_267">267</a><br /> - -Pimperne, <a href="#page_248">248</a>, <a href="#page_256">256</a><br /> - -Police, the, <a href="#page_051">51</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="R" id="R"></a>Roman Roads, <a href="#page_008">8</a>, <a href="#page_082">82-85</a>, <a href="#page_092">92-95</a>, <a href="#page_279">279</a><br /> - -Russells, the, <a href="#page_283">283</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="S" id="S"></a>St. George’s Hospital, <a href="#page_038">38</a>, <a href="#page_040">40</a><br /> - -St. Mary Bourne, <a href="#page_094">94</a><br /> - -Salisbury, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_004">4</a>, <a href="#page_009">9</a>, <a href="#page_165">165-183</a>, <a href="#page_313">313</a><br /> - -Salisbury Plain, <a href="#page_102">102</a>, <a href="#page_191">191</a>, <a href="#page_195">195-199</a>, <a href="#page_203">203</a>, <a href="#page_209">209</a>, <a href="#page_212">212-217</a>, <a href="#page_230">230-232</a>, <a href="#page_238">238</a>, <a href="#page_242">242</a><br /> - -Sarum, New, <a href="#page_167">167</a>, <a href="#page_170">170</a><br /> - -Sarum, Old, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_167">167-170</a>, <a href="#page_191">191</a><br /> - -Shrub’s Hill, <a href="#page_092">92</a>, <a href="#page_093">93</a>, <a href="#page_095">95</a><br /> - -Shute Hill, <a href="#page_297">297</a><br /> - -Staines, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_017">17</a>, <a href="#page_072">72</a>, <a href="#page_081">81-86</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Staines Stone, <a href="#page_082">82-84</a><br /> - -Stevens, Alfred, <a href="#page_262">262</a><br /> - -Stonehenge, <a href="#page_188">188</a>, <a href="#page_196">196-212</a><br /> - -Sunningdale, <a href="#page_089">89</a>, <a href="#page_095">95</a><br /> - -Sunninghill, <a href="#page_089">89</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="T" id="T"></a>Tarrant Gunville, <a href="#page_248">248</a>, <a href="#page_256">256</a><br /> - -Tarrant Hinton, <a href="#page_242">242</a>, <a href="#page_256">256</a>, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -Thorney Down, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_242">242</a><br /> - -Troy Town, <a href="#page_268">268</a><br /> - -Turnham Green, <a href="#page_056">56</a>, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> - -Turnpike Gates, <a href="#page_044">44-48</a>, <a href="#page_154">154</a>, <a href="#page_267">267</a>, <a href="#page_298">298</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="U" id="U"></a>Upper Wallop, <a href="#page_154">154-156</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="V-i" id="V-i"></a>Virginia Water,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a>{318}</span> <a href="#page_089">89</a>, <a href="#page_091">91</a>, <a href="#page_095">95</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="W" id="W"></a>Wallops, the, <a href="#page_154">154-156</a>, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -Watchmen, the old, <a href="#page_051">51</a><br /> - -Wesley, Rev. Bartholomew, <a href="#page_295">295</a><br /> - -Wesley, John, <a href="#page_265">265</a><br /> - -West Harnham, <a href="#page_234">234</a><br /> - -Weyhill, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_094">94</a>, <a href="#page_154">154</a><br /> - -Weyhill Fair, <a href="#page_133">133</a>, <a href="#page_142">142</a>, <a href="#page_145">145-152</a><br /> - -Whitchurch, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_032">32</a>, <a href="#page_124">124</a>, <a href="#page_127">127-131</a>, <a href="#page_221">221</a><br /> - -Wilmington, <a href="#page_297">297</a><br /> - -Windsor, Old, <a href="#page_087">87</a><br /> - -Winterborne Abbas, <a href="#page_280">280</a><br /> - -Winterborne Whitchurch, <a href="#page_265">265</a>, <a href="#page_267">267</a><br /> - -Worting, <a href="#page_115">115</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Y" id="Y"></a>Yellowham Hill, <a href="#page_268">268</a><br /> - -Yeovil, <a href="#page_001">1</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a><br /> - -York Town, <a href="#page_099">99</a>, <a href="#page_100">100</a>, <a href="#page_101">101</a><br /> - -Young’s Corner, <a href="#page_092">92</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="c"><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark, Limited</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="cb">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> ‘Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, -where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your -souls.’</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Yes, but the time was cut down to fourteen hours a few -years later.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Waggons travelling at the rate of not more than four miles -an hour were exempt from excise duty.</p></div> - -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Exeter Road, by Charles G. 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