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diff --git a/old/60205-h/60205-h.htm b/old/60205-h/60205-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 086752d..0000000 --- a/old/60205-h/60205-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11271 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cambridge, Ely, and King's Lynn Road , by Charles G. Harper. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} - - -ul.index { list-style-type: none; } -li.ifrst { margin-top: 1em; } -li.indx { margin-top: .5em; } -li.isub2 {text-indent: 2em;} -li.isub3 {text-indent: 3em;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left;} - .tdr {text-align: right;} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - .tdrb {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} - .tdl2 {text-align: left; - text-indent: 1em;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - -.hang { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 2em; -} - -img { - max-width: 100%; -} - -.r {text-align: right; - margin-right: 2em;} - -.l {text-align: left; - margin-left: 2em;} - -.l3 {text-align: left; - margin-left: 3em;} - -.redtext { color: red;} - -.ads { - padding: 1em; - border: solid gray 2px; - margin: 10px; -} - -.xxxlarge {font-size: 200%;} -.xlarge {font-size: 140%;} -.large {font-size: 120%;} -.medium {font-size: 85%;} -.little {font-size: 75%;} -.half {font-size: 55%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - -.b {font-weight: bold;} - -.c {text-align: center;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.gesperrt -{ - letter-spacing: 0.2em; - margin-right: -0.2em; -} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: - 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Footnotes */ - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -/* Poetry */ -.poem-container { - text-align: center; -} - -.poem { - display: inline-block; - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; - font-size: 85%; -} - -.poem br {display: none;} - -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - - - -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2m {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -@media handheld { - .pagenum {visibility: hidden; display: none;} -} - -@media handheld {table {width: 98%;}} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cambridge Ely and King's Lynn Road, by -Charles G. Harper - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: The Cambridge Ely and King's Lynn Road - The Great Fenland Highway - -Author: Charles G. Harper - -Release Date: September 1, 2019 [EBook #60205] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT FENLAND HIGHWAY *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Alan 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> - - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - - -<h1> -THE CAMBRIDGE, ELY, AND<br /> -KING'S LYNN ROAD -</h1> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="ads"> -<h3>WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</h3> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig1.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - - -<table> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Brighton Road:</b></span> Old Times and New -on a Classic Highway.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Portsmouth Road,</b></span> and its Tributaries: -To-day and in Days of Old.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Dover Road:</b></span> Annals of an Ancient -Turnpike.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Bath Road:</b></span> History, Fashion, and -Frivolity on an Old Highway.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Exeter Road:</b></span> The Story of the West -of England Highway.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Great North Road:</b></span> The Old Mail -Road to Scotland. Two Vols.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Norwich Road:</b></span> An East Anglian -Highway.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Holyhead Road:</b></span> The Mail-Coach -Road to Dublin. Two Vols.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>Cycle Rides Round London.</b></span></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><span class="large"><b>The Oxford, Gloucester, and Milford -Haven Road.</b></span> [<i>In the Press.</i></td> -</tr></table> -</div></div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><a name="pub" id="pub"></a> -<img src="images/fig2.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium"> THE "CAMBRIDGE TELEGRAPH" STARTING FROM THE WHITE HORSE, FETTER LANE.<br /> -[<i>From a Print after J. Pollard.</i>]</p> - -</div></div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c p2"><span class="redtext xxxlarge"> -THE CAMBRIDGE<br /> -ELY AND KING'S<br /> -LYNN ROAD</span> <span class="b xlarge">THE<br /> -GREAT FENLAND HIGHWAY<br /> -<span class="gesperrt">BY CHARLES G. HARPER</span></span><br /> -<br /> -AUTHOR OF "THE BRIGHTON ROAD" "THE PORTSMOUTH<br /> -ROAD" "THE DOVER ROAD" "THE BATH ROAD"<br /> -"THE EXETER ROAD" "THE GREAT NORTH ROAD"<br /> -"THE NORWICH ROAD" "THE HOLYHEAD ROAD" <span class="smcap little">AND</span><br /> -"CYCLE RIDES ROUND LONDON"<br /> -<br /> -</p> -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig3.jpg" alt=""/> -<a name="eel" id="eel"></a> -</div> - -<p class="c p2 medium"> -<i>ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR, AND FROM OLD-TIME PRINTS<br /> -AND PICTURES</i></p> -<p class="c p2 redtext"> -<span class="smcap">London</span> : CHAPMAN & HALL LTD. 1902.</p> -<p class="c p2 medium"> -(<i>All Rights Reserved</i>) -</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig4.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">Preface</p> -</div></div> - - - -<p><i><span class="smcap">In</span> the course of an eloquent passage in an eulogy -of the old posting and coaching days, as opposed -to railway times, Ruskin regretfully looks back -upon "the happiness of the evening hours when, -from the top of the last hill he had surmounted, -the traveller beheld the quiet village where he -was to rest, scattered among the meadows, beside -its valley stream." It is a pretty, backward -picture, viewed through the diminishing-glass of -time, and possesses a certain specious attractiveness -that cloaks much of the very real discomfort -attending the old road-faring era. For not -always did the traveller behold the quiet village -under conditions so ideal. There were such things -as tempests, keen frosts, and bitter winds to make -his faring highly uncomfortable; to say little of -the snowstorms that half smothered him and prevented -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>his reaching his destination until his very -vitals were almost frozen. Then there were</i> -<span class="smcap">MESSIEURS</span> <i>the highwaymen, always to be reckoned -with, and it cannot too strongly be insisted upon -that until the nineteenth century had well dawned -they were always to be confidently expected at -the next lonely bend of the road. But, assuming -good weather and a complete absence of those -old pests of society, there can be no doubt that -a journey down one of the old coaching highways -must have been altogether delightful.</i></p> - -<p><i>In the old days of the road, the traveller saw -his destination afar off, and—town or city or -village—it disclosed itself by degrees to his -appreciative or critical eyes. He saw it, seated -sheltered in its vale, or, perched on its hilltop, -the sport of the elements; and so came, with a -continuous panorama of country in his mind's eye, -to his inn. By rail the present-day traveller has -many comforts denied to his grandfather, but -there is no blinking the fact that he is conveyed -very much in the manner of a parcel or a bale -of goods, and is delivered at his journeys -end oppressed with a sense of detachment never -felt by one who travelled the road in days of -old, or even by the cyclist in the present age. -The railway traveller is set down out of the void -in a strange place, many leagues from his base;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> -the country between a blank and the place to -which he has come an unknown quantity. In -so travelling he has missed much.</i></p> - -<p><i>The old roads and their romance are the heritage -of the modern tourist, by whatever method he -likes to explore them. Countless generations of men -have built up the highways, the cities, towns, villages -and hamlets along their course, and have lived -and loved, have laboured, fought and died through -the centuries. Will you not halt awhile and listen -to their story—fierce, pitiful, lovable, hateful, -tender or terrible, just as you may hap upon it; -flashing forth as changefully out of the past as -do the rays from the facets of a diamond? A -battle was fought here, an historic murder wrought -there. This way came such an one to seek his -fortune and find it; that way went another, to -lose life and fortune both. In yon house was -born the Man of his Age, for whom that age -was ripe; on yonder hillock an olden malefactor, -whom modern times would call a reformer, expiated -the crime of being born too early—there -is no cynic more consistent in his cynicism than -Time.</i></p> - -<p><i>All these have lived and wrought and thought -to this one unpremeditated end—that the tourist -travels smoothly and safely along roads once rough -and dangerous beyond belief, and that as he goes -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span>every place has a story to tell, for him to hear -if he will. If he have no ears for such, so -much the worse for him, and by so much the -poorer his faring.</i></p> - -<p class="r b"> -CHARLES G. HARPER.</p> - -<p class="l"><span class="smcap">Petersham, Surrey</span>,</p> -<p class="l3"><i>October</i> 1902. -</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p4"> </p> -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig5.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium"><span class="smcap">List of Illustrations</span></p> -</div> - - -<p class="c large"> -SEPARATE PLATES</p> - -<table class="hang"> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr"><span class="little">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The "Cambridge Telegraph" starting from the White<br /> - Horse, Fetter Lane</span><br /> - <i>From a Print after J. Pollard.</i></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#pub"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The "Star of Cambridge" starting from the Belle<br /> - Sauvage Yard, Ludgate Hill</span>, 1816<br /> - <i>From a Print after T. Young.</i></td> - <td class= "tdrb"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">"Knee-Deep": the "Lynn and Wells Mail" in a Snowstorm</span><br /> - <i>From a Print after C. Cooper Henderson.</i></td> - <td class= "tdrb"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A London Suburb in 1816: Tottenham</span><br /> - <i>From a Drawing by Rowlandson.</i></td> - <td class= "tdrb"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Waltham Cross</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The "Hull Mail" at Waltham Cross</span><br /> - <i>From a Print after J. Pollard.</i></td> - <td class= "tdrb"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Cheshunt Great House</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Hoddesdon</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Ware</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_88">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Barley</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_104">105</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Fowlmere: a typical Cambridgeshire Village</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_112">113</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Melbourn</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_128">129</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Trumpington Mill</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_136">137</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Trumpington Street, Cambridge</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Hobson, the Cambridge Carrier</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_158">159</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A Wet Day in the Fens</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Aldreth Causeway</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A Fenland Road: the Akeman Street near<br /> Stretham Bridge</span></td> - <td class= "tdrb"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Stretham Bridge</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Ely Cathedral</span><br /> - <i>After J. M. W. Turner, R.A.</i></td> - <td class= "tdrb"><a href="#Page_270">271</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Ely, from the Ouse</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_276">277</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Joseph Beeton in the Condemned Cell</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Town and Harbour of Lynn, from West Lynn</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_316">317</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td>"<span class="smcap">Clifton's House</span>"</td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_319">320</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Custom-House, Lynn</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Ferry Inn, Lynn</span></td> - <td class= "tdr"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="c large p2"> -ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT</p> - -<table class="hang"> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr"><span class="little">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Vignette: Eel-Spearing</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#eel"><i>Title-page</i></a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">List of Illustrations: Taking Toll</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_xi">xi</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Cambridge, Ely, and King's Lynn Road</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Green Dragon, Bishopsgate Street</span>, 1856<br /> - <i>From a Drawing by T. Hosmer Shepherd.</i></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Four Swans, Bishopsgate Street</span>, 1855<br /> - <i>From a Drawing by T. Hosmer Shepherd.</i></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Tottenham Cross</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Balthazar Sanchez' Almshouses, Tottenham</span> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Waltham Cross a hundred years ago</span> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Roman Urn, Cheshunt</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">76</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Charles the First's Rocking-Horse</span> </td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Clarkson's Monument</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A Monumental Milestone</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Chequers, Fowlmere</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">West Mill</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">118</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">A Quaint Corner in Royston</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Caxton Gibbet</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The First Milestone from Cambridge</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Hobson's Conduit</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Hobson</span><br /> - <i>From a Painting in Cambridge Guildhall.</i></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Market Hill, Cambridge</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Falcon, Cambridge</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167">168</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Interior of St. Sepulchre's Church</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Cambridge Castle a hundred years ago</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Landbeach</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Fens</span><br /> - <i>After Dugdale.</i></td> - <td class="tdrb"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Isle of Ely and district</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Aldreth Causeway and the Isle of Ely</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Upware Inn</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_236">237</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Wicken Fen</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Hodden Spade and Becket</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_247">248</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Stretham</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The West Front, Ely Cathedral</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Ely Cathedral, from the Littleport Road</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Littleport</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The River Road, Littleport</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Ouse</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Southery Ferry</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Kett's Oak</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Denver Hall</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Crown, Downham Market</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Castle, Downham Market</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Hogge's Bridge, Stow Bardolph</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Lynn Arms, Setchey</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The South Gates, Lynn</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Guildhall, Lynn</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Duke's Head, Lynn</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Islington</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">THE ROAD TO CAMBRIDGE, ELY,<br /> AND -KING'S LYNN</p></div> - - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="tdl">London (Shoreditch Church) to—</td><td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="smcap little"> MILES</span></td><td class="tdl"></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Kingsland</td><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Stoke Newington</td><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Stamford Hill</td><td class="tdr">3</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Tottenham High Cross</td><td class="tdr">4</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Tottenham</td><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Upper Edmonton</td><td class="tdr">6</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Lower Edmonton</td><td class="tdr">6</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Ponder's End</td><td class="tdr">8</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Enfield Highway</td><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Enfield Wash</td><td class="tdr">10</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Waltham Cross</td><td class="tdr">11</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Crossbrook Street</td><td class="tdr">12</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Turner's Hill</td><td class="tdr">13</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Cheshunt</td><td class="tdr">13</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Cheshunt Wash</td><td class="tdr">13</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Turnford</td><td class="tdr">14</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Wormley (cross New River)</td><td class="tdr">14</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Broxbourne</td><td class="tdr">15</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Hoddesdon</td><td class="tdr">17</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Great Amwell (cross New River and the Lea)</td><td class="tdr">19</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Ware</td><td class="tdr">21</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Wade's Mill (cross River Rib)</td><td class="tdr">23</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">High Cross</td><td class="tdr">23</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Collier's End</td><td class="tdr">25</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Puckeridge (cross River Rib)</td><td class="tdr">26</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Braughing</td><td class="tdr">27</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Quinbury</td><td class="tdr">28</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Hare Street</td><td class="tdr">30</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Barkway</td><td class="tdr">35</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Barley</td><td class="tdr">36</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Fowlmere</td><td class="tdr">42</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Newton</td><td class="tdr">44</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span>Hauxton (cross River Granta)</td><td class="tdr">47</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Trumpington</td><td class="tdr">48</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Cambridge (Market Hill)</td><td class="tdr">50</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> </td><td class="tdl"> </td><td class="tdl"> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">To Cambridge, through Royston—</td><td class="tdl"></td><td class="tdl"></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Puckeridge (cross River Rib)</td><td class="tdr">26</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">West Mill</td><td class="tdr">29</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Buntingford</td><td class="tdr">31</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Chipping</td><td class="tdr">32</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Buckland</td><td class="tdr">33</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Royston</td><td class="tdr">37</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Melbourn</td><td class="tdr">41</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Shepreth</td><td class="tdr">43</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Foxton Station and Level Crossing</td><td class="tdr">44</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Harston</td><td class="tdr">45</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Hauxton (cross River Granta)</td><td class="tdr">46</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Trumpington</td><td class="tdr">48</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Cambridge (Market Hill)</td><td class="tdr">51</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"> </td><td class="tdl"> </td><td class="tdl"> </td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Milton</td><td class="tdr">54</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Landbeach</td><td class="tdr">54</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Denny Abbey</td><td class="tdr">58</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Chittering</td><td class="tdr">58</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Stretham Bridge (cross Great Ouse River)</td><td class="tdr">61</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Stretham</td><td class="tdr">63</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Thetford Level Crossing</td><td class="tdr">64</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Ely</td><td class="tdr">67</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Chettisham Station and Level Crossing</td><td class="tdr">69</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Littleport</td><td class="tdr">72</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Littleport Bridge (cross Great Ouse River)</td><td class="tdr">73</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Brandon Creek (cross Little Ouse River)</td><td class="tdr">76</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Southery</td><td class="tdr">78</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Modney Bridge (cross Sams Cut Drain)</td><td class="tdr">80</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Hilgay (cross Wissey River)</td><td class="tdr">81</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Fordham</td><td class="tdr">82</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Denver</td><td class="tdr">84</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Downham Market</td><td class="tdr">85</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Wimbotsham</td><td class="tdr">86</td><td class="tdl">½</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Stow Bardolph</td><td class="tdr">87</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">South Runcton (cross River Nar)</td><td class="tdr">89</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Setchey</td><td class="tdr">92</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">West Winch</td><td class="tdr">93</td><td class="tdl">¾</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">Hardwick Bridge</td><td class="tdr">95</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl2">King's Lynn</td><td class="tdr">97</td><td class="tdl">¼</td></tr> -</table></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p4"> </p> -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig6.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">The Cambridge Ely and King's Lynn Road</p> -</div></div> - - -<p class="c large">I</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">"Sister Anne</span>, Sister Anne, do you see anyone -coming?" asks Fatima in the story of Bluebeard. -Clio, the Muse of History, shall be my Sister Anne. -I hereby set her down in the beginnings of the -Cambridge Road, bid her be retrospective, and ask -her what she sees.</p> - -<p>"I see," she says dreamily, like some medium or -clairvoyant,—"I see a forest track leading from the -marshy valley of the Thames to the still more marshy -valley of the Lea. The tribes who inhabit the land -are at once fierce and warlike, and greedy for trading -with merchants from over the narrow channel that -separates Britain from Gaul. They are fair-haired -and blue-eyed, they are dressed in the skins of wild -animals, and their chieftains wear many ornaments -of red gold." Then she is silent, for Clio, like her -eight sisters, is a very ancient personage, and like -the aged, although she knows much, cannot recall -sights and scenes without a deal of mental fumbling.</p> - -<p>"And what else do you see?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There comes along the forest track a great concourse -of soldiers. Never before were such seen in -the land. They form the advance-guard of an -invading army, and the tribes presently fly from -them, for these are the conquering Romans, whose -fame has come before them. There are none who -can withstand those soldiers."</p> - -<p>"Many a tall Roman warrior, doubtless, sleeps -where he fell, slain by wounds or disease in that -advance?"</p> - -<p>Clio is indignant and corrective. "The Romans," -she says, "were not a race of tall men. They were -undersized, but well built and of a generous chest-development. -They are, as I see them, imposing as -they march, for they advance in solid phalanx, and -their bright armour, their shields and swords, flash -like silver in the sun.</p> - -<p>"I see next," she says, "these foreign soldiers as -conquerors, settled in the land. They have an armed -camp in a clearing of the forest, where a company of -them keep watch and ward, while many more toil at -the work of making the forest track a broad and firm -military way. Among them, chained together like -beasts, and kept to their work by the whips and -blows of taskmasters, are gangs of natives, who -perform the roughest and the most unskilled of the -labour.</p> - -<p>"And after that I see four hundred years of -Roman power and civilisation fade like a dream, and -then a dim space of anarchy, lit up by the fitful -glare of fire, and stained and running red with blood. -Many strange and heathen peoples come and go in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> -this period along the road, once so broad and flat -and straight, but now grown neglected. The strange -peoples call themselves by many names,—Saxons, -Vikings, Picts, and Scots and Danes,—but their aim -is alike: to plunder and to slay. Six hundred years -pass before they bring back something of that -civilisation the Romans planted, and the land obtains -a settled Christianity and an approach to rest. And -then, when things have come to this pass, there -comes a stronger race to make the land its own. -It is the coming of the Normans.</p> - -<p>"I see the Conqueror, lord of all this land but -the Isle of Ely, coming to vanquish the English -remnant. I see him, his knights and men-at-arms, -his standard-bearers and his bowmen, marching -where the Romans marched a thousand years before, -and in three years I see the shrunken remains of his -army return, victorious, but decimated by those -conquered English and their allies, the agues and -fevers, the mires and mists of the Fens."</p> - -<p>"And then—what of the Roman Road, the -Saxon 'Ermine Street'? tell me, why does it lie -deserted and forgot?"</p> - -<p>But Clio is silent. She does not know; it is a -question rather for archæology, for which there is no -Muse at all. Nor can she tell much of the history -of the road, apart from the larger national concerns -in which it has a part. She is like a wholesale -trader, and deals only in bulk. Let us in these pages -seek to recover something from the past to illustrate -the description of these many miles.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">II</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> coach-road to Cambridge, Ely, and King's Lynn—the -modern highway—follows in general direction, -and is in places identical with, two distinct Roman -roads. From Shoreditch Church, whence it is -measured, to Royston, it is on the line of the Ermine -Street, the great direct Roman road to Lincoln and -the north of England, which, under the names of the -"North Road" and the "Old North Road," goes -straight ahead, past Caxton, to Alconbury Hill, sixty-eight -miles from London, where it becomes identical -with our own Great North Road, as far as Stamford -and Casterton.</p> - -<p>From Royston to Cambridge there would seem -never to have been any direct route, and the Romans -apparently reached Cambridge either by pursuing -the Ermine Street five miles farther, and thence -turning to the right at Arrington Bridge; or else -by Colchester, Sudbury, and Linton. Those, at -anyrate, are the ways obvious enough on modern -maps, or in the Antonine Itinerary, that Roman -road-book made about <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 200-250. We have, -however, only to exercise our own observation to -find that the Antonine Itinerary is a very inaccurate -piece of work, and that the Romans almost certainly -journeyed to <i>Camboricum</i>, their Cambridge, by way -of Epping, Bishop's Stortford, and Great Chesterford, -a route taken by several coaches sixty years -ago.</p> - -<p>From Cambridge to Ely and King's Lynn the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> -coach-road follows with more or less exactness the -Akeman Street, a Roman way in the nature of an -elevated causeway above the fens.</p> - -<p>The Ermine Street between London and Lincoln -is not noted by the Antonine Itinerary, which takes -the traveller to that city by two very indirect routes: -the one along the Watling Street as far as High -Cross, in Warwickshire, and thence to the right, along -the Fosse Way past Leicester; the other by -Colchester. The Ermine Street, leading direct to -Lincoln, is therefore generally supposed to be a -Roman road of much later date.</p> - -<p>We are not to suppose that the Romans knew -these roads by the names they now bear; names -really given by the Saxons. Ermine Street enshrines -the name of Eorman, some forgotten hero or divinity -of that people; and the Akeman Street, running from -the Norfolk coast, in a south-westerly direction -through England, to Cirencester and Bath, is generally -said to have obtained its name from invalids -making pilgrimage to the Bath waters, there to -ease them of their aches and pains. But a more -reasonable theory is that which finds the origin -of that name in a corruption of <i>Aquæ Solis</i>, the -name of Bath.</p> - -<p>No reasonable explanation has ever been advanced -of the abandonment of the Ermine Street -between Lower Edmonton and Ware, and the -choosing of the present route, running roughly -parallel with it at distances ranging from half a mile -to a mile, and by a low-lying course much more -likely to be flooded than the old Roman highway.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> -The change must have been made at an early period, -far beyond the time when history dawns on the -road, for it is always by the existing route that -travellers are found coming and going.</p> - -<p>Few know that the Roman road and the coaching -road are distinct; and yet, with the aid of a large-scale -Ordnance map, the course of the Ermine Street -can be distinctly traced. Not only so, but a day's -exploration of it, as far as its present condition, -obstructed and diverted in places, will allow, is of -absorbing interest.</p> - -<p>It makes eleven miles of, in places, rough walking, -and often gives only the satisfaction of being -close to the actual site, and not actually on it. A -straight line drawn from where the modern road -swerves slightly to the right at Northumberland -Park, Edmonton, to Ware, gives the direction the -ancient road pursued.</p> - -<p>The exact spot where the modern road leaves -the Roman way is found at Lower Edmonton, where -a Congregational Church stands in an open space, -and the houses on the left hand are seen curving -back to face a lane that branches off at this point. -This, bearing the significantly ancient name of -"Langhedge Lane," goes exactly on the line of the -Ermine Street; but it cannot be followed for more -than about a hundred yards, for it is cut through -by railways and modern buildings, and quite obliterated -for some distance. Where lanes are found -near Edmonton Rectory on the site of the ancient -way, names that are eloquent of an antiquity closely -allied with Roman times begin to appear. "Bury<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> -Hall," and, half a mile beyond it, "Bury Farm," -neighboured by an ancient moat, are examples. -"Bury" is a corruption of a Saxon word meaning -anything, from a fortified camp to a settlement, or -a hillock; and when found beside a Roman road -generally signifies (like that constantly recurring -name "Coldharbour") that the Saxons found deserted -Roman villas by the wayside. Beyond Bury -Farm the cutting of the New River in the seventeenth -century obscured some length of the Ermine -Street. A long straight lane from Forty Hill -Park, past Bull's Cross, to Theobalds, represents it -pretty accurately, as does the next length, by Bury -Green and Cheshunt Great House. Cold Hall and -Cold Hall Green mark its passing by, even though, -just here, it is utterly diverted or stopped up. -"Elbow Lane" is the name of it from the neighbourhood -of Hoddesdon to Little Amwell. Beyond -that point it plunges into narrower lanes, and -thence into pastures and woods, descending steeply -therefrom into the valley of the Lea by Ware. -In those hillside pastures, and in an occasional -wheatfield, a dry summer will disclose, in a long line -of dried-up grass or corn, the route of that ancient -paved way below the surface. A sepulchral barrow -in one of these fields, called by the rustics "Penny loaf -Hill," is probably the last resting-place of some -prehistoric traveller along this way. A quarter of -a mile from Ware the Ermine Street crossed the -Lea to "Bury Field," now a brickfield, where many -Roman coins have been found. Thenceforward it -is one with the present highway to Royston.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">III</p></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig7.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE GREEN DRAGON, BISHOPSGATE STREET, 1856.<br /> -[<i>From a Drawing by T. Hosmer Shepherd</i>]</p> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> Shoreditch Church marks the beginning -of the Cambridge Road, of the old road to the North, -and of the highways into Lincolnshire, it was always -to and from a point somewhat nearer the City of -London that the traffic along these various ways -came and went. Bishopsgate Street was of old the -great centre for coaches and vans, and until quite -modern times—until, in fact, after railways had -come—those ancient inns, the Four Swans, the -Vine, the Bull, the Green Dragon, and many -another, still faced upon the street, as for many -centuries they had done. Coaches were promptly -withdrawn on the opening of the railways, but the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>lumbering old road-waggons, with their vast tilts, -broad wheels, swinging horn-lanterns, and long -teams of horses, survived for some years later. Now -everything is changed; inns, coaches, waggons are -all gone. You will look in vain for them; and of -the most famous inn of all—the Bull, in Bishopsgate -Street Within—the slightest memory survives. -On its site rises that towering block of commercial -offices called "Palmerston House," crawling abundantly, -like some maggoty cheese, with companies -and secretaries, clerks and office-boys, who seem,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> -like mites, to writhe out of the interstices of the -stone and plaster. Overhead, on the dizzy roof, are -the clustered strands of the telegraph-wires, resembling -the meshes of some spider's web, exquisitely -typical of much that goes forward in those little -cribs and hutches of offices within. It is a sorry -change from the old Bull—the Black Bull, as -it was originally named—with its cobble-stoned -courtyard and surrounding galleries, whence audiences -looked down upon the plays of Shakespeare and -others of the Elizabethans, and so continued until -the Puritans came and stage-plays were put under -interdict. When plays were not being enacted in -that old courtyard, it was crowded with the carriers' -vans out of Cambridgeshire and the Eastern Counties -generally. "The Black Bull," we read in a -publication dated 1633, "is still looking towards -Shoreditch, to see if he can spy the carriers coming -from Cambridge." Would that it still looked -towards Shoreditch!</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig8.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE FOUR SWANS, BISHOPSGATE STREET, 1855.<br /> -[<i>From a Drawing by T. Hosmer Shepherd.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>It was to the Bull that old Hobson, the -Cambridge carrier of such great renown, drove on -his regular journeys, between 1570 and 1631. -Hobson was the precursor, the grand original, of -all the Pickfords and Carter Patersons of this -crowded age, and lives immortal, though his body -be long resolved to dust, as the originator of a -proverb. That is immortality indeed! No deed -of chivalry, no great achievement in the arts of -peace and war, shall so surely render your name -imperishable as the linking of it with some proverb -or popular saying. Who has not heard of "Hobson's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -Choice"? Have you never been confronted with -that "take it or leave it" offer yourself? For, in -truth, Hobson's Choice is no choice at all; and is, -and ever was, "that or none." The saying arose -from the livery-stable business carried on by Thomas -Hobson at Cambridge, in addition to his carrying -trade. He is, indeed, rightly or wrongly, said to -have been the first who made a business of letting -out saddle-horses. His practice, invariably followed, -was to refuse to allow any horse in his stables to -be taken out of its proper turn. "That or none" -was his unfailing formula, when the Cambridge -students, eager to pick and choose, would have -selected their own fancy in horseflesh. Every -customer was thus served alike, without favour. -Hobson's fame, instead of flickering out, has endured. -Many versified about him at his death, -but one of the best rhymed descriptions of his stable -practice was written in 1734, a hundred and three -years later, by Charles Waterton, as a translation -from the Latin of Vincent Bourne—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"In his long stable, Cambridge, you are told,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Hobson kept studs for hire in days of old,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">On this condition only—that the horse</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Nearest the door should start the first on course,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Then next to him, or none: so that each beast</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Might have its turn of labour and of rest;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">This granted, no one yet, in college dress,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Was ever known this compact to transgress.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Next to the door—next to the work; say, why</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Should such a law, so just, be doomed to die?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Remember then this compact to restore,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And let it govern as it did before.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">This done, O happy Cambridge! you will see,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Your Hobson's stud just as it ought to be."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">IV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Who</span> was that man, or who those associated -adventurers, to first establish a coach between -London and Cambridge, and when was the custom -first introduced of travelling by coach, instead of on -horseback, along this road? No one can say. We -can see now that he who first set up a Cambridge -coach must of necessity have been great and forceful: -as great a man as Hobson, in whose time people -were well content to hire horses and ride them; but -although University wits have sung the fame of -Hobson, the greater innovator and the date of his -innovation alike remain unknown. It is vaguely -said that the first Cambridge coach was started in -the reign of Charles the Second, but Pepys, who -might have been trusted to mention so striking a -novelty, does not refer to such a thing, and, as on -many other roads, we hear nothing definite until -1750, when a Cambridge coach went up and down -twice a week, taking two whole days each way, staying -the night at Barkway going, and at Epping -returning. The same team of horses dragged the -coach the whole way. There was in this year a -coach through to Lynn, once a week, setting out on -Fridays in summer and Thursdays in winter.</p> - -<p>In 1753 a newer era dawned. There were then two -conveyances for Cambridge, from the Bull and the -Green Dragon in Bishopsgate: one leaving Tuesdays -and Fridays, the other Wednesdays and Saturdays, -reaching the Blue Boar and the Red Lion, Cambridge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> -the same night and returning the following day, -when that day did not happen to be Sunday.</p> - -<p>Each of these stage-coaches carried six passengers, -all inside, and the fares were about twopence-halfpenny -a mile in summer and threepence in winter. -The cost of a coach journey between London and -Cambridge was then, therefore, about twelve shillings.</p> - -<p>Hobson's successors in the carrying business had -by this time increased to three carriers, owning two -waggons each. There were thus six waggons continually -going back and forth in the mid-eighteenth -century. They took two and a half days to perform -the fifty-one miles, and "inned" at such places as -Hoddesdon, Ware, Royston, and Barkway, where they -would be drawn up in the coachyards of the inns at -night, and those poor folk who travelled by them at -the rate of three-halfpence a mile would obtain an -inexpensive supper, with a shakedown in loft or barn.</p> - -<p>The coaches at this period did by much effort -succeed in performing the journey in one day, but it -was a long day. They started early and came late -to their journey's end; setting out at four o'clock in -the morning, and coming to their destination at -seven in the evening; a pace of little more than -three miles an hour.</p> - -<p>In 1763, owing partly to the improvements that -had taken place along the road, and more perhaps to -the growing system of providing more changes of -horses and shorter stages, the "London and Cambridge -Diligence" is found making the journey daily, -in eight hours, by way of Royston, "performed -by J. Roberts of the White Horse, Fetter Lane;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> -Thomas Watson's, the Red Lyon, Royston; and Jacob -Brittain, the Sun, Cambridge." The "Diligence" -ran light, carrying three passengers only, at a fare of -thirteen shillings and sixpence. There were in this -same year two other coaches; the "Fly," daily, from -the Queen's Head, Gray's Inn Lane, by way of Epping -and Chesterford, to the Rose on the Market Hill, -Cambridge, at a fare of twelve shillings; and the -"Stage," daily, to the Red Lion, Petty Cury, carrying -four passengers at ten shillings each.</p> - -<p>We hear little at this period of coaches or -waggons on to Ely and King's Lynn. Cambridgeshire -and Norfolk roads were only just being made -good, after many centuries of neglect, and Cambridge -town was still, as it always had been (strange though -it may now seem), something of a port. The best -and safest way was to take boat or barge by Cam -and Ouse, rather than face the terrors of roads -almost constantly flooded. Gillam's, Burleigh's, and -Salmon's waggons, which at this time were advertised -to ply between London and Cambridge, transferred -their loads on to barges at the quays by Great Bridge. -Indeed it was not until railways came that Cambridge -ceased to depend largely upon the rivers, and the -coals burnt, the wine drank, and the timber used -were water-borne to the very last. Hence we find -the town always in the old days peculiarly distressed -in severe winters when the waterways were frozen; -and hence, too, the remonstrance made by the -Mayor and Corporation when Denver Sluice was -rebuilt in 1745, "to the hindering of the navigation -to King's Lynn."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1796, the roads now moderately safe, a stage-coach -is found plying from Cambridge to Ely and -back in one day, replacing the old "passage-boats"; -but Lynn, as far as extant publications tell us, was -still chiefly approachable by water. In this year -Cambridge enjoyed a service of six coaches between -the town and London, four of them daily; the -remaining two running three times a week. The -Mail, on the road ten years past, started at eight -o'clock every night from the Bull and Mouth, London, -and, going by Royston, arrived at the Sun, Cambridge, -at 3.30 the following morning. The old "Diligence," -which thirty-three years before had performed the -journey in eight hours, now is found to take nine, and -to have raised its fares from thirteen shillings and sixpence -to one guinea, going to the Hoop instead of -the Sun. The "Fly," still by Epping and Great -Chesterford, has raised its fares from twelve shillings -to eighteen shillings, and now takes "outsides" at -nine shillings. It does not, however, fly very swiftly, -consuming ten hours on the way. "Prior's Stage" -is one of the new concerns, leaving the Bull, -Bishopsgate Street, at eight in the morning on -Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and, going by -Barkway, arriving at some unnamed hour at the Red -Lion, Petty Cury. It conveys six passengers at -fifteen shillings inside and eight shillings out, like -its competitor, "Hobson's Stage," setting out on -Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays from the -Green Dragon, Bishopsgate Street, for the Blue Boar, -Cambridge. "Hobson's" is another new-comer, -merely trading on the glamour of the old name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> -The "Night Post Coach" of this year, starting from -the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, every afternoon at -5.30, went by Epping and Great Chesterford. It -carried only four passengers inside, at fifteen shillings -each, and a like number outside at nine shillings. -Travelling all night, and through the dangerous -glades of Epping Forest, the old advertisement -especially mentions it to be "guarded." Passing -through many nocturnal terrors, the "Night Post -Coach" finally drew up in the courtyard of the still-existing -Eagle and Child (now called the Eagle) at -Cambridge, at three o'clock in the morning.</p> - -<p>The next change seems to have been in 1804, -when the "Telegraph" was advertised to cover the -fifty-one miles in seven hours,—and made the promise -good. People said it was all very well, but shook -their heads and were of opinion that it would not -last. In 1821, however, we find the "Telegraph" -still running, and actually in six hours, starting -every morning at nine o'clock from the White Horse -in Fetter Lane, going by Barkway, and arriving at -the Sun at Cambridge at 3 p.m. This is the coach -shown in Pollard's picture in the act of leaving the -White Horse. In the meanwhile, however, in 1816 -another and even faster coach, the "Star of -Cambridge," was established, and, if we may go so -far as to believe the statement made on the rare old -print showing it leaving the Belle Sauvage Yard -on Ludgate Hill in that year, it performed the -journey in four hours and a half! Allowing for -necessary stops for changing on the way, this would -give a pace of over eleven miles an hour; and we may -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a><br /><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a><br /><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>perhaps, in view of what both the roads and coaching -enterprise were like at that time, be excused from -believing that, apart from the special effort of any -one particular day, it ever did anything of the kind; -even in 1821, five years later, as already shown, the -"Telegraph," the crack coach of the period on this -road, took six hours!</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig9.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE "STAR OF CAMBRIDGE" STARTING FROM THE BELLE SAUVAGE YARD, LUDGATE HILL, 1816.<br /> -[<i>From a Print after T. Young.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>Let us see what others there were in 1821. To -Cambridge went the "Safety," every day, from the -Boar and Castle, Oxford Street, and the Bull, -Aldgate, leaving the Bull at 3 p.m. and arriving at -Cambridge, by way of Royston, in six hours; the -"Tally Ho," from the Bull, Holborn, every afternoon -at two o'clock, by the same route in the same time; -the "Royal Regulator," daily, from the New Inn, -Old Bailey, in the like time, by Epping and -Great Chesterford; the old "Fly," daily, from the -George and Blue Boar, Holborn and the Green -Dragon, Bishopsgate, at 9 a.m., by the same route, -in seven hours; the "Cambridge Union," daily, from -the White Horse, Fetter Lane and the Cross Keys, -Wood Street, at 8 a.m., by Royston, in eight hours, -to the Blue Boar, Cambridge; the "Cambridge New -Royal Patent Mail," still by Royston, arriving at -the Bull, Cambridge, in seven and a half hours; the -"Cambridge and Ely" coach, every evening at 6 p.m., -from the Golden Cross and the White Horse, arriving -at the Eagle and Child, Cambridge, in ten hours; and -the "Cambridge Auxiliary Mail," and two other -coaches, which do not appear to have borne any -distinctive names, the duration of whose pilgrimage -is not specified.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> - -<p>Cambridge was therefore provided in 1821 with -no fewer than twelve coaches a day, starting from -London at all hours, from a quarter to eight in the -morning until half-past six in the afternoon. There -were also the "Lynn and Wells Mail," every evening, -reaching Lynn in twelve hours thirty-three minutes; -and the "Lynn Post Coach," through Cambridge, -starting every morning from the Golden Cross, -Charing Cross, and reaching Lynn in thirteen hours. -The "Lynn Union" ran three days a week, in -thirteen and a half hours, through Barkway. Other -Lynn stages were the "Lord Nelson," "Lynn and -Fakenham Post Coach," and two not dignified by -specific names.</p> - -<p>By 1828 the average speed was greatly improved, -for although no coach reached Cambridge in less than -six hours, there was, on the other hand, only one -that took so long a time as seven hours and a half. -The Mail had been accelerated by one hour, throughout -to Lynn, and was, before driven off the road, further -quickened, the post-office schedule of time for the -London, Cambridge, King's Lynn, and Wells Mail in -1845 standing as under:—</p> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="tdl">London (G.P.O.)</td><td class="tdr">8.0</td><td class="tdl2">p.m.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Wade's Mill</td><td class="tdr">10.32</td><td class="c">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Buckland</td><td class="tdr">11.43</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Melbourn</td><td class="tdr">12.32</td><td class="tdl2">a.m.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Cambridge</td><td class="tdr">1.36</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Ely</td><td class="tdr">3.31</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Brandon Creek</td><td class="tdr">4.27</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Downham Market</td><td class="tdr">5.21</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Lynn</td><td class="tdr">6.33</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Wells</td><td class="tdr">10.43</td><td class="tdc">"</td></tr> -</table></div> - - -<p>In the 'forties, up to 1846 and 1847, the last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> -years of coaching on this road, the number of coaches -does not seem to have greatly increased. The "Star" -was still, meteor-like, making its swift daily journey -to the Hoop at Cambridge, and the "Telegraph," -"Regulator," "Times," and "Fly," and the "Mail," -of course, were old-established favourites; but new -names are not many. The "Regulator," indeed,—the -daily "Royal Regulator" of years before,—is found -going only three times weekly. The "Red Rover," -however, was a new-comer, between London and -Lynn daily; with the "Norfolk Hero" (which was -probably another name for Nelson) three days a -week between London, Cambridge, Ely, Lynn, and -Wells. Recently added Cambridge coaches were the -Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday "Bee Hive," and -the daily "Rocket"; while one daily and two triweekly -coaches through Cambridge to Wisbeach—the -daily "Rapid"; the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday -"Day"; and the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday -"Defiance," make their appearance.</p> - -<p>How do those numbers compare with the number -of trains run daily to Cambridge in our own time? -It is not altogether a fair comparison, because the -capacities of a coach and of a railway train are so -radically different. Twenty-nine trains run by all -routes from London to Cambridge, day by day, and -they probably, on an average, set down five hundred -passengers between them at the joint station. Taking -the average way-bill of a coach to contain ten -passengers, the daily arrivals at Cambridge were a -hundred and sixty, or, adding twenty post-chaises -daily with two passengers each, a hundred and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> -eighty. These are only speculative figures, but, unsupported -by exact data though they must be, they -give an approximation to an idea of the growth of -traffic between those times and these. The imagination -refuses to picture this daily host being conveyed -by road. It would have meant some thirty-five -coaches, fully laden, and as for goods and general -merchandise, the roads could not possibly have -sufficed for the carrying of them.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">V</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Coaching</span> on the road from London to Lynn has -found some literary expression in the <i>Autobiography -of a Stage Coachman</i>, the work of Thomas Cross, -published in 1861. Cross was a remarkable man. -Born in 1791, he may fairly be said to have been -born to the box-seat, his father, John Cross, having -been a mail-contractor and stage-coach proprietor -established at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross. -The Cross family, towards the end of the eighteenth -century, claimed to rank with the county families -of Hampshire, and John Cross was himself a man -of wealth. He had inherited some, and had made -more by fetching and carrying for the Government -along the old Portsmouth Road in the romantic days -of our long wars with France. He not only had his -establishment in London and a town house in Portsmouth, -but also the three separate and distinct -country seats of Freeland House and Stodham, near -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a><br /><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a><br /><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>Petersfield, and the house and grounds of Qualletes, -at Horndean, purchased in after years by Admiral Sir -Charles Napier, and renamed by him "Merchistoun." -John Cross was always headstrong and reckless, and -made much money—and lost much. The story of -how he would fill his pockets with gold at his bank -at Portsmouth and then ride the lonely twenty miles -thence to Horndean explains his making and his losing. -No cautious traveller in those times went alone by that -road, and the highwaymen tried often to bag this particularly -well-known man, who carried such wealth on -him. "Many a shot I've had at old John Cross of -Stodham," said one of these gentry when lying, cast -for execution, in Portsmouth Gaol; adding regretfully, -"but I couldn't hit him: he rode like the -devil."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig10.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">"KNEE-DEEP": THE "LYNN AND WELLS MAIL" IN A SNOWSTORM.<br /> -[<i>From a Print after C. Cooper Henderson.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>This fine reckless character lived to dissipate -everything in ill-judged speculations, and misfortunes -of all kinds visited the family. We are told but -little of them in the pages of his son's book, but -it was entirely owing to one of these visitations that -Thomas Cross found his whole career changed. -Destined by his father for the Navy, he was -entered as a midshipman, but he had been subject -from his birth to fits, and coming home on one -occasion and going into the cellars of a wine business -his father had in the meanwhile taken, he was -seized by one of these attacks, and falling on a -number of wine-bottles, was so seriously injured -that the profession of the Navy had to be abandoned. -We afterwards find him as a farmer in Hampshire, -and then, involved in the financial disasters that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> -overtook the family, reduced to seeking an engagement -as coachman in the very yard his father had -once owned. It is curious that, either intentionally -or by accident, he does not mention the name of -the coach he drove between London and Lynn, but -calls it always "the Lynn coach." There were -changes on the road between 1821, when he first -drove along it, and 1847, when he was driven off, -but he is chiefly to be remembered as the driver of -the "Lynn Union." He tells how he came to the -box-seat, how miserably he was shuttlecocked from -one to the other when in search of employment, and -how, when the whip who drove the "Lynn coach" -on its stage between Cambridge and London had -taken an inn and was about to relinquish his seat, -he could obtain no certain information that the post -would be vacant. The bookkeeper of the coach-office -said it would; the coachman himself told a lie and -said he was not going to give up the job. In this -condition of affairs Cross did not know what to do, -until a kindly acquaintance gave him the date upon -which the lying Jehu must take possession of his -inn and of necessity give up coaching, and advised -him to journey down to Cambridge, meet the up -coach there as it drove into the Bull yard, and -present himself as the coachman come to take it up -to London. Cross scrupulously carried out this suggestion, -and when he made his appearance, with -whip and in approved coaching costume, at the -Bull, and was asked who he was and what he wanted, -replied as his friend had indicated. No one offered -any objection, and no other coachman had appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -by the time he drove away, punctual to the very -second we may be quite sure. An old resident of -Lynn, who has written his recollections of bygone -times in that town, tells us that Thomas Cross "was -not much of a whip," a criticism that seems to be -doubly underscored in Cross's own description of -this first journey to London, when he drove straight -into the double turnpike gates that then stretched -across the Kingsland Road, giving everyone a good -shaking, and cause, in many bruises, to remember -his maiden effort.</p> - -<p>Cross had a long and varied experience, extending -to twenty-eight years, of this road. At different -times he drove between London and Cambridge, -on the middle ground between Cambridge and Ely, -and for a while took the whole distance between -Ely and Lynn. He drove in his time all sorts and -conditions of men, and instances some of his experiences. -Perhaps the most amusing was that -occasion when he drove into Cambridge with a -choleric retired Admiral on the box-seat. The old -sea-dog was come to Cambridge to inquire into the -trouble into which a scapegrace son had managed to -place himself. He confided the whole story to the -coachman. By this it seemed that the Admiral had -two sons. One he had designed to make a sailor; -the other was being educated for the Church. It -was the embryo parson who had got into trouble: -very serious trouble, too, for he had knocked down -a Proctor, and was rusticated for that offence. The -Admiral, in fact, had made a very grave error of -judgment. His sons had very opposite characters:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> -the one was wild and high-spirited, and the other -was meek and mild to the last degree of inoffensiveness. -Unfortunately it was this good young -man whom he had sent to sea, while his devil's -cub he had put in the way of reading for Holy -Orders.</p> - -<p>"I have committed a great mistake, sir," he -said. "I ought to have made a sailor of him and -a parson of the other, who is a meek, unassuming -youth aboard ship, with nothing to say for himself; -while this, sir, would knock the devil down, let -alone a Proctor, if he offended him."</p> - -<p>The Admiral was a study in the mingled moods -of offended dignity and of parental pride in this chip -of the old block; breathing implacable vengeance one -moment and admiration of a "d——d high-spirited -fellow" the next. When Thomas Cross set out on -his return journey to London, he saw the Admiral -and his peccant son together, the best of friends.</p> - -<p>Cross was in his prime when railways came and -spoiled his career. In 1840, when the Northern and -Eastern line was opened to Broxbourne, and thence, -shortly after, to Bishop Stortford, he had to give -up the London and Cambridge stage and retire -before the invading locomotive to the Cambridge -and Lynn journey. In 1847, when the Ely to Lynn -line was opened, his occupation was wholly gone, -and all attempts to find employment on the railway -failed. They would not have him, even to ring the -bell when the trains were about to start. Then, like -many another poor fellow at that time, he presented an -engrossed petition to Parliament, setting forth how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -hardly circumstances had dealt with him, and hoping -that "your honourable House" would do something -or another. The House, however, was largely composed -of members highly interested in railways, and -ordered his petition, with many another, to lie on -the table: an evasive but well-recognised way of -utterly ignoring him and it and all such troublesome -and inconvenient things and persons. Alas! poor -Thomas! He had better have saved the money he -expended on that engrossing.</p> - -<p>What became of him? I will tell you. For -some years he benefited by the doles of his old -patrons on the "Union," sorry both for him and for -the old days of the road, gone for ever. He then -wrote a history of coaching, a work that disappeared—type, -manuscript, proofs and all—in the bankruptcy -proceedings in which his printers were presently -involved. Then he wrote his <i>Autobiography</i>. He -was, you must understand, a gentleman by birth and -education, and if he had little literary talent, had at -least some culture. Therefore the story of his career, -as told by himself, although discursive, is interesting. -He had some Greek and more Latin, and thought -himself a poet. I have, however, read his epic, <i>The -Pauliad</i>, and find that in this respect he was mistaken. -That exercise in blank verse was published -in 1863, and was his last work. Two years later he -found a place in Huggens' College, a charitable -foundation at Northfleet, near Gravesend; and died -in 1877, in his eighty-sixth year, after twelve years' -residence in that secure retreat. He lies in Northfleet -churchyard, far away from that place where he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> -be,—the little churchyard of Catherington beside the -Portsmouth Road, where his father and many of his -people rest.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">VI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Few</span> and fragmentary are the recollections of the -old coachmen of the Cambridge Road. A coloured -etching exists, the work of Dighton, purporting to -show the driver of the "Telegraph" in 1809; but -whether this represents that Richard Vaughan of the -same coach, praised in the book on coaching by Lord -William Pitt-Lennox as "scientific in horseflesh, -unequalled in driving," is doubtful, for the hero of -Dighton's picture seems to belong to an earlier -generation. Among drivers of the "Telegraph" -were "Old Quaker Will" and George Elliott, just -mentioned by Thomas Cross; himself not much -given to enlarging upon other coachmen and their -professional skill. Poor Tommy necessarily moved -in their circle; but although with them, he was not -of them, and nursed a pride both of his family and -of his own superior education that grew more -arrogant as his misfortunes increased. As for -Tommy himself, we have already heard much of him -and his <i>Autobiography of a Stage Coachman</i>. The -"Lynn Union," however, the coach he drove down -part of the road one day and up the next, was by no -means one of the crack "double" coaches, but started -from either end only three times a week, and -although upset every now and again, was a jog<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>trot -affair that averaged but seven miles an hour, -including stops. That the "Lynn Union" commonly -carried a consignment of shrimps one way and the -returned empty baskets another was long one of Cross's -minor martyrdoms. He drove along the road, his -head full of poetry and noble thoughts, and yearning -for cultured talk, while the shrimp-baskets diffused -a penetrating odour around, highly offensive to those -cultured folk for whose society his soul longed. -People with a nice sense of smell avoided the "Lynn -Union" while the shrimp-carrying continued.</p> - -<p>Contemporary with Cross was Jo Walton, of the -"Safety," and later of the "Star." He was perhaps -one of the finest coachmen who ever drove on the -Cambridge Road, and it was possibly the knowledge -of this skill, and the daring to which it led, that -brought so many mishaps to the "Star" while he -wielded the reins. He has been described as "a -man who swore like a trooper and went regularly to -church," with a temper like an emperor and a grip like -steel. This fine picturesque character was the very -antithesis of the peaceful and dreamy Cross, and -thought nothing of double-thonging a nodding -waggoner who blocked the road with his sleepy team. -Twice at least he upset the "Star" between Royston -and Buntingford when attempting to pass another -coach. He, at last, was cut short by the railway, -and his final journeys were between Broxbourne -and Cambridge. "Here," he would say bitterly, as -the train came steaming into Broxbourne Station, -"here comes old Hell-in-Harness!"</p> - -<p>Of James Reynolds, of Pryor, who drove the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> -"Rocket," of many another, their attributes are lost -and only their names survive. That William Clark, -who drove the "Bee Hive," should have been widely -known as "the civil coachman" is at once a testimonial -to him and a reproach to the others; and -that memories of Briggs at Lynn should be restricted -to the facts that he was discontented and quarrelsome -is a post-mortem certificate of character that gains -in significance when even the name of the coach he -drove cannot be recovered.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">VII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Bishopsgate Street Within</span> and Without, and Norton -Folgate of to-day, would astonish old Hobson, not -only with their press of ordinary traffic, but with -the vast number of railway lorries rattling and -thundering along, to and from the great Bishopsgate -Goods Station of the Great Eastern Railway; the -railway that has supplanted the coaches and the -carriers' waggons along the whole length of this -road. That station, once the passenger terminus of -Shoreditch, before the present huge one at Liverpool -Street was built, remains as a connecting-link -between the prosperous and popular "Great Eastern" -of to-day and the reviled and bankrupt "Eastern -Counties" of fifty years ago. The history of the -Great Eastern Railway is a complicated story of -amalgamations of many lines with the original -Eastern Counties Railway. The line to Cambridge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> -with which we are principally concerned, was in the -first instance the project of an independent company -calling itself the Northern and Eastern Railway, -opened after many difficulties as far as Broxbourne -in 1840, and thence, shortly afterwards, to Bishop -Stortford. Having reached that point and the end -of its resources simultaneously, it was taken over by -the Eastern Counties and completed in 1847, the -line going, as the Cambridge expresses do nowadays, -<i>viâ</i> Audley End and Great Chesterford.</p> - -<p>Having thus purchased and completed the scheme -of that unfortunate line, the Eastern Counties' own -difficulties became acute. Locomotives and rolling -stock were seized for debt, and it fell into bankruptcy -and the Receiver's hands. How it emerged at last, a -sound and prosperous concern, this is not the place -to tell, but many years passed before any passenger -whose business took him anywhere along the Eastern -Counties' "system" could rely upon being carried -to his destination without vexatious delays, not of -minutes, but of hours. Often the trains never -completed their journeys at all, and came back whence -they had started. Little wonder that this was then -described as "that scapegoat of companies, that -pariah of railways."</p> - -<p>"On Wednesday last," said <i>Punch</i> at this time, -"a respectably-dressed young man was seen to go to -the Shoreditch terminus of the Eastern Counties -Railway and deliberately take a ticket for Cambridge. -He has not since been heard of. No motive has -been assigned for the rash act."</p> - -<p>The best among the Great Eastern Cambridge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> -expresses of to-day does the journey of 55¾ miles in -1 hour 13 minutes. Onward to Lynn, 97 miles, -the best time made is 2 hours 25 minutes.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">VIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is a far cry from Shoreditch Church to the open -country. Cobbett, in 1822, journeying from London -to Royston, found the suburbs far-reaching even -then. "On this road," he says, "the enormous -Wen" (a term of contempt by which he indicated the -Metropolis) "has swelled out to the distance of above -six or seven miles." But from the earliest times -London exhibited a tendency to expand more quickly -in this direction than in others, and Edmonton, -Waltham Cross, and Ware lay within the marches -of Cockaigne long before places within a like radius -at other points of the compass began to lose their -rural look. The reason is not far to seek, and may -be found in the fact that this, the great road to the -North, was much travelled always.</p> - -<p>But where shall we set the limits of the Great Wen -in recent times? Even as these lines are written they -are being pushed outwards. It is not enough to -put a finger on the map at Stamford Hill and to -say, "here, at the boundary of the London County -Council's territory," or "here at Edmonton, the -limit of the 'N' division of the London Postal -Districts," or, again, "here, where the Metropolitan -Police Area meets the territories of the Hertfordshire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -and the Essex Constabulary at Cheshunt"; for those -are but arbitrary bounds, and, beyond their own individual -significances, tell us nothing. Have you ever, -as a child, looking, large-eyed and a little frightened -it may be, out upon the bigness of London, wondered -where the houses ended and Gods own country -began, or asked where the last house of the last -street looked out upon the meadows, and the final -flag-stone led on to the footpath of the King's -Highway?</p> - -<p>I have asked, and there was none to tell, and if -you in turn ask me where the last house of the -ultimate street stands on this way out of London—I -do not know! There are so many last houses, -and they always begin again; so that little romantic -mental picture does not exist in plain fact. The -ending of London is a gradual and almost insensible -process. You may note it when, leaving Stoke -Newington's continuous streets behind, you rise -Stamford Hill and perceive its detached and semi-detached -residences; and, pressing on, see the streets -begin again at Tottenham High Cross, continuing to -Lower Edmonton. Here at last, in the waste lands -that stretch along the road, you think the object of -your search is found. As well seek that fabled pot -of gold at the foot of the rainbow. The pot and the -gold may be there, but you will never, never reach -the rainbow.</p> - -<p>The houses begin again, absurdly enough, at -Ponder's End. You will come to an end of them at -last, but only gradually, and when, at fifteen and -three-quarter miles from Shoreditch Church, Brox<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>bourne -and the first glimpse of "real country" are -reached, the original quest is forgotten.</p> - -<p>Very different was the aspect of these first miles -out of London in the days of Izaak Walton, Cowper, -and Lamb. Cowper's Johnny Gilpin rode to -Edmonton and Ware, and Walton and Lamb—the -inspired Fleet Street draper and the thrall of the -Leadenhall Street office—are literary co-parceners in -the valley of the Lea.</p> - -<p>"You are well overtaken, gentlemen," says -Piscator, in the <i>Compleat Angler</i>, journeying -from London; "a good morning to you both. I -have stretched my legs up Tottenham Hill to overtake -you, hoping your business may occasion you -towards Ware, whither I am going this fine, fresh -May morning." He meant that suburban eminence -known as Stamford Hill, where, in the beginning of -May 1603, the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs of London, -having ridden out in State for the purpose, met -James the First travelling to London to assume the -Crown of England.</p> - -<p>Stamford Hill still shadows forth a well-established -prosperity. It was the favoured suburban resort of -City merchants in the first half of the nineteenth -century, and is still intensely respectable and well-to-do, -even though the merchants have risen with -the swelling of their bankers' pass-books to higher -ambitions, and though many of their solid, stolid, -and prim mansions know them no more, and are -converted not infrequently into what we may bluntly -call "boys' and girls' schools," termed, however, by -their respective Dr. Blimber's and Miss Pinkerton's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> -"scholastic establishments for young ladies and -young gentlemen." The old-time City merchant -who resided at Stamford Hill when the nineteenth -century was young (a period when people began to -"reside" in "desirable residences" instead of merely -living in houses), used generally, if he were an active -man, to go up to his business in the City on horseback, -and return in the same way. If not so active, -he came and went by the "short stage," a conveyance -between London and the adjacent towns, to all -intents and purposes an ordinary stage-coach, except -that it was a two-horsed, instead of a four-horsed, -affair. The last City man who rode to London on -horseback has probably long since been gathered to -his fathers, for the practice naturally was discontinued -when railways came and revolutionised -manners and customs.</p> - -<p>As you top Stamford Hill, you glimpse the -valley of the Lea and its factory-studded marshes, -and come presently to Tottenham High Cross. -No need to linger nowadays over the scenery of -this populous road, lined with shops and villas and -crowded with tramways and omnibuses; no need, -that is to say, except for association's sake, and -to remark that it was here Piscator called a halt -to Venator and Auceps, on their way to the -Thatched House at Hoddesdon, now going on for -two hundred and fifty years ago. "Let us now" -(he said) "rest ourselves in this sweet, shady arbour, -which Nature herself has woven with her own fine -fingers; it is such a contexture of woodbines, sweet -briars, jessamine, and myrtle, and so interwoven as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> -will secure us both from the sun's violent heat and -from the approaching shower." And so they sat -and discussed a bottle of sack, with oranges -and milk.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig11.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">TOTTENHAM CROSS. -</p> -</div> - -<p>So gracious a "contexture" is far to seek from -Tottenham nowadays. If you need shelter from -the approaching shower you can, it is true, obtain -it more securely in the doorway of a shop than -under a hedgerow in May, when Nature has not -nearly finished her weaving; but there is something -lacking in the exchange.</p> - -<p>Tottenham High Cross that stands here by, over -against the Green, is a very dubious affair indeed; -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a><br /><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>an impostor that would delude you if possible into -the idea that it is one of the Eleanor Crosses; with -a will-o'-wisp kind of history, from the time in -1466, when it is found mentioned only as existing, -to after ages, when it was new-built of brick and -thereafter horribly stuccoed, to the present, when -it is become a jibe and a jeer in its would-be Gothic.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig12.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">A LONDON SUBURB IN 1816: TOTTENHAM.<br /> -[<i>From a Drawing by Rowlandson.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>Much of old Tottenham is gone. Gone are the -"Seven Sisters," the seven elms that stood here in -a circle, with a walnut-tree in their midst, marking, -as tradition would have you believe, the resting-place -of a martyr; but in their stead is the -beginning of the Seven Sisters' Road: not a -thoroughfare whose romance leaps to the eye. -What these then remote suburbs were like in -1816 may be seen in this charming sketch of -Rowlandson's, where he is found in his more sober -mood. The milestone in the sketch marks four -and three-quarter miles from Shoreditch: this is -therefore a scene at Tottenham, where the tramway -runs nowadays, costermongers' barrows line the -gutters, and crowds press, night and day. Little -enough traffic in Rowlandson's time, evidently, -for the fowls and the pigs are taking their ease -in the very middle of the footpath.</p> - -<p>Yet there are still a few vestiges of the old and -the picturesque here. Bruce Grove, hard by, may -be but a name, reminiscent of Robert Bruce and -other Scottish monarchs who once owned a manor -and a castle where suburban villas now cluster -plentifully, and where the modern so-called "Bruce -Castle" is a school; but there are dignified old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -red-brick mansions here still, lying back from the -road behind strong walls and grand gates of -wrought iron. The builder has his eye on them, -an Evil Eye that has already blasted not a few, -and with bulging money-bags he tempts the owners -of the others: even as I write they go down before -the pick and shovel.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig13.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">BALTHAZAR SANCHEZ' ALMSHOUSES, TOTTENHAM. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Old almshouses there are, too, with dedicatory -tablet, complete. The builder and his money-bags -cannot prevail here, you think. Can he not? My -<i>good</i> sirs, have you never heard of the Charity -Commissioners, whose business it is to sit in their -snug quarters in Whitehall and to propound -"schemes" whereby such old buildings as these -are torn down, their sites sold for a mess of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> -pottage, and the old pensioners hustled off to some -new settlement? "But look at the value of the -land," you say: "to sell it would admit of the -scope of the charity being doubled." No doubt; -but what of the original testator's wishes? I think, -if it were proposed to remove these old almshouses, -the shade of Balthazar Sanchez, the founder, -somewhere in the Beyond, would be grieved.</p> - -<p>One Bedwell, parson of Tottenham High Cross -<i>circa</i> 1631, and a most diligent Smelfungus, tells -us Balthazar was "a Spanyard born, the first -confectioner or comfit-maker, and the grand master -of all that professe that trade in this kingdome"; -and the tablet before-mentioned, on the front of the -old almshouses themselves, tells us something on its -own account, as thus—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">"1600</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Balthazar Sanchez, Borne in Spayne</span><br /> -<span class="i0">in the Cittie of Sherez in Estremadura,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">is the Fownder of these Eyght</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Almeshowses for the Releefe of</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Eyght poor men and women of the</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Towne of Tattenham High Crasse."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Long may the queer old houses, with their monumental -chimney-stalks and forecourt gardens -remain: it were not well to vex the ghost of the -good comfit-maker.</p> - -<p>"Scotland Green" is the name of an odd and -haphazard collection of cottages next these almshouses, -looking down into Tottenham Marshes. -Its name derives from the far-off days when those -Scottish monarchs had their manor-house near by,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -and though the weather-boarded architecture of the -cottages by no means dates back to those times, -it is a queer survival of days before Tottenham -had become a suburb; each humble dwelling -law to itself, facing in a direction different from -those of its neighbours, and generally approached -by crazy wooden footbridges over what was probably -at one time a tributary of the Lea, now an evil-smelling -ditch where the children of the neighbourhood -enjoy themselves hugely in making mud-pies, -and by dint of early and constant familiarity -become immune from the typhoid fever that would -certainly be the lot of a stranger.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">IX</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Edmonton</span>, to whose long street we now come, has -many titles to fame. John Gilpin may not afford -the oldest of these, and he may be no more than -the purely imaginary figure of a humorous ballad, -but beside the celebrity of that worthy citizen and -execrable horseman everything else at Edmonton -sinks into obscurity.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"John Gilpin was a citizen</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Of credit and renown,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A train-band captain eke was he</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Of famous London town."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Izaak Walton himself, of indubitable flesh and blood, -forsaking his yard-measure and Fleet Street counter -and tramping through Edmonton to the fishful Lea,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> -has not made so great a mark as his fictitious fellow-tradesman, -the draper of Cheapside.</p> - -<p>Who has not read of John Gilpin's ride to -Edmonton, in Cowper's deathless verse? Cowper, -most melancholy of poets, made the whole English-speaking -world laugh with the story of Gilpin's -adventures. How he came to write the ballad -it may not be amiss to tell. The idea was suggested -to him at Olney, in 1782, by Lady Austen, who, to -rouse him from one of his blackest moods, related -a merry tale she had heard of a London citizen's -adventures, identical with the verses into which he -afterwards cast the story. He lay awake all that -night, and the next morning, with the idea of -amusing himself and his friends, wrote the famous -lines. He had no intention of publishing them, -but his friend, Mrs. Unwin, sent a copy to the -<i>Public Advertiser</i>. Strange to say, it did not -attract much attention in those columns, and it -was not until three years later, when an actor, -Henderson by name, recited the ballad at Freemasons' -Hall that (as modern slang would put it) -it "caught on." It then became instantly popular. -Every ballad-printer printed, and every artist -illustrated it; but the author remained unknown -until Cowper included it in a collection of his -works.</p> - -<p>There are almost as many originals of John -Gilpin as there are of Sam Weller. There used to -be numbers of respectable and ordinarily dependable -people who were convinced they knew the original -of Sam Weller, in dozens of different persons and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -widely-sundered towns, and the literary world is -even now debating as to who sat as the model for -Squeers. So far back as the reign of Henry the Eighth -the ludicrous idea of a London citizen trying to -ride horseback to Edmonton made people laugh, and -on it Sir Thomas More based his metrical "Merry -Jest of the Serjeant and the Frère." It would be -no surprise to discover that Aristophanes or another -waggish ancient Greek had used the same idea to -poke fun at some clumsy Athenian, and that, even -so, it was stolen from the Egyptians. Indeed, I -have no doubt that the germ of the story is to be -found in the awkwardness of one of Noah's sons -in trying to ride an unaccustomed animal into -the Ark.</p> - -<p>The immediate supposititious originals of John -Gilpin were many. Some identified him with a -Mr. Beger, a Cheapside draper, who died in 1791, -aged one hundred. Others found him in Commodore -Trunnion, in <i>Peregrine Pickle</i>, and a John Gilpin -lies in Westminster Abbey. The <i>Gentleman's -Magazine</i> in 1790, five years after Cowper's poem -became the rage, records the death at Bath of a -Mr. Jonathan Gilpin, "the gentleman who was so -severely ridiculed for bad horsemanship under the -title of 'John Gilpin.'" All accidental resemblances -and odd coincidences, without doubt.</p> - -<p>But if John had no corporeal existence, the -Bell at Edmonton—at Upper Edmonton, to be -precise—was a very real place, and, in an altered -form, still is. Who could doubt of the man who -ever saw the house? Is not the present Bell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> -real enough, and, for that matter, ugly enough? and -is not the picture of John, wigless and breathless, -and his coat-tails flying, sufficiently prominent on -the sign? The present building is the third since -Cowper's time, and is just an ordinary vulgar -London "public," standing at the corner of a shabby -street (where there are <i>no</i> trees), called, with horrible -alliteration, "Gilpin Grove."</p> - -<p>Proceed we onwards, having said sufficient of -Gilpin. Off to the right hand turned old Izaak, to -Cook's Ferry and the Bleak Hall Inn by the Lea, -that "honest ale-house, where might be found a -cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and twenty -ballads stuck about the wall." Ill questing it would -be that should seek nowadays for the old inn. -Instead, down by Angel Road Station and the Lea -marshes, you find only factories and odours of the -Pit, horrent and obscene. We have yet to come -to the kernel, the nucleus of this Edmonton. Here -it is, at Lower Edmonton, at the end of many -houses, in a left-hand turning—Edmonton Green; -the green a little shorn, perhaps, of its old proportions, -and certainly by no means rural. On it -they burnt the unhappy Elizabeth Sawyer, the -Witch of Edmonton, in 1621, with the full approval -of king and council: Ahriman perhaps founding -one of his claims to Jamie for that wicked deed. -It was well for Peter Fabell, who at Edmonton -deceived the devil himself, that he practised his -conjuring arts before Jamie came to rule over us, -else he had gone the way of that unhappy Elizabeth; -for James was of a logical turn of mind, and would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> -have argued the worst of one who could beat the -Father of Lies at his own game. Peter flourished, -happily for him, in the less pragmatical days of -Henry the Seventh. We should call him in these -matter-of-fact days a master of legerdemain, and -he would dare pretend to no more; but he was -honoured and feared in his own time, and lies -somewhere in the parish church, his monument -clean gone. On his exploits Elizabethan dramatists -founded the play of the <i>Merry Devil of Edmonton</i>.</p> - -<p>The railway and the tramway have between -them played the very mischief with Edmonton -Green and the Wash—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">"... the Wash</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Of Edmonton so gay"—</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>that here used to flow athwart the road, and does -actually still so flow, or trickle, or stagnate; if -not always visible to the eye, at least making its -presence obvious at all seasons to the nose. In the -first instance, the railway planted a station and a -level crossing on the highway, practically in the -Wash; and then the Tramway Company, in order -to carry its line along the road to Ponders End, -constructed a very steeply rising road over the -railway. Add to these objectionable details, that of -another railway crossing over the by-road where -Lamb's Cottage and the church are to be found, and -enough will have been said to prove that the Edmonton -of old is sorely overlaid with sordid modernity.</p> - -<p>Charles Lamb would scarce recognise his Edmonton -if it were possible he could revisit the spot, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> -it seems—the present suburban aspect of the road -before us—a curious ideal of happiness he set himself: -retirement at Edmonton or Ponder's End, -"toddling about it, between it and Cheshunt, anon -stretching on some fine Izaak Walton morning to -Hoddesdon or Amwell, careless as a beggar, but -walking, walking ever, till I fairly walked myself -off my legs, dying walking."</p> - -<p>Everyone to his taste, of course, but it does not -seem a particularly desirable end. It is curious, -however, to note that this aspiration was, in a sense, -realised, for it was in his sixtieth year that, taking -his customary walk along the London road one day -in December 1834, he stumbled against a stone and -fell, cutting his face. It seemed at the time a slight -injury, but erysipelas set in a few days later, and on -the twenty-seventh of the same month he died. It -was but a fortnight before, that he had pointed out to -his sister the spot in Edmonton churchyard where -he wished to be buried.</p> - -<p>Lamb's last retreat—"Bay Cottage" as it was -named, and "Lamb's Cottage" as it has since been -re-christened, "the prettiest, compactest house I -ever saw," says he—stands in the lane leading to -the church; squeezed in between old mansions, and -lying back from the road at the end of a long -narrow strip of garden. It is a stuccoed little house, -curiously like Lamb himself, when you come to -consider it: rather mean-looking, undersized, and -unkempt, and overshadowed by its big neighbours, -just as Lamb's little talents were thrown into insignificance -by his really great contemporaries. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> -big neighbours of the little cottage are even now on -the verge of being demolished, and the lane itself, -the last retreat of old-world Edmonton, is being -modernised; so that those who cultivate their Lamb -will not long be able to trace these, his last landmarks. -Already, as we have seen, the Bell has -gone, where Lamb, "seeing off" his visitors on their -way back to London, took a parting glass with -them, stutteringly bidding them hurry when the -c-cu-coach c-came in.</p> - -<p>One of the most curious of literary phenomena is -this Lamb worship. Dingy, twittering little London -sparrow that he was, diligent digger-up of Elizabethan -archaisms with which to tune his chirpings, he seems -often to have inspired the warmest of personal -admiration. As the "gentle Elia" one finds him -always referred to, and a halo of romance has been -thrown about him and his doings to which neither he -nor they can in reality lay much claim. Romance -flies abashed before the picture of Lamb and his -sister diluting down the poet of all time in the -<i>Tales from Shakespeare</i>: Charles sipping gin -between whiles, and Mary vigorously snuffing. Nor -was his wit of the kindly sort readily associated with -the epithet "gentle." It flowed the more readily -after copious libations of gin-and-water, and resolved -itself at such times into the offensive, if humorous, -personalities that were the stock in trade of early -nineteenth-century witlings. His famous witticism -at a card-party on one who had hands not of the -cleanest ("If dirt were trumps, what a hand you'd -have") must have been bred of the juniper berry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -Stuttering and blue-lipped the next morning, he was -an object of pity or derision, just according to the -charity of those who beheld him. Carlyle, who -knew Lamb in his latter days, draws him as he was, -in one of those unmerciful pen-portraits he could -create so well:—"Charles Lamb and his sister came -daily once or oftener; a very sorry pair of phenomena. -Insuperable proclivity to gin in poor old Lamb. -His talk contemptibly small, indicating wondrous -ignorance and shallowness, even when it was serious -and good-mannered, which it seldom was, usually -ill-mannered (to a degree), screwed into frosty -artificialities, ghastly make-believe of wit, in fact -more like 'diluted insanity' (as I defined it) than -anything of real jocosity, humour, or geniality. A -most slender fibre of actual worth in that poor -Charles, abundantly recognisable to me as to others, -in his better times and moods; but he was Cockney -to the marrow; and Cockneydom, shouting 'glorious, -marvellous, unparalleled in nature!' all his days -had quite bewildered his poor head, and churned -nearly all the sense out of the poor man. He was -the leanest of mankind, tiny black breeches buttoned -to the knee-cap, and no further, surmounting spindle-legs -also in black, face and head fineish, black, bony, -lean, and of a Jew type rather; in the eyes a kind -of smoky brightness or confused sharpness; spoke -with a stutter; in walking tottered and shuffled; -emblem of imbecility bodily and spiritual (something -of real insanity I have understood), and yet something -too of human, ingenuous, pathetic, sportfully -much enduring. Poor Lamb! he was infinitely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -astonished at my wife and her quiet encounter of -his too ghastly London wit by a cheerful native -ditto. Adieu, poor Lamb!"</p> - -<p>Edmonton Church has lain too near London in -all these years to have escaped many interferences, -and the body of it was until recently piteous with -the doings of 1772, when red brick walls and windows -of the factory type replaced its ancient architecture. -These have now in their turn been swept away, and -good modern Gothic put in their stead, already -densely covered with ivy. The ancient tower still -rises grandly from the west end, looking down upon -a great crowded churchyard; a very forest of tombstones. -Near by is the grave of Charles and Mary -Lamb, with a long set of verses inscribed upon their -headstone.</p> - -<p>There was once in this churchyard of Edmonton -a curious epitaph on one William Newberry, ostler to -the Rose and Crown Inn, who died in 1695 from the -effects of unsuitable medicine given him by a fellow-servant -acting as an amateur doctor. The stone -was removed by some clerical prude—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Hic jacet Newberry, Will</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Vitam finivet cum Cochiæ Pill</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Quis administravit? Bellamy, Sue</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Quantum quantitat nescio, scisne tu?</span><br /> -<span class="i3">Ne sutor ultra crepidam."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The feelings of Sue Bellamy will not be envied, -but Sue, equally with William, has long reached -beyond all such considerations, and the Rose and -Crown of that day is no more. There is still, -however, a Rose and Crown, and a very fine building<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> -it is, with eleven windows in line and wearing a -noble and dignified air. It is genuine Queen Anne -architecture; the older house being rebuilt only ten -years after the ostler was cut off untimely, as may -be seen by the tablet on its front, dated not only -1705, but descending to the small particular of -actual month and day of completion.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">X</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> tramway line, progressing through Edmonton -in single track, goes on in hesitating fashion some -little distance beyond Edmonton Green, and terminates -in a last feeble, expiring effort on the open road, -midway between Edmonton and Ponder's End; like -the railhead of some African desert line halting on -the edge of a perilous country. Where it ends there -stands, solitary, a refreshment house, so like the last -outpost of civilisation that the wayfarer whimsically -wonders whether he had not better provision himself -liberally before adventuring into the flats that lie so -stark and forbidding before him.</p> - -<p>It is indeed an uninviting waste. On it the -gipsy caravans halt; here the sanguine speculative -builder projects a street of cheap houses and generally -leaves derelict "carcases" of buildings behind him; -here the brick-maker and the market-gardener -contend with one another, and the shooters of -rubbish bring their convoys of dust, dirt, and old -tins from afar. On the skyline ahead are factory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -chimneys, and to the east—the only gracious note in -the whole scene—the wooded hills of Essex, across -the malodorous Lea.</p> - -<p>This desolate tract is bounded by the settlement -of Ponder's End, an old roadside hamlet. "Ponder's -End," says Lamb, "emblematic name, how beautiful!" -Sarcasm that, doubtless, for of what it is emblematic, -and where lies the beauty of either place or name, -who shall discover? The name has a heavily -ruminative or contemplative sound, a little out of -key with its modern note. For even Ponder's End -has been rudely stirred up by the pitchfork of -progress and bidden go forward, and new terraces of -houses and shops—no, not <i>shops</i>, nothing so vulgar; -"business premises" if you please—have sprung up, -and the oldest inhabitant is distraught with the -changes that have befallen. Where he plodded in -the mud there are pavements; the ditch into whose -unsavoury depths he has fallen many a time when -returning late from the old Two Brewers is filled up, -and the Two Brewers itself has changed from a roadside -tavern to something resplendent in plate-glass -and brilliant fittings. Our typical ancient and his -friends, the market-gardening folk and the loutish -waggoners, are afraid to enter. Nay, even the name -of the village or hamlet, or urban district, or whatever -the exact slang term of the Local Government -Board for its modern status may be, is not unlikely -to see a change, for to the newer inhabitants it -sounds derogatory to be a Ponder's Ender.</p> - -<p>To this succeeds another strip of sparsely-settled -land, and you think that here, at last, the country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> -is gained. Vain thought! Enfield Highway, a -populous mile-length, dispels all such ideas, and even -Enfield Wash, where the travellers of old were -content to be drenched in the frequent floods, so -long as they actually escaped with their lives, is -suburban and commonplace. The stretch of road -between the Wash and Waltham Cross still goes by -the shivery name of Freezywater.</p> - -<p>Enfield Highway, like Ponder's End, was until -quite recently stodged in sloughs, and resolutely old-world; -almost as old world indeed as when, in 1755, -Mr. Spencer, the Lord Spencer of a few years later, -came up from the shires in great state with his -bride. Their procession consisted of three chariots, -each drawn by six horses and escorted by two -hundred horsemen. At sight of this cavalcade the -whole neighbourhood was up in arms. The timid -fled, the Jacobites rejoiced and ran off to ring the -church bells in a merry peal, while loyal folks and -brave armed themselves with pitchforks, pokers, and -spades; for all thought the Pretender had come -again and was marching on London.</p> - -<p>At Waltham Cross, formerly entered through a -toll-gate, Middlesex is left behind and Hertfordshire -gained. The name of Waltham Cross probably does -not at this period inspire anyone with dread, but -that was the feeling with which travellers approached -it at any time between 1698 and 1780; for this was -in all those years a neighbourhood where highwaymen -robbed and slew with impunity. Here was the -favourite lurk of those desperate disbanded soldiers -who on the Peace of Ryswick, finding pay and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -occupation gone, banded together, and, building huts -in the coverts of Epping Forest, came forth even in -broad daylight, and, to the number of thirty, armed -with swords and pistols, held up the traffic on this -and the surrounding roads. Even when that formidable -gang was disposed of by calling out the -Dragoon Guards in a regular campaign against them, -there were others, for in 1722 a London morning -paper stated that the turnpike-men from Shoreditch -to Cheshunt had been furnished with speaking-trumpets, -"as well to give notice to Passengers as -to each other in case any Highwaymen or footpads -are out," and the satisfactory report is added, "we -don't find that any robbery has been committed in -that quarter since they have been furnished with -them, which has been these two months." Was it -not hereabouts, too, that Turpin first met Tom King, -and, taking him for an ordinary citizen, proposed to -rob him? Ay, and in that self-same Epping Forest, -whose woodlands may even yet be seen, away to -the right-hand, Turpin had his cave. Even so late -as 1775 the Norwich stage was attacked one -December morning by seven highwaymen, three of -whom the guard shot dead. He would perhaps have -finished the whole of them had his ammunition not -failed and he in turn been shot, when the coach was -robbed at leisure by the surviving desperadoes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> the traveller does not know what to expect on -approaching Waltham Cross, then the cross, standing -in the centre of the road, must needs be a pleasant -surprise to him, even though he presently discovers -that they have done a great deal in recent times to -spoil it; "they" meaning the usual pastors and -masters, the furbishers and titivators of things -ancient and worshipful, applying to such things -their own little nostrums and programmes. But, -woefully re-restored though it be, its crockets and -pinnacles and panellings patched with a stone whose -colour does not match with that of the old work, one -can still find it possible to look upon it with reverence, -for among the ancient wayside memorials of -our storied land the beautiful Eleanor Crosses stand -foremost, both for their artistic and their historic -interest. More than any others, they hold the -sentiment and the imagination of the wayfarer, and -their architecture is more complex. The story that -belongs to them is one long since taken to the warm -hearts of the people, and cherished as among the -most touching in all the history of the realm—a -realm rich in stories of a peculiarly heart-compelling -kind.</p> - -<p>It is that of Eleanor of Castile, Queen of Edward -the First, who accompanied him to Palestine in 1270, -on his Crusade against the Infidel. History tells -how, on the evening of June 17, 1272, the King -was seated alone and unarmed in a tent of the camp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> -before Acre. It was his birthday, but birthdays -find scant celebration in the tented field, and -Edward on that day was engaged in the sterner -business of receiving proposals of surrender from the -besieged. He had given audience to a messenger -from the Emir of Jaffa, who, having delivered the -letter he had brought, stood waiting. Bending low, -in answering a question the King had put to him, he -suddenly put his hand to his belt, as though to -produce other letters; but, instead, drew a poisoned -dagger and struck at the King with it. Edward -endeavoured to shield himself, but received a deep -wound in the arm; then, as the man endeavoured -to strike again, giving him a kick that felled him to -the ground, he wrenched away the would-be assassin's -dagger and plunged it into his body. When the -King's attendants came rushing in, the man was -dead. Fortunate for him it was that he died so -simply, for the imaginations of those who dispensed -the rough justice of the time were sufficiently fertile -to have devised many novel and exquisitely painful -variations of torture for such an one.</p> - -<p>The King's wound was serious, and although all -the drugs and balsams in the limited pharmacopœia -of those times were administered, it grew worse. -Then it was, according to the pretty story universally -received, that the Queen, finding the efforts -of physicians vain, sucked the poison from the -wounded arm of her lord to such good purpose that -he recovered, and sat his charger again within fifteen -days.</p> - -<p>Medical criticism on this recorded action of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -poison could scarce fail of being destructive, and -indeed it is not to be expected that the story of -Eleanor of Castile would be left unassailed in these -days, when history is treated scientifically, and when -all the old and gracious stories are being explained -away or resolved into something repellent and -utterly commonplace. Modern historians have told -us that William Tell is a myth, and that, consequently, -the famous incident of the apple could -never have occurred. Robin Hood, they say, was -equally imaginary, or if any real person existed on -whom that figure of endearing romance was built -up, he had more the attributes of a footpad than -those of the chivalrous outlaw those legends have -made him. They would even take from us Dick -Whittington and his cat. In fact, all these romantic -people are classed with King Arthur, Jack the Giant -Killer, and Little Red Riding Hood. It is not a -little cruel thus to demolish these glamorous figures, -but historians since Macaulay have been merciless. -It is, therefore, not surprising to read that Eleanor, -instead of being heroic was a very woman, and was -led "weeping and wailing" from the scene when -the surgeons declared that the King's hurt was incurable, -unless the whole of the poisoned flesh were -cut away. The cure, says an old chronicler, was -effected by the surgeons, and the romantic story -has in recent times been declared "utterly unworthy -of credit."</p> - -<p>Alas! too, for the gentle and tender character -that has ever been ascribed to Eleanor of Castile; -for we read that "though pious and virtuous, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> -was rather grasping," causing scandal by taking part -with Jewish usurers in cozening Christians out of -their estates. Ancient records, done on rolls of -sheepskin in mediæval dog-Latin, and preserved in -the Record Office for all men to see—and read if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -they can—tell how hard a landlord she was, and -how Archbishop Peckham interfered on behalf of -her unfortunate tenants, telling her that reparation -for wrongs done must precede absolution.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig14.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">WALTHAM CROSS A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. -</p> -</div> - -<p>And yet, although we allow this to be truth, to -some she must have been winsome and gracious. -Not to the lower herd, almost certainly, for people -below the rank of knights or dames were never, in -those times, thought worthy the least consideration. -To those who more nearly approached her own rank -she may have been the generous personality she has -ever been pictured, although for a true Castilian to -be other than insufferably haughty and arrogant -would seem, if traditions do not lie, to be against -nature. To the King she was evidently all in all, -or how explain the existence of so long and -elaborate a series of crosses raised to the memory -of his <i>chère reine</i>? Eighteen years after the famous -incident of the poisoned wound the Queen died, on -November 28, 1290. She breathed her last on the -evening of that day at the village of Harby, in -Nottinghamshire, whither she had accompanied the -King on a royal progress he had been making -through the Eastern Counties during the three -preceding months. Parliament in those times was -a perambulating body of lawgivers, following of -necessity the footsteps of the monarch. The King, -therefore, having arranged to stay at his Royal -Palace of Clipstone, in Sherwood Forest, at the end -of October, Parliament was summoned to meet there -on the twenty-seventh of that month. Meanwhile, -however, the Queen fell ill of a lingering fever, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a><br /><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a><br /><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>for sake of the quiet that could not be obtained in -the neighbourhood of the Court she was housed at -Harby, twenty miles distant. But not all the care -that was hers, nor the syrups and other medicines -detailed in the old accounts, procured in haste from -the city of Lincoln, five miles away, availed to avert -the fatal conclusion of that wasting sickness.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig15.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">WALTHAM CROSS. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The Queen's body was at once removed to -Lincoln Cathedral, and the funeral procession seems -to have set out from Lincoln city for Westminster -on the fourth day of December. London was not -reached until eleven days later, and the entombment -at Westminster did not take place until the seventeenth -of the month. Travelling was a slow and -tedious process then, but not necessarily so slow as -this. The reasons for the length of time consumed -between Lincoln and Westminster were two, and -are found both in the pompous circumstances of -the journey and in the circuitous route taken. -The ordinary route was by Stamford, Huntingdon, -Royston, Puckeridge, and Cheshunt; but it was -determined that the august procession should pass -through a more frequented part of the country, and -through districts where the Queen had been better -known. Another object was to take some of the -great religious houses on the way, and thus have -suitable places at which to rest. The route chosen, -therefore, included Grantham, Stamford, Geddington, -Northampton, Stony Stratford, Woburn, Dunstable, -St. Albans, Waltham Abbey, West Cheap, and -Charing. At each of these places the Queen's body -rested, and at each one was subsequently erected a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> -memorial cross. This is no place for recounting the -almsgiving, the endowments of charities and monasteries, -and the payments for tapers and masses for -the repose of her soul. Let it be understood that -all these things were done on a scale of the greatest -magnificence, and that the erection of these twelve -great crosses was but one feature among many in -the means employed to keep her memory alive and -her soul in bliss unending. This last, indeed, was -the principal reason of their building. In these -days one regards the three crosses, that the rage of -rabid men and the slower but scarce less sure fury -of the elements between them have alone left us of -the twelve, as merely beautiful specimens of the -wedded arts of Sculpture and Architecture; or as -affecting memorials of conjugal love. Those, however, -would be erroneous regards. The crosses were -to attract by their beauty, no doubt; but their -higher purpose was to inspire the devotional sentiment; -their presence by the wayside was to implore -the passers-by to remember the "Queen of Good -Memory," as documents of the time call her, that -they might pray for her. Although they bore no -inscription, they silently bade the traveller "<i>Orate -pro animâ</i>," and were, accordingly, consecrated with -full religious ceremonies.</p> - -<p>The crosses were not of a uniform pattern, -although many of them seem to have borne strong -likenesses to each other. Nine have so utterly -disappeared that not a single stone of them is -discoverable at this day, but old prints serve to -show, in conjunction with the still existing building -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a><br /><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a><br /><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>accounts, their relative size and importance. The -three remaining are those of Geddington, Hardingstone -near Northampton, and this of Waltham. -Waltham Cross stands seventy feet in height. It -cost £95, equal to £1000 of our present money, and -was originally built of stone from the quarries of -Caen, in Normandy, as the lower stage of the work -still shows. The two upper stages and the spirelet -were restored and reconstructed in 1832 at a cost -of £1200, and again, as recently as 1885-92, at -an almost equal expense.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig16.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE "HULL MAIL" AT WALTHAM CROSS.<br /> -[<i>From a Print after J. Pollard.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>The beautiful old engraving of 1806, reproduced -here, proves into what a dilapidated condition the -Cross had at that time fallen. It would appear to -have been even worse in 1720, when Dr. Stukeley -was commissioned by the Society of Antiquaries to -see that posts were placed round for its protection; -and in 1757 it was in danger of falling, for Lord -Monson, the then Lord of the Manor of Cheshunt, -was petitioned to build some brickwork round the -base and to set up some other posts. A later Lord -of the Manor, a certain Sir George Prescott, in 1795, -with colossal impudence endeavoured to remove it -to his park at Theobalds, and would have done so -had not his workmen found the stone too decayed -to be displaced.</p> - -<p>In the old print already referred to, and in the -coaching print of some thirty years later, it will be -noticed that a portion of that old coaching hostelry, -the Falcon, actually abutted upon the Cross. The -inn, indeed, occupied the site of a chantry chapel -adjoining, where prayers for the soul of the Queen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> -had been said for some two hundred and fifty years -after her death. It may be suspected that those -prayers, endowments notwithstanding, had grown -somewhat perfunctory after that lapse of time, and -the Queen herself little more than a legend; and so, -when all Chantries were dissolved under Edward the -Sixth, their revenues seized and the mumbling priests -ejected, the world was well rid of a hoary piece of -humbug. The Falcon was demolished when the -latest restoration was brought to a conclusion, and -a portion of its site thrown into the roadway, so -that the Cross stands once more free from surrounding -buildings.</p> - -<p>In choosing a stone for those parts to be restored, -the gross mistake was made of selecting a brownish-red -stone from the Ketton quarries, in Northants. -The reason for making this selection was that Caen -stone is perishable and that of Ketton particularly -durable; but in the result the restored Cross wears -to-day a sadly parti-coloured appearance.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> already named Falcon was not the only hostelry -at Waltham Cross. The Four Swans, whose great -gallows sign still straddles across the highway, with -the four swans themselves represented in effigy -against the sky, was the other house. There is -always Another in everything, even in Novelettes and -on the Stage, where he or she, as the case may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> -happen, is generally accorded a capital letter. That -there should always be a rival, that is to say, -Another, shows, I suppose, that competition is a -heaven-sent condition of affairs, and incidentally -that "Trusts" and "Combines" are immoral and a -direct challenge to Providence. That, however, is -another matter. But, in this case, which is "the -other" it would be difficult, if not impossible, to -determine. Whether the Falcon or the Four Swans -was established first cannot be told with certainty, -although if it be true that the Four Swans is built -on the site of the ancient manor-house of Cheshunt, -it seems likely that to this queer rambling old -coaching-inn must be given the honour.</p> - -<p>A story used to be told of an adventure here -that might have had unpleasant consequences, had -it not been for the ready wit of the guard attached -to the "York Mail." When the Mail reached the -village and drew up in front of the inn, shortly after -nine o'clock, a quiet, gentlemanly-looking man took -a vacant seat inside, and remained silent and inoffensive -until the coach started on its way to Ware, -when he suddenly became very talkative. Addressing -a lady present with some absurd remarks, the -other gentlemen turned upon him and said, if he -did not cease they would put him in the road. -This was no sooner said than he began to adopt a -threatening tone; but no notice was taken of him, -as Ware was being neared, when he could be better -dealt with than by stopping the coach. When it -came to a halt, the guard was beckoned to and told -quietly what an odd customer was seated within.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> -The guard looked inside, and at once recognised the -strange person as a gentleman of that neighbourhood -who had been consigned to a lunatic asylum, and -must have escaped. "Ah! Mr. F——," he said, -"how are you? Are you going far down the -road?" "I'm going," said Mr. F——, "to Stamford -to catch that rascal C——, who has stolen my estates." -"Why," rejoined the guard, with the well-known -promptitude of his class, "you needn't go any -farther, I've just seen him in the back parlour, -behind the bar." "Have you?" shouted the madman. -"By Jove! let me find him," and he leapt out -of the coach. "Right away, Bill," sang out the -guard, and the Mail was off. How the people at -Ware dealt with the poor wretch is not recorded.</p> - -<p>As this, so far as Royston, was a part of the -original great post-road to Scotland, many royal and -noble processions, besides that attendant on the -obsequies of Queen Eleanor, passed of necessity -through Waltham Cross, and the coaching and -posting traffic was of huge dimensions, up to the last -days of the road.</p> - -<p>Royal processions and progresses have a way, as -you read them, of being insufferably dull; hedged -about with formula and rule and precedent surrounding -the gilded and be-crowned fetish for the time -being, who, generally wrapped up warm in selfishness -and greed, and dealing out lies and condescension, -passes by and affords no interest or amusement to -later generations, who merely yawn when they read -of the dusty old properties, the tinsel and the gold -lace. It is otherwise when the faults and foibles of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> -the fetish are known and can be displayed to show -that a monarch is, after all, human; and sometimes -even a very poor specimen of humanity. James the -First (of England and Sixth of Scotland, as the -tender susceptibilities of Scots put it) came up this -way to his Kingdom of England, on Elizabeth's -death in 1603. He had set out from Edinburgh on -the 5th of April, and only arrived in London on the -7th of May. Abundant and overbrimming loyalty -had kept him long on the road. The noblemen and -gentry of the shires lavished attentions on James -and his following, and festive gatherings enlivened -every manor-house on the way. Many a squire -loaded his estates with encumbrances, in his anxiety -to royally entertain the new sovereign and his -numerous suite, and the story told of one of their -halting-places very eloquently illustrates the sacrifices -made. After staying some days with his host, the -King remarked upon the disappearance of a particularly -fine herd of cattle he had noticed in the park -on his arrival, and asked what had become of them? -As a matter of fact, they had been all slaughtered -for the use of James's hungry Scots, and his host -unwillingly told him so. "Then," said the King -ungraciously, "it is time we were going"; and so, when -the food was exhausted, they went.</p> - -<p>So prodigal was the display made for him that -James might almost have thought the country tired -of Elizabeth's long rule, and glad to welcome a new -monarch. He conferred titles with a lavish hand -as he went, and knights-bachelors sprouted up -in every town and village like mustard-and-cress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> -after a dewy evening. He came across the Border -mild enough, but by degrees rid himself of the -humility proper to a King of Scots, and as King -of England assumed an imperious air not even -inferior to that of Henry the Eighth himself. Such -an air sat ill upon James, at once constitutionally -weak in body and simultaneously timid and braggart -in disposition. The "British Solomon" his toadies -called him, and indeed he was in many ways the -Superior Person. Educated in all the 'ologies, and -accounting himself in especial a master of theology -and demonology, he was learned and superstitious -at once. Witchcraft he firmly believed possible, and -made it a capital offence, and was thus the prime -cause of many an ill-favoured old woman or eccentric -person being cruelly put to death as warlocks and -wizards. The Duke of Sully, better informed than -James's satellites, or more candid, pronounced him -"the wisest fool in Europe."</p> - -<p>At no place was the new monarch so lavishly -entertained as at Theobalds, the princely residence -of Lord Burleigh, whose estates bordered the road -between Waltham Cross and Cheshunt. Who was -the original owner of Theobalds, history does not tell -us. Doubtless some Saxon notable, Theobald by -name, thus immortalised in unilluminative fashion. -In the late Elizabeth's time it had been acquired -by the great Cecil, dead some six years before the -coming of this northern light. Cecil's son, only less -great than his father, now ruled, and received James -right nobly in those magnificent halls his sire had -added, where Elizabeth herself had been royally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> -entertained. Four days he stayed, hunting and -feasting, and left with so profound an admiration -of the place that he never rested until he had exchanged -the Royal Palace of Hatfield for it. Cecil -made no bad bargain in the transfer, and in addition -secured much favour and many added dignities, -ending as Earl of Salisbury.</p> - -<p>James's passion for the chase explains his eagerness -to secure Theobalds, surrounded in those times -by far-reaching and ancient woodlands. Epping -Forest and the woods of Waltham lay for miles to -the east, and the green alleys of Enfield Chase and -Northaw (really "north holt," <i>i.e.</i> north wood) to -the south and the north-west.</p> - -<p>The figure of James is thus prominent on this -part of the road. By no means an imposing figure, -this King, as he reels in his saddle, or shambles -rather than walks, his weak knees threatening a -collapse, his thin yellow beard scarce disguising a -chin striking the mean between obstinacy and weak -irresolution; his wide-staring, watery, light-blue eyes -rimmed with red eyelids; and lips running with the -thin slobber of the drunkard, or rather of the inveterate -tippler, not honestly drunken but grown -maudlin, babbling and bubbling like a spring. This -poor creature, who pretends to Right Divine, has the -tense nerves of a hare; a hunted, hare-like glance -too, when not primed and blusterous with Greek -wine. He has a ludicrously acute sense of personal -danger, and yet chases the deer a-horseback, seated -on a padded saddle and plentifully equipped with -drink. I see him very plainly, though much of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -great domain of Theobalds be disparked, and landmarks -grown dim and confused, hunting and halloing -in the greenwood, and cursing and raving like a -madman when the quarry escapes him—forgetful, -in the excitement of the moment, of the Solomonic -character he has to sustain—and falling out of his -saddle and biting the grass in frenzy.</p> - -<p>But James's domestic character bears more -scrutiny than that of many of his predecessors. -He would have pleased Mr. Squeers, for his "morrils" -(in the common and restricted sense) were distinctly -good—much better than those of the Hebrew Solomon.</p> - -<p>It is quite evident that James delighted in his -nickname and failed to discover any hidden vein -of sarcasm in it, for in one of the extravagant -masques he gave in honour of his father-in-law, -Christian the Fourth of Denmark, at Theobalds, -he took the part of that incarnation of Wisdom. -Conceive the gorgeousness and the scandal of the -occasion. Royal James as Solomon, and no less -royal Christian, <i>his</i> part not stated, seated on a -throne awaiting the Queen of Sheba, coming to -offer precious gifts: attendant upon her, Faith, -Hope, and Charity. The Queen of Sheba, sad to -say, had taken too much to drink, and, there being -no one to advise her to "Mind the step!" she tripped -over the throne and shot all the gifts, some very -treacly and sticky, into the lap of his Danish -majesty, who rose and essayed a dance with her, -but fell down and had to be taken off to bed, like -many a jolly toper before and since. Then the -Three Virtues, hiccoughing and staggering, tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> -their parts, but nature forbade, and they retired -very sick. The spectacle of the drunken endeavouring -to carry off the drunk must have been vastly -entertaining to His Majesty, himself too well seasoned -to be quite helpless. It seems probable that, picking -an unsteady way among the courtiers who strewed -the floor, he saw himself to bed without the aid of -chamberlains and grooms-in-waiting and their kind.</p> - -<p>James the First and Sixth died at Theobalds in -1625, in the fifty-ninth year of his age, cut off in -part by the agency of Greek wine. The halls where -he revelled, and where between whiles he piously -translated the Psalms, are gone, dismantled under -the rule of the Commonwealth, a period especially -fatal to Royal Palaces. The site of the Palace is -commemorated by "Theobalds Square." The modern -mansion of Theobalds is a mile distant.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">An</span> inn bearing the odd name of the Roman Urn -stands by the wayside on entering the hamlet of -Cheshunt called Crossbrook Street. An urn in a -niche of the wall over the front door bears the -inscription "Via Una," and is witness to the finds of -Roman remains close by. It gives point to the old -belief that Cheshunt itself was a station on that -Roman road, the Ermine Street.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig17.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE ROMAN URN, CHESHUNT. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Turners Hill, Cheshunt, and Cheshunt Wash are -all one loosely-joined stretch of houses: recent houses, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>houses not so recent, dignified old mansions, and -undignified second- and third-rate shops. It is an -effect of shabbiness, of a halting two ways, between -remaining as it was and developing into a modern -suburb. The road itself shares this uncertainty, for -it is neither a good country highway nor a decent -town street, being bumpy macadam and gravel -alternating, and full of holes. Cheshunt's modern -fame is for roses, and the nurseries where they are -cultivated spread far and wide. Its ancient fame -was not so pleasing, for the Wash, when the Lea was -in flood, made Cheshunt a place to be dreaded, as we -learn from the diary of Ralph Thoresby, who travelled -prayerfully this way between 1680 and 1720. -Coming up from Yorkshire to London on one -occasion, he found the washes upon the road near -Ware swollen to such a height that travellers had to -swim for their lives, one poor higgler being drowned. -Thoresby prudently waited until some country-people -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a><br /><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a><br /><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>came and conducted him over the meadows, -to avoid the deepest part of Cheshunt Wash. Even -so, he tells how "we rode to the saddle-skirts for a -considerable way, but got safe to Waltham Cross."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig18.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">CHESHUNT GREAT HOUSE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Cheshunt possesses a local curiosity in the shape -of "Cheshunt Great House," a lonely mansion of red -brick, standing in a meadow within what was once a -moated enclosure. It is a gloomy old place belonging -to the time of Henry the Seventh, but altered -and patched to such a degree that even the genuine -parts of it look only -doubtfully authentic. -A large central hall -with hammer-beam -carved roof is the -feature of the interior, -hung with tapestry, -suits of armour, and -portraits of historic -personages, in which -are mixed together -real antiquities and -forgeries of such age that <i>they</i> even are antique. -Among them is a rude and battered rocking-horse, -said to have been used by Charles the First when an -infant.</p> - -<div class="figright"> -<img src="images/fig19.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center half">CHARLES THE FIRST'S<br /> ROCKING-HORSE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Obviously Cheshunt Great House should be -haunted, and is! Cardinal Wolsey's is the unquiet -shade that disturbs the midnight hours beneath this -roof, lamenting the more or less authentic murders -he is said to have perpetrated here. There is not, -of course, the slightest foundation for these wild<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -stories, and the great Cardinal, so far as Cheshunt is -concerned, leaves the court without a stain on his -character.</p> - -<p>But we must hasten onward to Ware, halted, -however, in half a mile, at Turnford, a place forgotten -by most map-makers. Writers of guide-books, -too, pass it coldly by. And indeed, if you be of the -hurrying sort, you may well pass and never know -the individual existence of the hamlet; so close are -Cheshunt on the one hand and Wormley on the -other. As the poet remarks—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And waste its sweetness on the desert air";</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>and Turnford is a modest place, consisting, all told, -of an old residence or so, a farmstead, and the Bull -Inn: the sign showing a bull's head with a remarkably -coy expression. One no longer splashes through -the ford that gave the place its name; a bridge has -long since replaced it.</p> - -<p>Why, it may be asked, linger over Turnford? -Because here, in some lowly cot not now to be -identified, somewhere about the year 1700, was -born, of the usual poor but honest parents, one -who might have been truly great in his profession -had not the accursed shears of Fate cut him off -before he had time to develop himself. I speak of -"Dr." William Shelton, apothecary and highwayman. -William was at an early age apprenticed to an -apothecary at Enfield, and presently distinguished -himself in an endeavour to elope with the apothecary's -sister, an elderly charmer by no means<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -averse from being run away with. The attempt -miscarried, and our poor friend was soundly -cudgelled for his pains. His second enterprise, -the carrying off of a widow's daughter, was more -fortunate. The runaways were married at the Fleet, -and afterwards settled at Enfield, where, with the -aid of his wife's fortune, Shelton eked out a living -while trying to develop a practice. Tiring, after -a while, of this, he obtained an appointment as -surgeon in Antigua, but although generally liked -in that island, he was obliged to return home on -account of some wild escapades. He then settled -in succession at Buntingford and Braughing, but -doctors were at a discount at those places, and so, -like many another wild spirit, he took to the road. -A good horse and a reliable pair of pistols did more -for him than his dispensary, and he prospered for -a little while. There is no knowing to what -eminence he might have risen—for he robbed with -grace and courtesy—had not the authorities seized -him one evil day. He made a dignified exit at -Tyburn in 1732.</p> - -<p>At Wormley, a roadside village of nondescript -character, the New River is crossed, bringing us -into Broxbourne, lying in a dip of the road, with -that famous Cockney resort, Broxbourne Gardens, -off to the right, by the river Lea. The Gardens -themselves are as popular as ever, but the medicinal -spring—the "rotten-egg water" is the eloquently -descriptive name of it—has fallen into neglect.</p> - -<p>The traveller along the highroad has left -Broxbourne behind before he has quite discovered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> -he has reached it, and comes into Hoddesdon -unawares. Broxbourne, where the "brocks," or -badgers, were once plentiful enough to give a name -to the little stream running into the Lea, is indeed a -much more shy and retiring place than those who -on Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays visit the -tea-gardens aforesaid have any idea of. This is -by way of a testimonial. Hoddesdon, too, which -to be sure is not a tiny village like Broxbourne, -but quite a little town, is altogether delightful. -It has not been modernised, and its inhabitants still -obtain their water in pailsful from the public pump -in the middle of the broad street, which remains -much as it was when the Cambridge "Telegraph" -came through, and when the Newmarket and -Bishop Stortford traffic branched off to the right -in the midst. To this day most of its old inns -remain, clustering round the fork of the roads: the -Bull, its gabled porch and projecting sign quickening -the traveller's pace as he sees it afar; the Salisbury -Arms, the Maiden's Head, the Swan.</p> - -<p>The Bull is a famous house, finding, as it does, -a mention in Prior's "Down Hall." It was in 1715 -that Matthew Prior, one of the most notable poets -of his day, and sometime Ambassador at the Court -of Versailles, travelled this road to Down Hall, near -Hatfield Broadoak. His "chariot" halted at the -Bull, as he tells us—</p> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Into an old inn did this equipage roll,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">At a town they call Hodsdon, the sign of the Bull,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Near a nymph with an urn that divides the highway,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And into a puddle throws mother of tea."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a><br /><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a><br /><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> -<p>Nymph and urn and puddle are gone long since, -and where they were placed there stands at this -day the ugly modern building that Hoddesdon -folk call the "Clock House": really a fire-engine -house with a clock-tower; the tower surmounted -by a weather-vane oddly conjoining the characteristics -of a fiddler, a sagittarius, and a dolphin. -Inquiry fails to discover what it symbolises. -Before ever the nymph or the present building -occupied this site, there stood here the wayside -chapel of St. Catherine, whose ancient bell hangs -in the clock-tower.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig20.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">HODDESDON. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Prior writes as though the Bull had long been -familiar to him, but his intimate touches of the life -and character of an inn came, doubtless, from his -own youthful observation; for his uncle had been -landlord of the Rummer at Charing Cross, where -as a boy he had been a waiter and general help. -Doubtless he had heard many an old frequenter -of the Rummer put questions similar to these he -asks:—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"'Come here, my sweet landlady! how do you do?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Where's Cic'ly so cleanly, and Prudence, and Sue?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And where is the widow that lived here below?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And the other that sang, about eight years ago?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And where is your sister, so mild and so dear,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Whose voice to her maids like a trumpet was clear?'</span><br /> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">'By my troth,' she replies, 'you grow younger, I think.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And pray, sir, what wine does the gentleman drink?</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But now, let me die, sir, or live upon trust,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">If I know to which question to answer you first,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For things since I saw you most strangely have varied—</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The ostler is hanged, and the widow is married;</span><br /> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><span class="i0">And Prue left a child for the parish to nurse;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And Cic'ly went off with a gentleman's purse;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And as to my sister, so mild and so dear,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">She has lain in the churchyard full many a year.'"</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>What a sorry catalogue of changes and disasters!</p> - -<p>A mile or more distant, along the Bishop Stortford -road, is the gatehouse of the famous Rye House, -its clustered red-brick chimneys and thick walls still -left to remind the historically-minded of that Rye -House Plot of 1681 which was to have ended -Charles the Second, and his brother, the Duke of -York, on their way past from Newmarket to London. -Although the Bishop Stortford road does not concern -us, the house is alluded to in these pages because it -now contains that notorious piece of furniture, the -Great Bed of Ware.</p> - -<p>Hoddesdon gives place to Amwell, steeply downhill. -The village is properly "Great Amwell," but -no one who knows his Lamb would think of calling -it so, although there is a "Little Amwell" close at -hand. To the Lambs it was just "Amwell," and -that is sufficient for us. Moreover, like so many -places named "Great," it is now really very small. -It is, however, exceedingly beautiful, with that -peculiarly park-like beauty characteristic of Hertfordshire. -The old church, also of the characteristically -Hertfordshire type, stands, charmingly embowered -amid trees, on a bank overlooking the smoothly-gliding -stream of the New River, new-born from its -source in the Chadwell Spring, and hurrying along -on its beneficent mission toward the smoke and fog<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -of London. Two islands divide the stream; one of -them containing a monument to Sir Hugh Myddelton, -and a stone with lines from Scott, the "Quaker poet -of Amwell," commencing—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Amwell, perpetual be thy stream,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Nor e'er thy spring be less."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>An aspiration which, let us hope, will be fulfilled.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XIV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> to hurry past spots so interesting and -so beautiful looks much like the act of a Vandal, -our business is with the road, and linger we must -not; and so, downhill again, by the woods of Charley—or -"Charl-eye" as the country folk insist on -calling them—we come to a vantage-point overlooking -Ware; an old town of many maltings, of the -famous Bed aforesaid, and of Johnny Gilpin's ride. -Fortunate are those who come thus in view of Ware -upon some still golden afternoon of summer, when -the chimes from the old church-tower are spelling -out the notes of that sentimental old song, "Believe -me, if all those endearing young charms." Time and -tune conspire to render Ware romantic.</p> - -<p>The town takes its name from the weir or dam -built across the Lea by invading Danes in the year -896. Coming up the Lea in a great flotilla of what -historians call ships, more correctly perhaps to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> -named sailing-barges, they halted here, and, designing -a fort beside the dam they built, imagined themselves -secure. Around them in the Lea valley -between Ware and Hertford stretched the great -lake their dam had created, and all King Alfred's -men could not by force dislodge them.</p> - -<p>Can you not find it possible to imagine that -great King—that King truly great in counsels both -of war and peace, that contriver and man of his -hands—on these Amwell heights and looking down -upon that Danish fortress and its ceinture of still -water, with twice a hundred prows lying there, -proudly secure? Truly, despite the dark incertitude -of history on these doings, we may clearly see that -monarch. He knits his brows and looks upon the -country spread out beneath him: just as you may -look down to-day upon the valley where the Lea and -the railway run, side by side. He—we have said it -with meaning—is a contriver; has brains of some -quality beneath that brow; will not waste his men -in making glorious but wasteful attacks upon the -foe: they shall work—so he wills it—not merely -fight; or, working, fight the better for King and -Country. Accordingly, his army is set to digging a -great channel down this selfsame valley; a channel -whose purport those Danes, lying there, do by no -means comprehend; nor, I think, many even in this -host of the great Alfred himself; for the spy has -ever watched upon the doings of armies, and he who -keeps his own counsel is always justified of his -reticence.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig21.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">WARE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>This great ditch, then, excavated over against -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a><br /><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a><br /><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>the camp and harbour of the sea-rovers, is therefore -inexplicable, and doubtless the subject of much jest -among the enemy: jesting that dies away presently, -when, the excavation completed, it is found to touch -the river above and below the weir, and indeed to -be designed to drain away the Lea from its old -channel and so steal away those cherished water-defences.</p> - -<p>With what rejoicings Alfred turned the stream -into this artificial course we know not, nor anything -of the Saxon advance when the old channel ran dry -and the Danish war-fleet presently lay stranded; -the black hulls canted in all manner of ridiculous -and ineffective angles; the sails with the cognisance -of the raven on them flapping a farewell -to the element they were to know no more. Only -this we know, that the Danish host were forced to -fly across the country to Cambridge and the -fens; those unfailing resorts of fugitives in the -long ago.</p> - -<p>Alfred probably burnt the deserted fleet; but -there may yet lie, somewhere in this pleasant valley -between Hertford and Ware, deep down in immemorial -ooze and silt, the remains of those hapless -craft.</p> - -<p>Ware, seen from a distance, is a place of singular -picturesqueness; its Dutch-like mass of mellow red -roofs endowed with a skyline whose fantastic appearance -is due to the clustered cowls of the fourscore -malthouses that give the old town a highly -individual character. Here, as elsewhere, the sunset -hour touches the scene to an unearthly beauty: only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> -here those slanting cowls assume the last note of -melodramatic significance, to which, ordinarily, in the -broad eye of day, they are by no means entitled; -being just so many ventilators to buildings in whose -dark recesses is carried on the merely commercial -work of drying the malt of which it is fondly assumed -our beer is made.</p> - -<p>The town, when you come to it, resolves itself -into zigzag streets, coal-dust, and bargees. It is a -very back-door kind of entrance you find, coming -downhill, past a railway goods-yard and a smelly -waterside with wharves and litter, where solemn -horses stolidly drag barges and railway-trucks, and -modern Izaak Waltons, sublime in faith, diligently -"fysshe with an angle," with ill results. What they -seek, these hapless sportsmen, is known only to themselves. -Is it the festive tiddler, dear to infantile -fisherfolk, or do they whip the water for the lordly -trout, the ferocious pike, the grey mullet, or the -carp? I know not; but what they find is the Old -Boot, the discarded hat, the derelict gamp; in short, -the miscellaneous floatable refuse of Hertford. To -see one of these brothers of the angle carefully -playing what ultimately discloses itself as a ragged -umbrella affords one of the choicest five minutes that -life has to offer.</p> - -<p>Crossing an iron bridge over this fishful stream, -you are in Ware. To the left stands the old -Saracen's Head, now a little out of date and -dreamy, for it is the veritable house where the -principal coaches changed horses, and it has remained -outwardly the same ever since. Here it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> -that the Great Bed of Ware stood for many years, -conferring fame upon the town until 1869, when it -was spirited away to the Rye House, there to be -made a show of.</p> - -<p>He who would correctly rede the riddle of the -Great Bed would be a clever man, for its history is -so confounded with legend that to say where the one -begins and the other ends is now impossible. The -Bed is a huge four-poster of black oak, elaborately -carved with Renaissance designs, and is now twelve -feet square, having been shorn of three feet of its -length by a former landlord of the Saracen's Head. -The date, 1463, painted on the head is an ancient -and impudent forgery intended to give verisimilitude -to the legend of this monumental structure's origin. -This story tells how it was the work of one Jonas -Fosbrooke, a journeyman carpenter, who presented -it to Edward the Fourth "for the use of the royal -family or the accommodation of princes, or nobles, -or for any great occasion." The King, we are told, -was highly pleased with this co-operative bedstead, -and pensioned the ingenious Fosbrooke for life; but -history, curiously, fails to tell us of royal or any other -families herding together in this way. The legend -then goes on to tell how, not having been used for -many years by any noble persons, it was put to use -when the town was very full of strangers. These -unfortunate plebeian persons found it anything but -a bed of roses, for they were tormented throughout -the night by the snobbish and indignant ghost of -Jonas, who objected to anyone beneath the rank of a -knight-bachelor sleeping in his bed, and savagely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -pinched all who could not claim gentility. This -weird ghost-story was probably invented by the -landlords of the several inns in which the Bed has -been housed to account for a vigorous and hungry -race of fleas that inhabited the old four-poster, and -must have been originated at a very early date, for -on it hangs the story of Harrison Saxby, Master of -Horse to Henry the Eighth. Saxby fell violently in -love with the daughter of a miller near Ware, and -swore he would do anything to win her from her -many other suitors. The King, passing through the -town, heard of this and promised to give her (those -were autocratic times!) to him who should sleep in -the Great Bed, and, daring all that the ferocious -apparition of Fosbrooke could do, should be found -there in the morning. All save the valorous Saxby -held back, but he determined that no disembodied -spirit should come between him and his love, and, -duly tucked in, was left to sleep—no, not to sleep, -for the powers of darkness were exalted to considerable -purpose in the night, and when day -dawned the rash Saxby was discovered on the -floor, covered with bruises. If we seek rather the -practical joker than the supernatural visitant to -poor Saxby, we shall probably be on the right -quest.</p> - -<p>The Great Bed was not always housed at -the Saracen's Head. Coming originally from -Ware Priory, it was next at the Crown, where -it remained until that old house was pulled -down, in 1765, being in turn transferred to the -Bull.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ware was always a place of great traffic in the -long ago. Railways have altered all that, and it is -now a gracious old town, extraordinarily rich in the -antique entries of ancient hostelries disappeared so -long since that their very signs are forgot. As you -go along its High Street there are between twenty -and thirty of these arched entries countable, most of -them relics of that crowded era of road-faring when -Ware was a thoroughfare town at the end of a day's -journey from London on the main road to the North. -It was, in the words of an Elizabethan poet, "the -guested town of Ware," and so remained for centuries, -even when day's journeys grew longer and longer, -and until the road became an obsolete institution. -Some of these entries, on the other hand, always -were, and others early became, features in the -warehouse premises of the old maltsters, for Ware has -ever been a place dedicated to the service of John -Barleycorn.</p> - -<p>Long centuries ago, ere railways were dreamt of, -this was the great warehousing place of the malt -from five neighbouring counties. It came in vast -quantities by road and by river from up country, and -was stored here, over against the demands of the -London brewers; being sent to town chiefly by the -river Lea. The Lea and its ready passage to London -built up this distinctive trade of Ware: the railway -destroyed it, and the maltsters' trade exists here -nowadays only because it always has been here and -because to utterly kill its local habitation would be -perhaps impossible. But it is carried on with a -difference, and malt is not so much brought and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> -warehoused here as made on the spot. Many of the -old houses in which the old-established maltsters -reside, adjoining their own warehouses, in the good -old style absolutely obsolete in other places, are of -early eighteenth century date, and rich in exquisite -moulded plaster ceilings and carved oak panelling. -One at least dates back to 1625, and is nothing less -in appearance than the home of an old prince of -commerce.</p> - -<p>To have an opportunity of inspecting this is a -privilege not lightly to be valued. On one side of -the entry, and over the archway, is the residence, and -on the other the old-world counting-house, with a -narrow roadway between for the waggons to and -from the maltings at the farther end. The maltings -themselves are rebuilt and fitted with modern -appliances, but they strike the only note out of key -with the general harmony of the place, and, even so, -they are not altogether unpleasing, for they are -earnest of trade still brisk and healthy, in direct -descent from days of old. Beyond the maltings are -old walled gardens where peaches ripen, and velvet -lawns and queer pavilions overhanging the river Lea: -the whole, from the entry in the High Street, down -the long perspective to the river, embowered in -flowers.</p> - -<p>For the rest, Ware commands much interest, not -greatly to be enlarged upon here. The church-tower, -rising nobly above the roof-tops of the town, -amid a thickly clustered group of oast-house cowls, -the interior of the building, noble beyond the -common run; the so-called "John Gilpin's House";<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> -the river scenery up the delightful valley to Hertford: -all these things are to be seen and not adequately -written about in this place.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Uphill</span> goes the road out of Ware, passing the -Royston Crow Inn and some old cottages on the -outskirts. The two miles between this and Wade's -Mill form the dividing-line between the valleys of -the Lea and the Rib, and consequently the way, after -climbing upwards, has to go steeply down again. -The Sow and Pigs is the unusual name of an inn -standing on the crest of the hill before descending -into Wade's Mill. Who was Wade of the mill that -stands to this day in the hollow where the little -stream called the Rib runs beneath the highway? -History, imperial, national, or parochial, has nothing to -tell us on this head. Perhaps—nay, probably—there -never was a Wade, a person so-named; the original -mill, and now the hamlet that clusters in the bottom, -taking its name from the ford—the ford, or water-splash, -or "wade"—that was here before ever a bridge -was built. The parish of St. Nicholas-at-Wade, -beside the channel that formerly divided the Isle of -Thanet from Kent, obtained its name from the ford -at that point, and in like manner derives the name -of Iwade, overlooking the King's Ferry entrance to -Sheppey.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - -<p>The hamlet of Wade's Mill is a product of the -coaching age. Before folks travelled in any large -numbers there stood only the mill in the hollow; but, -as road-faring progressed, there at length rose the -Feathers Inn beside the way, and by degrees a dozen or -so cottages to keep it company. Here they are still; -standing, all of them, in the parish of Thundridge, -whose old church, a mile distant, is now in ruins. -The new church is built on the height overlooking -Wade's Mill, and may be noticed in the illustration -on the following page.</p> - -<p>Steeply rising goes the road out of this sleepy -hollow; passing, when half-way up the hill, a mean -little stone obelisk perched on a grassy bank. This -is a memorial to Thomas Clarkson, a native of -Wisbeach, and marks the spot where in his youth -he knelt down and vowed to dedicate his life to the -abolition of the slave trade. It was placed here in -1879 by Arthur Giles Puller, of Youngsbury, in the -neighbourhood. Clarkson was born in 1760, the -son of the Rev. John Clarkson, Headmaster of -Wisbeach Free Grammar School. He graduated at -Cambridge in 1783, and two years later gained the -first prize in the Latin Essay competition on the -subject of "Slavery and Commerce of the Human -Species, particularly the African." This success -finally fixed his choice of a career, and he forthwith -set afoot an agitation against the slave trade. In -an introduction to the wealthy William Wilberforce, -he succeeded in enlisting the support of that philanthropist, -to whom the credit of abolishing the -nefarious traffic is generally given. A Committee -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>was formed to obtain the passing of an Abolition -Bill through Parliament; an object secured after -twenty years' continued agitation and strenuous -work on the platform. Clarkson's health and substance -were alike expended in the effort, but he -was not eventually without reward for his labours, -a recompense in subscriptions to which he seems -to have looked forward in quite a business-like -way; more soothing than Wordsworth's pedestrian -sonnet beginning—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Clarkson, it was an obstinate hill to climb;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">How toilsome, nay, how dire it was."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> -<p>Doubtless he argued the labourer was worthy of his -hire.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig22.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">CLARKSON'S MONUMENT. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Abolition in the West Indian Islands followed, -and then the Emancipation Act of 1833, liberating -800,000 slaves and placing the sum of twenty -millions sterling, as compensation, into the pockets of -Liverpool, Bristol, and Glasgow slave-owners. That -sturdy beast of burden, the British taxpayer, of -course paid for this expensive burst of sentiment. -Clarkson, already an old man, and weary with his -long labours, received the Freedom of the City of -London in 1839, and died in his eighty-seventh year, -in 1846.</p> - -<p>Midway between the hamlets of High Cross and -Collier's End, at the second of the two left-hand -turnings sign-posted for "Rowney Abbey and the -Mundens," is the other hamlet of Standon Green -End—if the two cottages and one farmhouse in -a by-lane may so be dignified. Some three hundred -yards along this lane, in the centre of a -meadow, stands the singular monument known in -all the country round about as the "Balloon Stone," -a rough block of sandstone, surrounded by an iron -railing, placed here to record the alighting on this -spot of the first balloon that ever ascended in -England. Tradition still tells of the terror that -seized the rustics when they saw "a summat" dropping -out of the sky, and how they fled for their -lives.</p> - -<p>On lifting a hinged plate, the astonishing facts -of this antique æronautical adventure may be found -duly set out in an amusingly grandiloquent inscription,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> -engraved on a bronze tablet let into the upper part -of the stone—</p> - -<p class="c"> -"Let Posterity Know<br /> -And Knowing be Astonished<br /> -That<br /> -On the 15 Day of September 1784<br /> -Vincent Lunardi of Lucca in Tuscany<br /> -The first Aerial Traveller in Britain<br /> -Mounting from the Artillery Ground<br /> -in London<br /> -And<br /> -Traversing the Regions of the Air<br /> -For Two Hours and Fifteen Minutes,<br /> -In this Spot<br /> -Revisited the Earth.<br /> -On this Rude Monument<br /> -For Ages be Recorded<br /> -That Wondrous Enterprise<br /> -Successfully atchieved<br /> -By the Powers of Chemistry<br /> -And the Fortitude of Man<br /> -That Improvement in Science<br /> -Which<br /> -The Great Author of all Knowledge<br /> -Patronising by His Providence<br /> -The Invention of Mankind<br /> -Hath graciously permitted<br /> -To their Benefit<br /> -And<br /> -His own Eternal glory." -</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="c"> -"This Plate<br /> -A facsimile of the Original<br /> -One was placed here<br /> -in the month of November<br /> -1875 by Arthur Giles<br /> -Puller of Youngsbury."<br /> -</p> - -<p>Collier's End is a wayside hamlet of a few timber-framed -and plaster cottages, leading to Puckeridge,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> -where the ways to Cambridge divide: one going by -Buntingford, Royston, and Melbourn; the other by -Braughing, Barkway, Barley, and Fowlmere, meeting -again at Harston in another nineteen miles. Away -to the left, between Collier's End and Puckeridge, is -St Edmund's College, a Roman Catholic seminary.</p> - -<p>Puckeridge itself, standing where the roads -branch, grew in the old road-faring days from a -tiny hamlet to be considerably larger than its mother-parish -of Standon, a village nearly two miles distant, -to the right-hand. That it developed early is quite -evident in its two old inns, the fifteenth century -Falcon, and the Old George, scarcely a hundred years -younger.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XVI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> will first take the right-hand road to Cambridge, -by Barkway, for that would appear in early days to -have been the favourite route. Braughing, the first -village on this route, is soon reached, lying down -below the highway beside the river Rib, with the -usual roadside fringe of houses. The local pronunciation -of the place-name is "Braffing."</p> - -<p>The road now begins to climb upwards to the -crest of the Chilterns at Barley, passing the small -hamlets of Quinbury and Hare Street, and through -a bold country of rolling downs to Barkway, whose -name, coming from Saxon words meaning "a way -over the hill," is descriptive of its situation. Few -signs of habitation are seen on the way, and those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -at great distances; Great and Little Hormead and -Ansty peering down upon the road from distant -hillsides.</p> - -<p>Since the coaches left the road, Barkway has -gone to sleep, and dreams still of a bygone century. -At the beginning of its broad street there stands the -old toll-house, with the clock even yet in its gable -that marked the flight of time when the Cambridge -"Telegraph" passed by every day, at two o'clock in -the afternoon; and old houses that once were inns -still turn curiously gabled frontages to the street. -The Wheatsheaf, once the principal coaching house, -still survives; outside it a milestone of truly monumental -proportions, marking the thirty-fifth mile -from London. It stands close upon six feet in -height, and besides bearing on its face a bold -inscription, setting forth that it is thirty-five miles -from London and sixteen from Cambridge, shows -two shields of arms, one of them bearing a crescent, -the other so battered that it is not easily to be -deciphered. This is one of a series of milestones -stretching between this point and Cambridge; a series -that has a history. It seems that Dr. William -Mouse, Master of Trinity Hall, and a Mr. Robert -Hare, left between them in 1586 and 1599 the sum -of £1600 in trust to Trinity Hall, the interest to be -applied to mending the highway along these sixteen -miles; as the Latin of the original document puts it, -"<i>in et circa villam nostram Cantabrigiæ præcipue -versus Barkway</i>." Whatever Trinity Hall may have -done for the repair of the road in the hundred -and twenty-six years following the bequest, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -were certainly no milestones along its course until -1725, when Dr. William Warren, the then Master, -set up on October 20th the first five, starting from -the church of Great St. Mary in Cambridge Market -Square. On the 25th June, in the following year, -another five stones were placed in continuation, and -the next year another five. The sixteenth was not -placed until 29th May 1728. Of this series the -fifth, tenth, and fifteenth were about six feet in -height, with the Trinity Hall arms carved on them; -in heraldic jargon described as "sable, a crescent in -fess ermine, with a bordure engrailed of the second." -The others were originally small, with merely the -number of miles engraved on them, but were replaced -between 1728 and 1732 by larger stones, each -bearing the black crescent; as may be seen to this -day.</p> - -<p>These stones, very notable in themselves, and -more so from the open and exposed character of the -road, have not only the interest of the circumstances -already narrated, but gain an additional notability -in the fact that, excluding those set up by the -Romans, they are the earliest milestones in England. -Between Roman times and the date of these examples -the roads knew no measurement, and miles were a -matter of repute. It was not until the Turnpike Act -of 1698 that, as part of their statutory obligations, -Turnpike Trusts were always bound not only to -maintain the roads on which they collected tolls, -but to measure them as well, and to set up a stone -at every mile.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig23.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">BARLEY. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The road between Barkway and Barley is a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a><br /><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a><br /><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>constant succession of hills; steep descents, and -correspondingly sharp rises, with the folds of the -Chilterns, bare in places and in others heavily -wooded, rising and falling for great distances on -either hand. It was while ascending Barkway Hill -on the up journey that the "Lynn Union," driven -by Thomas Cross, was involved in a somewhat -serious affair. Three convicts were being taken to -London in charge of two warders, and the whole -party of five had seats on the roof. As the coach -slowed to a walking pace up the ascent, one of the -gaol-birds quietly slipped off at the back, and was -being followed by the other two when attention was -drawn to their proceedings. The principal warder, -who was on the box-seat, was a man of decision. -He drew a pistol from his pocket, and, cocking it, -said, "If you do not immediately get up I'll shoot -you!" The one who had already got down, thereupon, -with a touching faith in the warder's marksmanship, -returned to his place, and the others -remained quiet. They finished the remainder of the -journey handcuffed. It is, indeed, surprising that -they were not properly secured before.</p> - -<p>The road on to Barley is of a switchback kind, -finally rising to the ridge where Barley is perched, -overlooking a wild treeless country of downs. -Barley is a little village as thoroughly agricultural -as its name hints, and consists of but a few houses, -mostly thatched, with a not very interesting church -on a by-way, and a very striking inn, the Fox and -Hounds, on the main road. It is the sign of the inn, -rather than the house itself, that is so notable, for it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> -is one of those gallows signs, stretching across the -road, that are now becoming so few. The illustration -sufficiently describes its quaint procession of fox, -hounds, and huntsmen, said to have been placed here -in allusion to a fox that took refuge in a dog-kennel -of the inn.</p> - -<p>If the name of Barley hints strongly of agricultural -pursuits, it does not by any means derive it -from that kind of grain. Its earliest Saxon name is -"Berle," coming from the words "beorh" and "lea," -and meaning a cleared space in a forest. Barley, -in fact, stands on the final ridge where the Chiltern -Hills end and the East Anglian heights and the -forest of Essex begin, overlooking a valley between -the two where the trees fell back and permitted a -way through the primeval woods.</p> - -<p>The restored and largely rebuilt church contains -little of interest, but in the churchyard lies one -whose career claims some notice. There the passing -stranger may see a simple stone cross, bearing the -words, "Heinrich, Count Arnim. Born May 10th, -1814. Died October 8th, 1883." Beside him lies -his wife, who died in 1875. The story of Count -Arnim is one of political enthusiasms and political -and personal hatreds. One of the greatest nobles -in conservative Germany, he early developed Radical -ideas, and joined Kossuth in his struggle for -Hungarian liberty, refusing to desert that ill-fated -cause, and disregarding the call of his own country -to arms. The neglect of this feudal duty rendered -his vast estates liable to forfeiture, and placed him -in danger of perpetual confinement in a military<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> -prison; a danger aggravated by the personal and -bitter animosity of the all-powerful Bismarck, and -the hatred of the relatives of two antagonists whom -he had slain in duels. To escape this threatened -lifelong imprisonment he fled to England, and, after -much privation, established a school of fencing and -physical exercise, under the assumed name of Major -Loeffler. In the meanwhile he had married a -German governess. His association with Barley -arose from the then Rector resorting to his school -for a course of exercise, and becoming in time a -fast friend, to whom the Count disclosed his identity. -The Rector interested himself in Arnim's -fortunes, and went so far as to write to the German -Emperor on behalf of his son, then growing to -manhood. As a result of these efforts young Arnim -was permitted to enter the German Army and to -enjoy his father's estates. Unfortunately his mother -accompanied him, and as, according to the savage -notions of German society, she was not of noble -birth and not ennobled by marriage, she was restricted -to the servants' hall at every place her son -visited, while he was received in the highest circles. -Count Arnim had, in his long residence in England, -adopted the sensible views prevailing here, and -indignantly recalled his son. "I would rather," he -said in a noble passage, "I would rather have my -son grow up a poor man in England, in the service -of his adopted country, than as a rich man in the -service of his Fatherland, where he would have to -be ashamed of his mother."</p> - -<p>It was his friendship with the Rector that made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> -the Count choose this as the resting-place of his -wife and himself. His body was brought by train -to Buntingford, and thence by road, being buried -by the light of torches at midnight, after the old -German custom.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XVII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A mile</span> beyond Barley the road leaves Hertfordshire -and enters Essex, but passes out of that county -again and enters Cambridgeshire in another two -miles. Midway, amid the solemn emptiness of the -bare downs, the Icknield Way runs as a rugged -chalk-and-grass track athwart the road, neighboured -by prehistoric tumuli. Amidst all these reminders -of the dead-and-gone Iceni, at the cross-roads to -Royston and Whittlesford, and just inside the -Cambridgeshire border, stands a lonely inn once -known as the Flint House. Beside it is one of the -Trinity Hall milestones, with the crescent badge of -the college, and hands with fingers like sausages -pointing down the weirdly straight and empty -roads.</p> - -<p>The two miles of road through Essex long bore -the name of the "Recorder's Road." It seems that -when in 1725 an Act of Parliament was obtained -for mending the then notoriously bad way from -Cambridge to Fowlmere and Barley "in the counties -of Cambridgeshire and Hertfordshire," the fact that -two miles lay in Essex was overlooked. In conse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>quence -of this omission nothing was done to the -Essex portion, which became almost impassable for -carriages until the then Recorder of Cambridge, -Samuel Pont, obtained the help of several of the -colleges, and at last mended it.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig24.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">A MONUMENTAL MILESTONE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>It is a good enough road now, though passing -through very exposed and open country, with -tumuli, the solemn relics of a prehistoric race, -forming striking objects on the bare hillsides and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> -the skyline. In cosy and sheltered contrast with -these comes the village of Fowlmere, snugly nestled -amid the elms and poplars aptly named "Crows' -Parlour."</p> - -<p>Fowlmere is a very Proteus in the spelling of -its name. In Domesday Book it is set down as -"Fugelesmare," and has at any time since then -been written in half a dozen different ways, in -which "Foulmere" and "Fowlmere" are the most -prominent. Old-time travellers, who found the road -inexpressibly bad, adopted the first of these two -styles, and thought the place well suited with a -name: others—and among them local patriots—adopted -the variant less expressive of mud and mire. -In so doing they were correct, for the village takes -its name from a marshy lake or mere, thickly overgrown -with reeds in ancient times, in whose recesses -myriads of wild-fowl found a safe harbourage. -Even when the nineteenth century had dawned the -mere was still in existence, and wild-fowl frequented -it in some numbers. To-day it is but a spot where -watercress grows and the grass springs a thought -more luxuriant than elsewhere.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig25.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">FOWLMERE: A TYPICAL CAMBRIDGESHIRE VILLAGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Here we are on the track of Samuel Pepys, who -makes in his Diary but a fleeting appearance on -this road,—a strange circumstance when we consider -that he was a Cantab. It is, however, an appearance -of some interest. In February 1660, then, -behold him rising early, taking horse from London, -and setting out for Cambridge, in company with a -Mr. Pierce, at seven o'clock in the morning, intending -to make that town by night. They rode -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a><br /><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a><br /><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>twenty-seven miles before they drew rein, baiting -at Puckeridge,—doubtless at that old house the -Falcon,—the way "exceeding bad" from Ware. -"Then up again and as far as Fowlmere, within -six miles of Cambridge, my mare almost tired."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig26.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE CHEQUERS, FOWLMERE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Almost! Good Heavens! he had ridden the -poor beast forty-six miles. At anyrate, if the mare -was not quite tired, Samuel at least was, and at -Fowlmere he and Mr. Pierce stayed the night, at -the Chequers. An indubitable Chequers still stands -in the village street, but it is not the house under -whose roof the old diarist lay, as the inscription, -"W.T., Ano Dom. 1675," on the yellow-plastered front -sufficiently informs us. The next morning Samuel -was up betimes, and at Cambridge by eight o'clock.</p> - -<p>Thriplow Heath once stretched away between -Fowlmere and Newton, our next village, but it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> -all enclosed now, and cultivated fields obscure that -historic portion of the Heath where, in June 1647, -Cromwell's troops, victorious over the last struggles -of the Royalists, assembled and sent demands to -the Parliament in London for their long overdue -pay. A striking position, this. The Parliament -had levied war upon the King and had brought him -low, and now the hammer that had shattered his -power was being threatened against itself. Cromwell -and a military dictatorship loomed ominous before -my lords and gentlemen of Westminster, and they -hastily sent down two months' pay, with promises of -more, to avert Cromwell's threat that he would seize -the captive King, and, placing him at the head of -the army, march upon London. That payment and -those promises did not suffice, and how Cornet Joyce -was sent across country from this point, with a troop -of horse, to seize Charles from the custody of the -Parliamentary Commissioners at Holmby House is a -matter of history, together with the military usurpation -that did actually follow.</p> - -<p>Newton village itself has little interest, but a -small hillside obelisk on the right calls for passing -notice. It marks the spot where two friends were -in the habit of meeting in the long ago. The one -lived at Newton and the other at Little Shelford. -Every day for many years they met at this spot, and -when one died the survivor erected this memorial. -The left-hand hillside also has its interest, for the -commonplace brick building on the hilltop is all -that remains of one of a line of semaphore telegraph -stations in use between London and Cambridge over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> -a hundred years ago. A descending road brings us -from this point to a junction with the Royston route -to Cambridge, at Harston.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XVIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Royston route to Cambridge now demands -attention. Harking back to Puckeridge, we have by -this road certainly the most difficult way, for eight -of the eleven miles between Puckeridge and Royston -lead, with few and unimportant intervals, steadily -uphill, from the deep valley of the Rib up to the -tremendous and awe-inspiring climax of Royston -Downs; from whose highest point, on Reed Hill, the -road drops consistently for three miles in a -staggering descent into Royston town.</p> - -<p>At West Mill, where the valley opens out on the -left, the road continues on the shoulder of the hill, -with the village and the railway lying down below; -a sweetly pretty scene. West Mill is a name whose -sound is distinctly modern, but the place is of a -venerable age, vouched for by its ancient church, -whose architecture dates back to the early years of -the thirteenth century. It is the fashion to spell -the place-name in one word—Westmill—an ugly -and altogether objectionable form.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig27.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">WEST MILL. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Buntingford succeeds to West Mill. A brick -bridge crossing a little river, an old red-brick chapel -bulking large on the left hand, a long, long street of -rustic cottages and shops and buildings of more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> -urban pretensions, and over all a sleepy half-holiday -air: that is Buntingford. It is difficult to take -Buntingford seriously, even though its street be half -a mile in length, for its name recalls that hero of -nursery rhyme, that Baby Bunting whose father -went a-hunting, and went to buy a rabbit-skin to -put the Baby Bunting in. Buntingford, for all the -length of its long street and the very considerable -age of it, is but a hamlet of Layston, close upon a -mile distant. That is why Buntingford has no old -parish church, and explains the building of the red-brick -chapel aforesaid in 1615, to the end that the -ungodly might have no excuse for not attending -public worship and the pious might exercise their -piety without making unduly long pilgrimage. -"Domus Orationis" is inscribed on the gable-wall of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> -the chapel, lest perhaps it might be mistaken for -some merely secular building; an easy enough -matter. Behind it, stands the little group of eight -almshouses built in 1684 by Dr. Seth Ward, "born -in yis town," as the tablet over the principal door -declares; that Bishop of Salisbury who lent his -carriage-horses to King James's troops to drag -the ordnance sent against the Monmouth rebels on -Sedgemoor.</p> - -<p>Layston Church stands in a meadow, neglected, -and with daylight peering curiously through its -roof; and the village itself has long disappeared.</p> - -<p>The fifteen miles between Wade's Mill and -Royston, forming the "Wade's Mill Turnpike Trust," -continued subject to toll long after the railway was -opened. With the succeeding trusts on through -Royston to Kirby's Hut and Caxton, on the Old -North Road, and so on to Stilton, it was one of the -earliest undertakings under the general Turnpike -Act of 1698, and, like them, claimed direct descent -from the first turnpike gates erected in England in -1663, under the provisions of the special Act of that -year, which, describing this "ancient highway and -post-road" to the North as almost impassable, -proceeded to give powers for toll-gates to be erected -at Stilton and other places.</p> - -<p>To this particular Trust fell the heavy task of -lowering the road over the London Road hill, the -highest crest of the Downs; a work completed in -1839, at a cost of £1723, plus £50 compensation -paid to a nervous passenger on one of the coaches -who jumped off the roof while it was crossing a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> -temporary roadway and broke his leg. The tolls -at this time were let for £4350 per annum.</p> - -<p>Reed Hill, to which we now come, passing on -the way the hamlets of Buckland and Chipping, -commands the whole of Royston Downs, a tract of -country whose bold, rolling outlines are still impressive, -even though the land be enclosed and -brought under cultivation in these later years. This -chalky range is a continuation of the Chiltern Hills, -and gives Royston, lying down below in the deep -hollow, a curiously isolated and remote appearance. -Indeed, whether it be the engineering difficulties in -tunnelling these heights, or whether the deterrent -cause lies in rival railway politics, or in its not being -worth while to continue, the branch of the Great -Eastern Railway to Buntingford goes no farther, but -comes ingloriously to a terminus in that little town; -while the Great Northern Railway reaches Royston -circuitously, by way of Hitchin and Baldock, and -artfully avoids the heights.</p> - -<p>A wayside inn—the Red Lion—crowns the -summit of Reed Hill, and looks out upon vast distances. -The Red Lion himself, a very fiercely-whiskered -vermilion fellow projecting over the front door of -the house, and looking with an agonised expression -of countenance over his shoulder—<i>passant regardant</i>, -as the heralds say—hails from Royston itself, where -he occupied a similar position in front of the old -coaching-inn of the same name. Alas! when old -coaching days ended and those of railways dawned, -the Red Lion at Royston, ever in the forefront of -coaching affairs in the town, was doomed. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> -High Street knows it no more, and the Bull reigns -in its stead as the principal house.</p> - -<p>These windy downs, now robbed of much of their -wildness of detail, but losing nothing of their bold -outline, long harboured two forms of wild life not -commonly found elsewhere. The Royston Crow, -indeed, still frequents this range of hills; and on -some undisturbed slopes of turf the wandering -botanist is even yet rewarded in his Eastertide search -for the <i>Anemone Pulsatilla</i>, the Pasque Flower. The -Royston Crow, the <i>Corvus cornix</i> of ornithologists, -is a winter visitor from Sweden and Norway, and is -known in other parts of the country as the "hooded -crow." He is distinguished from his cousin corvi by -his grey head and back, giving him an ancient and -venerable appearance. He is not a sociable bird, -and refuses to mix with the blackbirds, the thrushes, -and his kindred crows, who, for their part, are content -to leave him alone, and doubtless rejoice when -in April he wings his way to northern latitudes.</p> - -<p>The Pasque Flower, so named from the paschal -season of its blossoming, affects the windiest and most -unlikely situations in chalk and limestone pastures, -and thrives where it might be supposed only the -coarsest grasses would grow. In these exposed places -its purple blooms flourish. They nestle close to the -ground, and are only to be easily discovered by the -expert. Do not attempt to transplant this wild beauty -of the downs. You may dig roots with the greatest -care, and cherish them as tenderly as possible; but, -torn from its stern surroundings and lapped in -botanical luxury, the Pasque Flower droops and dies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XIX</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Royston</span> stands where the Ermine Street and the -Icknield Way intersect one another. To old Cobbett, -travelling with a censorious eye upon men and -things and places in the early years of the nineteenth -century, it appeared to be "a common market-town. -Not mean, but having nothing of beauty about it." -This is not a very shrewd or illuminating opinion, -because, while it is true that Royston is not beautiful -on the one hand, nor exactly mean on the other, -this description is not quite descriptive, and fails to -explain where the town stops short of beauty or of -meanness. Royston, in fact, is a little grim, and -belies the preconceived notion of the expectant -traveller, who, doubtless with some wild idea of a -connection between Royston and roystering, is -astonished at the grave, almost solemn, look of its -narrow streets. The grim shadow of the Downs is -thrown over the little town, and the houses huddle -together as though for company and warmth.</p> - -<p>There are those to whom the place-name -suggests a Norman-French derivation—Roy's ton, -or the King's Town,—but although the name arose -in Norman times, it had a very different origin from -anything suggested by royal patronage. Eight -hundred years ago, when this part of the country -remained little but the desolate tract the fury of the -Conqueror had made it, the Lady Rohesia, wife of -the Norman lord of the manor, set up a wayside -cross where the roads met. The object of this cross<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> -does not clearly appear, but it probably filled the -combined purpose of a signpost and wayside oratory, -where those who fared the roads might pray for a -happy issue from the rigours of their journey. At -anyrate, the piety of the Lady Rohesia (or Roesia, -for they were very uncertain about their h's in those -times) has kept her name from being quite forgot, -preserved as it is in Royston's designation; but it is -not to be supposed that the pilgrims, the franklins, -and the miscellaneous wayfarers along these roads -tortured their tongues much with this awkward -word, and so Rohesia's Cross speedily became known -as "Roise's," just as to the London 'bus-conductors -High Holborn has become "'iobun." A town -gathered in course of time round the monastery—"Monasterium -de Cruce Roesiæ"—founded here a -century after this pious lady had gone her way. -Monastery and cross are alike gone, but the parish -church is the old priory church, purchased by the -inhabitants for public worship when the monastic -establishment was dissolved, and Royston Fair, held -on 7th July in every year, is a reminiscence of that -old religious house, for that day is the day of -St. Thomas à Becket, in whose honour it was -dedicated. As "Becket's Fair" this annual celebration -is still known.</p> - -<p>For centuries afterwards Royston was a town -and yet not a parish, being situated in portions of -the five adjoining parishes of Melbourn, Bassingbourn, -Therfield, Barley, and Reed; and for centuries -more, after it had attained parochial dignity, its -chief cross street, Melbourn Street, divided the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> -place into two Roystons—Royston, Hertfordshire, -and Royston, Cambridgeshire. The doings of one -with the other afford amusing reading: how a -separate workhouse was established and separate -assessments made for each parish, and how at length, -in 1781, an Act was passed for consolidating the -two for local government purposes; all these inconvenient -and absurdly conflicting jurisdictions of -parishes and counties being eventually swept away -in 1895, when the Cambridgeshire portion of Royston -was transferred to Hertfordshire, the whole of the -town now being in that county.</p> - -<p>They still cherish the memory of King James the -First at Royston, though the open Heath where he -hunted the hare is a thing of the past, and the races -and all the ancient jollifications of that time are now -merely matters for the antiquary. Where the four -roads from the four quarters of the compass still meet -in the middle of the town stood the old Palace. Its -remains, of no very palatial appearance, are there -even yet, and form private residences. Close by is -that prime curiosity, Royston Cave. James and his -courtiers and all their gay world at this corner never -knew of the Cave, which was only discovered in 1742. -It is a bottle-shaped excavation in the chalk, situated -immediately under the roadway. Its age and -original purpose are still matters in dispute. -Whether it was excavated to serve the purpose of -dust-bin to a Roman villa, or was a flint quarry, we -shall never know, but that it certainly was in use -by some religious recluse in the twelfth century is -assured by the curious rough carvings in the chalk,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> -representing St. Catherine, the Crucifixion, mitred -abbots, and a variety of subjects of a devotional -character. The hermit whose singular piety led -him to take up his abode in this dismal hole -must have had great difficulty in entering or -leaving, for it was then only to be approached by -plunging as it were into the neck of the bottle. -The staircase by which visitors enter was only made -in modern times.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig28.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">A QUAINT CORNER IN ROYSTON. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The old Red Lion at Royston has already been -mentioned as having ceased to be. It was kept for -many years in the eighteenth century by Mrs. -Gatward, a widow, assisted in the posting and -coaching business attached to the house by her two -sons. One of them came to a terribly tragic end. -What induced him to turn highwayman we shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> -never know; but he took to the road, as many a -roving blade in those times did. Perhaps his life -lacked excitement. If that were so, he took the -readiest means of adding variety to existence, for he -waylaid the postboy carrying His Majesty's Mails on -the North Road, between Royston and Huntingdon, -and robbed the bags. There was in those times no -method of courting death with such success as robbing -the mails, and accordingly young Gatward presently -found himself convicted and cast for execution. -They hanged him in due course and gibbeted his -body, pursuant to the grim old custom, near the -scene of his crime. The story of this unhappy -amateur highwayman is told—and, a tale of horror -it is—by one Cole, a diligent antiquary on Cambridgeshire -affairs, whose manuscript collections are in the -British Museum. Hear him: "About 1753-54, the -son of Mrs. Gatward, who kept the Red Lion at -Royston, being convicted of robbing the mail, was -hanged in chains on the Great Road. I saw him -hanging, in a scarlet coat, and after he had hung -about two or three months it is supposed that the -screw was filed which supported him, and that he -fell in the first high wind after. Mr. Lord, of Trinity, -passed by as he lay on the ground, and, trying to -open his breast, to see what state his body was in, -not being offensive, but quite dry, a button of brass -came off, which he preserves to this day, as he told -me at the Vice-Chancellor's, Thursday, June 30th, -1779. I sold this Mr. Gatward, just as I left college -in 1752, a pair of coach horses, which was the only -time I saw him. It was a great grief to his mother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> -who bore a good character, and kept the inn for many -years after."</p> - -<p>This account of how a malefactor's body might -lie by the roadside, the sport of any wayfarers idle -curiosity, gives no very flattering glimpse of this -England of ours a hundred and fifty years ago. Yet -these were the "good old times."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig29.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">CAXTON GIBBET. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The story goes that the agonised mother of the -gibbeted man secretly conveyed his body to the inn -and gave it decent, if unconsecrated, burial in the -cellar. His brother, James Gatward, was for many -years afterwards part proprietor of the London, -Royston, and St. Ives coach, running past the -gibbet.</p> - -<p>Caxton Gibbet, where Gatward's body hung in -chains, is still marked by a tall post standing on a -mound by the wayside, on the North Road, thirteen -miles from Royston. It is a singularly lonely spot, -even though a public-house with the gruesome name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -of the Gibbet Inn stands close by. A mile distant -is the village of Caxton, with its old coaching-inns -converted into farmhouses; the only other places on -the twelve miles being the old Hardwicke Arms -Posting House and the gates of Wimpole Park at -Arrington Bridge, and the solitary "Old North Road" -railway station.</p> - -<p>Royston's old inns have lost much of their old-time -air. Among them, the George possessed one of -those old "gallows" signs crossing the road in a -fashion similar to that of the Fox and Hounds -at Barley, but, somewhere towards the close of the -eighteenth century, it fell at the moment when a -London-bound waggoner was passing beneath, and -killed him. Since then such signs have not been in -favour in the town.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XX</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Royston</span> has of late years spread out largely to the -north, over those grassy heaths where James hunted. -Looking back when midway between the town and -Melbourn, this modern growth is readily noted, for -the houses of it are all of Cambridgeshire white brick. -At this distance they give a singularly close imitation -of a tented military camp.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig30.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">MELBOURN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Melbourn—why not spelled with a final 'e,' like -other Melbournes, is a mystery no inquiry can satisfy—is -a large village of much thatch. Especially is -the grey-green velvety moss on the thatch of a row -of yellow plaster cottages beyond the church a thing -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a><br /><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a><br /><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>of beauty, however rotten the thatch itself may be. -Melbourn has a beautiful church and church-tower, -seen in the accompanying picture, but its other -glory, the Great Elm that for many centuries spread -a shade over the road by the church, is now only a -memory,—a memory kept green by the sign of the -inn opposite. Everyone in Melbourn lives on fruit. -In other words, this is a great fruit-growing district. -This village and its neighbour, Meldreth, specialise -in greengages, and from the railway station that -serves the two, many hundreds of tons of that fruit -are despatched to London in the season. These -terms are perhaps vague, but they are reduced to a -more definite idea of the importance of the greengage -harvest when some returns are noted. From Melbourn -station, then, thirty tons a day is an average -consignment. Little wonder, then, that when one -has come down from the bleak downs and heaths -of Royston to these sheltered levels, the swelling -contours of the windy pastures and breezy cornfields -give place to long lines of orchards.</p> - -<p>Cambridgeshire very soon develops its flat and -fenny character along this route, and Melbourn left -behind, the road on to Cambridge is a dead level. -The low church-tower just visible to a keen eye, -away to the left, among some clustered trees, is that -of Shepreth. Shepreth hides its modest self from -the road: let us take the winding by-way that -leads to it and see what a purely agricultural Cambridgeshire -village, set down in this level plain, and -utterly out of touch with the road, may be like. It -needs no great exercise of the deductive faculty to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> -discover, on the way to Shepreth, that it is not a -place of great or polite resort, for the lane is a -narrow and winding way, half muddy ruts and half -loose stones. Beside it crawls imperceptibly in its -deep, ditch-like bed, overhung by pollard willows, -a stream that takes its rise in the bogs of Fowlmere. -By what lazy, snakish windings it ultimately finds -its way into the Cam does not concern us. Here -and there old mud-walled cottages, brilliantly white-washed -and heavily thatched, dot the way; the sum -total of the village, saving indeed the church, standing -adjoining a farmyard churned into a sea of -mud.</p> - -<p>The appearance of Shepreth Church is not -altogether prepossessing. The south aisle has been -rebuilt in white brick, in a style rivalling the worst -efforts of the old-time chapel-builder; and the old -tower, whose upper stages have long fallen in ruin, -shows in the contorted courses of its stonework how -the building has sunk and settled in the waterlogged -soil.</p> - -<p>Beyond this soddened village, coming to the highroad -again, the station and level-crossing of Foxton -are reached; the situation of Foxton itself clearly -fixed by the church-tower, rising from the flat fields -on the right, half a mile away. There is something -of a story belonging to this line of railway from -Royston to Shepreth, Foxton, Shelford, and Cambridge. -As far as Shepreth it is a branch of the -Great Northern, anxious in the long ago to find a -way into Cambridge and so cut up the Great Eastern's -trade. The Great Eastern could not defeat the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> -scheme altogether, but stopped it at Shepreth, to -which point that line was opened in 1848. This -was awkward for the Great Northern, brought to a -halt seven miles from Cambridge, at a point which -may, without disrespect to Shepreth, well be called -"nowhere in particular." But the Great Northern -people found a way out of the difficulty. Parliament, -in the interests of the Great Eastern, would not -permit them to build a railway into Cambridge, -but no one could forbid them conveying passengers -by coach along these last few miles. And so, for -close upon four years, Great Northern passengers left -the trains at Shepreth and were conveyed by a forty -minutes' coach journey the rest of the way. Thus, -along these few miles at anyrate, coaching survived -on the Cambridge road until 1851, when the Great -Eastern built a short line from Shelford to Foxton -and Shepreth, to join the Great Northern branch, -allowing running-powers to that Company into Cambridge -station.</p> - -<p>Harston village succeeds to Foxton. Its present -name is a corruption of "Harleston," which itself was -a contraction of "Hardeliston." It stands at a bend -of the road, with a very small village green and a -very large church to the left, and the long village -street of small cottages and large gardens following -the high road, and bringing the traveller presently -to an inn—the Old English Gentleman—where the -Barkway route to Cambridge meets this; both thenceforward -joining forces for the remaining four miles -and a half. Hauxton Church starts up on the right, -by the Granta, which comes down from Audley End and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> -is crossed here, over a little bridge, the only striking -object in what has now become a very desolate road, -so lonely and empty that an occasional thorn-tree, -rising from the dwarf hedges of the immense flat -fields, becomes quite companionable, and a distant -clump of leafy elms a landmark. Those distant -trees mark where Trumpington village church lies -hid, and, if the horizon ahead be closely scanned, -the long line of King's College Chapel will presently -be seen. We are coming at last into Cambridge.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> entrance to Cambridge town through Trumpington -is singularly noble and dignified. This is an age -when almost every ancient town or city is approached -through a ring of modern suburbs, but Cambridge -is one of the few and happy exceptions. You cannot -enter Oxford by the old coach road from London -without passing through the modern suburb of St. -Clements, whose mean street pitifully discounts the -approach to the city over Magdalen Bridge; but at -first, when nearing Cambridge, nothing breaks the flat -landscape save the distant view of King's College -Chapel, that gigantic pile of stone whose long flat -skyline and four angle-turrets so wrought upon -Ruskin's feelings that he compared it with a billiard-table -turned upside down. It is not because of -the great Chapel that the entrance to Cambridge -is noble: it will add nothing to the beauty of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> -scene until that day—perhaps never to come—when -the building shall be completed with a stately belltower -after the design contemplated by its founder, -Henry the Sixth. No; it is rather by reason, firstly, -of the broad quiet rural village street of Trumpington, -set humbly, as it were, in the gates of learning, -and secondly of the still broad and quiet, but more -urban, Trumpington Road that follows it, that -Cambridge is so charmingly entered. A line of old -gabled cottages with old-fashioned gardens occupies -either side of the road; while an ancient mansion -or two, together with the village church, are hid, or -perhaps glimpsed for a moment, off to the left, where -a by-road goes off, past the old toll-house, to Grantchester. -This is Trumpington. In that churchyard -lies a remarkable man: none other, indeed, than Henry -Fawcett—we will not call him by his title of "Professor," -for that seems always so blatant a dignity—who -died at Cambridge in 1884, thus ending -a life that had risen triumphant above, surely, -the keenest affliction Fate can inflict. Completely -blinded in youth by an accident of the most deplorable -kind, he yet lived to fill a career in life and -politics apparently denied by loss of sight. The -text on his gravestone—a garbled passage from -Exodus, chap. xiv. ver. 15—is singularly appropriate: -"Speak unto the people, that they go forward."</p> - -<p>It is down this leafy by-way, past the church, -that one finds Grantchester Mill, a building generally -thought to occupy the site of that "Trumpington -Mill" made famous in one of Chaucer's <i>Canterbury -Tales</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>For Trumpington has a certain literary fame, in -association with Chaucer's "Reeve's Tale":—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"At Trompington, not fer fro Cantebrigge,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Ther goth a brook, and over that a brigge,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Upon the whiche brook ther stont a melle."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The "Reeve's Tale" is not precisely a part of Chaucer -to be discussed in every drawing-room, and is indeed -a story well calculated to make a satyr laugh and -the judicious grieve. Therefore, it is perhaps no -great pity that the mill stands no longer, so that you -cannot actually seek it out and say, "Here the proud -Simon, the 'insolent Simkin,' ground the people's -corn, taking dishonest toll of it, and hereabouts -those roystering blades of University scholars, Allen -and John, played their pranks." Grantchester Mill -is a building wholly modern.</p> - -<p>It is a grave and dignified road, tree-shaded and -echoing to the drowsy cawing of rooks (like tired -professors weary of lecturing to inattentive classes), -that conducts along the high road through Trumpington -village to the beginnings of the town. Here, by -the bridge crossing the little stream called the "Vicar's -Brook," one mile from Great St. Mary's Church, the -very centre of Cambridge, stands the eight-foot high -milestone, the first in the series set up between -Cambridge and Barkway in the early years of the -eighteenth century, and paid for out of "Dr. Mouse's -and Mr. Hare's Causey Money." This initial stone -cost £5, 8s. The arms of Dr. Mouse may still be -traced, impaling those of Trinity Hall.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig31.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">TRUMPINGTON MILL. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Beyond this hoary but little-noticed relic begin -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a><br /><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a><br /><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>the Botanic Gardens, and beside them runs or creeps -that old Cambridge water-supply, the "little new -river," brought in 1610 from the Nine Wells under -yonder gentle hills that break the flatness of the -landscape away on the right.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig32.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE FIRST MILESTONE FROM CAMBRIDGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The idea of bringing pure water into Cambridge -originated, in 1574, with a certain Dr. Perne, Master -of Peterhouse; its object both to cleanse the King's -Ditch, "which," says Fuller, "once made to defend -Cambridge by its strength, did in his time offend it -with its stench," and to provide drinking water for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> -the University and town. This clear-running stream -has an interest beyond its local use, for the cutting -of its course was designed by Edward Wright, of -Gonville and Caius College, who also drew the plans -for Sir Hugh Myddleton's "New River," whose course -so closely neighbours this old road between Ware -and London.</p> - -<p>The Conduit—"Hobson's Conduit," as it is -called—that once stood on Market Hill, was removed -in 1854, and now stands at the very beginning -of Cambridge, where Trumpington "Road" -becomes "Street," at the head of this open stream.</p> - -<p>The Nine Wells are not easy to find. They are -situated near the village of Great Shelford, under -a shoulder of the Gog Magog Hills, and are approached -across two rugged pastures, almost impracticable -in wet weather. The term "wells" is -misleading. They are springs, found trickling -feebly through the white clay in the bed of a deep -trench with two branches, cut in the hillside. Above -them stands a granite obelisk erected by public -subscription in 1861, and setting forth all the -circumstances at great length. The term "Nine -Wells" is not especially applied to this spot, but -is used throughout Cambridgeshire for springs, whatever -their number. A similar custom obtained in -classic Greece, but the evidence by which our -Cambridgeshire practice might possibly be derived -from such a respectable source, and so be linked -with the Pierian spring and the Muses Nine, is -entirely lacking.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig33.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">HOBSON'S CONDUIT. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The Gog Magogs—"the Gogs," as the country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>-folk -irreverently abbreviate their mysterious name—are -the Cambridgeshire mountains. They are not -particularly Alpine in character, being, indeed, just -a series of gently rising grassy downs, culminating -in a height of three hundred feet above sea-level. -No one will ever be able to explain how these very -mild hills obtained their terrific title; and Gog and -Magog themselves, mentioned vaguely in Revelations, -where the devil is let loose again after his thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> -years' imprisonment in the bottomless pit, are equally -inexplicable.</p> - -<p>The crowning height of the Gog Magogs was -in Roman times the summer camp of a cohort of -Vandals, quartered in this district to overawe the -conquered British. It was then the policy of Rome, -as it is of ourselves in India and elsewhere at the -present day, to enrol into her service the strange -tribes and alien nations she had conquered, and to -bring them from afar to impress her newest subjects -with the far-reaching might and glory of the Empire. -This Vandalian cohort was formed from the barbarian -prisoners defeated on the Danube by Aurelian, and -enlisted by the Emperor Probus. The earthworks -of their camp are still traceable within the grounds -of the mansion and estate of Vandlebury, on the -hilltop, once belonging to the Duke of Leeds. From -this point of view Cambridge is seen mapped out -below, while in other directions the great rolling -fields spread downwards in fold upon fold. Immense -fields they are, enclosed in the early years of last -century, when Cambridgeshire began to change its -immemorial aspect of open treeless downs, where the -sheep grazed on the short grass and the bustard still -lingered, for its present highly cultivated condition. -Fields of this comparatively recent origin may -generally be recognised by their great size, in striking -contrast with the ancient enclosures whose area -was determined by the work of hand-ploughing. -These often measure over half a mile square, and -mark the advent of the steam-plough.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> old Cambridge water-supply, meandering down -from the hills, has induced a similar discursiveness -in these last pages. Onward from Trumpington -Road it runs in a direct line to the Conduit, and -our course shall, in sympathy, be as straight.</p> - -<p>The Fitzwilliam Museum is the first public -building to attract notice on entering the town: a -huge institution in the classic style, notable for the -imposing Corinthian columns that decorate its front; -its effect marred by the stone screen that interrupts -the view up the noble flights of steps. "The Fitzbilly," -as all Cambridge men know it, derives from -the noble collections of art objects and antiquities, -together with great sums of money, left to the -University in 1816 by a Lord Fitzwilliam for the -establishment of a museum and art gallery. It was -completed some forty years ago, and has since then -been the great architectural feature in the first -glimpse of Cambridge. The coloured marble decorations -and the painting and gilding of the interior -are grandiose rather than grand; and although the -collections, added to by many later bequests, contain -many priceless and beautiful objects, the effect of -the whole is a kind of mental and optical indigestion -caused by the "fine confused feeding" afforded by -the very mixed arrangement of these treasures,—a -bad arrangement, like that of an overgrown private -collection, and utterly unsuited for public and educational -needs. You turn from a manuscript to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -picture, from a picture to a case of china, from that -to missals, and so all through the varied incarnations -of art throughout the centuries.</p> - -<p>Just beyond the Fitzwilliam Museum comes -Peterhouse College, the oldest of all the colleges in -the University. To understand something of the -meaning of the colleges and their relation to the -supreme teaching and governing body, it will be -necessary to recount, as briefly as may be, the -circumstances in which both University and Colleges -had their origin.</p> - -<p>The origin of Cambridge University, as of that of -Oxford, is of unknown date, and the manner of its -inception problematical. Who was the great teacher -that first drew scholars to him at this place? We -cannot tell. That he was a Churchman goes without -saying, for the Church, in the dark ages when learning -began to be, held letters and culture in fee-simple. -Nor can we tell why Cambridge was thus -honoured, for it was not the home, like Ely, Crowland, -or Thorney, of a great monastic establishment, whence -learning of sorts radiated. One of the untrustworthy -early chroniclers of these things gives, indeed, a -specific date to the beginnings of the University, and -says that Joffrid, Abbot of Crowland, in 1110 sent -monkish lecturers to the town; but the earliest -record, beyond which we must not go into the regions -of mere surmise, belongs to a hundred and twenty-one -years later, when royal regulations respecting -the students were issued. Already a Chancellor and -a complete governing body appear to have been in -existence. It is arguable that a century and more -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a><br /><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a><br /><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>must have been necessary for these to have been -evolved from the earliest days of a teaching body; -but these affairs are for pundits. Such special -pleaders as John Caius and Thomas Key, who fought -with great bitterness and amazing pertinacity in the -sixteenth century on the question as to whether -Oxford or Cambridge were the older of the two, had -the hardihood to trace them back to astonishing -lengths. According to Caius, arguing for Cambridge, -it was one Cantaber, a Spanish prince, who founded -the University here in the very remote days when Gurguntius -was King of Britain. To this prince he traces -the name of the town itself, and I think that fact -alone serves to discredit anything else he has to say.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig34.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">TRUMPINGTON STREET, CAMBRIDGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>But no matter when and how the University -originated. To those early teachers came so many -to listen in the one room or hall, that probably -constituted the original University, that the town did -not suffice, to accommodate them, and, both for the -sake of convenience and discipline, the first college -was founded, as primarily a lodgment or hostel for -the scholars. As their numbers continually grew, -and as benefactors began to look with increasing -kindliness upon learning, so were more and more -colleges added.</p> - -<p>The first of all the colleges was, as already stated, -this of Peterhouse, founded so far back as 1280 by -Hugh de Balsham, Bishop of Ely. It was at first -established in the Hospital of St. John the Evangelist, -near by, but was removed, only six years later, to -the present site, for convenient access to the Church -of St. Peter. It is to the fact that the chancel of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -church was used as its chapel that the college owes -its official but rarely heard title of "St. Peter's." In -1352 St. Peter's Church was given a new consecration, -and has ever since been known as St. Mary the -Less. Meanwhile, in 1632, the college built a chapel -of its own.</p> - -<p>Peterhouse has points of interest other than being -the first of the colleges. It has nurtured men not -only of distinction, but of fame. Men so opposite in -character as the worldly Cardinal Beaufort—the -great Cardinal who figures in Shakespeare—and the -pious Archbishop Whitgift were educated here; and -in later times that great man of science, Lord -Kelvin; but perhaps the most famous of all is Gray, -the poet, whose "Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard" -has done more to endear him to his country -than the acts of any statesman or divine.</p> - -<p>Peterhouse does not present a cheerful front to -the street. It is heavy and gloomy, and its buildings, -as a whole, do not help out the story of its age. -The chapel, whose weather-vane bears the emblem of -a key, an allusion to St. Peter, stands recessed -behind the railings that give upon the street, and -blocks the view into the first of the three quads. It -is flanked on one side by the venerable brick building -seen on the extreme left of the illustration -representing Trumpington Street, and on the other -by a great ugly three-storeyed block of stone, interesting -only because the rooms overlooking the street on -the topmost floor were those occupied by Gray. They -are to be identified by iron railings across one of -the windows. A story belongs to these rooms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -Gray, it seems, lived long in them as a Fellow of his -College, and might have eked out his morbid life -here, dining according to habit in Hall, and then, -unsociable and morose, retiring to his elevated eyrie, -reading the classics over a bottle of port. Gray had -a very pretty taste in port, but it did not suffice to -make him more clubbable. His solitary habits, -perhaps, were responsible for a morbid fear of fire -that grew upon him, and increased to such a degree -that he caused the transverse bars, that still remain, -to be placed outside his window overlooking the -churchyard of Little St. Mary's, and kept in constant -readiness a coil of rope to tie to them and so let himself -down in case of an alarm. His precautions were -matters of common knowledge, and at last his fears -were taken advantage of by a band of skylarking -students, who placed a bath full of water beneath his -rooms one winter night and then, placing themselves -in a favourable position for seeing the fun, raised -cries of "Fire!"</p> - -<p>Their best expectations were realised. The -window was hurriedly flung up, and the frenzied -poet, nightcapped and lightly clad, swiftly descended -into the bath, amid yells of delight. These intimate -facts seem to hint that Gray had not endeared himself -to the scholars of Peterhouse. This practical -joke severed his connection with the college, for he -immediately removed across the street, to Pembroke.</p> - -<p>Pembroke is prominent in this view down the -long, quiet, grave street; and the quaint turret of its -chapel, built by Sir Christopher Wren, is very -noticeable. Gravity is, we have said, the note here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> -and so solid a quality is quite in order, for -Trumpington Street and the road beyond have ever -been the favourite walks of dons and professors, -walking oblivious to their surroundings in what we -are bound to consider academic meditation rather -than that mere mental vacuity known as absent-mindedness. -There is a story told of the late -Professor Seeley exquisitely illustrating this mental -detachment. It is a story that probably has been -told of many earlier professors, to be re-incarnated -to suit every succeeding age: a common enough thing -with legends. It seems, however, that the late Professor -of History was walking past the Conduit one -fine day, speculating on who shall say what abstruse -matters, when a mischievous boy switched a copious -shower of water over him from the little stream in -the gutter. The Professor's physical organism felt the -descending drops, some lazy, unspeculative brain-cell -gave him the idea of a shower of rain, and he immediately -unfurled his umbrella, and so walked home.</p> - -<p>Next the new buildings of Pembroke, over against -Peterhouse, the Master of that college has his -residence, behind the high brick walls of a seventeenth -century garden. On the left hand are Little St. -Mary's, a Congregational Church, and the church-like -pinnacled square tower of the Pitt Press, all in -succession. Beyond, but hid from this view-point -by a gentle curve of the street, are "Cats," otherwise -St. Catherine's, and Corpus; and then we come to -that continuation of Trumpington Street called -"King's Parade," opposite King's College. Here we -are at the centre of Cambridge, with Market Hill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> -opening out on the right and the gigantic bulk of -King's College Chapel on the left, neighboured by -that fount of honour, or scene of disgraceful failure, -the beautiful classic Senate House, where you take -your degree or are ignominiously "plucked."</p> - -<p>In midst of Market Hill stands the church of -Great St. Mary's, the University Church. Town and -University are at this point inextricably mixed. -Shops and churches, colleges, divinity schools and -Town Hall all jostle one another around this wide -open space, void on most days, but on Saturday so -crowded with the canopied stalls of the market that -it presents one vast area of canvas. Few markets are -so well supplied with flowers as this, for in summertime -growing plants are greatly in demand by the -undergrads to decorate the windows of their -lodgings. This living outside the colleges is, and -has always been, a marked feature of Cambridge, -where college accommodation has never kept pace with -requirements. It is a system that makes the town -cheerful and lively in term, but at vacation times, -when the "men" have all "gone down," its emptiness -is correspondingly noticeable. To "go down" and -to "come up" are, by the way, terms that require -some little explanation beyond their obvious meaning -of leaving or of arriving at the University. They -had their origin in the old-standing dignity of Alma -Mater, requiring that all other places should be -considered below her—even the mighty Gog Magogs -themselves. From Cambridge to London or elsewhere -is therefore a [Greek: katabasis]—a going downward.</p> - -<p>The Cambridge system of lodging out does not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -make for discipline, and creates a lamentable laxity -in a man keeping his proper quota of chapels. To -attend chapel at an early hour of the morning seems -much more of an infliction when living in the -freedom of lodgings than when in the cloistered shades -of a college quad, and has led to many absences, -summonses before the Dean, and mild lectures from -that generally estimable and other-worldly personage. -You, in the innocence of your heart and your first -term, advance the excuse that late study makes it -difficult to always keep chapels. Observe that it is -<i>always</i> midnight study, never card-parties and the -like, and never that very natural disinclination to turn -out of bed in the morning that is answerable for -these backslidings. All very specious and unoriginal, -and that Dean has heard it all before, so many times, -and years and years ago, from men now gone into the -world and become middle-aged. Why, in his own -youth <i>he</i> gave and attended parties, and missed -chapels, and made these ancient blue-mouldy prevarications -to the Dean of <i>his</i> college,—and so back -and back to the infinities. Is he angry: does he -personally care a little bit? Not at all. It is -routine. "Don't you think, young man," he says, in -his best pulpit-cum-grandfather style, "don't you -think that if you were to <i>try</i> to study in the morning -it would be much better for your health, much better -in every way than reading at night? When I was -<i>your</i> age <i>I</i> studied at night. It gave me headaches. -Now try and keep chapel. It is <i>so</i> much better to -become used to habits of discipline. They are of such -value to us in after life"—and so forth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Cambridge</span> is often criticised because it is not -Oxford. As well might one find fault with a lily -because it is not a rose. Criticism of this kind -starts with the belief that it is a worse Oxford, an -inferior copy of the sister University. How false -that is, and how entirely Cambridge is itself in outward -appearance and in intellectual aims need not be -insisted upon. It is true that Trumpington Street -does not rival "the High" at Oxford, but it was not -built with the object of imitating that famous -academic street; and if indeed the Isis be a more -noble stream than the Cam, Oxford at least has -nothing to compare with the Cambridge "Backs."</p> - -<p>"The Backs" are the peculiar glory of Cambridge, -and he who has not seen them has missed much. -They are the back parts of those of the colleges—Queens, -King's, Clare, Trinity, and John's—whose -courts and beautiful lawns extend from the main -street back to the Cam, that much-abused and much -idealised stream.</p> - -<p>"The Cam," says a distinguished member of the -University, with a horrid lack of enthusiasm for the -surroundings of Alma Mater, "is scarcely a river at -all; above the town it is a brook; below the town it -is little better than a sewer." Can this, you wonder, -be the same as that "Camus, reverend sire," of the -poets; the stream that "went footing slow, His -mantle hairy and his bonnet sedge."</p> - -<p>That, undoubtedly, is too severe. Above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> -town it is a brook that will at any rate float such -craft as Cambridge possesses, and has shady nooks -like "Paradise" and Byron's Pool, where the canoe -can be navigated and bathing of the best may be -found; and now that Cambridge colleges no longer -drain into the river, the stream below town does not -deserve that reproach. Everything, it seems, depends -upon your outlook. If you are writing academic odes, -for example, like Gray's, you praise the Cam; if, like -Gray again, writing on an unofficial occasion, you enlarge -upon its sluggish pace and its mud. Gray, it will -be observed, could be a dissembling poet. His "Installation -Ode," as official in its way as the courtly lines -of a Poet Laureate, pictures Cambridge delightfully, -in the lines he places in the mouth of Milton—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2m">"Ye brown, o'er-arching groves,</span><br /> -<span class="i2m">That contemplation loves,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Where willowy Camus lingers with delight!</span><br /> -<span class="i2m">Oft at the blush of dawn</span><br /> -<span class="i2m">I trod your level lawn—</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Oft wooed the gleam of Cynthia, silver bright,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">With Freedom by my side, and soft-eyed Melancholy."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Few lines in the whole range of our poetry are so -beautiful as these.</p> - -<p>But Gray's own private and unofficial idea of the -Cam was very different. When he took the gag off -his Muse and allowed her to be frank, we hear of the -"rushy Camus," whose</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2m">"... Slowly-winding flood</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Perpetual draws his humid train of mud."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Yet "the Backs" give a picture of mingled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -architecture, stately trees, emerald lawns, and placid -stream not to be matched anywhere else: an ideal -picture of what a poet's University should be. If, -on entering the town from Trumpington Street, you -turn to the left past the Leys School, down the lane -called Coe Fen, you come first upon the Cam where -it is divided into many little streams running and -subdividing and joining together again in the oozy -pasture of Sheep's Green, and then to a water-mill. -Beyond that mill begin "the Backs," with Queens' -College, whose ancient walls of red brick, like some -building of romance, rise sheer from the water. -From them springs a curious "mathematical" -wooden bridge, spanning the river and leading from -the college to the shady walks on the opposite side.</p> - -<p>With so dreamy and beautiful a setting, it is not -surprising that Cambridge, although the education -she gave was long confined largely to the unimaginative -science or art of mathematics, has been -especially productive of poets. Dryden was an -alumnus of Trinity; Milton sucked wisdom at -Christ's; Wordsworth, of John's, wrote acres of -verse as flat as the Cambridgeshire meads, and much -more arid; Byron drank deep and roystered at -King's; and Tennyson was a graduate of Trinity. -Other poets owning allegiance to Cambridge are -that sweet Elizabethan songster, Robert Herrick, -Marlowe, Waller, Cowley, Prior, Coleridge, and -Praed. Poetry, in short, is in the moist relaxing -air of Cambridge, and in those</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"... brown o'er-arching groves</span><br /> -<span class="i2">That contemplation loves."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - -<p>Cambridge would stand condemned were poets -its only product. Fortunately, as some proof of the -practical value of an University education, it can -point to men like Cromwell, Pitt, and Macaulay, -whose strenuous lives have in their several ways left -a mark on the nation's history. Though one be not -a champion of Cromwell's career, yet his savagery, -his duplicity, his canting hypocrisy fade into the -background and lose their significance beside the -firmness of purpose, the iron determination and the -wise policy that made England respected and feared -abroad under the rule of the Protector. The beheading -of a King weighs little in the scale against -the upholding of the dignity of the State; and -though a sour Puritanism ruled the land under -the great Oliver, at least the guns of a foreign -foe were never heard in our estuaries under the -Commonwealth, as they were heard after the -Restoration. Cambridge gives no sign that she -is proud of Oliver, neither does Sidney Sussex, -his old college. But if Cambridge be not outwardly -proud of Old Noll, she abundantly glories -in William Pitt. And rightly, too. None may -calculate how the equation stands: how greatly -his natural parts or to what extent his seven -years of University education contributed to -his brilliant career; but for one of her sons to -have attained the dignity of Chancellor of the -Exchequer at twenty-three years of age, to -have been Prime Minister at twenty-five, the -political dictator of Europe and the saviour of his -country, is a triumph beyond anything they can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -show on the Isis. The Pitt Press, the Pitt Scholarship, -the Pitt Club, all echo the fame of his astonishing -genius.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXIV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> impossibility of giving even a glimpse of the -principal colleges of Cambridge in these pages of a -book devoted to the road will be obvious. Thus, the -great quads of Trinity, the many courts of John's, -Milton's mulberry tree at Christ's, the Pepysian -Library of Magdalen, and a hundred other things -must be sought elsewhere. Turn we, then, to -further talk of Thomas Hobson, the carrier and -livery-stable keeper of "Hobson's Choice," who lies -in an unmarked resting-place in the chancel of St. -Benedict's Church, hard by the Market Hill. Born -in 1544, he was not a native of Cambridge, but -seems to have first seen the light at Buntingford, -his father's native place. Already, in that father's -time, the business had grown so profitable and -important that we find Hobson senior a treasurer of -the Cambridge Corporation; and when he died, in -1568, in a position to leave considerable landed and -other property among his family. To Thomas, his -more famous son, he bequeathed land at Grantchester -and the waggon and horses that industrious son had -been for some years past driving between Cambridge -and London for him, with the surety and regularity -of the solar system. "I bequeath," he wrote, "to my -son Thomas the team-ware that he now goeth with,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> -that is to say, the cart and eight horses, and all the -harness and other things thereunto belonging, with -the nag, to be delivered to him at such time and -when as he shall attain and come to the age of -twenty-five years; or £30 in money, for and in -discharge thereof."</p> - -<p>And thus he continued to go once a week, back -and forth, for close upon sixty-three years, riding -the nag and its successors beside the waggon that -ploughed its ponderous way along the heavy roads. -An ancient portrait of him, a large painting in oil, -is now in the Cambridge Guildhall, and inscribed, -"Mr. Hobson, 1620." This contemporary portrait -has the curious information written on the back, -"This picture was hung up at Ye Black Bull inn, -Bishopsgate, London, upwards of one hundred years -before it was given to J. Burleigh 1787."</p> - -<p>Hobson scarce fitted the picture of the "jolly -waggoner" drawn in the old song. Have you ever -heard the song of the "Jolly Waggoner"? It is a song -of lightly come and lightly go; of drinking with good -fellows while the waggon and horses are standing -long hours outside the wayside inn, and consignees are -waiting with what patience they may for their goods. -A song that bids dull care begone, and draws for you -a lively sketch of the typical waggoner, who lived -for the moment, whistled as he went in attempted -rivalry with the hedgerow thrushes and blackbirds, -spent his money as he earned it, and had a greeting, -a ribbon, and a kiss for every lass along the familiar -highway.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig35.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">HOBSON, THE CAMBRIDGE CARRIER. -</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Laugh not to see so plain a man in print;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The Shadow's homely, yet ther's something in't.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Witness the Bagg he wears, (though seeming poore)</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The fertile Mother of a hundred more;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He was a thriving man, through lawfull Gain,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And wealthy grew by warrantable paine,</span><br /> -<span class="i2m">Then laugh at them that spend, not them that gather,</span><br /> -<span class="i2m">Like thriveing Sonnes of such a thrifty Father."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is a song that goes to a reckless and flamboyant -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a><br /><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>tune, an almost Handelian melody that is sung -with a devil-may-care toss of the head and much -emphasis; a rare, sweet, homely old country ditty—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"When first I went a-waggoning, a-waggoning did go,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">I filled my parents' hearts with sorrow, trouble, grief, and woe;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And many are the hardships, too, that since I have gone through.</span><br /> -<span class="i3">Sing wo! my lads, sing wo!</span><br /> -<span class="i3">Drive on, my lads, heigh-ho!</span><br /> -<span class="i3">For who can live the life that we jolly waggoners do?</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is a cold and stormy night: I'm wetted to the skin,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But I'll bear it with contentment till I get me to my inn,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And then I'll sit a-drinking with the landlord and his kin.</span><br /> -<span class="i3">Sing wo! my lads, etc.</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now summer is a-coming on—what pleasure we shall see!</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The mavis and the blackbird singing sweet on every tree.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The finches and the starlings, too, will whistle merrily.</span><br /> -<span class="i3">Sing wo! my lads, etc.</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now Michaelmas is coming fast—what pleasure we shall find!</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'Twill make the gold to fly, my lads, like chaff before the wind.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And every lad shall kiss his lass, so loving and so kind.</span><br /> -<span class="i3">Sing wo!" etc.</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And so forth.</p> - -<p>Hobson was not this kind of man. He had his -horse-letting business in Cambridge, where, indeed, -he had forty saddle-nags always ready, "fit for -travelling, with boots, bridle, and whip, to furnish -the gentlemen at once, without going from college -to college to borrow"; but he continued throughout -his long life to go personally with his waggon, and -died January 1st, 1631, in his eighty-sixth year, of -the irksome and unaccustomed inaction imposed upon -him by the authorities, who forbade him to ply to -London while one of the periodical outbreaks of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> -plague was raging in the capital. Dependable in -business as Hobson was, he prospered exceedingly, -and amassed a very considerable fortune, "a much -greater fortune," says one, "than a thousand men of -genius and learning, educated at the University, -ever acquired, or were capable of acquiring." This -is not a little hard on the learned and the gifted, -by whose favour and goodwill he prospered so -amazingly. For, be it known, he was not merely -and solely <i>a</i> carrier; but <i>the</i> carrier, especially -licensed by the University, and thus a monopolist. -Those were the days before a Government monopoly -of the post was established, and one of Hobson's -particular functions was the conveying of the mails. -He was thus a very serious and responsible person.</p> - -<p>You cannot conceive Hobson "carrying on" like -the typical "jolly waggoner." Look at the portrait -of him, taken from a fresco painted on a wall of his -old house of call, the Bull, in Bishopsgate Street. -A very grave and staid old man it shows us; looking -out upon the world with cold and calculating -eyes, deep-set beneath knitted brows, and with a -long and money-loving, yet cautious, nose. His -hand is unwillingly extracting a guinea from a well-filled -money-bag, and you may clearly see from his -expression of countenance how much rather he -would be putting one in.</p> - -<p>Yet in his last years he appeared in the guise -of a benefactor to the town of Cambridge, for in -1628 he gave to town and University the land on -which was built the so-called "Spinning House," or, -more correctly, "Hobson's Workhouse," where poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> -people who had no trade might be taught some -honest one, and all stubborn rogues and beggars be -compelled to earn their livelihood. A bequest providing -for the maintenance of the water-conduit in -the Market Place kept his memory green for many -a long year afterwards. It remained a prominent -object in the centre of the town until 1856, when -it was removed; but the little watercourses that of -old used to run along the kennels of Cambridge -streets still serve to keep the place clean and sweet.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig36.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">HOBSON.<br /> -[<i>From a Painting in Cambridge Guildhall.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>It cannot be too strongly insisted upon that -Hobson, although he fared the road personally, and -attended to every petty detail of his carrying busi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>ness, -was both a very wealthy and a very important -personage. The second condition is not necessarily -a corollary of the first. But Hobson bulked large -in the Cambridge of his time. Indeed, as much -may be gathered from the mass of literature written -around his name. In his lifetime even, some compiler -of a Commercial Letter Writer, for instructing -youths ignorant of affairs, could find no more apt -and taking title than that of <i>Hobson's Horse Load -of Letters, or Precedents for Epistles of Business</i>; -and poets and verse-writers, from Milton downwards, -wrote many epitaphs and eulogies on him. Milton, -who had gone up to Christ's College in 1624, was -twenty-three years of age when Hobson died, and -wrote two humorous epitaphs on him, more akin -to the manner of Tom Hood than the majestic -periods usually associated in the mind with the style -commonly called "Miltonic.". "Quibbling epitaphs" -an eighteenth century critic has called them. But -you shall judge—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"On the University Carrier, who sickened in -the time of the Vacancy, being forbid to -go to London by reason of the Plague.</p></blockquote> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here lies old Hobson: Death hath broke his girt,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Or else, the ways being foul, twenty to one</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He's here stuck in a slough and overthrown.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'Twas such a shifter that, if truth were known,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Death was half glad when he had got him down;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For he had any time this ten years full</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and the Bull;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And, surely, Death could never have prevailed,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Had not his weekly course of carriage failed;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But, lately, finding him so long at home,</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span><span class="i0">And thinking now his journey's end was come,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And that he had taken up his latest inn,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">In the kind office of a Chamberlain</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Showed him his room where he must lodge that night,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Pulled off his boots, and took away the light:</span><br /> -<span class="i0">If any ask for him, it shall be said,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'Hobson hath supped, and's newly gone to bed.'"</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The subject seems to have been an engrossing -one to the youthful poet, for he harked back to it -in the following variant:—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Here lieth one who did most truly prove</span><br /> -<span class="i0">That he could never die while he could move;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">So hung his destiny, never to rot</span><br /> -<span class="i0">While he might still jog on and keep his trot,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Made of sphere-metal, never to decay</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Until his revolution was at stay!</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'Gainst old truth) motion numbered out his time;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">His principles being ceased, he ended straight.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And too much breathing put him out of breath;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Nor were it contradiction to affirm</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Too long <i>vacation</i> hastened on his <i>term</i>;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Merely to drive the time away he sickened,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Fainted and died, nor would with ale be quickened.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'Nay,' quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretched,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'If I may not carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetched;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But vow' (though the cross Doctors all stood hearers)</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'For one <i>carrier</i> put down, to make six <i>bearers</i>.'</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Ease was his chief disease, and, to judge right,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He died for heaviness that his cart went light;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">His leisure told him that his time was come,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And lack of load made his life burdensome;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">That even to his last breath, (there be that say't,)</span><br /> -<span class="i0">As he were pressed to death, he cried 'More weight!'</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But, had his doings lasted as they were,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He had been an immortal Carrier.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Obedient to the moon, he spent his date</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span><span class="i0">In course reciprocal, and had his fate</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Yet, strange to think, his wain was his increase;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">His letters are delivered all and gone;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Only remains this superscription."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The next example—an anonymous one—makes -no bad third—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Here Hobson lies among his many betters,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A man unlearned, yet a man of letters;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">His carriage was well known, oft hath he gone</span><br /> -<span class="i0">In Embassy 'twixt father and the son:</span><br /> -<span class="i0">There's few in Cambridge, to his praise be't spoken,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But may remember him by some good Token.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">From whence he rid to London day by day,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Till Death benighting him, he lost his way:</span><br /> -<span class="i0">His Team was of the best, nor would he have</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Been mired in any way but in the grave.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And there he stycks, indeed, styll like to stand,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Untill some Angell lend hys helpyng hand.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Nor is't a wonder that he thus is gone,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Since all men know, he long was drawing on.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Thus rest in peace thou everlasting Swain,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And Supream Waggoner, next Charles his wain."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The couplet printed below touches a pretty note -of imagination, and is wholly free from that suspicion -of affected scholarly superiority to a common -carrier, with which all the others, especially Milton's, -are super-saturated—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Hobson's not dead, but Charles the Northerne swaine,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Hath sent for him, to draw his lightsome waine."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Charles's Wain, referred to in these two last examples, -is, of course, that well-known constellation -in the northern heavens usually known as the Great -Bear, anciently "Charlemagne's Waggon," and more -anciently still, the Greek Hamaxa, "the Waggon."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> - -<p>Coming, as might be expected, a considerable -distance after Milton and the others in point of -excellence, are the epitaphs printed in a little book -of 1640, called the <i>Witt's Recreations, Selected -from the Finest Fancies of the Modern Muses</i>. Some -of them are a little gruesome, and affect the reader -as unfavourably as though he saw the authors of these -lines dancing a saraband on poor old Hobson's grave—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Hobson (what's out of sight is out of mind)</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Is gone, and left his letters here behind.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He that with so much paper us'd to meet;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Is now, alas! content to take one sheet.</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He that such carriage store was wont to have,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Is carried now himselfe unto his grave:</span><br /> -<span class="i0">O strange! he that in life ne're made but one,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Six Carriers makes, now he is dead and gone."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Market Hill is, as already hinted, the centre of -Cambridge. The University church is there. There, -too, the stalls of the Wednesday and Saturday -markets still gather thickly, and on them the inquisitive -stranger may yet discover butter being -sold, as from time immemorial, by the yard. Here a -yard of butter is the equivalent of a pound, and the -standard gauge of such a yard—the obsolete symbol -of a time when the University exercised jurisdiction -over the markets as well as over the students—is to -this day handed over to the Senior Proctor of the -year on his taking office. It is a clumsy cylinder of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -sheet iron, a yard in length and an inch in diameter. -A pound of butter rolled out to this measurement -looks remarkably like a very yellow candle of -inordinate length.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig37.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">MARKET HILL, CAMBRIDGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Hobson's Conduit, as already noted, once stood -in the centre of this market-place. When his silent, -hook-nosed Majesty, William the Third, visited -Cambridge in 1689, the Conduit was made by the -enthusiastic citizens to run wine. Not much wine, -though, nor very good, we may surely suppose, for -the tell-tale account-books record that it cost only -thirty shillings!</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig38.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE FALCON, CAMBRIDGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Few of the old coach-offices or inns stood in this -square, but were—and are now—to be found chiefly -in the streets leading out of it. The Bull, -anciently the Black Bull, still faces Trumpington -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>Street; the Lion flourishes in Petty Cury; the -old Three Tuns, Peas Hill, is now the Central -Temperance Hotel; and the Blue Boar, in whose -archway an unfortunate clergyman, the Reverend -Gavin Braithwaite, was killed in 1814 when seated -on the roof of the Ipswich coach, still faces Trinity -Street. The Sun, however, in Trinity Street, where -Byron and his cronies dined and caroused, is no -more; and of late years the Woolpack and the -Wrestlers, both very ancient buildings, have been -demolished. Foster's Bank stands on the site of one -and the new Post Office on that of the other. For -a while the remains of the galleried, tumbledown -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>Falcon, stand in a court off Petty Cury; the inn -in whose yard Cambridge students entertained and -shocked Queen Elizabeth with a blasphemous stage -travesty of the Mass. In Bridge Street stands the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -Hoop, notable in its day, and celebrated by -Wordsworth—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Onward we drove beneath the Castle; caught,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">While crossing Magdalen Bridge, a glimpse of Cam;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And at the Hoop alighted, famous inn."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Beyond the Hoop, the quaintly-named Pickerel -Inn stands by Magdalen, or Great Bridge, just as it -did in days when the carriers dumped down their -loads here, to be transferred to the passage-boats for -Ely and Kings Lynn. In Benet Street the Eagle, -once the Eagle and Child, still discloses a courtyard -curiously galleried, and hard by is the old Bath Hotel. -This list practically exhausts the old coaching inns, -but of queer hostelries of other kinds there are many, -with nodding gables and latticed windows, in every -other lane and by-way. Churches, too, abound. -Oldest among these is St. Sepulchre's, one of the -four round churches in England; a dark Norman -building that in the blackness of its interior accurately -figures the grimness of the Norman mind.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig39.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">INTERIOR OF ST. SEPULCHRE'S CHURCH. -</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXVI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Cambridge</span>, now a town abounding in and surrounded -by noble trees, was originally a British settlement, -placed on that bold spur of high ground, rising from -the surrounding treeless mires, on which in after -years the Romans established their military post of -Camboricum, and where in later ages William the -Conqueror built his castle. The great artificial -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>mound, which, like some ancient sepulchral tumulus, -is all that remains to tell of William's fortress and to -mark where Roman and Briton had originally seized -upon this strategic point, crowns this natural bluff, -overlooking the river Cam. Standing on it, with -the whole of Cambridge town and a wide panorama -of low-lying surrounding country disclosed, it is -evident that this must have been the place of places -for many miles on either hand where, in those remote -days, the river could be crossed. Everywhere else -the wide-spreading swamps forbade a passage; and, -consequently, those who held this position, and could -keep it, could deny the whole country to the passage -of a hostile force from either side. Whether one -enemy sought to penetrate from London to Ely and -Norfolk, or whether another would come out of -Norfolk into South Cambridgeshire or Herts, he must -first of necessity dispose of those who held the key -of this situation. The Romans, before they could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -subdue the masters of this position, experienced, we -may well believe, no little difficulty; and it is probable -that the perplexity of antiquaries, confronted by the -existence of a Roman camp or station here, and of -another three miles higher up the Cam at Grantchester, -may be smoothed out by the very reasonable -explanation that Grantchester was the first Roman -camp over against the British stronghold at Cambridge, -and that, when the Romans had made -themselves masters of Cambridge, that place remained -their military post, while Grantchester became a civil -and trading community and a place of residence.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig40.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">CAMBRIDGE CASTLE A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Both place-names derive from this one river, -masquerading now as the Granta and again as the -Cam, but by what name the Romans knew Grantchester -we do not know and never shall.</p> - -<p>At Roman Camboricum those ancient roads, the -Akeman Street and the Via Devana, crossed at right -angles, meeting here on this very Castle hill: the -Via Devana on its way from Colchester to the town -of <i>Deva</i>, now Chester; the Akeman Street going -from <i>Branodunum</i>, now Brancaster, on the coast of -Norfolk, to <i>Aquæ Solis</i>, the Bath of our own day.</p> - -<p>Cambridge Castle, built in 1068 by William the -Conqueror to hold Hereward the Saxon and his -East Anglian fellow-patriots in check, has entirely -disappeared. It never accumulated any legends of -sieges or surprises, and of military history it had -none whatever. It was, therefore, a castle of the -greatest possible success; for, consider, although the -first impulse may be to think little of a fortress that -can tell no warlike story, the very lack of anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> -of the kind is the best proof of its strength and -fitness. It is not the purpose of a castle to invite -attacks, but by its very menace to overawe and -terrify. Torquilstone Castle and the story of its -siege and downfall, in the pages of <i>Ivanhoe</i>, make -romantic and exciting reading; but, inasmuch as it -fell, it was a failure. That Cambridge Castle not -only never fell, but was not even menaced, is the -best proof of its power.</p> - -<p>These great fortresses, with their stone keeps and -spreading wards and baileys, dotted here and there -over the land, rang the knell of English liberties. -"New and strong and cruel in their strength—how -the Englishman must have loathed the damp smell -of the fresh mortar, and the sight of the heaps of -rubble, and the chippings of the stone, and the -blurring of the lime upon the greensward; and how -hopeless he must have felt when the great gates -opened and the wains were drawn in, heavily laden -with the salted beeves and the sacks of corn and -meal furnished by the royal demesnes, the manors -which had belonged to Edward the Confessor, now -the spoil of the stranger; and when he looked into -the castle court, thronged by the soldiers in bright -mail, and heard the carpenters working upon the -ordnance—every blow and stroke, even of the -hammer or mallet, speaking the language of -defiance."</p> - -<p>William himself occupied his castle of Cambridge -on its completion in 1069, and from it he directed -the long and weary military operations against -Hereward across the fens toward the Isle of Ely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> -only twelve miles away. From his keep-tower he -could see with his own eyes that Isle, rising from the -flat, on the skyline, like some Promised Land, but -two years were to pass before he and his soldiers -were to enter there; admitted even then by -treachery.</p> - -<p>From the Castle Mound the Cam may be seen, -winding away through the flats into the distant haze. -Immediately below are Parker's Piece, and Midsummer -and Stourbridge Commons; this last from -time beyond knowledge the annual scene of Stourbridge -Fair. "Sturbitch" Fair, as the country-folk -call it, existed, like the University itself, before -history came to take note of it. When King John -reigned it was already an important mark, and so -continued until, at the Dissolution of the Monasteries, -its rights and privileges were transferred to the -Corporation of Cambridge.</p> - -<p>Whether the story of its origin be well founded, -or merely a picturesque invention, it cannot be said. -It is a story telling how a Kendal clothier, at date -unknown, journeying from Westmoreland to London, -his pack-horses laden with bales of cloth, found the -bridge over the Cam at this point broken down, and, -trying to ford the river, fell in, goods and all. -Struggling at last to the opposite bank, and fishing -out his property, he spread his cloth to dry on -Stourbridge Common, where so many of the townsfolk -came to see it and to bid that in the end he sold -nearly all his stock, and did much better than if he -had gone on to London. The next year, therefore, he -took care—not to fall into the Cam again—but to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> -make Cambridge his mart. Other trades then -became attracted to the place where he found business -so brisk, and hence (according to the legend) the -growth of a fair in its prime comparable only with -that greatest of all fairs—the famous one of Nijni-Novgorod.</p> - -<p>To criticise a legend of this kind would be to -take it too seriously, else, among many things that -might be inquired into would be the appearance at -Cambridge of a traveller from Westmoreland bound -for London. He must have missed his way very -widely indeed!</p> - -<p>The Fair still lasts three weeks, from 18th -September to 10th October, but it is the merest shadow -of its former self. The Horse Fair, on the 25th -September, is practically all that remains of serious -business. In old times its annual opening was -attended with much ceremony. In those days, -before the computation of time was altered, and Old -Style became changed for New, the dates of opening -and closing were 7th and 29th September. On -Saint Bartholomew's Day the Mayor and Corporation -rode out from the town to set out the ground, then -cultivated. By that day all crops had to be cleared, -or the stall-holders, ready to set up their stalls and -booths, were at liberty to trample them down. On -the other hand, they were under obligation to remove -everything by St. Michael's Day, or the ploughmen, -ready by this time to break ground for ploughing, -had the right to carry off any remaining goods. -Stourbridge Fair was then a town of booths. In the -centre was the Duddery, the street where the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> -mercers, drapers and clothiers sold their wares; and -running in different directions were Ironmongers' -Row, Cooks' Row, Garlick Row, Booksellers' Row, and -many another busy street. In those times the three -weeks' turnover of the various trades was calculated -at not less than a quarter of a million sterling. The -railways that destroyed the position of Lynn, Ely, and -Cambridge as distributing places along the Cam -and Ouse, have wrought havoc with this old-time -Fair.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXVII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Through</span> Chesterton, overlooked by the Castle -and deriving its name from it, the road leaves -Cambridge for Ely, passing through the village of -Milton, where the Fenland begins, or what is more -by usage than true description so-called now the Fens -are drained and the land once sodden with water and -covered with beds of dense reeds and rushes made -to bear corn and to afford rich pasture for cattle. -This is the true district of the "Cambridgeshire -Camels," as the folk of the shire are proverbially -called. The term, a very old one, doubtless took its -origin in the methods of traversing the Fens formerly -adopted by the rustic folk. They used stilts, or -"stetches," as they preferred to call them, and no -doubt afforded an amusing spectacle to strangers, as -they straddled high above the reeds and stalked -from one grassy tussock to another in the quaking -bogs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<p>There is a choice of routes at Milton, the road -running in a loop for two miles. The left-hand -branch, through Landbeach, selected by the Post -Office as the route of its telegraph-poles, might on -that account be considered the main road, but the -right-hand route has decidedly the better surface. -Midway of this course, where the Slap Up Inn -stands, is the lane leading to Waterbeach, a scattered -village near the Cam, much troubled by the floods -from that stream in days gone by.</p> - -<p>Something of what Waterbeach was like in the -eighteenth century may be gathered from the -correspondence of the Rev. William Cole, curate -there from 1767 to 1770. Twenty guineas a year -was the modest sum he received, but that, fortunately -for him, was not the full measure of his resources, -for he possessed an estate in the neighbourhood. -The value of his land could not have been great, and -may be guessed from his letters. Writing in 1769, -he says: "A great part of my estate has been drowned -these two years: all this part of the country is now -covered with water and the poor people of this parish -utterly ruined." And again in 1770: "This is the -third time within six years that my estate has been -drowned, and now worse than ever." Shortly after -writing that letter he removed. "Not being a -water-rat," he says, "I left Waterbeach," and went -to the higher and drier village of Milton, two miles -away.</p> - -<p>Waterbeach long retained its old-world manners -and customs. May Day was its greatest holiday, -and was ushered in with elaborate preparations. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> -young women collected materials for a garland, -consisting of ribbons, flowers, and silver spoons, with -a silver tankard to suspend in the centre; while the -young men, early in the morning, or late at night, -went forth into the fields to collect emblems of their -esteem or disapproval of the young women aforesaid. -"Then," says the old historian of these things, "woe -betide the girl of loose habits, the slattern and the -scold; for while the young woman who had been -foremost in the dance, or whose amiable manners -entitled her to esteem, had a large branch or tree -of whitethorn planted by her cottage door, the girl -of loose manners had a blackthorn at hers." The -slattern's emblem was an elder tree, and the scold's -a bunch of nettles tied to the latch of the door.</p> - -<p>After having thus (under cover of darkness, be it -said) left their testimonials to the qualities or defects -of the village beauties, the young men, just before -the rising of the sun, went for the garland and -suspended it in the centre of the street by a rope -tied to opposite chimneys. This done, sunrise was -ushered in by ringing the village bells. Domestic -affairs were attended to until after midday, and then -the village gave itself up to merrymaking. Dancing -on the village green, sports of every kind, and kiss-in-the-ring -were for the virtuous and the industrious; -while the recipients of the elders, the blackthorns, -and the nettles sat in the cold shade of neglect, -wished they had never been born, and made up their -minds to be more objectionable than ever. Such -was Waterbeach about 1820.</p> - -<p>Some thirty years later the village acquired an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -enduring title to fame as the first charge given to -that bright genius among homely preachers, Charles -Haddon Spurgeon. It was in 1851, while yet only in -his seventeenth year, that Spurgeon was made pastor -of the Baptist Chapel here. Already his native -eloquence had made him famed in Colchester, where, -two years before, he had first spoken in public. The -old thatched chapel where the youthful preacher -ministered, on a stipend of twenty pounds a year, -almost identical with that enjoyed by the Reverend -William Cole, curate in the parish church eighty -years before, has long since disappeared, destroyed -by fire in 1861; and on its site stands a large and -very ugly "Spurgeon Memorial Chapel" in yellow -brick with red facings. Scarce two years and a half -passed before the fame of Spurgeon's eloquence -spread to London, and he was offered, and accepted, -the pastorate of New Park Street Chapel, Southwark, -there to fill that conventicle to overflowing, -and presently draw all London to Exeter Hall. -Even at this early stage of his wonderful career -there were those who dilated upon the marvel of -"this heretical Calvinist and Baptist" drawing a -congregation of ten thousand souls while St. Paul's -and Westminster Abbey resounded with the echoing -footsteps of infrequent worshippers; but Spurgeon -preached shortly afterwards to a congregation numbering -twenty-four thousand, and maintained his hold -until the day of his death, nearly forty years after. -Where shall that curate, vicar, rector, dean, bishop, -or archbishop of the Church of England be found -who can command such numbers?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> - -<p>That his memory is held in great reverence at -Waterbeach need scarce be said. There are still -those who tell how the "boy-preacher," when -announced to hold a night service in some remote -village, not only braved the worst that storms and -floods could do, but how, finding the chapel empty -and the expected congregation snugly housed at -home, out of the howling wind and drenching rain, -he explored the place with a borrowed stable-lantern -in his hand, and secured a congregation by dint of -house-to-house visits!</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXVIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> left-hand loop, through Landbeach, if an inferior -road, has more wayside interest. Landbeach is in -Domesday Book called "Utbech," that is to say -Outbeach, or Beach out (of the water). "Beach" in -this and other Fenland instances means "bank"; -Waterbeach being thus "water bank." Wisbeach, -away up in the extreme north of the county, is a -more obscure name, but on inquiry is found to mean -Ousebank, that town standing on the Ouse in days -before the course of that river was changed. Landbeach -Church stands by the wayside, and has its -interest for the ecclesiologist, as conceivably also for -those curious people interested in the stale and futile -controversy as to who wrote Shakespeare's plays; -for within the building lies the Reverend William -Rawley, sometime chaplain to Bacon, and not only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> -so, but the author of a life of him and the publisher -of his varied acknowledged works. He, if anyone, -would have known it if Bacon had been that self-effacing -playwright, so we must needs think it a -pity there is so little in spiritualism save idiotic -manifestations of horseplay and showers of rappings -in the dark; otherwise the obvious thing would be -to summon Rawley's shade and discreetly pump it.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig41.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">LANDBEACH. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Beyond Landbeach, close by the fifty-sixth milestone -from London, the modern road falls into the -Roman Akeman Street, running from Brancaster -(the Roman "Branodunum") on the Norfolk coast, -through Ely, to Cambridge, to Dunstable, and -eventually, after many leagues, to Bath. Those -who will may attempt the tracing of it back between -this point and Cambridge, a difficult enough matter, -for it has mostly sunk into the spongy ground, but -here, where it exists for a length of five miles, plain -to see, it is still a causeway raised in places con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>siderably -above the levels, and occasionally showing -stretches of imposing appearance. It remains thus a -striking monument to the surveying and engineering -skill of that great people, confronted here in far-off -times with a wilderness of reeking bogs. The object -in view—to reach the coast in as straight a line as -possible—meant wrestling with the difficulties of -road-making in the mixed and unstable elements of -mud and water, but they faced the problem and -worked it out with such completeness that a solid -way arose that only fell into decay when the civilisation -they had planted here, on the rim and uttermost -verge of the known world, was blotted out. Onwards -as far as Lynn a succession of fens stretched for sixty-five -miles, but so judiciously did the Romans choose -their route that only some ten miles of roadway were -actually constructed in the ooze. It picked a careful -itinerary, advancing from isle to isle amid the swamps, -and, for all its picking and choosing of a way, went -fairly direct. It was here that it took the first -plunge into the sloughs and made direct, as a raised -bank, through them for the Ouse, where Stretham -Bridge now marks the entrance to the Isle of Ely. -How that river, then one of great size and volume, -was crossed we do not know. Beyond it, after some -three miles of floundering through the slime, the -causeway came to firm ground again where the -village of Stretham (its very name suggestive of solid -roadway) stands on a rise that was once an island. -Arrived at that point, the road took its way for ten -miles through the solid foothold of the Isle of Ely, -leaving it at Littleport and coming, after struggling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> -through six miles of fen, to the Isle of Southery. -Crossing that islet in little more than a mile, it -dipped into fens again at the point now known as -Modney Bridge, whence it made for the eyot of -Hilgay. Only one difficulty then remained: to cross -the channel of the Wissey River into Fordham. -Thenceforward the way was plain.</p> - -<p>We have already made many passing references -to the Fens, and now the district covered in old -times by them is reached, it is necessary, in order -to make this odd country thoroughly understood, -to explain them. What are the Fens like? The -Fens, expectant reader, are gone, like the age of -miracles, like the dodo, the pterodactyl, the iguanodon, -and the fancy zoological creatures of remote antiquity. -Ages uncountable have been endeavouring to abolish -the Fens. When the Romans came, they found the -native tribes engaged upon the task, and carried it -on themselves, in succession. Since then every age -has been at it, and at length, some seventy or eighty -years ago, when steam-pumps were brought to aid -the old draining machinery, the thing was done. -There is only one little specimen of natural fen now -left, and that is preserved as a curiosity. But -although the actual morasses are gone, the flat -drained fields of Fenland are here, and we shall -presently see in these pages that although the -sloughs are in existence no longer, it is no light -thing in these districts to venture far from the main -roads.</p> - -<p>No one has more eloquently or more truly described -the present appearance of the Fen country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> -than Cobbett. "The whole country," he says, "is -as level as the table on which I am now writing. -The horizon like the sea in a dead calm: you see -the morning sun come up, just as at sea; and see -it go down over the rim, in just the same way as -at sea in a calm. The land covered with beautiful -grass, with sheep lying about upon it, as fat as -hogs stretched out sleeping in a stye. Everything -grows well here: earth without a stone so big as a -pin's head; grass as thick as it can grow on the -ground."</p> - -<p>The Fenland has, in fact, the wild beauty that -comes of boundless expanse. Only the range of -human vision limits the view. Above is the summer -sky, blue and vast and empty to the sight, but filled -to the ear with the song of the soaring skylark, -trilling as he mounts higher and higher; the sound -of his song diminishing as he rises, until it becomes -like the "still small voice of Conscience," and at -last fades out of hearing, like the whisper of that -conscience overwrought and stricken dumb.</p> - -<p>These levels have a peculiar beauty at sunset, -and Cambridgeshire sunsets are as famous in their -way as Cambridge sausages. They (the sunsets, not -the sausages) have an unearthly glory that only a -Turner in his most inspired moments could so much -as hint at. The vastness of the Fenland sky and -the humid Fenland atmosphere conspire to give -these effects.</p> - -<p>The Fenland is a land of romance for those who -know its history and have the wit to assimilate its -story from the days of fantastic legend to these of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> -clear-cut matter-of-fact. If you have no reading, or -even if you have that reading and do not bring to -it the aid of imagination, the Fens are apt to spell -dulness. If so, the dulness is in yourself. Leave -these interminable levels, and in the name of God -go elsewhere, for the flatness of the Great Level -added to the flatness of your own mind will in -combination produce a horrible monotony. On the -other hand, if some good fairy at your cradle gave you -the gift of seeing with a vision not merely physical, -why, then, the Fenland is fairyland; for though to -the optic nerve there is but a level stretching to -the uttermost horizon, criss-crossed with dykes and -lodes and leams of a severe straightness, there is -visible to the mind's eye, Horatio, an ancient order -of things infinitely strange and uncanny. Antiquaries -have written much of the Fens, but they do -not commonly present a very convincing picture of -them. They tell of Iceni, of Romans, fierce Norsemen -marauders, Saxons, Danes, and the conquering -Normans, but they cannot, or do not, breathe the -breath of life into those ancient peoples, and make -them live and love and hate, fight and vanquish or -be vanquished. The geologists, too, can speculate -learnedly upon the origin of the Fens, and can prove, -to their own satisfaction at least, that this low-lying, -once flooded country was produced by some natural -convulsion that suddenly lowered it to the level of -the sea; but no one has with any approach to -intimacy with the subject taken us back to the -uncountable æons when the protoplasm first began -to move in the steaming slime, and so conducted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> -us by easy stages through the crucial and hazardous -period when the jelly-fish was acquiring the rudiments -of a backbone (if that was the order of the -progress) to the exciting era when the crocodile -played the very devil with aboriginal man, and the -rhinoceros and the hippopotamus wallowed in the -mud. The Iceni are very modern, compared with -these very ancient inhabitants, and have done what -those inarticulate protoplasms, neolithic men and -others, could not do; that is, they gave their names -to many places in these East Anglian shires, and a -title that still survives to a great road. Look on -any map of East Anglia and the surrounding counties -and you shall see many place-names beginning with -"Ick": Ickborough, Ickworth, Ickleton, Icklington, -Ickleford, and Ickwell.</p> - -<p>These are the surviving names of Icenian settlements. -There is a "Hickling" on the Broads, in -Norfolk, which ought by rights to be "Ickling"; -but the world has ever been at odds on the subject -of aspirate or no aspirate, certainly since the classic -days of the Greeks and the Romans. Does not -Catullus speak of a certain Arrius who horrified the -Romans by talking of the "Hionian Sea"? and is -not Tom Hood's "Ben Battle" familiar? "Don't let -'em put 'Hicks jacet' there," he said, "for that is -not my name."</p> - -<p>When the Romans came and found the Iceni -here, the last stone-age man and the ultimate -crocodile (the former inside the latter) had for ages -past been buried in the peat of the Fens, resolving -into a fossil state. The Iceni probably, the pur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>poseful -Romans certainly, endeavoured to drain -the Fens, or at least to prevent their being worse -flooded by the sea; and the Roman embankment -between Wisbeach and King's Lynn, built to keep -out the furious wind-driven rollers of the Wash, -gave a name to the villages of Walsoken, Walton, -and Walpole (once Wall-pool). When the Romano-British -civilisation decayed, the defences against -the sea decayed with it, and the level lay worse -flooded than before. Far and wide, from Lynn, on -the seacoast in the north, to Fen Ditton, in the -south, almost at the gates of Cambridge; from -Mildenhall in the east, to St. Ives and Peterborough -in the west, a vast expanse of still and shallow water -covered an area of, roughly, seventy miles in length -and thirty in breadth: about 2100 square miles. -Out of this dismal swamp rose many islands, formed -of knobs of the stiff clay or gault that had not been -washed away with the surrounding soil. It was on -these isles that prehistoric man lived, and where his -wretched wattle-huts were built beside the water. -He had his dug-out canoe and his little landing-stage, -and sometimes, when his islet was very -diminutive and subject to floods, he built his -dwelling on stakes driven into the mud. In -peaceful and plenteous times he sat on his staging -overhanging the water, and tore and gnawed at -the birds and animals that had fallen to his arrow -or his spear. Primitive man was essentially selfish. -He first satisfied his own hunger and then tossed the -remainder to his squaw and the brats, and when -they had picked the bones clean, and saved those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> -that might be useful for fashioning into arrow-heads, -they threw the remains into the water, whence they -sent up in the fulness of time an evil smell which -did not trouble him and his in the least, primitive as -they were in every objectionable sense of the word.</p> - -<p>Relics of him and his domestic odds and ends -are often found, ten feet or so beneath the present -surface of the land. His canoe is struck by the spade -of the gaulter, his primitive weapons unearthed, his -dustbin and refuse-heap turned over and examined -by curious antiquaries and naturalists, who can tell -you exactly what his <i>menu</i> was. Sometimes they -find primitive man himself, lying among the ruins of -his dwelling, overwhelmed in the long ago by some -cataclysm of nature, or perhaps killed by a neighbouring -primitive.</p> - -<p>To these isles in after centuries, when the Romans -had gone and the Saxons had settled down and -become Christians, came hermits and monks like -Guthlac, who reared upon them abbeys and churches, -and began in their several ways to cultivate the land -and to dig dykes and start draining operations. -For the early clergy earned their living, and were -not merely the parasites they have since become. -These islands, now that the Fens are drained, are just -hillocks in the great plain. They are still the only -villages in the district, and on those occasions when -an embankment breaks and the Fens are flooded, -they become the islands they were a thousand years -ago. The very names of these hillocks and villages -are fen-eloquent, ending as they do with "ey" and -"ea," corruptions of the Anglo-Saxon words "ig,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> -an island, and "ea," a river. Ely, the largest of -them, is said by Bede to have obtained its name -from the abundance of eels, and thus to be the "Eel -Island." There are others who derive it from "helig," -a willow, and certainly both eels and willows were -abundant here; but the name, in an ancient elision -of that awkward letter "h," is more likely to come -from another "helig," meaning holy, and Ely to -really be the "holy island."</p> - -<p>Other islands, most of them now with villages of -the same name, were Coveney, Hilgay, Southery, -Horningsea, Swavesey, Welney, Stuntney, and -Thorney. There was, too, an Anglesey, the Isle of -the Angles, a Saxon settlement, near Horningsea. A -farm built over the site of Anglesey Abbey now -stands there.</p> - -<p>But many Fenland place-names are even more -eloquent. There are Frog's Abbey, Alderford, Littleport, -Dry Drayton and Fenny Drayton, Landbeach -and Waterbeach. Littleport, really at one time a -port to which the ships of other ages came, is a port -no longer; Fenny Drayton is now as dry as its fellow-village; -and Landbeach and Waterbeach are, as we -have already seen, not so greatly the opposites of one -another as they were.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXIX</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A great</span> part of the Fens seems to have been drained -and cultivated at so early a time as the reigns of -Stephen and Henry the Second, for William of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -Malmesbury describes this as then "the paradise -of England," with luxuriant crops and flourishing -gardens; but this picture of prosperity was suddenly -blotted out by the great gale that arose on the -morrow of St. Martin 1236, and continued for eight -days and nights. The sea surged over the embankments -and flowed inwards past Wisbeach, and the -rivers, instead of flowing away, were forced back and -so drowned the levels. Some attempts to reclaim -the land were made, but a similar disaster happened -seventeen years later, and the fen-folk seem to have -given up all efforts at keeping out the waters, for -in 1505 we find the district described as "one of the -most brute and beastly of the whole realm; a land -of marshy ague and unwholesome swamps." But -already the idea of reclamation was in the air, for -Bishop Morton, in the time of Henry the Seventh,—a -most worshipful Bishop of Ely, Lord Chancellor too, -churchman, statesman, and engineer,—had a notion -for making the stagnant Nene to flow forth into the -sea, instead of doubling upon itself and seething in -unimaginable bogs as it had done for hundreds of -years past. He cut the drain that runs from Stanground, -away up in the north near Peterborough, -to Wisbeach, still known as Morton's Leam, and -thus began a new era. But though he benefited -the land to the north-west of Ely, the way between -his Cathedral city and Cambridge was not affected, -and remained in his time as bad as it had been for -centuries; and he, like many a Bishop before him -and others to come after, commonly journeyed -between Ely and Cambridge by boat. Our road, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>indeed, did not witness the full activity of the good -Bishop and his successors. Their doings only attained -to great proportions in the so-called Great Level of -the Fens, the Bedford Level, as it is alternatively -called, that stretches over a district beginning eight -miles away and continuing for sixteen or twenty -miles, by Thorney, Crowland, and Peterborough. -This map, from Dugdale's work, showing the Fens -as they lay drowned, and the islands in them, will -give the best notion of this curious district. You -will perceive how like an inland sea was this waste -of mud and water, not full fathom five, it is true, -but less readily navigable than the sea itself. Here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> -you see the road from Cambridge to Ely and on to -Downham Market pictured, with no great accuracy, -you may be sworn, and doubtless with as much -margin of error as it is customary to allow in the -somewhat speculative charts of Arctic continents and -regions of similarly difficult access. In this map, -then, it will be perceived how remote the Bedford -Level lies from our route. Why "Bedford Level," -which, in point of fact, is in Cambridgeshire and not -in Bedfordshire at all? For this reason: that these -are lands belonging to the Earls (now Dukes) of -Bedford. To the Russells were given the lands -belonging to Thorney Abbey, but their appetite for -what should have been public property was only -whetted by this gift, and when in the reign of -Charles the First proposals were made to drain and -reclaim 310,000 acres of surrounding country, they, -in the person of Francis, the then Earl, obtained of -this vast tract no less than 95,000 acres. It is true -that this grant was made conditional upon the Earl -taking part in the drainage of the land, and that it -was a costly affair in which the smaller adventurers -were ruined and the Earl's own resources strained; -but in the result a princely heritage fell to the -Bedfords.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig42.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE FENS.<br /> -[<i>After Dugdale.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>The great engineering figure at this period of -reclamation was the Dutchman, Cornelius Vermuyden, -who began his dyking and draining under royal -sanction and with Bedfordian aid in 1629. Vermuyden's -is a great figure historically considered, but -his works are looked upon coldly in these times, and -it is even said that one of the principal labours of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> -modern engineers has been to rectify his errors. -That view probably originated with Rennie, who in -1810 was employed to drain and reclaim the extensive -marshland between Wisbeach and Lynn, and -was bound, in the usual professional manner, to -speak evil things of one of the same craft. There -was little need, though, to be jealous of Vermuyden, -who had died obscurely, in poverty and in the cold -shade of neglect, some hundred and fifty years -before. Vermuyden, as a matter of course, employed -Flamands and Hollanders in his works, for -they were not merely his own countrymen, but -naturally skilled in labour of this technical kind. -These strangers aroused the enmity of the Fenmen, -not for their strangeness alone, but for the sake of -the work they were engaged upon, for the drainage -of the Fens was then a highly unpopular proceeding. -The Fenmen loved their watery wastes, and little -wonder that they did so, for they knew none other, -and they were a highly specialised race of amphibious -creatures, skilled in all the arts of the wild-fowler -and the fisherman, by which they lived. -Farming was not within their ken. They trapped -and subsisted upon the innumerable fish and birds -that shared the wastes with them; birds of the -duck tribe, the teal, widgeon, and mallard; and -greater fowl, like the wild goose and his kind. For -fish they speared and snared the eel, the pike, and -the lamprey—pre-eminently fish of the fens; for -houses they contrived huts of mud and stakes, -thatched with the reeds that grew densely, to a -height of ten or twelve feet, everywhere; and as for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -firing, peat was dug and stacked and burnt. Consider. -The Fenman was a product of the centuries. -His father, his grandfather, his uttermost ancestors, -had squatted and fished and hunted where they -would, and none could say them nay. They paid -no rent or tithe to anyone, for the Fens were common, -or waste. And now the only life the Fenman knew -was like to be taken from him. What could such -an one do on dry land? A farmer put aboard ship -and set to navigate it could not be more helpless -than the dweller in those old marshes, dependent -only upon his marsh lore, when the water was -drained off and the fishes gone, reed-beds cut down, -the land cultivated, and the wild-fowl dispersed. -The fears of this people were quaintly expressed in -the popular verses then current, entitled "The -Powte's Complaint." "Powte," it should be said, -was the Fen name for the lamprey—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Come, brethren of the water, and let us all assemble</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To treat upon this matter, which makes us quake and tremble;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For we shall rue, if it be true the fens be undertaken,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And where we feed in fen and reed they'll feed both beef an bacon.</span><br /> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They'll sow both beans and oats where never man yet thought it;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Where men did row in boats ere undertakers bought it;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But, Ceres, thou behold us now, let wild oats be their venture,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And let the frogs and miry bogs destroy where they do enter.</span><br /> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behold the great design, which they do now determine,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Will make our bodies pine, a prey to crows and vermine;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For they do mean all fens to drain and waters overmaster,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">All will be dry, and we must die, 'cause Essex Calves want pasture.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span><br /> -<span class="i0">Away with boats and rudders, farewell both boots and skatches,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">No need of one nor t'other; men now make better matches;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Stilt-makers all and tanners shall complain of this disaster,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For they will make each muddy lake for Essex Calves a pasture.</span><br /> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The feather'd fowls have wings, to fly to other nations,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">But we have no such things to help our transportations;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">We must give place, O grievous case! to horned beasts and cattle,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Except that we can all agree to drive them out by battle."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Other verses follow, where winds, waves, and -moon are invoked in aid, but enough has been -quoted to show exactly how affairs stood at this -juncture. But the Fenmen were not without their -defender. He was found in a certain young Huntingdonshire -squire and brewer, one Oliver Cromwell, -Member of Parliament for Huntingdon, reclaimed -from his early evil courses, and now, a Puritan and -a brand plucked timeously from the burning, posing -as champion of the people. Seven years past this -draining business had been going forward, and now -that trouble was brewing between King and people, -and King wanted money, and people would withhold -it, the popular idea arose that the Fens were being -drained to provide funds for royal needs. Cromwell -was at this time resident in Ely, and seized upon -the local grievances and exploited them to his own -end, with the result that the works were stopped -and himself raised to the extreme height of local -popularity. But when the monarchy was upset and -Cromwell had become Lord Protector, he not only -authorised the drainage being resumed, but gave -extreme aid and countenance to William, Earl of -Bedford, sending him a thousand Scots prisoners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> -from Dunbar, as pressed men, practically slaves, to -work in his trenches. Appeal from Philip drunk -to Philip sober is a famous remedy, but appeal to -Oliver, besotted with power, must have seemed -helpless to our poor Fen-slodgers, for they do not -seem to have made resistance, and the work progressed -to its end.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXX</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">If</span> most of those who have described Fenland have -lacked imagination, certainly the charge cannot be -brought against that eighth-century saint, Saint -Guthlac, who fled into this great dismal swamp and -founded Crowland Abbey on its north-easterly -extremity. Crowland has nothing to do with the -Ely and King's Lynn Road, but in describing what -he calls the "develen and luther gostes" that made -his life a misery, Guthlac refers to the evil inhabitants -of the Fens in general. Precisely what a "luther" -ghost may be, does not appear. A Protestant -spook, perhaps, it might be surmised, except that -Lutheran schisms did not arise for many centuries -later.</p> - -<p>Saints were made of strange materials in ancient -times, and Guthlac was of the strangest. Truth was -not his strong point, and he could and did tell tales -that would bring a blush to the hardy cheek of a -Sir John Mandeville, or arouse the bitter envy of a -Munchausen. But Guthlac's character shall not be -taken away without good cause shown. He begins<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> -reasonably enough, with an excellent descriptive -passage, picturing the "hideous fen of huge bigness -which extends in a very long track even to the sea, -ofttimes clouded with mist and dark vapours, having -within it divers islands and woods, as also crooked -and winding rivers"; but after this mild prelude -goes on to make very large demands upon our -credulity.</p> - -<p>He had a wattle hut on an island, and to this -poor habitation, he tells us, the "develen and luther -gostes" came continually, dragged him out of bed -and "tugged and led him out of his cot, and to the -swart fen, and threw and sunk him in the muddy -waters." Then they beat him with iron whips. He -describes these devils in a very uncomplimentary -fashion. They had "horrible countenances, great -heads, long necks, lean visages, filthy and squalid -beards, rough ears, fierce eyes, and foul mouths; -teeth like horses' tusks, throats filled with flame, -grating voices, crooked shanks, and knees big and -great behind." It would have been scarce possible -to mistake one of these for a respectable peasant.</p> - -<p>After fifteen years of this treatment, Guthlac -died, and it is to be hoped these hardy inventions of -his are not remembered against him. No one else -found the Fens peopled so extravagantly. Only the -will-o'-wisps that danced fitfully and pallid at night -over the treacherous bogs, and the poisonous miasma -exhaled from the noxious beds of rotting sedge; only -the myriad wild-fowl made the wilderness strange -and eerie.</p> - -<p>Guthlac was the prime romancist of the Fens,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> -but others nearly contemporary with him did not -altogether lack imagination and inventive powers; -as where one of the old monkish chroniclers gravely -states that the Fen-folk were born with yellow -bellies, like frogs, and were provided with webbed -feet to fit them for their watery surroundings.</p> - -<p>Asthma and ague were long the peculiar -maladies of these districts. Why they should have -been is sufficiently evident, but Dugdale, who has -performed the difficult task of writing a dry book -upon the Fens, uses language that puts the case very -convincingly. He says, "There is no element good, -the air being for the most part cloudy, gross, and -full of rotten harrs; the water putrid and muddy, -yea, full of loathsome vermin; the earth spungy and -boggy." No wonder, then, that the terrible disease -of ague seized upon the unfortunate inhabitants of -this watery waste. Few called this miasmatic -affection by that name: they knew it as the "Bailiff -of Marshland," and to be arrested by the dread bailiff -was a frequent experience of those who worked early -or late in the marshes, when the poisonous vapours -still lingered. To alleviate the miseries of ague the -Fen-folk resorted to opium, and often became slaves -to that drug. Another very much dreaded "Bailiff" -was the "Bailiff of Bedford," as the Ouse, coming -out of Bedfordshire, was called. He of the marshland -took away your health, but the flooded Ouse, -rising suddenly after rain or thaw, swept your very -home away.</p> - -<p>Still, in early morn, in Wicken Fen, precautions -are taken by the autumn sedge-cutter against the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -dew and the exhalations from the earth, heavy with -possibilities of marsh fever. He ties a handkerchief -over his mouth for that purpose, while to protect -himself against the sharp edges of the sedge he -wears old stockings tied round his arms, leather -gaiters on his legs, and a calfskin waistcoat.</p> - -<p>The modern Fen-folk are less troubled with ague -than their immediate ancestors, but the opium habit -has not wholly left them. Whether they purchase -the drug, or whether it is extracted from the white -poppies that are a feature of almost every Fenland -garden, they still have recourse to it, and "poppy -tea" is commonly administered to the children to -keep them quiet while their parents are at work -afield. The Fenlanders are, by consequence, a solemn -and grim race, shaking sometimes with ague, and at -others "as nervous as a kitten," as they are apt to -express it, as a result of drugging themselves. Another, -and an entirely innocent, protection against -ague is celery, and the celery-bed is a cherished part -of a kitchen-garden in the Fens.</p> - -<p>One of the disadvantages of these oozy flats is -the lack of good drinking-water. The rivers, filled -as they are with the drainings of the dykes and -ditches, can only offer water unpleasant both to -smell and taste, if not actually poisonous from the -decaying matter and the myriad living organisms in -it; and springs in the Fens are practically unknown. -Under these circumstances the public-houses do a -good trade in beer and spirits.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Cambridgeshire</span> is a singularly stoneless country, -and in the Fens there is not so much as a pebble to -be found. Thus it has become a common jest of the -Cambridgeshire farmers to offer to swallow all the -stones you can pick up in their fields. Farm horses -for this reason are never shod, and it sounds not a -little strange and uncanny to see one of the great -waggon-horses plodding along a Fenland "drove," as -the roads are named, and to hear nothing but the -sound of his bells and the indistinct thudding of his -shoeless feet in the dust or the mud, into whichever -condition the weather has thrown the track.</p> - -<p>A Fenland road is one thing among others -peculiar to the Fens. It is a very good illustration -of eternity, and goes on, flat and unbending, with a -semi-stagnant ditch on either side, as far as eye can -reach in the vast solitary expanse, empty save for an -occasional ash-tree or group of Lombardy poplars, with -perhaps a hillock rising in the distance crowned by a -church and a village. No "metal" or ballast has ever -been placed on the Fenland drove. In summer it is -from six to eight inches deep in a black dust, that -rises in choking clouds to the passage of a vehicle or -on the uprising of a breeze; in winter it is a sea of -mud, congealed on the approach of frost into ruts and -ridges of the most appalling ruggedness. The Fen-folk -have a home-made way with their execrable -"droves." When they become uneven they just -harrow them, as the farmer in other counties harrows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -his fields, and, when they are become especially hard, -they plough them first and harrow them afterwards; -a procedure that would have made Macadam faint -with horror. The average-constituted small boy, -who throws stones by nature, discovers something -lacking in the scheme of creation as applied to these -districts. Everywhere the soil is composed of the -ancient alluvial silt brought down to these levels by -those lazy streams, the Nene, the Lark, the Cam, -and the Ouse, and of the dried peat of these sometime -stagnant and festering morasses. Now that -drainage has so thoroughly done its work, that in -ardent summers the soil of this former inland sea -gapes and cracks with dryness, it is no uncommon -sight to see water pumped on to the baking fields -from the leams and droves. The earth is of a light, -dry black nature, consisting of fibrous vegetable -matter, and possesses the well-known preservative -properties of bog soil. Thus the trees of the primeval -forest that formerly existed here, and were drowned -in an early stage of the world's history, are often dug -up whole. Their timber is black too, as black as coal, -as may be seen by the wooden bridges that cross the -drains and cuts, often made from these prehistoric -trees.</p> - -<p>Here is a typical dyke. Its surface is richly -carpeted with water-weeds, and the water-lily spreads -its flat leaves prodigally about it; the bright yellow -blossoms reclining amid them like graceful naiads on -fairy couches. But the Fenland children have a -more prosaic fancy. They call them "Brandy-balls." -The flowering rush, flushing a delicate carmine, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -the aquatic sort of forget-me-not, sporting the -Cambridge colours, are common inhabitants of the -dykes; and in the more stagnant may be found the -"water-soldier," a queer plant without any roots, living -in the still slime at the bottom until the time -comes for it to put forth its white blossoms, when it -comes to "attention" in the light of day, displays its -fleeting glory, and then sinks again, "at ease," to its -fetid bed. There is a current in the dykes, but the -water flows so imperceptibly that it does not deflect -the upstanding spikes of the daintiest aquatic plant -by so much as a hair's-breadth. Indeed, it would -not flow at all, and would merely stagnate, were it -not for the windmill-worked pumps that suck it -along and, somewhere in the void distance, impel it -up an inclined plane, and so discharge it into the -longer and higher drain, whence it indolently flows -into one of the canalised rivers, and so, through a -sluice, eventually finds its way into the sea at ebbtide.</p> - -<p>The means by which the Fens are kept drained -are not without their interest. A glance at a map -of Cambridgeshire and its neighbouring counties will -show the Great Level to be divided up into many -patches of land by hard straight lines running in -every direction. Some are thicker, longer, and -straighter than others, but they all inter-communicate, -and eventually reach one or other of the rivers. -The longest, straightest, and broadest of these represents -that great drain already mentioned, the Old -Bedford River, seventy feet wide and twenty-one -miles long; cut in the seventeenth century to shorten -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a><br /><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a><br /><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>the course of the Ouse and to carry off the floods. -Others are the New Bedford River, one hundred feet -in width, cut only a few years later and running -parallel with the first; Vermuyden's Eau, or the -Forty Foot Drain, of the same period, feeding the -Old Bedford River from the Nene, near Ramsey, -with their tributaries and counter-drains. The North -Level cuts belong principally to the early part of -the nineteenth century, when Rennie drained the -Wisbeach and Lynn districts.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig43.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">A WET DAY IN THE FENS. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The main drains are at a considerably higher -level than the surrounding lands, the water in them -only prevented from drowning the low-lying fields -again by their great and solid banks, fourteen to -sixteen feet high, and about ten feet in breadth -at the top. These banks, indeed, form in many -districts the principal roads. Perilous roads at night, -even for those who know them well, and one thinks -with a shudder of the dangers encountered of old by -local medical men, called out in the darkness to -attend some urgent case. Their custom was—perhaps -it is in some places still observed—to mount -their steady nags and to jog along with a lighted -stable-lantern swinging from each stirrup, to throw -a warning gleam on broken bank or frequent sunken -fence.</p> - -<p>At an interval of two miles along these banks is -generally to be found a steam pumping-engine, busily -and constantly occupied in raising water from the -lodes and dykes in the lower levels and pouring it -into the main channel. The same process is repeated -in the case of raising the water from the field-drains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> -into the smaller dykes by a windmill or "skeleton-pump," -as it is often called. It is a work that is -never done, but goes forward, year by year, and is -paid for by assessments on the value of the lands -affected by these operations. Commissioners, themselves -local landowners and tenants, and elected by -the same classes, look after the conduct and the -efficiency of the work, and see that the main drains -are scoured by the "scourers"; the banks duly -repaired by the "bankers" and the "gaulters"; the -moles, that might bring disaster by burrowing -through them, caught by the "molers"; and the -sluices kept in working order. The rate imposed for -paying the cost of these works is often a heavy one, -but the land is wonderfully rich and productive. -Nor need the Fenland farmer go to extraordinary -expense for artificial manure, or for marling his fields -when at length he has cropped all the goodness out -of the surface soil. The very best of restoratives lies -from some five to twelve feet under his own land, in -the black greasy clay formed from the decaying -vegetable matter of the old forests that underlie the -Fens. A series of pits is sunk on the land, the clay -obtained from them is spread over it, and the fields -again yield a bounteous harvest.</p> - -<p>Harvest-work and farm-work in general in the -Fens is in some ways peculiar to this part of the -country, for farm-holdings are large and farmsteads -far between. The practice, under these conditions, -arose of the work being done by gangs; the hands -assembling at break of day in the farmyard and -being despatched in parties to their distant day's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> -work in hoeing, weeding, or picking in the flat and -almost boundless fields; returning only when the day's -labour is ended. Men, women, and children gathered -thus in the raw morning make a picture—and in -some ways a pitiful picture—of farming and rustic -life, worthy of a Millet. But our Millet has not yet -come; and the gangs grow fewer. If he does not -hasten, they will be quite gone, and something -characteristic in Fenland-life quite lost. A Fenland -farm-lass may wear petticoats, or she may not. -Sometimes she acts as carter, and it is precisely in -such cases that she sheds her feminine skirts and -dons the odd costume that astonishes the inquisitive -stranger new to these parts, who sees, with doubt as -to whether he sees aright, a creature with the boots -and trousers of a man, a nondescript garment, half -bodice and half coat with skirts, considerably above -the knees, and a sun-bonnet on her head, working -in the rick-yards, or squashing heavily through the -farmyard muck. Skirts are out of place in farmyards -and in cattle-byres, and the milkmaid, too, of these -parts is dressed in like guise. If you were to show -a milkmaid in the Fens a picture illustrating "Where -are you going to, my pretty maid?" in the conventional -fashion, she would criticise very severely, as -quite incorrect, the skirted figure of a poet's dream -usually presented. She saves her skirts and her -flower-trimmed hat for Sundays.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">And</span> now we must come from the general to the -especial; from Fens and Fen-folk in the mass to a -bright particular star.</p> - -<p>The greatest historical figure along the whole -course of this road is that of Hereward the Wake, the -"last of the English," as he has been called. "Hereward," -it has been said, means "the guard of the -army," while "the Wake" is almost self-explanatory, -signifying literally the Wide Awake, or the Watchful. -He is thought to have been the eldest son of -Leofric, Earl of Mercia, and of the famous Godiva, -and to have been banished by his father and outlawed. -Like objects dimly glimpsed in a fog, the -figure of Hereward looms gigantic and uncertain -through the mists of history, and how much of him -is real and how much legendary no one can say. -When Hereward was born, in the mild reign of -Edward the Confessor, the Anglo-Saxons who six -hundred and fifty years before had conquered Britain, -and, driving a poor remnant of the enervated race -of Romanised Britons to the uttermost verge of the -island, changed the very name of the country from -Britain to England, had themselves degenerated. -The Saxons were originally among the fiercest of -savages, and derived their name from the "sæxe," -or short sword, with which they came to close and -murderous combat; but the growth of civilisation -and the security in which they had long dwelt in the -conquered island undermined their original combative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>ness, -and for long before the invasion of England by -William the Conqueror they had been hard put to it -to hold their own against the even more savage -Danes. Yet at the last, at Hastings under Harold, -they made a gallant stand against the Normans, and -if courage alone could have won the day, why then -no Norman dynasty had ever occupied the English -throne. The Battle of Hastings was only won by -superior military dispositions on the part of William. -His archers gained him the victory, and by their -disconcerting arrow-flights broke the advance of the -Saxons armed with sword and battle-axe.</p> - -<p>That most decisive and momentous battle in the -world's history was lost and won on the 14th day of -October 1066. It was followed by a thorough-going -policy of plunder and confiscation. Everywhere the -Saxon landowners were dispossessed of their property, -and Normans replaced them. Even the Saxon -bishops were roughly deprived of their sees, and -alien prelates from over sea took their place. The -Saxon race was utterly degraded and crushed, and to -be an Englishman became a reproach; so that the -Godrics, Godbalds, and Godgifus, the Ediths, the -Alfreds, and other characteristic Saxon names, began -to be replaced by trembling parents with Roberts, -and Williams, and Henrys, and other names of -common Norman use.</p> - -<p>Now, in dramatic fashion, Hereward comes upon -the scene. Two years of this crushing tyranny had -passed when, one calm summer's evening in 1068, a -stranger, accompanied by only one attendant, entered -the village of Brunne, in Lincolnshire, the place now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> -identified with Bourne; Bourne and its Teutonic original -form of Brunne meaning a stream. It was one -of his father's manors. Seeking, unrecognised, shelter -for the night, he was met by lamentations, and was -told that Leofric, the great Earl, was dead; that his -heir, the Lord Hereward, was away in foreign parts; -and that his younger brother, now become heir, had -only the day before been foully murdered by the -Normans, who had in derision fixed his head over the -doorway. Moreover, the Normans had seized the -house and the manor. "Alas!" wailed the unhappy -Saxon dependants, "we have no power to revenge -these things. Would that Hereward were here! -Before to-morrow's sunrise they would all taste of -the bitter cup they have forced on us."</p> - -<p>The stranger was sheltered and hospitably -entertained by these unhappy folk. After the -evening meal they retired to rest, but their guest -lay sleepless. Suddenly the distant sounds of singing -and applause burst on his ears. Springing from his -couch, he roused a serving-man and inquired the -meaning of this nocturnal merrymaking, when he -was informed that the Norman intruders were -celebrating the entry of their lord into the patrimony -of the youth they had murdered. The stranger -girded on his weapons, threw about him a long black -cloak, and with his companion repaired to the scene -of this boisterous revelry. There the first object that -met his eyes was the head of the murdered boy. He -took it down, kissed it, and wrapped it in a cloth. -Then the two placed themselves in the dark shadow -of a doorway whence they could command a view into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> -the hall. The Normans were scattered about a -blazing fire, most of them overcome with drunkenness -and reclining on the bosoms of their women. -In their midst was a jongleur, or minstrel, chanting -songs of reproach against the Saxons and ridiculing -their unpolished manners in coarse dances and -ludicrous gestures. He was proceeding to utter -indecent jests against the family of the youth they -had slain, when he was interrupted by one of the -women, a native of Flanders. "Forget not," she -said, "that the boy has a brother, named Hereward, -famed for his bravery throughout the country whence -I come, ay, and even in Spain and Algiers. Were -he here, things would wear a different aspect on the -morrow."</p> - -<p>The new lord of the house, indignant at this, -raised his head and exclaimed, "I know the man -well, and his wicked deeds that would have brought -him ere this to the gallows, had he not sought safety -in flight; nor dare he now make his appearance -anywhere this side the Alps."</p> - -<p>The minstrel, seizing on this theme, began to -improvise a scurrilous song, when he was literally -cut short in an unexpected manner—his head clove -in two by the swift stroke of a Saxon sword. It -was Hereward who had done this. Then he turned -on the defenceless Normans, who fell, one after the -other, beneath his furious blows; those who attempted -to escape being intercepted by his companion at the -door. His arm was not stayed until the last was -slain, and the heads of the Norman lord and fourteen -of his knights were raised over the doorway.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<p>The historian of these things goes on to say -that the Normans in the neighbourhood, hearing of -Hereward's return and of this midnight exploit, fled. -This proves their wisdom, at the expense of their -courage. The Saxons rose on every side, but -Hereward at first checked their zeal, selecting only -a strong body of relations and adherents, and with -them attacking and slaying those of the Normans -who dared remain on his estates. Then he repaired -to his friend Brand, the Saxon Abbot of Peterborough, -from whom, in the Anglo-Saxon manner, -he received the honour of knighthood. After suddenly -attacking and killing a Norman baron sent -against him, he dispersed his followers, and, promising -to rejoin them in a year, sailed for Flanders. We -next hear of Hereward in the spring of 1070, when -he appears in company with the Danes whom -William the Conqueror had allowed to winter on the -east coast. Together they raised a revolt, first in -the Humber and along the Yorkshire Ouse; and -then they are found sacking and destroying Peterborough -Abbey, by that time under the control of -the Norman Abbot Turold. A hundred and sixty -armed men were gathered by the Abbot to force -them back to their lair at Ely, but they had already -left. With the advent of spring Hereward's Danish -allies sailed away, rich in plunder, and he and his -outlaws were left to do as best they could. For a -year he remained quiet in his island fastness, secured -by the trackless bogs and fens from attack, while -the discontented elements were being attracted to -him. With him was that attendant who kept the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> -door at Bourne: Martin of the Light Foot was his -name. Others were Leofric "Prat," or the Cunning, -skilful in spying out the dispositions of the enemy; -Leofric the Mower, who obtained his distinctive -name by mowing off the legs of a party of Normans -with a scythe, the only weapon he could lay -hands on in a hurry; Ulric the Heron, and Ulric -the Black—all useful lieutenants in an exhausting -irregular warfare. Greater companions were the -Saxon Archbishop Stigand, Bishop Egelwin of -Lincoln, and the Earls Morcar, Edwin, and Tosti. -All these notables, with a large following, flocked -into the Isle of Ely, as a Camp of Refuge, and -quartered themselves on the monks of the Abbey of -Ely. There they lay, and constituted a continual -menace to the Norman power. Sometimes they -made incursions into other districts, and burnt and -slew; at others, when hard pressed, they had simply -to retire into these fens to be unapproachable. None -among the Norman conquerors of other parts of the -land could cope with Hereward, and at last William, -in the summer of 1071, found it necessary to take -the field in person against this own brother to Will-o'-the-Wisp. -His plan of campaign was to attempt -the invasion of the Isle of Ely simultaneously from -two different points; from Brandon on the north-east, -and from Cottenham on the south-west. The -Brandon attempt was by boat, and soon failed: the -advance from Cottenham was a longer business. -Why he did not advance by that old Roman road, -the Akeman Street, cannot now be explained. That -splendid example of a causeway built across the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> -morasses must still have afforded the better way, -even though the Romans who made it had been -gone six hundred years. But the Conqueror chose -to advance from Cambridge by way of Impington, -Histon, and Cottenham. It is, of course, possible -that the defenders of the Isle had destroyed a portion -of the old road, or in some way rendered it impracticable. -His line of march can be traced even -to this day. Leaving the old coaching road here at -Cottenham Corner, we make for that village, famed -in these days for its cream cheeses and grown to -the proportions of a small town.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> It was here, at -Cottenham and at Rampton, that William collected -his invading force and amassed the great stores of -materials necessary for overcoming the great difficulty -of entering the Isle of Ely, then an isle in the -most baulking and inconvenient sense to an invader. -Before the Isle could be entered by an army, it was -necessary to build a causeway across the two miles' -breadth of marshes that spread out from the Ouse -at Aldreth, and this work had to be carried out in the -face of a vigorous opposition from Hereward and his -allies. It was two years before this causeway could -be completed. Who shall say what strenuous labour -went to the making of this road across the reedy -bogs; what vast accumulations of reeds and brush<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>wood, -felled trees and earth? The place has an -absorbing interest, but to explore it thoroughly -requires no little determination, for the road that -William made has every appearance of being left -just as it was when he had done with it, more than -eight hundred years ago, and the way from Rampton, -in its deep mud, unfathomable ruts and grassy -hollows, soddened for lack of draining, is a terrible -damper of curiosity. The explorer's troubles begin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> -immediately he has left the village of Rampton. -Turning to the right, he is instantly plunged into -the fearful mud of a mile-long drove described on the -large-scale Ordnance maps as "Cow Lane," a dismal -<i>malebolge</i> of black greasy mud that only cattle can -walk without difficulty. The unfortunate cyclist -who adventures this way and pushes on, thinking -these conditions will improve as he goes, is to be -pitied, for, instead of improving, they go from bad -to worse. The mud of this horrible lane is largely -composed of the Cambridgeshire clay called "gault," -and is of a peculiarly adhesive quality. When he is -at last obliged to dismount and pick the pounds -upon pounds of mud out of the intimate places of -his machine, his feelings are outraged and, cursing -all the road authorities of Cambridgeshire in one comprehensive -curse, he determines never again to leave -the highways in search of the historic. A few yards -farther progress leaves him in as bad case as before, -and he is at last reduced to carrying the machine on -his shoulder, fearful with every stride that his shoes -will part company with his feet, withdrawn at each -step from the mud with a resounding "pop," similar -to the sound made by the drawing of a cork from a -bottle. But it is only when at last, coming to the -end of Cow Lane and turning to the left into Iram -Drove, he rests and clears away the mud and -simultaneously finds seven punctures in one tyre -and two in the other, that his stern indignation -melts into tears. The wherefore of this havoc -wrought upon the inoffensive wheelman is found in -the cynical fact that although Cow Lane never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> -receives the attentions of the road-repairer, its -thorn-hedges are duly clipped and the clippings -thrown into what, for the sake of convenience, may -be called the road.</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> Famous, too, in that Cambridgeshire byword, "a Cottenham -jury," which arose (as the inhabitants of every other village will have -you believe) from the verdict of a jury of Cottenham men, in the case -of a man tried for the murder of his wife. The foreman, returning -into Court, said, "They were unanimously of opinion that it sarved -her right, for she were such a tarnation bad 'un as no man could live -with."</p></div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig44.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE ISLE OF ELY AND DISTRICT. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The geographical conditions here resemble those -of Muckslush Heath in Colman's play, and although -Iram Drove is paradise compared with what we have -already come through, taken on its own merits it is -not an ideal thoroughfare. One mile of it, past -Long Swath Barn, brings us to the beginning of -Aldreth Causeway, here a green lane, very bumpy -and full of rises and hollows. Maps and guide-books -vaguely mention Belsar's Hill near this point, and -imaginative guides who have not explored these -wilds talk in airy fashion of it "overlooking" the -Causeway. As a matter of fact, the Causeway is -driven squarely through it, and it is so little of a hill, -and so incapable of overlooking anything, that you -pass it and are none the wiser. The fact of the -Causeway being thus driven through the hill and -the ancient earthworks that ring around six acres -of it, proves sufficiently that this fortress is much -more ancient than William the Conqueror's time. -It is, indeed, prehistoric. Who was Belsar? History -does not tell us; but lack of certain knowledge has -not forbidden guesswork, more or less wild, and -there have been those who have found the name to -be a corruption of Belisarius. We are not told, -however, what that general—that unfortunate -warrior whom tradition represents as begging in his -old age an obolus in the streets of Constantinople—was -doing here. But the real "Belsar" may perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> -have been that "Belasius, Præses Militum versus -Elye," mentioned in the "Tabula Eliensis," one of -William's captains in this long business, from whom -descended the Belasyse family.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig45.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">ALDRETH CAUSEWAY AND THE ISLE OF ELY. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Two miles of green lane, solitary as though foot -of man had not passed by for years, lead down to the -Ouse. Fens spread out on either hand—Mow Fen, -Willingham Fen, Smythy Fen, Great North Fen—fens -everywhere. It is true they are now chiefly -cultivated fields, remarkable for their fertility, but -they are saved from being drowned only by the -dykes and lodes cut and dug everywhere and drained -by the steam pumping-station whose chimney-shaft, -with its trail of smoke, is seen far off across the -levels. In front rises the high ground of the Isle of -Ely, a mile or more away across the river: high -ground for Cambridgeshire, but likely, in any other -part of England, to be called a low ridge. Here it -is noticeable enough of itself, and made still more so -by a windmill and a row of tall slender trees on the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a><br /><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a><br /><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>skyline. A new bridge now building across the -Ouse at this point is likely to bring Aldreth Causeway -into use and repair again. On the other shore, -at High Bridge Farm, the Causeway loses its grassy -character, becoming a rutted and muddy road, -inconceivably rugged, and so continuing until it -ends at the foot of the rising ground of Aldreth. -Drains and their protecting banks lie to the left of -it; the banks used by the infrequent pedestrians in -preference to the Causeway, low-lying and often -flooded.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig46.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">ALDRETH CAUSEWAY. -</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span>, then, was the way into that Isle of Refuge to -which the Normans directed their best efforts. At -the crossing of the Ouse, the fascines and hurdles, -bags of earth and bundles of reeds, that had thus far -afforded a foundation, were no longer of use, and a -wooden bridge had of necessity to be constructed in -the face of the enemy. Disaster attended it, for the -unlucky timbering gave way while the advance was -actually in progress, and hundreds were drowned. -A second bridge was begun, and William, calling -in supernatural aid, brought a "pythonissa"—a -sorceress—to curse Hereward and his merry men and -to weave spells while the work was going forward. -William himself probably believed little in her unholy -arts, but his soldiers and the vast army of -helpers and camp-followers gathered together in this -unhealthy hollow, dying of ague and marsh-sickness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> -and disheartened by failure and delay, fancied forces -of more than earthly power arrayed against them. -So the pythonissa was provided with a wooden tower -whence she could overlook the work and exercise her -spells while the second bridge was building. Fishermen -from all the countryside were impressed to aid -in the work. Among them, in disguise, came -Hereward, so the legends tell, and when all was -nearly done, he fired the maze of woodwork, so that -the sorceress in her tower was sent, shrieking, in -flames to Ahrimanes, and this, the second bridge, was -utterly consumed. Kingsley, in his very much overrated -romance of <i>Hereward the Wake</i>, makes him -fire the reeds, but the Fenland reed does not burn -and refuses to be fired outside the pages of fiction.</p> - -<p>It was at last by fraud rather than by force that -the Isle of Ely was entered. A rebel earl, a -timorous noble, might surrender himself from time -to time, and most of his allies thus fell away, but it -was the false monks who at last led the invader in -where he could not force his way. Those holy men, -with the Saxon Abbot, Thurston, at their head, who -prayed and meditated while the defenders of this -natural fortress did the fighting, came as a result of -their meditations to the belief that William, so -dogged in his efforts, must in the end be successful. -He had threatened—pious man though he was—to -confiscate the property of the monastery when he -should come to Ely, and so, putting this and that -together, they conceived it to be the better plan to -bring him in before he broke in; for in this way -their revenues might yet be saved. It is Ingulphus,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> -himself a monk, who chronicles this treachery. -Certain of them, he says, sending privily to William, -undertook to guide his troops by a secret path -through the fens into the Isle. It was a chance too -good to be thrown away, and was seized. The -imagination can picture the mail-clad Normans -winding single file along a secret path among the -rushes, at the tail of some guide whose life was to be -forfeit on the instant if he led them into ambush; -and one may almost see and hear the swift onset -and fierce cries when they set foot on firm land and -fell suddenly upon the Saxon camp, killing and -capturing many of the defenders.</p> - -<p>But history shows the monks of Ely in an ill -light, for it really seems that William's two years' siege -of the Isle might have been indefinitely prolonged, -and then been unsuccessful, had it not been for this -treachery. Does anyone ever stop to consider how -great a part treachery plays in history? It was the -monks who betrayed the Isle, otherwise impregnable, -and endless in its resources, as Hereward himself -proved to a Norman knight whom he had captured. -He conducted his prisoner over his water-and-morass-girdled -domain, showed him most things -within it, and then sent him back to the besieging -camp to report what he had seen. This is the -tale he told, as recorded in the <i>Liber Eliensis</i>:—</p> - -<p>"In the Isle, men are not troubling themselves -about the siege; the ploughman has not taken his -hand from the plough, nor has the hunter cast aside -his arrow, nor does the fowler desist from beguiling -birds. If you care to hear what I have heard and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> -seen with my own eyes, I will reveal all to you. -The Isle is within itself plenteously endowed, it is -supplied with various kinds of herbage, and in -richness of soil surpasses the rest of England. Most -delightful for charming fields and pastures, it is -also remarkable for beasts of chase, and is, in no -ordinary way, fertile in flocks and herds. Its woods -and vineyards are not worthy of equal praise, but it -is begirt by great meres and fens, as though by a -strong wall. In this Isle there is an abundance of -domestic cattle, and a multitude of wild animals; -stags, roes, goats, and hares are found in its groves -and by those fens. Moreover, there is a fair -sufficiency of otters, weasels, and polecats; which in -a hard winter are caught by traps, snares, or any -other device. But what am I to say of the kinds of -fishes and of fowls, both those that fly and those -that swim? In the eddies at the sluices of these -meres are netted innumerable eels, large water-wolves, -with pickerels, perches, roaches, burbots, and -lampreys, which we call water-snakes. It is, indeed, -said by many that sometimes salmon are taken there, -together with the royal fish, the sturgeon. As for -the birds that abide there and thereabouts, if you -are not tired of listening to me, I will tell you about -them, as I have told you about the rest. There you -will find geese, teal, coots, didappers, water-crows, -herons, and ducks, more than man can number, -especially in winter, or at moulting-time. I have -seen a hundred—nay, even three hundred—taken at -once; sometimes by bird-lime, sometimes in nets and -snares." The most eloquent auctioneer could not do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> -better than this, and if this knight excelled in -fighting as he did in description, he must have been -a terrible fellow.</p> - -<p>It is pleasant to think how the monks of Ely met -with harder measures than they had expected. -William was not so pleased with their belated -submission as he was angered by their ever daring to -question his right and power. Still, things might -have gone better with them had they not by ill-luck -been at meals in the refectory when the King -unexpectedly appeared. None knew of his coming -until he was seen to enter the church. Gilbert de -Clare, himself a Norman knight, but well disposed -towards the monks, burst in upon them: "Miserable -fools that you are," he said, "can you do nothing -better than eat and drink while the King is here?"</p> - -<p>Forthwith they rushed pellmell into the church; -fat brothers and lean, as quickly as they could, but -the King, flinging a gold mark upon the altar, had -already gone. He had done much in a short time. -Evidently he was what Americans nowadays call a -"hustler," for he had marked out the site for a -castle within the monastic precincts, and had already -given orders for its building by men pressed from -the three shires of Cambridge, Hertford, and Bedford. -Torn with anxiety, the whole establishment of the -monastery hasted after him on his return to Aldreth, -and overtook him at Witchford, where, by the intercession -of Gilbert de Clare, they were admitted -to an audience, and after some difficulty allowed to -purchase the King's Peace by a fine of seven hundred -marks of silver.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - -<p>Unhappily, their troubles were not, even then, -at an end, for when on the appointed day the -money, raised by the sacrifice of many of the -cherished ornaments of the church, was brought to -the King's officers at Cambridge, the coins were -found, through some fraud of the moneyers, to be of -light weight. William was studiously and politically -angry at what he affected to believe an attempt on -the part of the monks to cheat him, and his -forbearance was only purchased by a further fine of -three hundred marks, raised by melting down the -remainder of the holy ornaments. The quality of -William's piety is easily to be tested by a comparison -of the value of his single gold mark, worth in our -money one hundred pounds, with that of the one -thousand silver marks, the sum total of the fines he -exacted. A sum equal to thirty thousand pounds was -extracted from the monastery and church of Ely, and -forty Norman knights were quartered upon the -brethren; one knight to each monk, as the old -"Tabula Eliensis" specifies in detail.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXIV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">What</span> in the meanwhile had become of Hereward? -What was he doing when these shaven-pated traitors -were betraying his stronghold? One would like to -find that hero wreaking a terrible vengeance upon -them, but we hear of nothing so pleasing and -appropriate. The only vengeance was that taken by -William upon the rank and file of the rebels, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -that was merely cowardly and unworthy. It was -not politic to anger the leaders of this last -despairing stand of the Saxons, and so they obtained -the King's Peace; but the churls and serfs felt the -force of retribution in gouged eyes, hands struck off, -ears lopped, and other ferocious pleasantries typical -of the Norman mind. Hereward who, I am afraid, -was not always so watchful as his name signifies, -seems to have found pardon readily enough, and one -set of legends tells how at last he died peacefully and -of old age in his bed.</p> - -<p>Others among the old monkish chroniclers give -him an epic and more fitting end, in which, like -Samson, he dies with his persecutors. They marry -him to a rich Englishwoman, one Elfthryth, who had -made her peace with the King, and afterwards obtained -pardon for her lover. But the Normans still -hated him, and one night, when his chaplain Ethelward, -whose duty was to keep watch and ward -within and without his house and to place guards, -slumbered at his post, a band of assassins crept in -and attacked Hereward as he lay. He armed himself -in haste, and withstood their onslaught. His spear -was broken, his sword too, and he was driven to -use his shield as a weapon. Fifteen Frenchmen lay -dead beneath his single arm when four of the party -crept behind him and smote him with their swords -in the back. This stroke brought him to his knees. -A Breton knight, one Ralph of Dôl, then rushed on -him, but Hereward, in a last effort, once more wielded -his buckler, and the Englishman and the Breton fell -dead together.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<p>However, whenever, or wherever he came to his -end, certainly the great Hereward was laid to rest -in the nave of Crowland Abbey, but no man knows -his grave. Just as the bones and the last resting-place -of Harold at Waltham Abbey have disappeared, -so the relics of "the Watchful," that "most strenuous -man," that hardy fighter in a lost cause, are scattered -to the winds.</p> - -<p>There are alleged descendants of Hereward to -this day, and a "Sir Herewald Wake" is at the -head of them; but we know nothing of how they -prove their descent. "Watch and pray" is their -motto, and a very appropriate one, too; although -it is possible that Hereward's praying was spelt with -an "e," and himself not so prayerful as predatory.</p> - -<p>Hereward, the old monkish chroniclers tell us, -was "a man short in stature but of enormous -strength." By that little fragment of personal -description they do something to wreck an ideal. -Convention demands that all heroes be far above -the height of other men, just as all knights of old -were conventionally gentle and chivalric and all -ladies fair; though, if history do not lie and limners -painted what they saw, the chivalry and gentleness -of knighthood were as sadly to seek as the loving-kindness -of the hyæena, and the fair ladies of old -were most furiously ill-favoured. Hereward's figure, -without that personal paragraph, is majestic. The -feet of him squelch, it is true, through Fenland -mud and slime, but his head is lost in the -clouds until this very early piece of journalism -disperses the mists and makes the hero some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>thing -less of the demi-god than he had otherwise -been.</p> - -<p>The name of Hereward's stronghold offers a fine -blue-mouldy bone of contention for rival antiquaries -to gnaw at. In face of the clamour of disputants -on this subject, it behoves us to take no side, but -just to report the theories advanced. The most -favoured view, then, is that "Aldreth" enshrines -a corruption of St. Etheldreda's name,—that Etheldreda -who was variously known as St. Ethelthryth -and St. Audrey,—and that it was originally none -other than St. Audrey's Hythe, or Landing, on this -very stream of Ouse, now much shrunken and -running in a narrow channel, instead of spreading -over the country in foul swamps and unimaginable -putrid bogs. "Aldreche"—the old reach of this -Ouse—is another variant put forward; but it does -not seem to occur to any of these disputants that, -at anyrate, the termination of the place-name is -identical with that in the names of Meldreth and -Shepreth, where little streams, the mere shadows -and wraiths of their former selves, still exist to hint -that it was once necessary to ford them, and that, -whatever the first syllable of Meldreth may mean, -"reth" is perhaps the Celtic "rhyd," a ford, and -Shepreth just the "sheep ford."</p> - -<p>But whatever may have been the original form -of Aldreth's name, the village nowadays has nothing -to show of any connection with St. Etheldreda, save -the site only of a well dedicated to her, situated half-way -up the steeply rising street. It is a curious -street, this of Aldreth, plunging down from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> -uplands of the Isle into the peat and ooze that -William so laboriously crossed. Where it descends -you may still see the stones with which he, or others -at some later time, paved the way. For the rest, -Aldreth is one long street of rustic cottages very -scattered and much separated by gardens: over all -a look of listlessness, as though this were the end of -the known world, and nothing mattered very much. -When a paling from a garden fence falls into the -road, it lies there; when the plaster falls from a -cottage wall, no one repairs the damage; when a -window is broken, the hole is papered or stuffed -with rags: economy of effort is studied at Aldreth.</p> - -<p>The curious may still trace William's route -through the Isle, to Ely city. It is not a straight -course. Geographical conditions forbade it to be -so, and I doubt not, that if the road were to make -again, they would still forbid; for to rule a straight -line across the map from Aldreth to Ely is to plunge -into hollows where water still lies, though actual fens -be of the past. His way lay along two sides of a -square; due north for three miles and almost due -east for a like distance, along the track pursued -nowadays by the excellent road uphill to where the -mile-long and populous village of Haddenham stands -on a crest, and down again and turning to the right -for Witchford, whence, along a gentle spur, you -come presently into Ely.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Returning</span> to the high road at Cottenham Corner, -and passing the junction of the road from Waterbeach, -we come presently, at a point six and a half -miles from Cambridge, to a place marked "Dismal -Hall" on large-scale Ordnance maps. Whatever -this may have been in old days, it is now a small -white-brick farmhouse, called by the occupier "The -Brambles," and by the landlord "Brookside." The -name perhaps derived originally from some ruined -Roman villa whose walls rose, roofless and desolate, -beside the ancient Akeman Street. It is a name -belonging, in all probability, to the same order as -the "Caldecotes" and "Coldharbours," met frequently -beside, or in the neighbourhood of, Roman -ways; places generally conceded to have been ruined -houses belonging to that period. The modern representative -of "Dismal Hall" stands beside a curiously -small and oddly-shaped field, itself called "Dismal"; -triangular in form and comprising only two acres.</p> - -<p>Half a mile beyond this point, a pretty group of -cottages marks where the way to Denny Abbey lies -to the right across a cow-pasture. A field-gate -whose posts are the battered fragments of some Perpendicular -Gothic pillars from that ruined monastery, -crowned incongruously with a pair of eighteenth-century -stone urns, clearly identifies the spot. There -has been a religious house of sorts on this spot since -eight hundred years ago, and most of the remains -are of the Norman period, when a settlement of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> -Black Monks from Ely settled here. In succession -to them came the Knights Templars, who made it a -preceptory, and when their Order was suppressed -and ceased out of the land, in consequence of its -corruption and viciousness, the nuns of St. Clare -were given a home in these deserted halls. Close -upon four hundred years have gone since they, too, -were thrust forth, and it has for centuries past been -a farmhouse. Indeed, if you regard Denny Abbey, -as also many another, in anything else save a conventional -light, you will see that it was really always -a farm. What else than a farm was the great Abbey -of Tintern, and what other than farmers those -Cistercian monks who built it and cultivated those -lands, the godless, growing fearful and in expiatory -mood, had given them? So also with the Benedictines, -the Templars, and the Clares who succeeded -one another here. You may note the fact in their -great barns, and in the fields they reclaimed. To-day, -groups of buildings of uncertain age, as regards -their outer walls, enclose littered rick-yards, but the -dwelling-house, for all the uninteresting look of one -side, shows, built into its inner face, the sturdy piers -and arches of one of the aisles; and the otherwise -commonplace hall and staircase of the interior are -informed with a majestic dignity by two columns -and a noble arch of the Norman church. A large -and striking barn, approached and entered across a -pig-haunted yard rich in straw and mud, proves, on -entering, to be a beautiful building of the Decorated -period, once the refectory.</p> - -<p>Leaving Denny Abbey behind, we come to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> -Chittering, a place unknown to guide-books and -chartographers. We need blame neither the one -nor the other for this omission, for Chittering is -remarkable for nothing but its insignificance and -lack of anything that makes for interest. It consists, -when you have counted everything in its -constituent parts, of two lonely public-houses, the -Traveller's Rest and the Plough and Horses, -a grotesquely unbeautiful Baptist Chapel and a -school, five or six scattered cottages, and one new -house, entrenched as it were in a defensive manner -behind a sedgy and duckweedy drain. It is here, -at a right-hand turning, that the exploratory cyclist -turns off for Wicken Fen, the last remaining vestige -of the natural Fenland that once overspread the -greater part of the county. In Wicken Fen, a -square mile of peaty bog and quaking morass, where -the reeds still grow tall, and strange aquatic plants -flourish, the rarer Fenland lepidoptera find their last -refuge. Dragon-flies, in glittering panoply of green-and-gold -armour and rainbow-hued wings, flash like -miniature lightnings over the decaying vegetation, -and the sulphur-coloured, white-and-scarlet butterflies -find a very paradise in the moist and steamy -air. Wicken Fen is jealously preserved in its natural -state, and is a place of pilgrimage, not only for the -naturalist, with his butterfly-net and his collecting-box, -but for all who would obtain some idea of what -this country was like in former ages. At the same -time it is a place difficult to find, and the route to -it a toilsome one. The Fens express flatness to the -last degree, it is true, but, even though they be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> -drained, they are not easy to explore. Mountain-ranges -are, indeed, not more weariful than these -flats, where you can never make a straight course -when once off the main roads, but are compelled by -dykes and drains to make for any given point by -questing hither and thither as though following the -outlines of the squares on a chessboard. The distance -to Wicken Fen, measured from Chittering in a direct -line on the map, is not more than four miles. -Actually, the route is nearly eight.</p> - -<p>We have already seen what a Fenland drove is -like. To such a complexion does this treacherous -by-way descend in less than a quarter of a mile, -bringing the adventurer into an apparently boundless -field of corn. If the weather has recently been -wet, he is brought to a despairing pause at this -point, for the rugged drove here becomes a sea of a -curious kind of black buttery mud, highly tenacious. -The pedestrian is to be pitied in this pass, but the -cyclist is in worse case, for his wheels refuse to -revolve, and he finds, with horror, his brake and -his forks clogged with the horrible mess, and his -mud-guards become mud-accumulators instead. To -shoulder his machine and carry it is the only course. -If, on the other hand, the weather be dry, with a -furious wind blowing, the mud becomes dust and -fills the air with a very respectable imitation of a -Soudan sandstorm. In those happy climatic conditions -when it is neither wet nor too dry, and when -the stormy winds have sunk to sleep, the way to -Wicken Fen, though long and circuitous, loses these -terrors. At such times the ditchers may be seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> -almost up to their knees in what looks like dry sand, -hard at work clearing out the dykes and drains -choked up by this flying dust, and it becomes of -interest to examine the nature of this curious soil. -A handful, gathered at haphazard, shows a kind of -black sand, freely mixed with a fine snuff-coloured -mixture of powder and minute fibrous shreds; -pulverised peat from the vanished bogs and morasses -that once stewed and festered where these fields now -yield abundant harvests. This peaty soil it is that -gives these fields their fertility, for, as Sir Humphry -Davy once said, "A soil covered with peat is a soil -covered with manure."</p> - -<p>It is a curious commentary on the fame of -Wicken Fen as an entomologist's paradise, and on -its remoteness, that all the ditchers and farming-folk -assume the stranger who inquires his way to it to -be a butterfly-hunter.</p> - -<p>At last, after crossing the railway to Ely, making -hazardous passage over rickety plank-bridges across -muddy dykes, and wending an uncertain way -through farmyards inhabited by dogs keenly desirous -of tearing the infrequent stranger limb from limb, -the broad river Cam is approached, at Upware. -Upware is just a riverside hamlet, remote from the -world, and only in touch with its doings on those -occasions when boating-parties from Ely or Cambridge -come by on summer days.</p> - -<p>On the opposite shore, across the reedy Cam, -stands a queer building, partly ferry-house, partly inn, -with the whimsical legend, "Five Miles from Anywhere. -No Hurry," painted on its gable. The real<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> -sign of Upware Inn, as it is generally called, is the -"Lord Nelson," but this knowledge is only acquired -on particular inquiry, for signboard it has none.</p> - -<p>The roystering old days at Upware are done. -They came to an end when the railway between -Cambridge, Ely, and Kings Lynn was opened, and -coals and heavy goods no longer went by barge -along the Ouse and Cam. In that unregenerate -epoch, before modern culture had reached Cambridge, -and undergrads had not begun to decorate their -rooms with blue china and to attempt to live up to -it, the chief delight of Cambridge men was to walk -or scull down to Upware and have it out with the -bargees. Homeric battles were fought here by the -riverside in those days of beef and beer, and it was -not always the University man who got the worst -of it in these sets-to with or without the gloves. -In the last days of this Philistine era the railway -navvy came as a foeman equally well worth the -attention of young Cambridge; and thus, in a final -orgie of bloody noses and black eyes, the fame of -Upware culminated. When the navvy had completed -his work and departed, the bargee went also, -and peace has reigned ever since along the sluggish -reaches of the Cam. There are, it is true, a few -of the barging craft and mystery still left along -this waterway, but, beyond a singular proficiency in -swearing, they have nothing in common with their -forebears, and drink tea and discuss social science.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig47.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">UPWARE INN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>In those old robustious days—famous once, but -now forgot—flourished the Republic of Upware, a -somewhat blackguardly society composed chiefly of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>muscular undergrads. Admission to the ranks of -this precious association was denied to none who -could hit hard and drink deep. In the riverside -field that still keeps its name of "Upware Bustle," -the Republic held many of its drunken, uproarious -carouses, presided over by the singular character -who called himself, not President, but "King of -Upware." Richard Ramsay Fielder, this pot-house -monarch, "flourished," as histories would say, circa -1860. He was an M.A. of Cambridge, a man of -good family and of high abilities, but cursed with a -gipsy nature, an incurable laziness, and an unquenchable -thirst: the kind of man who is generally, for -his sake and their own, packed off by his family to -the Colonies. Fielder perhaps could not be induced -to cross the seas; at anyrate, he enjoyed an allowance -from his family, on the degrading condition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> -that he kept himself at a distance. He earned the -allowance loyally, and found the society that pleased -him most at Upware and in the inns of the surrounding -Fenland villages; so that on leaving the -University he continued to cling to the neighbourhood -for many years, becoming a hero to all the -dissolute youngsters at Cambridge. He it was who -originally painted the apt inscription, "Five Miles -from Anywhere," on the gable-wall of this waterside -inn, his favourite haunt, where he lounged and -smoked and tippled with the bargees; himself apeing -that class in his dress: coatless, with corduroy -breeches and red waistcoat. A contemporary sketch -of him tells of his thin flowing hair of inordinate -length, of his long dirty finger-nails, and of the far -from aromatic odour he gave forth; and describes -his boating expeditions. "He used to take about -with him in his boat an enormous brown-ware jug, -capable of holding six gallons or more, which he -would at times have filled with punch, ladling it -out profusely for his aquatic friends. This vast -pitcher or 'gotch,' which was called 'His Majesty's -pint' ('His Majesty' in allusion to his self-assumed -title), had been made to his own order, and decorated -before kilning with incised ornaments by his own -hand. Amongst these figured prominently his -initials 'R. R. F.' and his crest, actual or assumed, -a pheon, or arrow-head." Alluding to his initials, -he would often playfully describe himself as "more -R. than F.," which means (is it necessary to explain?) -"more rogue than fool." Eccentric in every way, -he would change his quarters without notice and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> -without reason, and would remain in bed, smoking -and drinking, for weeks together.</p> - -<p>This odd character lingered here for some years -after the bargees had gone, and into the time when -even the most rowdy of Cambridge undergraduates -began to find it "bad form" to booze and be hail-fellow -with the village rapscallions of Fenland. Then -Fielder himself "forswore sack and lived cleanly"; -or at anyrate deserted his old haunts. Report tells -how he died at last at Folkestone, in comfortable -circumstances and in a quite respectable and conventional -manner.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXVI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Upware Inn</span> has lost a great deal of its old-time look. -With something akin to melancholy the sentimental -pilgrim sees a corrugated iron roof replacing the old -thatch of reeds, characteristic of Fenland. The great -poplar, too, has had its curious spreading limb -amputated: that noble branch whereon the King of -that Republic sat on summer evenings and held -his disreputable Court. But not everything is -modernised. The Cam is not yet bridged. You -still are ferried across in an uncouth flat-bottomed -craft, and they even yet burn peat in the domestic -grates at Upware, so that links yet bind the present -with the past. Peat is the traditional fuel of the -Fens, largely supplanted nowadays by coal, but -should coal become permanently dear, these -Cambridgeshire villages would, for sake of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> -cheapness, go back to peat and endure its acrid -smell and dull smouldering humour in place of the -brightness of a coal fire. At Wicken Fen the peat -is still forming: perhaps the only place in England -where the process is going on. It is still three miles -from Upware to this relic of the untamed wilderness, -past Spinney Abbey, now a farmhouse with few or -no relics of the old foundation to be seen. It was in -this farmstead that Henry Cromwell, one of the -Protectors sons, lived in retirement. He was visited -here one September day in 1671 by Charles the -Second, come over from Newmarket for the purpose. -What Charles said to him and what Henry Cromwell -replied we do not know, and imagination has -therefore the freer rein. But we spy drama in it, -a "situation" of the most thrilling kind. What -would <i>you</i> say to the man who had murdered—judicially -murdered, if you like it—your father? -Charles, however, was a cynic of an easy-going type, -and probably failed to act up to the theatrical -requirements of the occasion. At anyrate, Henry -Cromwell was not consigned to the nearest, or any, -dungeon. Nothing at all was done to him, and he -died, two years later, at peace with all men. He lies -buried in the little church of Wicken, and was allowed -to rest there.</p> - -<p>Wicken Fen is just beyond this abbey farmstead. -You turn to the right, along a green lane and across -a field, and there you are, with the reeds and the -sedge growing thick in the stagnant water, water-lilies -opening their buds on the surface, and a lazy -hum of insects droning in the still and sweltering air.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> -The painted lady, the swallow-tail, the peacock, the -scarlet tiger, and many other gaily-hued butterflies -float on silent wings; things crawl and creep in the -viscous slime, and on warm summer days, after rain, -the steam rises from the beds of peat and wild -growths as from some natural cookshop. Old -windmill pumps here and there dot the banks of the -fen, and in the distance are low hills that form, as it -were, the rim of the basin in which this relic -is set.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig48.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">WICKEN FEN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Away in one direction rises the tall majestic -tower of Soham Church, deceiving the stranger into -the belief that he is looking at Ely Cathedral, and -overlooking what are now the pastures of Soham Fen; -in the days of King Canute that inland sea—that -<i>mare de Soham</i>—which stretched ten miles wide -between Mildenhall and Ely. It was across Soham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> -Mere that Canute came voyaging by Ely, rowed by -knights in his galley, when he heard, while yet a -long way off, the sound of melody. Bidding his -knights draw nearer to the Isle, he found the -music to be the monks in the church singing vespers. -The story is more than a legend, and is alluded -to in the only surviving stanza of an ancient -song—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Merie sungen the Muneches binnen Ely</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Tha Cnut Ching rew therby.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Roweth cnites noer the lant,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And here we thes Muneches saeng."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>It is a story that well pictures the reality—-the -actual isolation—of the Isle, just as does that other, -telling how that same Canute, coming again to Ely -for Christmas, found the waters that encompassed it -frost-bound, but so slightly that crossing the ice was -perilous in the extreme. He was thus of necessity -halted on the shores of the frozen mere, and until -they found one Brithmer, a Saxon cheorl of the Fen, -skilled in Fen-lore and able to guide the King and his -train across the shallow places where the ice lay -thick and strong, it seemed as though he and his -retinue would be unable to keep the Feast of the -Nativity in Ely. Brithmer was a man of prodigious -bulk, nicknamed "Budde," or "the Fat," and where -he led the way in safety men of ordinary weight could -follow without fear. So Canute followed in his -sledge, with his Court, and kept Christmas on the -Isle. As for Brithmer, who had performed this service, -he was enlarged from serfdom to be a free man, -and loaded with honours. Indeed, he was probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> -only known as "the Fat" before this time, and was -doubtless called Brithmer, which means "bright mere," -after this exploit.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXVII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Returning</span> to the old coach road from this expedition, -and coming to it again with a thankful heart, we -presently come to Stretham Bridge, a narrow old -hunch-backed brick structure spanning the Great -Ouse, or Old West River, and giving entrance to -this Isle of Ely, of which already we have heard so -much, and will now hear more. The sketch-map that -has already shown the Conqueror's line of march -indicates also the size and shape of the Isle: the -physical Isle. For there are really two, the physical -and the political. The last-named comprises the -whole of the northern part of Cambridgeshire, from -this point along the Ouse to Upware, and thence, -following the Cambridgeshire border, round to -Littleport and Tydd St. Giles in the north, by the -neighbourhood of Crowland and Peterborough, and -so down to the Ouse again at Earith, Aldreth, and -Stretham Bridge. It is still a political division, and -has its own government, under the style of the -County Council of the Isle of Ely. The real -geographical Isle—the one sketched in the map—is -much smaller; only one-third the size of the other; -measuring in its greatest length and breadth but some -twelve and eight miles, and bounded by the Great -Ouse from Earith to Upware, by Cam and Little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> -Ouse to Littleport, and thence by the Old Croft -River to the New Bedford River, returning along -that cut to Earith.</p> - -<p>As you approach Stretham Bridge along this old -causeway the Isle is plain to see in front, its gentle -hills glimpsed between the fringe of willows and -poplars that now begin to line the way. No one has -bettered the description Carlyle wrote of the Fen-country -seen from this causeway that was once the -Akeman Street; and no one <i>can</i> better it. "It has -a clammy look," he says, clayey and boggy; the -produce of it, whether bushes and trees or grass and -crops, gives you the notion of something lazy, -dropsical, gross. From the "circumfluent mud," -willows, "Nature's signals of distress," spring up by -every still slime-covered drain: willows generally -polled and, with that process long continued, now -presenting a very odd and weird appearance. The -polled crown of an ancient willow bears a singularly -close resemblance to a knuckly fist, and these, like -so many gnarled giant arms of bogged and smothered -Goliaths thrust upwards in despair, with clenched -and imprecatory hands, give this road the likeness -of a highway into fairyland whose ogres, under the -spell of some Prince Charming, have been done to -death in their own sloughs. Pollards, anathema to -Cobbett, are in plenty in these lowlands, but it must -not be thought that because of them, or even because -Carlyle's description of the country is so apt, it is -anything but beautiful. Only, to see its beauties -and appreciate them, it is necessary here, more than -elsewhere, to have fine weather.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig49.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">A FENLAND ROAD: THE AKEMAN STREET NEAR STRETHAM BRIDGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a><br /><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stretham Bridge, that makes so great a business -of crossing the Ouse, seems an instance of much ado -about nothing, for that river, "Great Ouse" though -it be named, is very much to seek in summer, trickling -away as it does between tussocks of rough grass. -The Great Ouse is not of the bigness it once boasted, -in days before the Old and New Bedford Rivers -were cut, two hundred and sixty years ago, to carry -its sluggish waters away by a direct route to the -sea, and the fair-weather pilgrim marvels at the -bridge and at the great banks he sees stretching -away along its course to protect the surrounding -lands from being flooded. That they are needed is -evident enough from the care taken to repair them, -and from a sight of the men digging hard by in the -greasy gault to obtain the repairing materials. -These are the "gaulters" and the "bankers" of -Fenland life. It was one of these who, as a witness -in some cause at the Cambridge Assizes, appearing -in his working clothes, was asked his occupation. -"I am a banker, my Lord," he replied. "We cannot -have any absurdity," said Baron Alderson testily; to -which the man answered as before, "I am a banker"; -and things were at cross-purposes until the meaning -of the term was explained to the Court.</p> - -<div class="figleft"> -<img src="images/fig50.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">HODDEN SPADE AND<br /> -BECKET.</p> -</div> - -<p>The local occupations all have curious names, -and the inhabitants of the Fens in general were long -known as "Fen-slodgers," a title that, if indeed -unlovely, is at least as expressive of mudlarking as it -is possible for a word to be. You picture a slodger -as a half-amphibious creature, something between a -water-sprite and a sewer-man, muddy from head to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> -foot and pulling his feet out of the ooze as he goes -with resounding "plops," like the noise made in -drawing the cork of a bottle. But if the Fenman -did not quite fill all the details thus conjured up, he -was, and is still, a watery kind of creature; half-farmer, -half-fisherman and wild-fowler. He is sometimes -a "gozard," that is to say, a goose-ward or -goose-keeper. This occupation does not seem to -have given an abiding surname, as many others have -done, and you may search in many directories for it -without avail, although the Haywards, -the Cartwrights, and the -Cowards are prominent enough. -The Fenman digs his land with -a becket or a hodden spade. The -design of the first-named goes -back to Roman times, and is seen -figured on columns and triumphal -arches in the Imperial City, just -as it is fashioned to-day. It is this form of spade that -is alluded to in such wayside tavern-signs as the -Plough and Becket, apt to be puzzling to the -uninitiated. When the Fenland rustic, weary of the -daily routine, wants a little sport or seeks to grace -his table with fish, he goes "dagging for eels" along -the rivers and the drains, "leams," "lodes," or -"eaus" (which he calls "ees") with a "gleve," which, -translated into ordinary English, means an eel-spear, -shaped very like Neptune's trident.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig51.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">STRETHAM BRIDGE. -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a><br /><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXVIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Crossing</span> Stretham Bridge, with Stretham Common -on the right and Stretham village two miles ahead, -the Akeman Street appears to be soon lost, for the -way is crooked, and much more like a mediæval -than a classic road. Indeed, the entrance to Stretham -is by two striking right-angle turns and a curve -past a low-lying tract called Beggars' Bush Field.</p> - -<p>"Beggars' Bush" is so frequent a name in rural -England<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> that it arouses curiosity. Sometimes these -spots bear the unbeautiful name of "Lousy Bush," -as an apt alternative. They were probably the -lurking-places of mediæval tramps. The tramp we -have always had with us. He, his uncleanliness and -his dislike of work are by no means new features. -Only, with the increase of population, there is -naturally a proportional increase in the born-tired -and the professional unemployed. That is all. So -long ago as Queen Elizabeth's time legislation was -found necessary to suppress the tramp. The -Elizabethan statute did not call him by that name: -they were not clever enough in those times to invent -so descriptive a term, and merely called him a -"sturdy rogue and vagrant." Of course he was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -suppressed by the hardness, the whips and scorpions, -of the Elizabethans, but endured them and the -branded "R" and "V," and sporting them as his -trade-marks, went tramping to the end of his earthly -pilgrimage. These are the "strangers" whom you -will find mentioned in the burial registers of many a -wayside parish church; the "strangers" found dead -on the road, or under the "Beggars' Bushes," and -buried by the parish.</p> - -<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> There was once a Beggars' Bush on the Old North Road, fifty-five -miles from London and two and a half from Huntingdon. King -James the First seems to have heard of it, when on his progress to -London from Scotland, for he said, on the road, in a metaphorical -sense to Bacon, who had entertained him with a lavish and ruinous -hospitality, "Sir Francis, you will soon come to Beggars' Bush, and -I may e'en go along with you too, if we be both so bountiful."</p></div> - -<p>It was the indiscriminate almsgiving of the -religious houses—the Abbeys and the Priories of -old—that fostered this race of vagrom men and -women, the ancestors of the tramps of to-day. Like -the Salvation Army in our times,—either better or -worse, whichever way you regard it,—they fed, and -sometimes sheltered, the outcast and the hungry. -Only the hungry are not fed for nothing, nor without -payment sheltered by the Salvationists. They purchase -food and lodging off the Army for a trifle in -coin or by a job of work: the monks exacted nothing -in return for the dole or the straw pallet that any -hungry wretch was welcome to. Thus, throughout -the land a great army of the lazy, the unfortunate, -and the afflicted were in mediæval times continually -tramping from one Abbey to another. Sometimes -they stole, oftener they begged, and they found the -many pilgrims who were always making pilgrimage -from one shrine to another handy to prey upon. Ill -fared the straggler from the pilgrim train that wound -its length along the ancient ways; for there were -those among the vagrom gang who would not -scruple to rob or murder him, and that is one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> -among many reasons why pilgrimage was made in -company.</p> - -<p>Stretham village, it is scarce necessary in these -parts to say, is set on a hill, or what in the Fens is -by courtesy so-called. No village here has any other -site than some prehistoric knob of clay that by -strange chance raised itself above the ooze. The -site of Stretham, being in the Isle of Ely, was an isle -within an isle. Still one goes up to and down from -it. Still you see ancient houses there with flights of -steps up to the front doors, so hard put to it were -the old inhabitants to keep out of the way of the -water; and even yet, when you are come to the -levels again, the houses cease and no more are seen -until the next rise is reached, insignificant enough -to the eye, but to the mind stored with the old lore -of the Fens significant of much. Stretham is a large -village. It does not run to length, as do places in -other parts of the country situated, like it, on a great -road. <i>They</i> commonly consist of one long street: -Stretham, built on the crown of a hill, has odd turns -and twists, and streets unexpectedly opening on -either hand as the explorer advances, and is, so to -speak, built round and round itself. In its midst, -where the road broadens into as wide a space as a -village squeezed on to the crown of an island hilltop -could anciently afford, stands a market cross.</p> - -<p>You may seek far and wide for information about -this cross, but you will not find. All we know is -that, by its look, it belongs to the fifteenth century, -and we may shrewdly suspect that the nondescript -plinth it stands upon replaces a broad approach<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> -of steps. When the steps were taken away is a -matter as unknown as the history of the cross itself; -but if we do not know the when, we at least, in -the light of Stretham's circumstances, know the -why. The street was inconveniently narrowed by -them.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig52.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">STRETHAM. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The fine church stands to the left of the road by -the cross, and is adjoined by an ancient vicarage. -At the top of the main street, where the village ends, -the traveller obtains his first glimpse of Ely Cathedral, -four miles away. It must have been here, or close -by, that Jack Goodwin, guard on the Lynn "Rover," -about 1831, met Calcraft the hangman, for he tells -how the executioner got up as an outside passenger -"about four miles on the London side of Ely," to -which city he had been paying a professional visit, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> -turn off an unhappy agricultural labourer sentenced -to death for incendiarism, then a capital offence. -Calcraft had been at considerable pains to avoid -recognition, and had appeared in the procession to -the scaffold on Ely Common as one of the Sheriff's -javelin-men. Probably he feared to be the object of -popular execration.</p> - -<p>When he mounted the coach, he was dressed -like a Cambridgeshire farmer, and thought himself -quite unknown. Goodwin took charge of his baggage, -comprising a blue bag, half a dozen red cabbages, -<i>and a piece of rope</i>—the identical rope that had -put an end to the unhappy wretch of the day before. -He then offered him a cigar (guards were fine fellows -in their way) and addressed Calcraft by name.</p> - -<p>The hangman replied that he was mistaken. -"No, no," said Goodwin, "I am not; I saw you -perform on three criminals at the Old Bailey a few -weeks ago."</p> - -<p>That, of course, was conclusive, and they -chatted more or less pleasantly; although, to be -sure, the conversation chiefly turned on Mr. Calcraft's -professional experiences. He told Goodwin, when -he left, that "if ever he had the pleasure of doing -the job for him, he would soap the rope to make it -as comfortable as possible."</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XXXIX</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is little or nothing to say of the way into Ely, -and only the little village of Thetford, and that to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -one side of the road, intervenes. Nothing distracts -the attention from the giant bulk of the Cathedral.</p> - -<p>How shall we come into Ely? As archæologists, -as pilgrims spiritually inclined and chanting a <i>sursum -corda</i> as we go, or shall we be gross and earthly, scenting -lamb and green peas, spring duckling and asparagus -from afar, for all the world like our hearty grandfathers -of the coaching age, to whom the great white-faced -Lamb Inn, that is still the principal hostelry -of this city, appealed with much more force than -that great grey religious pile? We will to the -Lamb, which is not a difficult house to find, and in -fact presents itself squarely and boldly as you enter. -"Come," it seems to say, "you are expected. The -cloth is laid, you shall dine royally on Ely delicacies. -This is in no traditional way the capital of the Fens. -Our ducklings are the tenderest, our asparagus the -most succulent, there never were such eels as those of -Ouse; and you shall conclude with the cream-cheese -of Cottenham." Is an invitation so alluring to be -despised?</p> - -<p>It is strange to read how Thomas Cross in his -<i>Autobiography of a Stage Coachman</i> devotes pages -to an elaborate depreciation of the Lamb in coaching -times. From a "slip of a bar," with a netful of -mouldy lemons hanging from the ceiling, to the -catering and the appointments of the hostelry, he finds -nothing good. But who shall say he was not justified? -Lounging one day in this apology for a bar, -there entered one who was a stranger to him, who -asked the landlady what he could have for dinner. -"Spitchcocked eels and mutton chops," replied the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> -hostess, naming what were then, and are still, the -staple commodities. The stranger was indignant. -Turning to Cross, he said, "I have used this house -for five-and-twenty years and never had any other -answer."</p> - -<p>Presently they both sat down to this canonical -dinner in a sparsely-furnished room. The stranger -cleaned his knife and fork (brought into the room -in a dirty condition) by thrusting them through the -soiled and ragged tablecloth. The sherry was fiery, -if the port was good; and for gooseberry tart they -had a something in a shallow dish, with twenty -bottled gooseberries under the crust. The good -cheer of the Lamb was then, it seems quite evident, -a matter of conventional belief rather than of actual -existence.</p> - -<p>It has been already said that nothing distracts -the attention of the traveller on approaching the -city. Ely, indeed, is nearly all Cathedral, and very -little of that which is not can claim any interest. -It is true that six thousand five hundred people live -in Ely, but the figures are surprising. Where do -these thousands hide themselves? The streets are -not so many, and even at that are all emptiness, -slumber, and yawns. The shopkeepers (who surely -keep shop for fun) come to their doors and yawn, -and regard the stray customer with severity; the -Divinity students yawn, and the Dean and the -Cathedral staff yawn horribly at the service they -have gone through so many times and know by -heart. The only place where they don't yawn is the -railway station, down below by the Ouse, by whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> -banks you get quite the finest near view of the -Cathedral. Ely, in short, lives chiefly by and on -the Cathedral. If there had never been a cathedral -here, it would have been a village the size of Stretham. -Perhaps to that size it will even yet decline.</p> - -<p>"Ely," wrote Cobbett eighty years ago, "is what -one may call a miserable little town; very prettily -situated, but poor and mean. Everything seems to -be on the decline, as, indeed, is the case everywhere -where the clergy are masters." True enough, enterprise -and industry are deadened in all such places; -but this bull-headed old prevaricator, in proceeding -to account for the decay, furiously assaults the -Protestant religion, and pretends to find it responsible. -It is true that the cleric is everywhere a -brake on the wheels of progress, but what religion -plunges its adherents in so abject a condition of -superstitious dependence as the Roman Catholic -creed? Cobbett on Ely is, in short, a monument -of blundering clap-trap.</p> - -<p>"Arrived at Ely," he says, "I first walked round -the beautiful cathedral, that honour to our Catholic -forefathers and that standing disgrace to our Protestant -selves. It is impossible to look at that -magnificent pile without feeling that we are a fallen -race of men. You have only to open your eyes to -be convinced that England must have been a far -greater and more wealthy country in those days -than it is in these days. The hundreds of thousands -of loads of stone of which this cathedral and the -monasteries in the neighbourhood were built must -all have been brought by sea from distant parts of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> -the kingdom.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> These foundations were laid more -than a thousand years ago; and yet there are vagabonds -who have the impudence to say that it is the -Protestant religion that has made England a great -country."</p> - -<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> The stone really came from Barnack, in Northamptonshire, -thirty-five miles distant.</p></div> - -<p>Here we have Cobbett, who ought to have known -better, and <i>did</i> actually know, repeating the shambling -fallacy that the architectural art of the Middle -Ages was so artistic because it was inspired by -religion, and that its artistry decayed by consequence -of the Reformation. Such an argument loses -sight of the circumstance that edifices dedicated to -religious use were not the only large or beautiful -buildings erected in those ages, and that those who -wrought upon secular castle or manor-house wrought -as well and as truly as those who reared the soaring -minster or noble abbey. And whence came the -means wherewith to build cathedrals like this of -Ely? Did they not derive from the lands settled -upon monasteries by those anxious only to save -their own souls, and by others who sought thus to -compound for their deeds of blood or infamy? And -is it possible to think without aversion of a Church -that, accepting such gifts, absolved the givers in -consideration of them?</p> - -<p>Life is endeavour; not all cloistered prayer. He -prays best whose prayers are an interlude of toil; -and so, when we read Cobbett's long account of the -wretched condition of Ely Cathedral, of its "disgraceful -irrepair and disfigurement," and of the two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> -old men who on a week-day afternoon formed the -whole of the congregation, coupled with his regretful -surmise that in Catholic times five thousand people -would have been assembled here, we are apt to think -that sparse congregation a very healthy sign, and -that even those two old men would have been better -employed out in the workaday world. He would -be a Goth who should fail to perceive the beauty of -Ely Cathedral and of its like, but those noble aisles, -those soaring towers tell a tale of an enslaved land, -of fettered souls, of a priestcraft that sought to rule -the State, as well as to hold the keys of Heaven and -of Hell. No man, whether he be Pope, Archbishop, -or merely the Boanerges of some hideous Bethel, -has the right to enslave another's soul. Let even -the lovely cathedrals of our land be levelled in one -common ruin if the sight of them harks us back to -Popery, for in that harking back England would be -utterly undone.</p> - -<p>But since the saving common-sense of the -Englishman can never again permit him to deliver -up his soul into another's keeping, and since it -follows naturally from this that the Romanising -tendencies of our clergy must of necessity lead -nowhere and bear no fruit, it becomes possible to -look with a dispassionate eye upon these architectural -relics of discredited beliefs.</p> - -<p>Why was the Cathedral built here? That is a -long story. It originated in the monastery founded -on this spot in <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 673 by Etheldreda, daughter of -Auna, King of the East Angles. Etheldreda has -long since been canonised, and it behoves us to deal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> -as gently as may be with a saint; but she was, if -the chroniclers tell truth, an eccentric and original -creature, twice wed by her own consent, and yet -vowed to a life-long chastity. Her first husband -was one Tondbert, a kinglet of the Gyrvians or Fen-folk, -a monarch of the mudlarks, ruling over many -miles of reed and sedge, in whose wastes Ely was -centred. He gave his Queen this Isle, and died. -For five years she remained a widow and then -married again; this time a sturdier and less manageable -man, King Egfrid of Northumbria. He respected -her vows for twelve years, but when at last -she took the veil in the north of England and fled -from her Northumbrian home he took the only way -open in the seventh century of asserting conjugal -rights, and pursued her with an armed force. When, -however, he arrived at the monastery of Coldingham -she was gone, and I do not think Egfrid ever saw -her again, or wanted to, for that matter. We will -not follow Etheldreda in her long and adventurous -journey to Ely, whither she had fled, nor recount -the many miracles that helped her on the way. -Miracles were cheap at that period, and for at least -four hundred years to come were freely invented and -elaborated by monkish chroniclers, who were the -earliest novelists and writers of fairy tales, in the -scriptorium of many a monastery.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XL</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the year 673, then, behold the ecstatic -Etheldreda come out of many perils to Ely. Here, -where she thought the Isle lifted its crest highest -above the waters, she founded a mixed monastery for -monks and nuns. At this point the ground is one -hundred and nine feet above sea-level: at Haddenham, -the crowning crest is but thirteen feet higher. -Here she ruled as Abbess for six years, when she -died, and was succeeded by her sister, the sainted -Sexburga. It was Sexburga who, sixteen years -from this time, determined to honour Etheldreda to -the best of her ability, bethought her of translating -the body from the humble graveyard of the -monastery to the church itself. She sent forth a -number of the brethren on a roving commission to -find a block of stone for a coffin, and as stone of any -kind is the least likely thing to find for many miles -around Ely, theirs looked to be a long and difficult -quest. They had, indeed, wandered as far as the -ruins of Roman Cambridge before they discovered -anything, but there they found a magnificent -sarcophagus of white marble, which they joyfully -brought back, and in it the remains of Etheldreda, -entire and incorrupt, were laid.</p> - -<p>In 870, the time of the fourth Abbess, St. -Withburga, a great disaster befell the monastery of -Ely. For years past the terror of the heathen -Vikings, the ruthless Danes and Jutes from over sea, -had been growing. Wild-eyed fugitives, survivors of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> -some pitiless massacre of the coastwise settlements -by these pirates, had flung themselves, exhausted, -upon the Isle, and now the peril was drawing near -to this sanctuary. A special intercession, "Deliver -us, O Lord, from the Northmen," distinguished -morning and evening office, but the prayer was -unanswered. Presently along the creeks came the -beaked prows of the ruthless sea-rovers, and the -monastery was sacked and burnt and all upon the -Isle slain. That is history. To it the old chronicler -must needs put a clinching touch of miraculous -vengeance, and tells how a bloodstained pirate, -thinking the marble shrine of St. Etheldreda to be -a treasure-chest, burst it open. "When he had -done this there was no delay of Divine vengeance, -for immediately his eyes started miraculously from -his head, and he ended there and then his sacrilegious -life."</p> - -<p>Before many years had passed, a new monastery -was founded upon the blackened and bloodstained -ruins of the old. This was a College of Secular -Clergy, patronised by King Alfred. It was -succeeded by a new foundation, instituted by -Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester, who made it a -Benedictine House; but even of that we have no -trace left, and the church under whose roof Canute -worshipped and Edward the Confessor was educated -was swept away in the great scheme of rebuilding, -entered upon by Simeon, the first Norman Abbot, -in 1080. Twenty-six years later the relics of St. -Etheldreda were translated to the choir just -completed. The translation took place on October<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> -17th, a day ever afterwards, while the Roman -Catholic religion prevailed, celebrated by a religious -festival and a secular fair. Pilgrims flocked -throughout the year to St. Audrey's shrine, but -many thousands assembled on her feast-day, and, -that no doubt should rest upon their pilgrimage, -purchased such favours and tokens as "St. Audrey's -chains," and images of her. The chains were lengths -of coloured silks and laces, and were, like most -articles sold at the stalls, cheap and common. From -them, their vulgar showiness, and their association -with the Saint, comes the word "tawdry."</p> - -<p>Two years after this translation of St. Audrey, -the Abbey Church was made the Cathedral of the -new diocese of Ely, carved out of the vast See of -Lincoln. Of the work wrought by Abbot Simeon -and his successor, Richard, the great north and south -transepts alone remain. The choir they built was -replaced in the thirteenth century by that lovely -Early English work we now see; the nave they had -not reached. This is a work of some sixty years later -than their time, and is one of the finest examples -of late Norman architecture in the country. The -Norman style went out with a blaze of architectural -splendour at Ely, where the great west front shows -it blending almost imperceptibly into Early English. -It is a singular architectural composition, this -western entrance and forefront of Ely Cathedral; -the piling up to a dizzy height of a great tower, -intended to be flanked on either side by two western -transepts each ending in a smaller tower. The -north-western transept fell in ruins at some unknown -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>period and has never been rebuilt, so that a view of -this front presents a curiously unbalanced look, very -distressing to all those good folk whose sensibilities -would be harrowed if in their domestic establishment -they lacked a <i>pendant</i> to everything. To the -housewife to whom a fender where the poker is not -duly and canonically neighboured by the tongs looks -a debauched and sinful object; to the citizen who -would grieve if the bronze or cut-glass lustre on one -side of his mantel-shelf were not matched on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -other, this is a sight of the most dolorous sort. It -must have been to soothe the feelings of all such that -a sum of £25,000 was appealed for when Sir Gilbert -Scott was restoring the Cathedral, many years ago, -and its rebuilding was proposed. The money was -not forthcoming, the work was not done, and so -Scott did not obtain the £2500 commission. Scott's -loss is our gain, for we are spared one more example -of his way with old cathedrals.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig53.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE WEST FRONT, ELY CATHEDRAL. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The ruins of the missing transept are plain to -see, and a huge and ugly buttress props up the -tower from this side; but, were that building -restored, we should only have again, in its completeness, -a curiously childish design. For that is the -note of this west front and of this great tower, -rising in stage upon stage of masonry until the great -blocks of stone, dwarfed by distance, look like so -many courses of grey brick. So does a child build -up towers and castles of wooden blocks.</p> - -<p>We must, however, not accuse the original -designers of the tower of this mere striving after -enormous height. The uppermost stage, where the -square building takes an octagonal form, is an -addition of nearly two hundred years later, when -the nice perceptions and exquisite taste of an earlier -period were lost, and size was the goal of effort, -rather than beauty. Those who built at that later -time would have gone higher had they dared, but if -they lacked something as artists, they must at least -be credited with engineering knowledge. They -knew that the mere crushing weight of stone upon -stone would, if further added to, grind the lower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> -stages into powder and so wreck the whole fabric. -So, at a height of two hundred and fifteen feet, they -stayed their hands; but, in earnest of what they would -have done, had not prudence forbade, they crowned -the topmost battlements with a tall light wooden -spire, removed a century ago in one of the restorations. -It was from the roof of this tower, in 1845, that -Basevi, an architect interested in a restoration then in -progress, fell and was killed.</p> - -<p>The octagonal upper stage of this great western -tower was added in the Decorated period, about 1350, -when the great central octagon, the most outstanding -and peculiar feature of the Cathedral, was built. -Any distant view of this vast building that commands -its full length shows, in addition to the -western tower, a light and fairylike lantern, like -some graceful coronet, midway of the long roof-ridge, -where choir and nave meet. This was built to replace -the tall central tower that suddenly fell in -ruins in 1332 and destroyed much of the choir. To -an architect inspired far above his fellows fell the -task of rebuilding. There are two works among the -whole range of ancient Gothic art in these islands -that stand out above and beyond the rest and -proclaim the hand and brain of genius. They are -the west front of Peterborough Cathedral and the -octagonal lantern of Ely. We do not know who -designed Peterborough's daring arcaded front, -but the name of that resourceful man who -built <i>the</i> great feature of Ely has been preserved. -He was Alan of Walsingham, the sacrist and sub-prior -of the monastery. He did not build it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> -that conventional and deceitful sense we are -accustomed to when we read that this or that -mediæval Abbot or Bishop built one thing or -another, the real meaning of the phrase being that -they provided the money and were anything and -everything but the architects. No: he imagined it; -the idea sprang from his brain, his hands drew -the plans, he made it grow and watched it to its -completion.</p> - -<p>No man dared rebuild the tower that had fallen; -not even Alan, or perhaps he did not want to, being -possessed, as we may well believe, by this Idea. -What it was you shall hear, although, to be sure, no -words have any power to picture to those who have -not seen it what this great and original work is like. -The fallen tower had been reared, as is the manner -of such central towers, upon four great pillars where -nave and choir and transepts met. Alan cleared -the ruins of them away, and built in their stead a -circle of eight stone columns that not only took in -the width of nave and the central alleys and -transepts and choir that had been enclosed by the -fallen pillars, but spread out beyond it to the whole -width of nave aisles and the side aisles of choir and -transepts. This group of columns carries arches and -a masonry wall rising in octagonal form above the -roofs, and crowned by the timber structure of the -lantern itself. The interior view of this lantern -shows a number of vaulting ribs of timber spreading -inwards from these columns, and supporting a whole -maze of open timber-work pierced with great -traceried windows and fretted and carved to wonder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>ment. -The effect is as that of a dome, "the only -Gothic dome in the world" as it has been said. -How truly it is a "lantern" may be seen when the -sun shines through the windows and lights up the -central space in the great church below. Puritan -fury did much to injure this beautiful work, and its -niches and tabernacles, once filled with Gothic -statuary, are now supplied with modern sculptures, -good in intention but a poor substitute. The modern -stained-glass, too, is atrocious.</p> - -<p>To fully describe Ely Cathedral in any but an -architectural work would be alike impossible and -unprofitable, and it shall not be attempted here: -this giant among English minsters is not easily -disposed of. For it <i>is</i> a giant. Winchester, the -longest, measuring from west front to east wall of its -Lady Chapel five hundred and fifty-five feet, is but -eighteen feet longer. Even in that particular, Ely -would have excelled but for the Lady Chapel here -being built to one side, instead of at the end, owing to -the necessity that existed for keeping a road open at -the east end of the building.</p> - -<p>Like the greater number of English minsters, -Ely stands in a grassy space. A triangular green -spreads out in front, with the inevitable captured -Russian gun in the foreground, and the Bishop's -Palace on the right. By turning to the south and -passing through an ancient gateway, once the entrance -to the monastery, the so-called "Park" is -entered, the hilly and magnificently wooded southern -side of what would in other cathedral cities be named -the "Close," here technically "the College," and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> -preserving in that title the memory of the ancient -College of Secular Clergy which ruled sometime in -that hundred years between <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 870 and 970.</p> - -<p>It was from this point of view, near the ancient -mound of "Cherry Hill," the site of William the -Conquerors Castle, that Turner painted his picture. -Many remains of the monastic establishment are to -be seen, built into charming and comfortable old -houses, residences of the Cathedral dignitaries. -Here are the time-worn Norman pillars and arches of -the Infirmary, and close by is the Deanery, fashioned -out of the ancient thirteenth-century Guesten Hall. -Quiet dignity and repose mark the place; every -house has its old garden, and everyone is very well -satisfied with himself. It is a pleasant world for -sleepy shepherds, if a sorry one for the sheep.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Let</span> them sleep, for their activity, on any lines that -may be predicated from past conduct, bodes no one -good. Times have been when these shepherds -themselves masqueraded as wolves, acting the part -with every convincing circumstance of ferocity. The -last of these occasions was in 1816. I will set forth -in detail the doings of that time, because they are -intimately bound up with the story of this road -between Ely and Downham Market.</p> - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig54.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">ELY CATHEDRAL.<br /> -[<i>After J. M. W. Turner, R.A.</i>]</p> -</div> - -<p>It was not until after Waterloo had been fought -and Bonaparte at last imprisoned, like some bottle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a><br /><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a><br /><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>-imp, -at St. Helena, that the full strain of the past -years of war began to be felt in its full severity. -It is true that for years past the distress had been -great, and that to relieve it, and to pay for Imperial -needs, the rates and taxes levied on property had in -many places risen to forty and even forty-eight -shillings in the pound, but when military glory had -faded and peace reigned, internal affairs grew more -threatening. Trade was bad, harvests were bad, wheat -rose to the unexampled figure of one hundred and three -shillings a quarter, and any save paper money was -scarce. A golden guinea was handled by many with -that curiosity with which one regards some rare and -strange object. Everywhere was the one-pound note, -issued for the purposes of restricting cash payments -and restoring credit; but so many banks issuing -one-pound notes failed to meet their obligations -that this medium of exchange was regarded with -a very just suspicion, still echoed in the old song -that says—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"I'd rather have a guinea than a one-pound note."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Everyone at this period of national exhaustion was -"hard up," but worse off than any were the unfortunate -rural folk—the farm-labourers and their -like.</p> - -<p>The agricultural labourer is now an object of -solicitude, especially at election times. There are, -in these happy days, always elections; elections to -Parliament, elections to parish and other councils, -always someone to be elected to something, and as -our friend Hodge has oftentimes a vote to give his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> -best friend, his welfare is greatly desired. But at -this unhappy time of which we have been speaking, -Hodge had no vote and, by consequence, no friends. -His wages, when he could get any work, ranged -from seven to nine shillings a week, and the quartern -loaf cost one shilling and sixpence. Tea was eight -shillings a pound, sugar one shilling, and other -necessaries at famine prices. How, then, did Hodge -live? It is a difficult question to answer. In many -cases the parish made him an allowance in augmentation -of wages, but it need scarce be added that this -extraordinary system did not help him much. Indeed, -the odd idea of financially relieving a man in -work tended directly to injure him, for it induced -the farmers to screw him down by a corresponding -number of shillings. This difficulty of answering -the question of how Hodge managed to exist was -felt by himself, in the words of a doleful ballad then -current—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Eighteen pence for a quartern loaf,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And a poor man works for a shilling:</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'Tis not enough to find him bread,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">How can they call it living?"</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Observe: Hodge did not ask for anything more than -to be allowed to live. It is not a great thing to -ask. His demand was for his pay to be raised to -the equivalent of a stone of flour a day; eleven -shillings a week. He desired nothing to put by; -only enough to fill the hungry belly. No one paid -the least heed to his modest wants. Rather did -events grind him and his kind deeper into the dust. -Many rustics in those days, when half the land was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> -common fields, kept geese. Some, a little better off, -had a cow. Fine pasturage was found on these -commons. But towards the end of the eighteenth -century, and well on into the nineteenth, there began, -and grew to enormous proportions, a movement for -enclosing the commons. Most of them are gone -now. Very early in this movement Hodge began to -feel the pinch, and, when his free grazing was ended, -was provided with a grievance the more bitter -because entirely new and unusual.</p> - -<p>All over the country there were ugly disturbances, -and at last the stolid rustics of the Fens began -to seethe and ferment. Still no one cared. If -Hodge threatened, why, a troop or so of Yeomanry -could overawe him, and were generally glad of the -opportunity, for those yeomen were drawn from the -squirearchy and the farming classes, who regarded -him as their natural slave and chattel. To no one -occurred the idea of relieving or removing these -grievances.</p> - -<p>At last the starving peasantry of these districts -broke into revolt. The village of Southery seems to -have been the origin of the particular disturbance -with which we are concerned. One May day the -farm-labourers assembled there to the number of -some eight hundred, and marched to Downham -Market, nearly seven miles distant, calling at the -farms on the way and bringing out the men engaged -on them. Arrived at Downham, they numbered -fifteen hundred; a very turbulent and unruly mob, -ready for any mischief. The first to feel their resentment -were the millers and the bakers, who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> -put up the price of flour and bread. Their mills -and shops were sacked and the contents flung into -the roadway, so that the streets of the little town -were ankle-deep in flour, and loaves were kicked -about like footballs. The butchers suffered next, -and by degrees the whole shopkeeping fraternity. -It is not to be supposed that the inns were let alone. -Determined men stormed them and brought out the -beer in pails. At one inn—the Crown—the local -magistrates were holding their weekly sitting, and -with some difficulty escaped from an attack made -upon them. Their escape enraged the rioters, who -redoubled their energies in wrecking the shops, and -were still engaged upon this pastime when the -magistrates returned, either at the head, or perhaps -(counsels of prudence prevailing) in the rear, of a -troop of Yeomanry. The Riot Act was read while -the air was thick with stones and brickbats, and -then the Yeomanry fell upon the crowds and belaboured -them with the flat of their swords. The -net results of the day were streets of pillaged shops, -and ten men and four women arrested by the -special constables who had hastily been sworn in. -A renewal of the riot was threatened the next -morning, and only stopped by the release of these -prisoners and an agreement among employers to -advance the rate of wages.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig55.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">ELY, FROM THE OUSE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>This first outbreak was no sooner suppressed -than another and much more serious one took place -at Littleport. Gathering at the Globe Inn one -morning to the number of a hundred and fifty, -armed with cleavers, pitchforks, and clubs, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a><br /><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a><br /><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> -desperate labourers set out to plunder the village. -At their head marched a man bearing a pole with -a printed statement of their grievances flying from -it. The first object to feel their rage was a shop -kept by one Martin, shopkeeper and farmer. Martin -attempted to buy them off with the offer of a -five-pound note, but they took that and burst into -the shop as well, smashing everything and carrying -off tea and sugar. An amusing side to these incidents -is seen in an account telling how one -plunderer staggered away with a whole sugarloaf, -and how a dozen of Martin's shirts, "worth a guinea -apiece," as he dolefully said afterwards, disappeared -in the twinkling of an eye.</p> - -<p>Then they visited a retired farmer and demolished -his furniture. He had a snug hoard of a -hundred guineas tucked away in an old bureau. -Alas! when these men of wrath had gone, the -guineas were found to have gone with them. And -so forth, throughout the long day.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Night</span> at last shuts down on Littleport. The village -is in deshabille: furniture lying broken in the streets, -the household gods defiled, the beer-barrels of all -the public-houses run dry. Every oppressor of the -poor has been handsomely served out, and, incidentally, -a good many unoffending people too: -for a mob maddened with the sense of wrongs long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> -endured is not discriminating. One there is, however, -not yet punished. This is the vicar, conspicuous -earlier in the day, alternately threatening and cajoling, -but, many hours since, prudently retired to his vicarage. -With a savage growl, they invest the house -and batter at the door, demanding money. The vicar -offers two one-pound notes; scornfully rejected, and -ten pounds at the very least is demanded. He refuses, -and to his refusal he adds the folly of presenting a -pistol at the heads of these furious men; a pistol -instantly snatched from his hands and like to be -used against him. From this very patent danger -and the sudden dread of murder he runs; runs -upstairs to his wife and daughters, and presently -they are out somewhere at the back door, all flying -together,—the women, as I gather, in their nightgowns,—making -for Ely, where they arrive at midnight.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, all this night, Littleport is trembling: -the shopkeepers, the farmers, anyone who has anything -to lose, with fear: those who have nothing to lose, -something even to gain, with certain wild hopes and -exaltations. Not without fear, they, either; for it -is a brutal Government with which, in the end, they -must reckon. So far, these wild despairing folk -have had no leader, but now they turn to one well-known -to sympathise with them: one John Dennis, -an innkeeper and small farmer, and by consequence -of the hated class of oppressors. By conviction, -however, he sides with them: a very Saul among -the prophets. To him, late at night, they come. -He is abed and asleep, but they rouse him. Will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> -he lead them to Ely on the morrow, to urge their -needs and their desperate case upon the authorities?</p> - -<p>He will not: it is useless, he says. Nay, but -you must, you shall, say they, else we will shoot -you, as one forsworn.</p> - -<p>So poor Dennis, whose fate is sealed from this -hour, leaves his bed and dresses himself, while the -excited peasantry loot all Littleport of its gunpowder, -bullets, and small shot, used in wild-fowling. Some -sixty muskets and fowling-pieces they have found, -and eight of those curious engines of destruction -called "punt-guns" or "duck-guns." A gun of -this kind is still used in duck-shooting. It has a -barrel eight feet long, with two inches bore, and is -loaded with three-quarters of a pound of shot and -about an ounce of gunpowder. It is mounted on a -swivel, generally at the end of a punt.</p> - -<p>Guns of this calibre they have mounted in a -farm-waggon, drawn by two horses, and at the -back of the waggon they have placed a number of -women and children: with some idea of moving -hearts, if not by fear of their quaint artillery, at least -in pity for their starving families. It is daybreak -when at last they set out on the five miles to Ely, -a band of two hundred, armed with muskets, fowling-pieces, -scythes, pitchforks, clubs, and reaping-hooks. -Ely has heard something of this projected advance, -and sends forth three clerical magistrates and the -chief constable to parley and ask the meaning of -this unlawful assembly. The meaning, it seems, is -to demand wages to be fixed at not less than two -shillings a day, and that flour shall be sold at not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> -more than two shillings and sixpence a stone. -Meanwhile, the duck-guns look these envoys in the -eyes perhaps a little more sternly than we are -disposed nowadays to credit. At anyrate, the -magistrates temporise and promise to inquire into -these things. They retire to the Cathedral precincts -to consult, and—ah! yes, will these demonstrators -please go home?</p> - -<p>No; they will not do anything of the kind. -Instead, they advance into the Market Square, -where their battery is wheeled, pointing up the -High Street, much to the consternation of the -citizens, firmly persuaded that this is the end of -all things and now busily engaged in secreting their -little hoards, their silver spoons and precious things, -in unlikely places. The rioters, conscious of having -easily overawed the place, now determine to put it -under contribution, beginning with those who have -ground the faces of the poor—the millers and their -kind. Dennis, armed with a gun, and at the head -of a threatening crowd, appears before the house of -one Rickwood, miller. "They must have fifty pounds," -he says, "or down come house and mill." Little -doubt that they mean it: in earnest thereof, observe, -windows are already smashed. Bring out those -fifty sovereigns, miserable ones, before we pull the -house about your ears!</p> - -<p>They send off to the bank accordingly; Mrs. -Rickwood going in haste. On the way she meets -the Bank Manager, a person who combines that -post with the civil overlordship of Ely. He is, in -point of fact, the chief constable. Something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> -grotesquely appropriate, if you think of it, in -these two posts being in the hands of one man. -"They shall not have a penny," he stoutly declares, -assisting Mrs. Rickwood from the crowds that beset -her; but certain blows upon head and body determine -him to be more diplomatic, and after some parley -he agrees to pay the fifty pounds in cash to those who -constitute themselves leaders of three divisions of -rioters. These three men alone, representing Ely, -Littleport, and Downham, shall be admitted to the -bank, and each shall—and does actually—receive -one-third of that sum, signing for it. Resourceful -manager! They are paid the coin, and sign: they -might as well have signed their death-warrants, for -those signatures are evidence of the very best -against them when proceedings shall subsequently -be taken.</p> - -<p>Other houses are visited and people terrified, -and then they are at a loss for what next. You -cannot make a revolution out of your head as you -go on: what is needed is a programme, some definite -scheme, and of such a thing these poor wretches have -no idea. So, gradually, as afternoon comes on, they -disperse and fall back upon discontented Littleport, -just before the arrival of a troop of the 18th Dragoons -and a detachment of the Royston Volunteer Cavalry, -sent for to Bury St. Edmunds and Royston by the -magistrates who had in the early morning parleyed -with the rioters. Ely is saved!</p> - -<p>We—we the authorities—have now the upper -hand, and mean to be revenged. On the morrow, -then, behold the military, with the Prebendary of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> -Ely, Sir Bate Dudley, and many gentlemen and -persons of consideration, invading Littleport and -wilfully stirring up again the excitement that had -spent itself. Rumours of this advance have been -spread, and on entering the village they find the -men of the place hidden behind doors and windows, -whence they fire with some effect, wounding a few. -The soldiers return the fire, and one man is killed -and another pitifully mangled. The rest flee, -soldiers and magistracy after them, hunting for some -days in fen and dyke, and taking at last seventy-three; -all marched into Ely and clapped in gaol, -there to await the coming of the Judge presiding over -the Special Assize appointed to try them.</p> - -<p>The proceedings lasted six days, opened in state -by a service in the Cathedral: an exultant service -of thanksgiving to God for this sorry triumph. To -it the Judge and his javelin-men went in procession, -behind the Bishop, and escorted by fifty of the -principal inhabitants carrying white wands. The -Bishop himself, the last to wield the old dual -palatine authority of Church and State, was preceded -by his butler, bearing the Sword of State -that symbolised the temporal power; and as he -entered the Cathedral the organ burst forth in the -joyful strains of Handel's anthem: "Why do the -heathen rage and the people imagine a vain thing?" -with its triumphant chorus, "Let us break their -bands asunder!"</p> - -<p>Nothing else so well portrays the unchristian -savagery of the time as the doings of this prelate—let -us record his name, Bishop Bowyer Edward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> -Sparke, that it may he execrated—a veritable -Hew-Agag-in-pieces-before-the-Lord, who preached earthly -vengeance and spiritual damnation to the three-score -and thirteen in prison close by. Truly, a wolf sent -to shepherd the flock.</p> - -<p>Those were times when to steal to the value of -forty shillings, and to steal to the value of a shilling, -accompanied by violence, were capital offences. Five -of the prisoners, convicted on these counts, were -sentenced to be hanged, and five were transported -for life. To the others were dealt out various terms -of imprisonment. Chief among the ill-fated five was -John Dennis, the leader, somewhat against his own -judgment, of the outbreak. His, we must allow, is a -figure tragical above the rest, touched with something -like the dignity of martyrdom. They hanged -him and the four others, in due course, on Ely -Common, on a day of high holiday, when three -hundred wand-bearers and bodies of troops assembled -to protect the authorities and to see execution done. -It may be read, in old records, how the whole of the -city was searched for a cart to take the condemned -men to the scaffold, and how at last five pounds was -paid for the use of one; so there was evidently a public -opinion opposed to this policy of bloodshed. Let -us not seek to discover who was that man who took -those five pounds, and with the taking of them sold -his immortal soul.</p> - -<p>The victims of the combined fear and rage of the -authorities were buried in one common grave in the -churchyard of St. Mary's, hard by the great Cathedral's -western front, and on the wall of that church-tower<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> -was placed the tablet that may still be seen, recording -that—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Here lye in one grave the bodies of William -Beamiss, George Crow, John Dennis, Isaac Harley, -and Thomas South, who were all executed at Ely on -the 28th day of June 1816, having been convicted -at the Special Assizes holden there of divers robberies -during the riots at Ely and Littleport in the month -of May in that year. May their awful fate be a -warning to others!"</p></blockquote> - -<p>There is no place more sacred to me in the whole -of Ely than this humble and neglected spot, where -these men, victims of this pitiful tragedy in corduroy -and hobnailed boots, martyrs to affrighted and revengeful -authority, lie. It is a spot made additionally -sad because the sacrifice was sterile. Nothing resulted -from it, so far as our human vision can reach. -Bishop Sparke and Prebendary Sir Bate Dudley and -the host of Cathedral dignitaries continued to feast -royally, to clothe themselves in fine raiment, and to -drink that old port always so specially comforting to -the denizens of cathedral precincts; and every night -the watchman went his rounds, as even now, in our -time, he continues to do, calling the hours with their -attendant weather, and ending his cry with the conventional -"All's Well!"</p> - -<p>To the soldiers employed in the unwelcome task -of suppressing these disturbances and of shooting -down their fellow-countrymen, no blame belongs: -they did but obey orders. Yet they felt it a disgrace. -The 18th Dragoons had fought at Waterloo -the year before, and one of the troopers who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> -come through that day unscathed received in this -affair a wound that cost him his arm. He thought -it hard that fate should serve him so scurvy a trick. -But among the soldiery employed was a Hanoverian -regiment, whose record is stained deeply and foully -with the doings of one German officer. Patrolling -Ely in those tempestuous days, his company were -passing by the old Sextry Barn, near the Cathedral, -when he heard a thatcher employed on the roof call -to his assistant in the technical language of thatchers -"Bunch! bunch!" He was merely asking for another -bundle of reeds, but the foreign officer, not properly -understanding English, interpreted this as an insult -to himself, and ordered his men to fire. They did -so, and the unfortunate thatcher fell upon the open -doors of the barn, his body pierced by a dozen -bullets. There it hung, dropping blood, for three -days, the officer swearing he would serve in the same -way anyone who dared remove it.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Those</span> days are far behind. When Bishop Sparke -died in 1836, the temporal power was taken away -from the See, and his Sword of State was buried -with him: a fitting piece of symbolism. These -memories alone are left, found only after much -diligent and patient search; but with their aid the -grey stones and the soaring towers of Ely, the quiet -streets, and the road on to Littleport, take on a more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> -living interest to the thoughtful man, to whom -archæology, keenly interesting though it be, does -not furnish forth the full banquet of life.</p> - -<p>Save for these memories, and for the backward -glance at the Cathedral, looming dark on the skyline, -much of the way to Littleport might almost be -called dull. A modern suburb called "Little London" -has thrown out some few houses in this direction -during the last century, but why or how this has -been possible with a dwindling population let others -explain, if they can do so. At anyrate, when the -Reverend James Bentham, the historian, was Canon -here, from 1737 to 1794, no dwellings lined the way, -for he planted a mile-long avenue of oaks where -these uninteresting houses now stand. A few only -of his trees remain, near the first milestone; a -clump of spindly oaks, more resembling elms in their -growth, and in midst of them a stone obelisk with a -Latin inscription stating how Canon James Bentham, -Canon of the Cathedral Church of Ely, planted them -in 1787, his seventieth year, not that he himself -might see them, but for the benefit of future ages. -The Latin so thoroughly succeeds in obscuring this -advertisement of himself from the understanding of -the country-folk that the obelisk is generally said to -mark the grave of a favourite racehorse!</p> - -<p>The descent from the high ground of the Isle -begins in another half mile from this point. Past -Chettisham Station and its level crossing, standing -solitary on the road, we come down Pyper's Hill, at -whose foot is the field called, on the large Ordnance -maps, "Gilgal." Why so-called, who shall say?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> -Did some old landowner, struck perhaps by its -situation near the verge of this ancient Fen-island, -name this water-logged meadow after that biblical -Gilgal where the Israelites made their first encampment -across the Jordan, and where they kept their -first Passover in the Land of Canaan? It may be, -for we have already seen how that Norman knight, -shown the riches of the Isle of Ely by Hereward, -described it even as another Canaan, a land figuratively -flowing with milk and honey.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig56.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">ELY CATHEDRAL, FROM THE LITTLEPORT ROAD. -</p> -</div> - -<p>An old toll-house still stands here by the wayside -and heralds the approach to Littleport, whose name, -preparing the stranger for some sleepy, old-world -decayed creek-side village, with rotting wharves and -a general air of picturesque decrepidness, ill fits the -busy, ugly place it is. Littleport is more populous -than Ely. It stands at the confluence of the Great -Ouse and the Old Croft rivers, and at the lower end<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> -of its long, long gritty streets, lined with whitey-grey -brick houses, the road is bordered by yet another -stream—the "Holmes River." Indeed, speaking of -its situation in the Fens and by these waters, Carter, -the eighteenth-century historian of Cambridgeshire, -tells us that in his time it was "as rare to see a -coach there as a ship at Newmarket." Much of its -recent prosperity derives from the factories of the -prominent London firm of hosiers and clothiers, -"Hope Brothers," established here. The church and -the adjoining vicarage, where the rioters of 1816 so -terrified the clergyman and his family, stand on an -elevated site behind the main street. There was, -until recent years, when it was built up, a passage -through the tower, said to have been a short cut to -the Fenland. If this was its real purpose, it vividly -shows how little solid ground there was here in old -days. The tower top, too, has its story, for it burnt -a nightly beacon in those times; a light in beneficent -competition with the marshland Jacks-o'-Lantern, -to guide the wanderer to the haven where he would -be.</p> - -<p>It must not be forgotten that Littleport is a place -famed in the annals of a certain sport. It is not a -sport often to be practised, for a succession of open -winters will render the enjoyment of it impossible, -and its devotees stale and out of form. It is the -healthful and invigorating sport and pastime of -skating. Nowhere else in all England is there such -a neighbourhood as this for skating and sliding, for -when the flooded fields of winter are covered with a -thin coating of ice you may skate pretty well all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> -way to Lynn on the one hand and to Peterborough -on the other. The country is then a vast frozen -lake. Indeed, years before skating was a sport it -had been a necessity; the only way by which a -Fenman could travel from place to place in a hard -winter. That is why Fenland skaters became such -marvellous proficients, rivalling even the Dutchmen. -Who that knows anything of skating and skating-matches -has not heard of those champions of the Fens, -"Turkey" Smart and "Fish" Smart? And Littleport -even yet takes the keenest of interest in skating -carnivals, as the traveller along the roads in midsummer -may see, in the belated bills and placards -relating to them that still hang, tattered and -discoloured, on the walls of roadside barn and -outhouse. Reading them, he feels a gentle coolness -steal over him, even on a torrid afternoon of the -dog-days.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig57.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">LITTLEPORT. -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> - -<p>One leaves Littleport by a bridge, a single-span -iron bridge of great width, that crosses the Great -Ouse. As you cross it, the way to Mildenhall lies -straight and flat, as far as eye can see, ahead. When -that picturesque tourist, William Gilpin, visited -Mildenhall a century ago, he found little to say in -its praise, and of the scenery all he can find to -record is that the roads were lined with willows -whose branches were hung with slime.</p> - -<p>Our way is not along the Mildenhall road, but -by the left-hand track following the loops and -windings of the Ouse; flat, like that other way, but -by no means straight. It is a road of the most -peculiar kind, somewhat below the level of that river -and protected from it by great grassy banks, in some -places from twelve to fourteen feet high. Windmills -are perched picturesquely on the opposite shore, -patient horses drag heavy barges along the stream, -and the sodden fields stretch away on the right to -infinity. Houses and cottages are few and far -between; built below the river banks, with their -chimney-pots rarely looking over them.</p> - -<p>The reclaimed Fens being themselves things of -recent history, there are few houses in the Fenland, -except on the islands, and these few are comparatively -modern. A cottage or a farmstead in these levels -may be a weather-boarded affair, or it may be of -brick, but it is always built on timber piles, for there -is no other way of obtaining a sure foundation; and -a frequent evidence of this is the sight of one of the -older of these buildings, perched up at an absurd -height through the gradual shrinkage of the land in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> -consequence of the draining away of the water and -the wasting of the peat. This subsidence averages -six feet over the whole extent of the Fens, and in -some places is as much as eight or nine feet. As a -result of this, a man's front door, once on a level -with the ground, is often approached by a quite -imposing flight of steps, and instances are not -unknown where a room has been added underneath -the original ground floor, and a two-floored cottage -promoted by force of circumstances to the dignity of -a three-storeyed residence.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig58.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE RIVER ROAD, LITTLEPORT. -</p> -</div> - -<p>A brick building in these districts is apt to be -exceedingly ugly. For one thing, it has been built -within the severely utilitarian period, and is just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> -a square box with a lid for roof and holes for doors -and windows. For another, the brick, made of the -local gault, is of the kind called by courtesy "white," -but really of a dirty dough-like hue: distressing to -an artist's eye.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLIV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Brandon Creek</span> bridge, where the Great Ouse and -the Little Ouse and Crooked Dyke pour their waters -into one common fund, and send it crawling lazily -down to Lynn, marks the boundaries of Cambridgeshire -and Norfolk. On the hither side you are in -the territory of the Cambridgeshire Camels, and on -the thither are come into the land of the Norfolk -Dumplings.</p> - -<p>It is here, at this meeting of the waters, that -"Rebeck, or Priests' Houses," is marked on the -maps of Speed and Dugdale, and attributed to the -thirteenth century, but what this place was, no man -knoweth. It has clean vanished from sight or -knowledge, and the houses of Brandon Creek hamlet -afford no clue, being wholly secular and commonplace, -from the inn that stands at the meeting of the rivers -to the humble cottages of the bankers and the -gaulters.</p> - -<p>Southery Ferry is but a little distance ahead, -to be recognised by the inn that stands on the river -bank. It is a lonely ferry, and little wonder that it -should be, considering the emptiness of the country -on the other side,—all fens at the Back of Beyond, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> -whose wastes cometh the stranger never, where the -bull-frogs croak, the slodger slodges among the dykes, -and the mists linger longest.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig59.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE OUSE. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Away ahead sits Southery village, enthroned -upon its hillock, once an island in the surrounding -fen, and still, in its prominence against the skyline, -telling its story plain for all to learn. Even if it -were not thus evident from Southery Ferry how the -village of old sat with its feet in the mud and its -head on the dry land, at least the pilgrim's wheels -presently advise him in unmistakable fashion that he -is on an ascent. There is little in the village itself -to interest the stranger. The spire so picturesquely -crowning the hill in the distant view is found on close -acquaintance to be that of a modern church, filled -with the Papistical abominations commonly found in -these days of the forsworn clergy of the Church of -England. The old church of St. Mary, disused forty -years ago, and now in ruins, stands at a little distance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> -in a bend of the road, overlooking many miles of -what was once fen. There it stands in its heaped-up -graveyard, a shattered and roofless shell of red-brick -and rubble walls, thickly overgrown with ivy, and -neighboured by an old windmill as battered and -neglected as itself. From a field-gate overlooking -the levels you see, in the distance, the high ground -about Thetford, and, near at hand, an outlying part -of Southery called Little London. An old inhabitant -shares the field-gate and the outlook with the present -writer, and surveys the many miles with a jaundiced -eye. He remembers those lands below, when he was -a boy, all swimming with water. Now they are -drained, and worth ever so much an acre, "'cause -they'll, as you might say, grow anything. But a -man can't earn mor'n fourteen shillun a week here. -No chance for nobody."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig60.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">SOUTHERY FERRY. -</p> -</div> - -<p>No local patriot he. He was born here, married -in the old church forty years ago, and went away to -live in Sheffield. "Ah! that <i>is</i> a place," says he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> -That is a phrase capable of more than one interpretation, -and we feelingly remark, having been there, -that indeed a place it <i>is</i>. His regretful admiration of -Sheffield is so mournful that we wonder why he ever -left.</p> - -<p>The road between Southery and Hilgay dips but -slightly and only for a short distance, proving the -accuracy, at this point at least, of Dugdale's map -showing the Fen-islands of Hilgay and Southery -conjoined. They are divided by the long, straight, -and narrow cut called "Sam's Cut Drain," crossed -here at Modney Bridge. Here the true Fenland -begins only to be skirted, and hedgerows once more -line the way, a sign that of itself most certainly -proclaims fields enclosed and cultivated in the long -ago. The ditches, too, are dry, and not the brimming -water-courses they have been these last twenty-five -miles. Moreover, here is hedgerow timber: ancient -elms and oaks taking the place of the willows and -poplars that have been our only companions throughout -a whole county. They have not consciously -been missed, but now they are come again, how -fresh and dear and welcome they are, and how -notable the change they produce!</p> - -<p>Between Hilgay and that old farmhouse called -"Snore Hall," from an absurd tradition that King -Charles once slept there, we cross the river Wissey -and the Catchwater Drain. The road between is still -known as "the Causeway," and, with the succeeding -village of Fordham, teaches in its name a lesson in -old-time local geography.</p> - -<p>In 1809, when that old tourist, William Gilpin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> -passed this way, Hilgay Fen extended to one -thousand acres. According to the picturesque story -told him, the district was periodically visited, every -six or seven years, by an innumerable host of field-mice, -which began to destroy all vegetation and -would have laid everything bare but for a great flight -of white horned-owls that, as if by instinct, always -arrived at such times from Norway and, immediately -attacking the mice, destroyed them all, when they -disappeared as suddenly as they had come.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLV</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Ryston Station</span>, between Ryston Park and Fordham, -marks the neighbourhood of a very interesting spot, -for Ryston, though a place of the smallest size and -really but a woodland hamlet, is of some historic -note, with "Kett's Oak," or the Oak of Reformation, -standing in the Park, as a visible point of contact -with stirring deeds and ancient times. It is a -gigantic tree with hollow trunk and limbs carefully -chained and bound together, and marks one of -the encampments of the Norfolk peasantry in Kett's -Rebellion of 1549. This was a popular outbreak -caused by the lawless action of the Norfolk gentry -of that time in enclosing wastes and common lands. -"The peasant whose pigs and cow and poultry had -been sold, or had died because the commons where -they had once fed were gone; the yeoman dispossessed -of his farm; the farm-servant out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> -employ because where once ten ploughs had turned -the soil, one shepherd watched the grazing of the -flocks; the artisan smarting under the famine prices -the change of culture had brought—all these were -united in suffering, while the gentlemen were -doubling, trebling, quadrupling their incomes, and -adorning their persons and their houses with -splendour hitherto unknown."</p> - -<p>The outbreak began at Attleborough in June -1549, and a fortnight later there was fighting at -Wymondham, where the country-folk, led by Robert -Kett, a tanner, of that place, destroyed many illegal -fences. Thence, headed by Kett and his brother -William, an army of sixteen thousand peasants -marched to Mousehold Heath, overlooking Norwich, -where their greatest camp was pitched. Under -some venerable tree in these camps Robert Kett was -wont to sit and administer justice, and Conyers, -chaplain to the rebel host, preached beneath their -shade while the rising of that memorable summer -lasted. Never were the demands of rebellion more -reasonable than those put forward on this occasion. -They were, that all bondsmen should be made free, -"for God made all free with His precious bloodshedding"; -that all rivers should be made free and -common to all men for fishing and passage; that -the clergy should be resident, instead of benefices -being held by absentees; and, in the interest of -tenants' crops, that no one under a certain degree -should keep rabbits unless they were paled in, and -that no new dove-houses should be allowed. That -last stipulation sounds mysterious, but it referred to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> -a very cruel grievance of olden times, when only the -Lord of the Manor might keep pigeons and doves, -and did so at the expense of his tenants. The -manorial pigeon-houses often seen adjoining ancient -Hall or old-world Grange are, in fact, relics of that -time when the feudal landowner's pigeons fattened -on the peasants' crops.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig61.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">KETT'S OAK. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The story of how the people's petition was disregarded, -and how the city of Norwich was taken -and retaken with much bloodshed, does not belong -here. The rebellion was suppressed, and Robert and -William Kett hanged, but the memory of these -things still lingers in the rural districts, and everyone -in the neighbourhood of Ryston knows "Ked's -Oak," as they name it. There were Pratts of Ryston<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> -Hall then, as now, and old legends still tell how -Robert Kett seized some of the Squire's sheep to -feed his followers, leaving this rhymed note in -acknowledgment—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Mr. Prat, your shepe are verry fat,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And wee thank you for that.</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Wee have left you the skinnes</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To buy your ladye pinnes</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And you may thank us for that."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Some of the insurgents were hanged from this -very tree, as the rhyme tells us—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Surely the tree that nine men did twist on</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Must be the old oak now at Ryston."</span><br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The present Squire has recorded these things on a -stone placed against the trunk of this venerable relic.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig62.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">DENVER HALL. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Denver, which presently succeeds Fordham and -Ryston, is remarkable for many things. Firstly, for -that beautiful old Tudor mansion, Denver Hall, by -the wayside, on entering the village; secondly, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> -the semicircular sweep of the high road around the -church; and, thirdly, for the great "Denver Sluice" -on the river Ouse, a mile away. This is the massive -lock that at high tide shuts out the tidal waters -from flooding the reclaimed Fens, and at the ebb is -opened to let out the accumulated waters of the -Ouse and the innumerable drains of the Great Level. -The failure of Denver Sluice would spell disaster and -ruin to many, and it has for that reason been specially -protected by troops on several occasions when Irish -political agitators have entered upon "physical force" -campaigns, and have been credited with a desire to -blow up this main protection of two thousand square -miles of land slowly and painfully won back from -bog and waste.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig63.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE CROWN, DOWNHAM MARKET. -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig64.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE CASTLE, DOWNHAM MARKET. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Denver gives its name to a town in America—Denver, -Colorado—and has had several distinguished -natives; but, despite all these many and varied -attributes of greatness, it is a very small and very -modest place, quite overshadowed by the little town -of Downham Market, a mile onward. Downham, as -Camden informs us, obtains its name from "Dun" -and "ham," signifying the home on the hill; and the -ancient parish church, which may be taken as standing -on the site of the original settlement, does -indeed rise from a knoll that, although of no intrinsic -height, commands a vast and impressive view over -illimitable miles of marshland. It is not a church of -great interest, nor does the little town offer many -attractions, although by no means unpleasing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> - -<p>They still point out the house where Nelson once -went to school; and two old inns remain, very much -as they were in coaching days. In the Crown -yard you may still look up at the windows of the -room where the magistrates were sitting on that day -in 1816 when the rioters made them fly.</p> - -<p>Villages on these last twelve miles between -Downham and Lynn are plentiful. No sooner is -the little town left behind than the church of -Wimbotsham comes in sight, with that of Stow -Bardolph plainly visible ahead. Both are interesting -old buildings, with something of almost every period -of architecture to show the curious. Beyond its -church, and a farmstead or two, Wimbotsham has -nothing along the road, but Stow Bardolph is a -village complete in every story-book particular. -Here is the church, and here, beneath a spreading -chestnut (or other) tree the village smithy stands; -while opposite are the gates of the Park and the -shady avenue leading up to the Hall where, not -Bardolphs nowadays, but Hares, reside in dignified -ease; as may be guessed from the village inn, the -Hare Arms, with its armorial sign and motto, <i>Non -videre, sed esse</i>—"not to seem, but to be," the -proud boast or noble aspiration of the family. Almshouses, -cottages with pretty gardens, and a very -wealth of noble trees complete the picture of -"Stow," as the country-folk solely know it, turning -a bewildered and stupid gaze upon the stranger who -uses the longer title.</p> - -<p>The pilgrim through many miles of fen revels in -this wooded mile from Stow Bardolph village to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> -Hogge's Bridge, where the road makes a sharp bend -to the left amid densely overarching trees, commanding -a distant view of Stow Bardolph Hall at the -farther end of a long green drive. South Runcton -Church, standing lonely by the road beyond this -pretty scene, is an example of how not to restore a -pure Norman building. It still keeps a very -beautiful Norman chancel arch, but the exterior, -plastered to resemble stone, is distressing.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig65.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">HOGGE'S BRIDGE, STOW BARDOLPH. -</p> -</div> - -<p>At Setchey, originally situated on a navigable -creek of the river Nar and then named Sedge-hithe, -or Seech-hithe—meaning a sedge and weed-choke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>d -harbour—we are come well within the old Dutch -circle of influence over local building design. There -are still some characteristic old Dutch houses at -Downham; and Lynn, of course, being of old a port -in closest touch with Holland, is full of queer gables -and quaint architectural details brought over from -the Low Countries. Here at Setchey, too, stands a -very Dutch-like old inn—the Lynn Arms.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig66.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE LYNN ARMS, SETCHEY. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Commons—"Whin Commons" in the local -phrase—and the scattered houses of West Winch, -lead on to Hardwick Bridge, where, crossing over the -railway, the broad road bends to the right. There, -facing you, is an ancient Gothic battlemented gatehouse, -and beyond it the long broad street of a -populous town: the town of King's Lynn.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLVI</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is a tintinnabulary, jingling sound in the -name of Lynn that predisposes one to like the place, -whether it be actually likeable or not. Has anyone -ever stopped to consider how nearly like the name of -this old seaport is to that of London? Possibly the -conjunction of London and Lynn has not occurred to -any who have visited the town, but to those who -have arrived at it by the pages of this book, the -similarity will be interesting. The names of both -London and Lynn, then, derive from the geographical -peculiarities of their sites, in many respects -singularly alike. Both stand beside the lower -reaches of a river, presently to empty itself into the -sea, and the ground on which they stand has always -been marshy. At one period, indeed, those were -not merely marshes where Lynn and London now -stand, but wide-spreading lakes—fed by the lazy -overflowings of Ouse and Thames. The Celtic -British, who originally settled by these lakes, called -them <i>llyns</i>, and this ancient seaport has preserved -that prehistoric title in its original purity, only -dropping the superfluous "l"; but London's present -name somewhat disguises its first style of <i>Llyn dun</i>, -or the "hill by the lake"; some inconsiderable, but -fortified, hillock rising above the shallow waters.</p> - -<p>When the Saxons came, Lynn was here, and -when the Norman conquerors reached the Norfolk -coast they found it a busy port. To that early -Norman prelate, Herbert de Losinga, a tireless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> -builder of churches throughout East Anglia, the -manor fell, and the town consequently became known -for four hundred and thirty years as Lynn Episcopi. -It was only when the general confiscation of religious -property took place under Henry the Eighth that -it became the "Kings Lynn" it has ever since -remained.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig67.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE SOUTH GATES, LYNN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>To the "average man," Lynn is well known. -Although he has never journeyed to it, he knows -this ancient seaport well; not as a port or as a town -at all, but only as a name. The name of Lynn, in -short, is rooted in his memory ever since he read -Hood's poem, the "Dream of Eugene Aram."</p> - -<p>Aram was no mere creation of a poet's brain, but -a very real person. His story is a tragic one, and -appealed not only to Hood, but to Bulwer Lytton,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> -who weaved much romance out of his career. Aram -was born in 1704, in Yorkshire, and adopted the -profession of a schoolmaster. It was at Knaresborough, -in 1745, that the events happened that -made him a wanderer, and finally brought him to the -scaffold.</p> - -<p>How a scholar, a cultured man of Aram's remarkable -attainments (for he was a philologist and -student of the Celtic and Aryan languages) could -have stooped to commit a vulgar murder is not -easily to be explained, and it has not been definitely -ascertained how far the motive of revenge, -or in what degree that of robbery, prompted him to -join with his accomplice, Houseman, in slaying -Daniel Clarke. The unfortunate Clarke had been -too intimate a friend of Aram's wife, and this may -explain his share in the murder, although it does not -account for Houseman's part in it. Clarke was not -certainly known to have been murdered when he -suddenly disappeared in 1745, and when Aram -himself left Knaresborough, although there may have -been suspicions, he was not followed up. It was -only when some human bones were found in 1758 at -Knaresborough that Houseman himself was suspected. -His peculiar manner when they were found, and his -assertions that they "could not be Dan Clarke's" -because Dan Clarke's were somewhere else, of course -led to his arrest. And, as a matter of fact, they -were <i>not</i> Clarke's, as Houseman's confession under -arrest sufficiently proved.</p> - -<p>Whose they were does not appear. He told how -he and Aram had killed that long-missing man and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> -had buried his body in St. Robert's Cave; and, on -the floor of that place being dug up, a skeleton was -in due course discovered.</p> - -<p>Aram was traced to King's Lynn and arrested. -Tried at York, he defended himself with extraordinary -ability, but in vain, and was sentenced to death. -Before his execution at York he confessed his part, -and so to this sombre story we are at least spared -the addition of a mystery and doubt of the justice of -his sentence.</p> - -<p>Hood's poem makes Aram, conscience-struck, -declare his crime to one of his Lynn pupils, in the -form of a horrible dream. How does it begin, that -ghastly poem? Pleasantly enough—</p> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"'Twas in the prime of summer time,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">An evening calm and cool;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And four-and-twenty happy boys</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Came bounding out of school."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The Grammar School of those young bounders was -pulled down and rebuilt many years ago, and so -much of association lost.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Pleasantly shone the setting sun</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Over the town of Lynn,"</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>but Eugene Aram, the Usher, on this particular -evening,</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"Sat remote from all,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">A melancholy man."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Presently, Hood tells us, he espied, apart from the -romping boys, one who sat and "pored upon a book." -This morbid youngster was reading the "Death of -Abel," and Aram improved the occasion, and "talked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a><br /><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a><br /><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> -with him of Cain." With such facilities for entering -intimately into Cain's feelings of blood-guiltiness, he -conjured up so many terrors that, if we read the -trend of Hood's verses correctly, the boy thought -there was more in this than the recital of some -particularly vivid nightmare, and informed the -authorities, with the well-known result—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Through the cold and heavy mist,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And Eugene Aram walked between,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">With gyves upon his wrist."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig68.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">JOSEPH BEETON IN THE CONDEMNED CELL. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Twenty-five years later, Lynn turned off a local -criminal on its own account, Joseph Beeton being -executed, February 22, 1783, on the spot where -a few weeks previously he had robbed the North -Mail, on what is called the "Saddlebow Road." This -spot, now commonplace enough, was long marked by -a clump of trees known as "Beeton's Bush." An -old engraving shows poor Joseph in the condemned -hold, and represents him of an elegant slimness, -heavily shackled and wearing what, under the -circumstances, must be described as an extraordinarily -cheerful expression of countenance. A contemporary -account of his execution makes interesting, if -gruesome, reading—</p> - -<p>"The culprit was conveyed from Lynn Gaol in a -mourning coach to the place of execution near the -South Gates, and within a few yards of the spot -where the robbery took place, attended by two -clergymen:—the Rev. Mr. Horsfall and the Rev. Mr. -Merrist. After praying some time with great fervency, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>and a hymn being sung by the singers from St. -Margaret's Church, the rope was fixed about his neck, -which was no sooner done than he instantly threw -himself off and died amidst the pitying tears of -upwards of 5000 spectators. His behaviour was -devout and excellent. This unfortunate youth had -just attained his 20th year, and is said to have been -a martyr to the villainy of a man whom he looked -upon as his sincere friend. Indeed, so sensible were -the gentlemen of Lynn that he was betrayed into the -commission of the atrocious crime for which he -suffered by the villainy of this supposed friend, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> -a subscription was entered into and money collected -to employ counsel to plead for him at his trial."</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig69.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE GUILDHALL, LYNN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The barbarous method of execution in those days -placed the condemned in the dreadful alternative of -slow strangulation, or what was practically suicide. -To save themselves from the lingering agonies of -strangulation, those who were possessed of the -slightest spirit flung themselves from the ladder and -so ended, swiftly and mercifully.</p> - -<p>The old account of Beeton's execution ends -curiously like a depraved kind of humour: "The -spirit of the prisoner, the constancy of his friends, -and the church-parade made bright episodes in a -dreadful scene."</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLVII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is a long, long way from the entrance through the -South Gates, on the London road, into the midst of -the town, where, by the Ouse side, along the wharves -of the harbour, and in the maze of narrow streets -between the Tuesday and the Saturday market-places, -old Lynn chiefly lies. In the Tuesday -market-place, Losinga's great church of St. Margaret -stands; that church whose twin towers are prominent -in all views of the town. Many of the old merchants -and tradesmen lie there, but many more in the vast -church of St. Nicholas, less well known to the casual -visitor. On the floor of that noble nave, looked -down upon by the beautiful aisle and clerestory -windows, and by the winged angels that support the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> -open timber roof, you may read the epitaphs of -many an oversea trader and merchant prince, as well -as those of humbler standing. Crusos are there, and -among others a certain Simon Duport "Marchand, Né -en l'Isle de Ré en France," whose epitaph is presented -bi-lingually, in French and English, for the -benefit of those not learned in both. That of "Mr. -Thomas Hollingworth, an Eminent Bookseller," is -worth quoting. He, it appears, was "a Man of the -Strictest Integrity In His Dealings and much -esteemed by Gentlemen of Taste For the neatness -and Elegance of his Binding."</p> - -<p>The merchants of Lynn are an extinct race, and -most of their old mansions are gone. Yet in the -old days, when Lynn supplied seven counties with -coals, timber, and wine from the North of England, -from the Baltic, and from many a port in Holland, -France, Italy, and Spain, to be a Lynn merchant was -no mean or inconsiderable thing. They lived, these -princely traders, in mansions of the most noble -architectural character, furnished with the best that -money could buy and hung with tapestry and -stamped leather from the most artistic looms and -workshops of France and Spain. It never occurred -to them that trade was a thing despicable and to be -disowned. Instead of disconnecting themselves from -their business, they lived with it; their residences -and their warehouses in one range of buildings.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig70.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE TOWN AND HARBOUR OF LYNN, FROM WEST LYNN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>A typical mansion of this old period is Clifton's -House. The Cliftons and their old business are -alike gone, and many of the beautiful fittings of -their mansion have been torn out and sold, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a><br /><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a><br /><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> -house itself stands, a grand memorial of their -importance and of the patronage they and their kind -extended to art. It faces Queen Street, at the -corner of King's Staith Lane, and its courts and -warehouses extend back to those quays where -Clifton's ships, richly laden, once came to port from -many a foreign clime. How anxiously those vessels -were awaited may perhaps be judged from the tall -red-brick tower rising in many storeys from the first -courtyard, and commanding panoramic views down -the river, out to the Wash, and away to the open -sea at Lynn Deeps; so that from the roof-top the -coming of Clifton's argosies might early be made -known.</p> - -<p>This house owes its fine Renaissance design to a -Lynn architect whose name deserves to be remembered. -Henry Bell, who built it in 1707, and whose -works still enrich the town in many directions, -flourished between 1655 and 1717. To him is due -the beautiful Custom House overlooking the river -and harbour, a work of art that in its Dutch-like -character seems to have been brought bodily from -some old Netherlands town and set down here by -the quay. It was built as an Exchange, in the time -of Charles the Second, whose statue still occupies an -alcove; but very shortly afterwards was taken over -by the Customs.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig71.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">"CLIFTON'S HOUSE." -</p> -</div> - -<p>The great Tuesday market-place was once graced -by a Renaissance market-cross from Bell's designs, -but it was swept away in 1831. The Duke's Head -Hotel, so originally named in honour of James, -Duke of York, is another of Bell's works, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a><br /><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> -improved of late by the plaster that has been spread -entirely over the old red-brick front.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig72.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE DUKE'S HEAD, LYNN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The Duke's Head was in coaching days one of -those highly superior houses that refused to entertain -anyone who did not arrive in a carriage, or, at the -very least of it, in a post-chaise. The principal inns -for those plebeian persons who travelled by coach -were the Globe and the Crown. It was to the -Crown that old Thomas Cross and his "Lynn Union" -came. It is still standing, in Church Street, over -against the east end of St. Margaret's Church, but -in a pitifully neglected and out-at-elbows condition, -as a Temperance House, its white plastered front, -contemporary with the coaching age, even now -proclaiming it to be a "Commercial and Family -Hotel."</p> - -<p>The coaching age ended, so far as Lynn was -concerned, in 1847, when the East Anglian Railway, -from Ely to Lynn, with branches to Dereham,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> -Wisbeach, and Huntingdon, was opened. It was -an unfortunate line, an amalgamation of three -separate undertakings: the Lynn and Dereham, -the Ely and Huntingdon, and the Lynn and Ely -Railways. By its junction with the Eastern -Counties, now the Great Eastern, at Ely, a through -journey to London was first rendered possible. -Three trains each way, instead of the twenty now -running, were then considered sufficient for all needs. -They were not, at that early date, either swift or -dignified journeys, for engine-power was often -insufficient, and it was a common thing for a train -to be stopped for hours while engine-driver and -stoker effected necessary repairs. It was then, and -on those not infrequent occasions when trains ran -by favour of the sheriff, accompanied by a "man in -possession" and plastered with ignominious labels -announcing the fact, that passengers lamented the -coaches. The East Anglian Railway, indeed, like -the Great Eastern, which swallowed it, had a very -troubled early career.</p> - -<p>Lynn in those early years of innovation still -retained many of its old-world ways. It was a -sleepy time, as Mr. Thew, who has written his -reminiscences of it, testifies. For police the town -possessed one old watchman, who bore the old East -Anglian name of Blanchflower, and patrolled the -streets "with one arm and a lantern." The posting -of letters was then a serious business, calling for -much patience, for you did not in those days drop -them into a letter-box, but handed them through a -window at which you knocked. When the clerk in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a><br /><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a><br /><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> -charge, one John Cooper, had satisfied his official -dignity and kept you waiting long enough, he was -graciously pleased to open the window and receive -the letters. The successor to this upholder of official -traditions, was one Charles Rix, addicted to declaiming -Shakespeare from his window.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig73.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE CUSTOM-HOUSE, LYNN. -</p> -</div> - -<p>The postmaster of Lynn at this easy-going time was -Mr. Robinson Cruso, who also filled the miscellaneous -occupations of auctioneer and estate agent, and wine -and spirit merchant, and was a member of the Town -Council. He was a descendant of an old Lynn -family, many of whose representatives lie in the -church of St. Nicholas. This Cruso (they spelled -their name without the "e") was an upholsterer, -and born ten years after Defoe's famous book was -published; hence the "Robinson." There are still a -number of the name in Norfolk and Suffolk.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="c large p2">XLVIII</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> must now make an end. Of Lynn's long -municipal history, of the treasures stored in its -ancient Guildhall, of King John's disastrous journey -from the town across the Wash; of many another -stirring scene or historic pile this is not the place to -speak. The Story of the Road is told, and, that -being done, the task is completed; but it is not -without regret that a place like Lynn, so rich in -picturesque incident, is thus left. Many a narrow, -cobbled lane, lined with quaint houses, calls aloud to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> -be sketched; there, too, are the ancient Red Mount -Chapel, in the lovely park-like "walks" that extend -into the very heart of the town, and the ancient -Greyfriars Tower to be noted; but Lynn has been, -and will be again, the subject of a book entirely -devoted to itself.</p> - -<p>One pilgrimage, however, must be made ere -these pages close: to Islington, four miles away on -the Wisbeach road, for it is to that secluded place -the sweet old ballad of the "Bailiff's Daughter of -Islington" refers, and not to the better known -"merry Islington" now swallowed up in London.</p> - -<p>The ballad of the "Bailiff's Daughter" is of -unknown origin. It is certainly three hundred years -old, and probably much older; and has survived -through all those centuries because of that sentiment -of true love, triumphant over long years and distance -and hard-hearted guardians, which has ever appealed -to the popular imagination. Who was that Marshland -bailiff and who the squire's son we do not know. -It is sufficient to be told, in the lines of the sweet -old song, that</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"There was a youth, and a well belovèd youth,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And he was a Squire's son;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">He loved the Bailiff's daughter dear</span><br /> -<span class="i2">That lived at Islington."</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>She was coy and reluctant and rejected his -advances; so that, in common with many another, -before and since, love-sickness claimed him for its -own. Then, for seven long years, he was sent away, -bound apprentice in London. Others in those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a><br /><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a><br /><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> -circumstances would have forgotten the fair maid of -Islington, but our noble youth was constancy itself, -and, when his seven years had passed, came riding -down the road, eager to see her face again. With -what qualities of face and head and heart that maid -must have been endowed!</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig74.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">THE FERRY INN, LYNN. -</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/fig75.jpg" alt=""/> -<p class="caption center medium">ISLINGTON. -</p> -</div> - -<p>Meanwhile, if we read the ballad aright, no one -else came a-courting. Seven years mean much in -such circumstances, and our maid grew desperate—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"She pulled off her gown of green,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And put on ragged attire,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">And to fair London she would go,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Her true love to enquire.</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as she went along the high road</span><br /> -<span class="i2">The weather being hot and dry,</span><br /> -<span class="i0">She sat her down upon a green bank,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">And her true love came riding by.</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span><br /> -<span class="i0">She started up, with a colour so red,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Caught hold of his bridle rein;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'One penny, one penny, kind sir,' she said,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">'Will ease me of much pain.'</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">'Before I give you a penny, sweetheart,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Pray tell me where you were born.'</span><br /> -<span class="i0">'At Islington, kind sir,' said she,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">'Where I have had many a scorn.'</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">'Prythee, sweetheart, then tell to me,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Oh, tell me whether you know</span><br /> -<span class="i0">The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington?'</span><br /> -<span class="i2">'She is dead, sir, long ago.'</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">'If she be dead, then take my horse,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">My saddle and bridle also;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">For I will into some far countrye</span><br /> -<span class="i2">Where no man shall me know.'</span> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">'Oh, stay, oh stay, thou goodly youth,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">She is standing by thy side;</span><br /> -<span class="i0">She is here alive, she is not dead,</span><br /> -<span class="i2">But ready to be thy bride.'"</span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>I cannot read those old lines, crabbed and -uncouth though they be, without something suspiciously -like a mist before the eyes and a certain -difficulty in the throat. "God forbid I should -grieve any young hearts," says Miss Matty, in -<i>Cranford</i>. Sentiment will have its way, deny it -though you will.</p> - -<p>Islington itself is, for these reasons, a place for -pious pilgrimage. And a place difficult enough to -find, for it is but an ancient church, a Park and -Hall, and two cottages, approached through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> -farmyard. That is all of Islington, the sweet -savour of whose ancient story of true love has -gone forth to all the world, and to my mind -hallows these miles more than footsteps of saints -and pilgrims.</p> - - -<p class="c large p2">THE END</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a><br /><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="gesperrt">INDEX</h2></div> - -<ul class="index"><li class="ifrst"> Akeman Street, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181-183</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a> <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Aldreth, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Causeway, <a href="#Page_217">217-221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Alfred the Great, <a href="#Page_88">88-91</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Amwell, Great, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Aram, Eugene, <a href="#Page_308">308-313</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Arnim, Count, <a href="#Page_108">108-110</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Arrington Bridge, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Balloon Stone, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Barkway, <a href="#Page_102">102-104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Barley, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107-110</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Beggars' Bush, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Bishopsgate Street, <a href="#Page_8">8-10</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Brandon Creek, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Braughing, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Bread Riots, <a href="#Page_273">273-287</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Broxbourne, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Bruce Grove, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Buckland, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Buntingford, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117-119</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Cam, The, <a href="#Page_153">153-155</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Cambridge, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134-176</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Castle, <a href="#Page_170">170-174</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Caxton, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Gibbet, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Chaucer, Geoffrey, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Cheshunt, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75-80</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Great House, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77-80</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Wash, <a href="#Page_75">75-79</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Chesterton, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Chettisham, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Chipping, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Chittering, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Clarkson, Thos., <a href="#Page_98">98-100</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Coaches--</li> -<li class="isub2">Bee Hive, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Cambridge Auxiliary Mail, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Lynn, and Wells Mail, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Mail, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Stage, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- and Ely Stage, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Telegraph, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Union, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Day (Cambridge and Wisbeach), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Defiance (Cambridge and Wisbeach), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Diligence (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Fly (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Hobson's Stage (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Lord Nelson (Lynn), <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Lynn and Fakenham Post Coach, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Post Coach, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">---- Union, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Night Post Coach (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Norfolk Hero (Lynn and Wells), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Prior's Stage (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Rapid (Cambridge and Wisbeach), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Red Rover (Lynn), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Rocket (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Royal Regulator (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Safety (Cambridge, Lynn, and Wells), <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Star of Cambridge (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_16">16-19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Tally Ho (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Telegraph (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Times (Cambridge), <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">York Mail, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Coaching, <a href="#Page_12">12-32</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Notabilities--</li> -<li class="isub3">Briggs, --, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Clark, William, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Cross, John, <a href="#Page_22">22-25</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Cross, Thomas, <a href="#Page_22">22-31</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Elliott, George, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Goodwin, Jack, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Pryor, --, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">"Quaker Will," <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Reynolds, James, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Vaughan, Richard, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> -<li class="isub3">Walton, Jo, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Denny Abbey, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Denver, <a href="#Page_301">301-303</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Sluice, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Dismal Hall, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Downham Market, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Edmonton, Lower, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46-52</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ----, Upper, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43-46</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Eleanor, Queen, <a href="#Page_56">56-68</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Ely, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281-288</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Cathedral, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256-270</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ----, Isle of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212-226</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Enfield Highway, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Wash, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Ermine Street, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4-7</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Etheldreda, Saint, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260-264</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Fens, The, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182-208</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214-223</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233-235</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239-248</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291-298</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Fielder, Richard Ramsay, <a href="#Page_237">237-239</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Fordham, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Fowlmere, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-115</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Foxton, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Freezywater, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Gog Magog Hills, <a href="#Page_140">140-142</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Granta, The, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Grantchester, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Gray, Thomas, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Great Amwell, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Eastern Railway, <a href="#Page_31">31-34</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Northern Railway, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Shelford, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Guthlac, Saint, <a href="#Page_196">196-198</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Haddenham, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hardwick Bridge, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hare Street, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Harston, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hauxton, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hereward the Wake, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208-214</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221-223</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226-229</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> High Cross, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Highwaymen (in general), <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Highwaymen--</li> -<li class="isub2">Beeton, Joseph, <a href="#Page_313">313-315</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Gatward, --, <a href="#Page_125">125-127</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">King, Tom, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Shelton, Dr. Wm., <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Turpin, Dick, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hilgay, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hobson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_10">10-12</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157-166</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hobson's Conduit, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hoddesdon, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82-86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Hogge's Bridge, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Iceni, The, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Inns (mentioned at length)--</li> -<li class="isub2">Bath Hotel, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Bell, Edmonton, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Blue Boar, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Bull, Bishopsgate Street Within, <a href="#Page_8">8-10</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Bull, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Bull, Hoddesdon, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Castle, Downham Market, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Chequers, Fowlmere, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Crown, Downham Market, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">----, King's Lynn, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Duke's Head, King's Lynn, <a href="#Page_319">319-321</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Eagle, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Falcon, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">----, Waltham Cross, <a href="#Page_67">67-69</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Four Swans, Bishopsgate Street Within, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">----, Waltham Cross, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Fox and Hounds, Barley, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Green Dragon, Bishopsgate Street Within, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Hoop, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Lamb, Ely, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Lion, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Lord Nelson, Upware, <a href="#Page_235">235-239</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Lynn Arms, Setchey, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Pickerel, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Red Lion, Reed Hill, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">----, Royston, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125-127</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Roman Urn, Crossbrook Street, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Rose and Crown, Upper Edmonton, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Saracen's Head, Ware, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Sun, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Three Tuns, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Two Brewers, Ponder's End, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Upware Inn, <a href="#Page_235">235-239</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">White Horse, Fetter Lane, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Woolpack, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Wrestlers, Cambridge, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Islington, <a href="#Page_326">326-331</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Kett's Oak, <a href="#Page_298">298-300</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Kingsland Road, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> King's Lynn, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306-326</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47-51</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Landbeach, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Layston, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Littleport, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276-281</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289-292</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Melbourn, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128-131</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Milestones, Early examples of, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Milton, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ----, John, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Modney Bridge, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Newton, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Nine Wells, The, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Old-time travellers--</li> -<li class="isub2">Cobbett, Richard, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Gilpin, John, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43-46</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">James the First, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71-75</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Pepys, Samuel, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112-115</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Prior, Matthew, <a href="#Page_82">82-85</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Thoresby, Ralph, <a href="#Page_76">76-79</a>.</li> -<li class="isub2">Walton, Izaak, <a href="#Page_36">36-38</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Ouse, The, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218-221</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Pasque Flower, The, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Ponder's End, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52-54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Puckeridge, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Quinbury, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Railways, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32-34</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Rampton, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Roman roads, <a href="#Page_34">34-37</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181-183</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Royston, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122-128</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Cave, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Crow, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Downs, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119-122</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Ryston, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Scotland Green, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Setchey, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Seven Sisters Road, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Shelford, Great, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Shepreth, <a href="#Page_131">131-133</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Shoreditch Church, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Southery, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295-297</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> South Runcton, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Spurgeon, Charles Haddon, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Stamford Hill, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Standon Green End, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Stoke Newington, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Stow Bardolph, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Stretham, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Bridge, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247-251</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Theobalds, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72-75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Thetford, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Thriplow Heath, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Tottenham, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38-43</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- High Cross, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38-43</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Trumpington, <a href="#Page_134">134-136</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Turner's Hill, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Turnford, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Turnpike Acts, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ---- Trusts, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Upware, <a href="#Page_235">235-240</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst"> Wade's Mill, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Walsingham, Alan of, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Waltham Cross, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54-70</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Ware, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87-97</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> ----, Great Bed of, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Waterbeach, <a href="#Page_177">177-180</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> West Mill, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> West Winch, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Wicken Fen, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233-235</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> William the Conqueror, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170-173</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212-215</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221-227</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Wimbotsham, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Witchford, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"> Wormley, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li></ul> - - - - -<p class="smcap c b medium p2">PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="c">Transcriber's Notes:</p> - -<p>Inconsistent hyphenation is retained.</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cambridge Ely and King's Lynn Road, by -Charles G. 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