CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY _ Cornell University Library DA 630.S54 Untrodden English ways. 3 1924 028 010 027 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028010027 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS ■jy^-.-J^tM:-^i:^:l-y ^:->^ #«'' -^.-•^.1 ASHl.UlK YOU REPAIRS ST. JVKS. UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS BY HENRY C. SHELLEY AUTHOR OF "LITEKARY BY-PATHS IN OLD ENGLAND," " JOHN HARVARD AND HIS TIMES," ETC. With Four Full-Page Plates in Colour, and Illustrations from Drawings by H. C. Colby and from Photographs by the Author BOSTON LITTLE, BEOWN, AND COMPANY 1908 Copyright, 1908, By Little, Brown, and Coiipant. All rights reserved > COLONIAL PHESS Electrotyped and PrbUed Inj C. If. Stmonds & Co, Boston, U. S. A. TO WILLIAM E. HASKELL IN BINCEKE APPRECIATION OF CONFIDENCE AND FRIENDSHIP PREFACE In selecting a collective title for the following chapters it has been found impossible, at any rate by the author, to search out a collocation of words more comprehensive than the one which stands on the title page. That it is open to an objection is frankly admitted. By no license can Poets' Corner be described as " untrodden," and that adjective may also be inappropriate in one or two additional instances. Nevertheless, and apart altogether from the plea which might be based on the fact that few books conform faithfully to their titles, it may be claimed that " Untrodden English Ways " accu- rately describes nine-tenths of the volume's con- tents. The best test of this will be |or the reader to consider what measure of acquaintance he has with the various places described. He will know more of England than the average English- man, and greatly exceed the knowledge of the PREFACE most zealous tourist, it' he can claim to have trodden many of these ways. When a country has so ancient a history as England, it is inevitable that even its most neg- lected corners shall enshrine much of human interest. To the author those byways have al- ways possessed a subtler charm than the high- ways of common knowledge. Hence the seeking out of the unusual attempted in these pages, a departure from convention which may, it is hoped, be justified by the results. Perhaps it will be of service to the tourist to point out that the chapters are arranged in a geographical order, and that by starting at St. Ives in Cornwall it will be possible to follow these untrodden ways in easy sequence. H, c. s. CONTENTS OHAPTER PAGE I. At the Edge or the Land ..... 3 II. Fair Devon : ... 21 III. Bath and its Baths 39 IV. John Keble's Hubslby 57 V. Oatlands Park 77 VI. Poets' Corner 91 VII. Royalty in Wax ......... Ill VIII. BuNHiLL Fields .....*... 127 IX. Fred Walker's Cookham 147 X. By Famous Graves 167 XI. Concerning Dick Tdrpin 181 XII. Beaconsfield 195 XIII. The Nohpolk Broads 215 XIV. In the Lincolnshire Fens 229 XV. Witney and Minster Lovel 249 XVI. Three Memorable Pulpits 267 XVII. Five Famous Schools 283 XVIII. Water Worship in Derbyshire .... 297 XIX. Wahkworth and Its Hermitage , . . . 309 XX. A Highland Noble's Home . . . , ■ 327 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS iFnllipase JJlatea in Cnlnur ASHOEE FOR RePAIHS, St. IvES .... Bath, from the Avon CooKHAM Lock , cookham, on the thames Minster Lovel, from the Meadows Frontispiece, Page 46 162 152 260 A St. Ives Studio Page 8 An Exhibition at St. Ives .... 8 St. Ives' Harbour 12 Gurnard's Head « 12 On a Devon Stream 24 A Farmhouse in Devon ..... 28 Cockington Village 28 Site op Htpocaust Bath ..... 60 The Roman Baths SO Graves of John Keble and his Wife . 66 Hurslet Church 66 Cedars of Lebanon, Oatlands 78 Old Portion of Oatlanhs Mansion 80 The Dogs' Cemetery, Oatlands 80 Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey 94 Queen Elizabeth 118 Queen Mary 118 Lord Nelson 122 Charles II 122 The Cromwell Vault ..... 140 John Bunyan's Tomb ...... 140 CoOKHAM Church ....... 154 Cliveden Woods ....... 154 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS The GtiAVE of Laukence Sterne .... Page 170 Where Thackeray Sleeps " 170 Hogarth's Grave " l^t" The Rossetti Grave " 1'''' Turpin's Ring, Hempstead " 1***^ Dick Turpin's Birthplace " 190 Turpin's Oak "190 The Grave of Waller " 204 Horning Ferry " 218 On the Bure " 222 Harvest in the Broads " 222 Home from the Broads " 226 Wind and Water Mills of the Fens ... " 230 Crowlamd Abbey " 236 Gretford Hall " 236 West Deeping Church and Font .... " 244 Minster Lovel " 262 Lord Lovel's Tomb " 262 Cardinal Manning's Pulpit " 272 Dr. Arnold's Pulpit in Rugby Chapel . . " 272 Shakespeare's School " 286 Sir Isaac Newton's School " 286 The Manor Well "306 The To-n-N Well "306 Gatehouse on Warkworth Bridge ... " 310 Warkworth Castle " 310 Warkworth Hermitage " 320 On the Coquet " 320 The Saloon, Inverart " 332 The Duchess' Boudoir, Inverart .... " 332 Frew's Bridge, Inverary " 340 Inveeary Castle " 340 STlItiBtrattonB (n tie ^tpt Catfield Staithe Vigmile on TiUe An Artist Pupil Pane 7 Castle -An- DiNAS " iq Entrance to Kent's Cavern .... A Corner of the Baths Bath Abbey HnRSLEY Vicarage Prince Henhy' of Oatlands .... The Duchess of York The Duke op Buckingham .... Daniel Defoe's Grave The Grave of Isaac Watts .... Fred Walker's Home at Cookham Fred Walker's Grave The Walker Medallion in Cookham Church George Eliot's Grave Burke's Memorial in Beaconsfield Church At Whoxham A Norfolk Dyke On the Wblland The Triangular Bridge, Crowland Witney Blanket Hall The Butter Cross at Witney John Cotton's Pulpit Facade of Keats' Schoolhousb Tissington Village Warkworth Bridge The Armory, Inverary Castle SI 41 51 70 79 86 121 136 142 149 159 161 173 206 217 220 237 243 253 257 268 291 302 321 331 I AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND LESLIE STEPHEN always had one irre- sistible argument to use when he wanted the companionship of James Russell Lowell at St. Ives. " I argued," Stephen has recorded, " that one main charm of the Land's End to him was that nothing intervened between it and Massachusetts." Perhaps that did not exhaust the attractiveness of the district for Lowell. " Every year," Stephen wrote, " we paid a visit to Land's End. He confirmed my rooted belief that it is one of the most beautiful headlands in the world. He admitted that our Cornish sea can be as blue as the Mediterranean, to which in other respects it has an obvious superiority." But it was not with the Mediterranean that Lowell's thoughts were most busy; "Cornwall," he said, "has s UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS St. Erth's in it, where sometimes one has beatific visions. I find a strange pleasure in that name too, so homely and motherly, as if some pope had suddenly bethought himself to canonize this dear old Earth of ours so good to us all, and give the body as well as the soul a share in those blessed things." In that reflection may be found the clue to the fascination which the westmost land of Cornwall has possessed for others than Lowell and Stephen. Hither, to the same ideal head- quarters of St. Ives, years earlier than the visits of those two friends, once came F. Max Miiller for an autumnal vacation. The great scholar soon found his ears and eyes assailed by names of fields and lanes and stones and houses and villages such as held rich treasures for his philo- logical imagination. " I wish I could stay here longer," he wrote, " it is a delightful neighbour- hood and full of interest. Now and then one feels very near the old world. How careless people are about Celtic antiquities; while they send off men-of-war to fetch home the lions and bulls of Nineveh, farmers are allowed to pull down cromlechs and caves, and use the stones for pig-styes." Still later in his visit Max Miiller confessed that he would " gladly give up Oxford AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND and settle here, in a cottage by the sea-shore, and finish my edition and translation of the Veda. . . . The air here is so invigorating and life so easy, natural, and uninterrupted by society, that one feels up to any amount of Work." One feels very near the old, world. Such is the secret of the spell cast over all alike at the edge of the land. That nearness to the old world is largely owing to the fact that St. Ives and its vicinity have been brought into touch with the new world only within the last genera- tion. A century and a half ago William Borlase, the Gilbert White of Cornwall, noted that the situation of the county, " secluded in a manner from the rest of Britain, renders it, like all distant objects, less distinctly seen by the polite, learned, and busy world." What was true of Cornwall as a whole a hundred and fifty years ago remained true of St. Ives and its hinterland within recent memory. Even yet the " polite, learned, and busy world " does not concern itself overmuch with this remote district. The iron road from Lon- don bifurcates at that St. Erth of Lowell's " beatific visions," sending out one arm to Pen- zance on the south coast and another to St. s UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Ives on the north, and in each place its glittering track comes to a definite end. Westward of those termini lies a compact little country where one still " feels very near the old world," where the spirit if not the letter of the Latin poet's ancient lines yet holds good: Of Titan's monstrous race. Only some few disturb'd that happy place; Raw hides they wore for clothes, their drink was blood, Rocks were their dining-rooms, their prey their food. Their cups some hollow trunk, their bed a groove. Murder their sport, and violence their love. Fortunate, indeed, were Max Miiller, and Lowell, and Stephen in their choice of St. Ives for their headquarters at the edge of the land. They might have gone to Penzance instead, Penzance which is new without brightness and old without quaintness. Such buildings as are new at St. Ives have the saving grace of their quality ; such as are old — by far the majority — wear their years with archaic charm. Perhaps that difference explains why the " learned " world finds itself most at home in St. Ives. Even the most inobservant visitor cannot remain many days in this quaint fishing- town without discovering that he is surrounded AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND by authors and artists. Not a few of the most notable writers of the younger generation have made their home here, and novel after novel by Charles Marriott, and Harold Begbie, and Guy Thorne be- trays the influence of the environment in which it was penned. Still larger and more potent in its influence is the artist colony of St. Ives. The paint- ers who have loca- ted their studios here number more than half a hun- dred, but their pu- pils — many of whom come from the United States and Canada — swell the colony to several times that total. Various circumstances account for the existence of this large band of painters. Apart from the prime factor that the vicinity provides unlimited wealth of pictorial material in simple landscape 7 AN AKTIST PTJPIL UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS or the ever-changing aspect of the sea, the decay of the fishing industry has forced many a sail- loft out of its legitimate business and opened the way for its transformation into an artist's studio at a moderate cost. Consequently almost every alternate rambling shed looking out on the bay of St. Ives no longer hoards the sails and spars of fishing craft, but is given over instead to canvas of another kind and to paints and easels and maul-sticks. Disused sail-lofts have their natural corollary in deserted fishermen's cottages, and in those humble dwellings the artists find their econom- ical homes for two-thirds of the year, renting them for the remaining third to summer visitors. Hence the barb of the local satire : " They call themselves artists, and all they do is to take a house and then let it for double the rent." Nor does the native point of view stop at a shrewd suspicion that some of the artists find greater profit in their subletting enterprises than in their labours at the easel. CHnging to their Bohemianism in spite of the nearness of " the old world," some of the painters forgot at first to respect the Sabbatarian and other prejudices of their simple neighbours. Out of that forgetfulness grew contempt. Thus one ^[>7<)C>?OI>7<)C>?<3t>7<]C>?<3C>??<)C>?????^<3i:S3[:^[>i<3[>^c>^<)(>i<3c>;¥i'>ioi>iiAOi>S^i>io^^^ AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND local legend tells of a driver who, when his horse had fallen, after exhausting his usual vocabulary, resorted to, " Get up you d d artist ! " And another St. Ives anecdote relates how a native questioned a young lady visitor thus : " You're not one of they artists, are you ? " Heedless of the answer, " No ; I wish I was," the native found himself able to reach the comforting conclusion, " Ah, I thought you was a lady." Models are plentiful for the painters of St. Ives. Toilers of the sea reddened by wind and spray and sun ; anxious wives whose eager faces reflect the weary watchings of stormy nights; peasants of farm and moor; here and there a wrinkled miner, a survival of an industry almost forgotten; supple boys and girls fair and swarthy, garbed in the rough but picturesque raiment of fishermen's children. These latter the painters lure into their studios without motherly preparation for formal " sittings," only to provoke the expostulation: " I don't like my children sent dirty all over the world. They ain't always dirty." British art owes not alone to the St. Ives colony those translucent seascapes which are its most conspicuous product; it is indebted further for UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS many a canvas which seeks to reveal the inner spirit of dissenting reUgious life. Methodism, and other severely simple forms of Christian faith, can count many adherents in St. Ives, and these pious souls have not been unnoted by the painters who dwell in their midst. There have already passed into the history of British art not a few canvases which have depicted the dissenters of St. Ives at their devotions, and it is the chief merit of those pictures that they have pierced through the homeliness of rude wor- shippers and glorified the soul of their faith. For all their adoption of an eighteenth-century fashion of the Christian creed, these lowly wor- shippers preserve the unquestioning assurance of a long-past age, and they as well as their land seem to bring one " very near the old world." Apart from its church, St. Ives cannot boast any buildings of ornate pretensions. The houses are simple, stone-built structures for the most part, harmonizing faithfully with" the remoteness of the town's general atmosphere, and following in irregular lines the abrupt and rapid ascents and descents of the narrow and tortuous streets. Few of those streets have any sidewalks, a deficiency which throws the pedestrian on his resources when meeting a chance vehicle, but 10 AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND they are so rich in delightful nooks and corners that no one would have them other than they are. And there are other compensations. From the high land at the back of the town, and at each turn in the road on the descent, or through the gaps of the huddled houses, there come ever and anon glimpses of the bay of St. Ives, un- rivalled along all the coast of England for its broad curving sweep or its placid aspect. From the Island point on the west to Godrevy on the east is a distance of but three short miles, and the farthest shore of the bay is but a couple of miles from the open sea. A small stage for the pageantry of nature, but sufficient. The scene is hardly for an hour the same. Now it is framed with the verdant ridge of the curving shore; anon a silver veil obliterates that dividing line and mingles the picture with the illimitable heavens. And the waters beneath are as change- ful as the clouds above. This hour they will throw back the deep blue of the upper spaces; the next they will change chameleon-like to the hue of the sands they lave. And ever, amid all the transitions of light and colour, there is the voice, the caressing voice of the sea. Yet the harbour is close at hand, the harbour 11 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS where the labour of man rather' than the repose of nature is the dominant note. Save during the calm of the day of rest, here is the centre of activity in St. Ives. Mounds of baskets and boxes speak of the awaited harvest of the sea, and that is an idle hour when boats are not coming to land with their freights, or carts are not being backed down in the shallow water to the side of some laden craft. Higher up on the beach, strown with the dark wrack of the sea, or littered with cordage and chains and anchors, such of the fishing fleet as need repairs recline at a picturesque angle, the graceful lines of the boats rendered still more attractive by being seen through the smoke ascending from beneath cauldrons of boiling tar. Fourteen miles westward from St. Ives the last rocks of England drop downward into the wide Atlantic. The country between is mostly moor- land, lifting itself now and then into a hilly summit, barren of trees, and fronting the gaze of man with a strangely impassive aspect. The dominant colour is the greyish hue of ancient granite, relieved in patches with the green and gold of gorse or the purple of heather. Odd shaped boulders are scattered everywhere over the landscape, and everything seems to belong 12 Sc>?OC>?<]C>?<3t>????<)C>?<](>?<31>7?<)C>?<)C>?^<]Cg3[>^^<3l>i<]l>^<3l>iC[>i<3Cg3D^^<)Cg3Cg3&^0 AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND to the past. The very stone fences tliat skirt the roads and divide the landscape into irregular plots are so amorphous in shape and so stained by time that each boulder might challenge belief as a relic of the Druidic age. No wonder Max Miiller felt " very near the old world." Often in roaming through this hinterland the explorer finds the skyline broken by a pertinent reminder of far-off days. It will take the form of a square stone-built structure having at its side a slender, overtopping chimneyshaft, and enquiry will elicit the information that this building is but one of the countless engine- houses which mark the sites of the abandoned mines of Cornwall. Among the legends of the county is one which offers an ingenious explanation of how tin came to be discovered in Cornwall: " S. Piran came over from Ireland in a coracle, and, like a prudent man, brought with him a bottle of whisky. On landing on the north coast he found that there was a hermit there named Chigwidden. The latter was quite agreeable to be friends with the new-comer, who was full of Irish tales, Irish blarney, and had, to boot, a bottle of Irish whisky. Who would not love a stranger under the circumstances? 13 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Brothers Chigwidden and Piran drank up the bottle. '"By dad,' said Piran, 'bothered if there be another dhrop to be squeezed out ! Never mind, my spiritual brother, I'll show you how to distil the crayture. Pile me up some stones, and we'll get up the devil of a fire^ and we shall make enough to expel the deuce out of ould Cornwall.' " So Chigwidden collected a number of black stones, and the two saints made a fine fire — when, lo ! out of the black stones thus exposed to the heat ran a stream like liquid silver. Thus was tin discovered." That picturesque legend would place the dis- covery of tin in Cornwall somewhere in the fifth century. Unfortunately for the legend, the ancients came to Cornwall for tin many centuries before Piran and Chigwidden celebrated their friendship over a bottle of Irish whisky. Diodo- rus, who dates back to the closing half of the century before Christ, speaks of the inhabitants of the extremity of Britain who " prepare tin, working very skilfully the earth which produces it." And they continued to work " very skil- fully " for many centuries. A hundred years ago the tin and copper mines of Cornwall pro- 14 AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND duced metal to the value of about one million pounds ^innually. But that is a prosperity of the past. Owing primarily to the discovery of sur- face tin, which can be more cheaply worked, and to a less degree to rash and dishonest specula- tion, the mining industry of Cornwall has practi- cally ceased to exist, its only memorials being these silent engine-houses, which, with their vacant windows, have the appearance of stolid giants watching the landscape with eyeless sockets. But even that calamity is not without its bright side. William Borlase, the devoted county historian already alluded to, had to confess, a century and a half ago, that the air of Cornwall was not all that could be desired- " As there are so many mines in Cornwall," he wrote, " and most of them yield sulphur, vitriol, mundic, and gossan, they cannot but affect the air with their steams in proportion to the quantity yielded by the mine, and the facility with which their parts separate and ascend into the atmos- phere." It must have grieved Mr. Borlase to make that confession, especially as he was not ignorant of the fact that an Elizabethan writer had declared that the " ayre " of Cornwall " is cleansed, as with bellowes, by the billows, 15 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS and flowing and ebbing of the sea, and there- through becommeth pure and subtle, and by consequence, healthfull." Well, the faithful shade of Mr. Borlase must rejoice that his own one-time truthful record must now give place to the Elizabethan eulogy owing to the abandon- ment of those " so many mines." Turn which way he will, the explorer of this Cornish hinterland finds his feet pressing on ancient landmarks. Among the sand dunes near Godrevy lighthouse he can lay his hands on the stones of the oldest Christian building in England, the oratory of St. Gwithian, one of the numerous Irish saints who sailed into St. Ives' bay in the fifth and sixth centuries. A few miles southward from St. Ives he can climb to the ruins of Castle-an- Dinas and ex- plore the narrow apartments of a stronghold which was a royal residence in the long-dead years when Cornwall was a kingdom in its own right. Or, if he would delve farther back into the 16 5?^^3^^ CASTLE - AN - DINAS AT THE EDGE OF THE LAND past, and appreciate to the full the sentiment of close contact with Max Miiller's " old world," let him seek out Chapel Carn Brea Hill, where the swing of the broad Atlantic against the last iron rocks of England will form no unfitting accom- paniment to his meditations. On this hill, the last in all England and a beacon well known to those sailing from the west, he will reach back with more than imagination to the Stone Age. On the crown of the hill are the foundation stones of a Christian edifice, but below that is a dolmen of the Age of Bronze, and beneath that again is a giant's cave of the Age of Stone. Nowhere in all England shall the explorer get nearer the " old world " than that. 17 II FAIR DEVON FAIR DEVON FOR three distinct districts of England a similar claim is made. Kent, the Isle of Wight, and Devonshire is each in turn declared to be " the garden of England." To decide among these contestants might be as dangerous an undertaking as that which fell to the lot of Paris. The county of Kent has undeniable charms : its gently undulating land- scape, its peaceful farms, its picturesque hop- gardens and oasts, its venerable churches and castles, all combine to create a memory of enchanting beauty. Nor is the Isle of Wight less liberally endowed with nature's favours or romantic memorials of human history. Yet, when all pleas have been entered and weighed, no other verdict is possible than that Devonshire is the fairest, the most beautiful of all English counties. And in reaching that conclusion it may be that the factor which influenced Paris is not inoperative; for the daughters of Devon are the Helens of England. SI UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Of course a Devonian is a prejudiced witness. Yet the eulogy of one such may be cited, chiefly because it suggests some of those quahties which are still characteristic of the county. William Browne, the Elizabethan poet who sang " Bri- tannia's Pastorals," saluted Devonshire in these proud lines : Hail thou, my native soil ! thou blessed plot, Whose equal all the world affordeth not ! Show me who can so many crystal rills. Such sweet clothed valleys, or aspiring hills; Such woods, grand pastures, quarries, wealthy mines. Such rocks in which the diamond fairly shines; And if the earth can show the like again. Yet will she fail in her sea-ruling men. Time never can produce men to o'ertake The tames of GrenvUle, Davies, Gilbert, Drake, Or worthy Hawkins, or of thousands more. That by their power made the Devonian shore Mock the proud Tagus; for whose richest spoil The boasting Spaniard left the Indian soil Bankrupt of store, knowing it would quit the cost By wiimiug this, though all the rest were lost. Remembering how potent a part the sons of Devon bore in the overthrow of the Spanish Armada, Browne's pride in his county is par- donable. Neither in the sixteenth nor any later century has any other district of England bred so many " sea-ruling men." Even were that 22 FAIR DEVON not true, Devon has glory enough in numbering among her children Sir Richard Grenville, the hero of that dauntless sea-fight which rivals the glory of Thermopylae. Some items in Browne's catalogue of praise may have been deleted by the hand of time, and it is questionable whether the rocks " in which the diamond fairly shines " ever existed; but in the main the attractions of Devon are unchanged. Yet, lest disappointment usurp the place of realized expectations, one warning should be laid to heart. The county will not give up its charms to the hasty traveller. He who clings to the steel highway of the railroad, who makes towns and cities the boundaries of his explora- tions, and dashes in speed from one " sight " to another, will leave the county wholly ignorant of its peculiar beauties. There is no district in England where it is so essential to desert the beaten track, to cut one's self off from com- munication with conventional transport; where the byways are infinitely more than the high- ways. One word frequently recurrent in Devonshire speech holds priceless suggestion for those to whom It Is more than a name. It Is the word " combe," a geographical term of distinctive ss UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS West country use. To harmonize with its broad Devonshire pronunciation it would be better spelt " coombe," but even that concession to phonetics will fail to represent the melody of the word on native hps. And neither pen nor painter's brush can hope to render justice to that product of the Devon landscape for which the word stands. Combes, as Eden Phillpotts explains in " My Devon Year," have a dis- tinction of their own, " and few natural scenes can be compared with these deep hollows and sudden valleys. They might be likened to miniature presentments of the Derbyshire dales, or Scottish glens made tame and tiny and sleepy. They might be called denes or dingles, straths or dells, or any other word that stands to mean a sequestered place within the lap of high lands. Some of our combes," Mr. Phill- potts continues, " open gradually, through pas- tures and orchards, from the hills to the plains ; some break out in steep gullies and embouchures of limestone or sandstone to the sea; some are concavities, where Nature hollows her hand to hold man's homestead. Gentle depressions between red-bosomed hills, wide meadows ex- tending to the estuaries of rivers, sharp rifts echoing with thunder of waves, and upland 24 0C>?<)C>?CC>?C1>7OC?OC>?CC>?OC>?OI>?<]C>?OC>?OI^<3C>?<]I>??O&^^ ON A DEVON STREAM. «^^^<">i<">i<">^Aii<">A<" go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go go IS" go go go go go 13 FAIR DEVON plains between the high lands, where whole villages may cuddle, may all be combes. So much do they vary in their character." But specific description may be more illumi- nating than general characterization. So another whole-hearted lover of Devon, Charles Kingsley, shall, from the pages of " Westward Ho ! " tell what his eyes saw in the combes of that fortunate land. " Each is like the other, and each is like no other English scenery. Each has its upright walls, inland of rich oakwood, nearer the sea of dark green furze, then of smooth turf, then of weird black cliffs which range out right and left into the deep sea, in castles, spires, and wings of jagged iron-stone. Each has its narrow strip of fertile meadow, its crystal trout-stream winding across and across from one hill-foot to the other; its grey stone mill, with the water sparkling and humming round the dripping well ; its dark rock pools above the tide-mark, where the salmon-trout gather in froni their Atlantic wanderings, after each autumn flood; its ridges of blown sand, bright with golden trefoil and crimson lady's fingers, its grey bank of polished pebbles, down which the stream rattles towards the sea below." Such is the combe of the north- ern coast, but those of the southern shore " are 25 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS narrower and less searched by the sun. They lie deep hid in ferns and shade-loving things; they hide the lovely bee-orchis, the purple gromwell, the lesser meadow-rue, the seaside carrot, the crow-garlic, the wood-vetch, the Bithynian vetch, and other treasures. Their sides are draped with the wild clematis, their red cliff-faces furnish a home for jackdaws and hawks. And inland lie those deep resting-places that abound in this county of many hills." If the studious observer of nature attempted to analyse its aspects in Devonshire in search of its most distinctive quality, the quality which lends such a peculiar charm of grace and soft- ness to the landscape, he would probably reach the conclusion that the fern is chiefly responsible for that effect. Botanists have pointed out that in the number and variety of those beautiful plants Devon outrivals every county of England. " There they are in very truth at home. The soil and the air are adapted to them, and they adapt themselves to the whole aspect of the place. They clothe its hillsides and its hilltops ; they grow in the moist depths of its valleys ; they fringe the banks of its streams ? they are to be found in the recesses of its woods; they hang from rocks and walls and trees, and crowd into 36 FAIR DEVON the towns and villages, fastening themselves with sweet familiarity even to the houses." But of the inanimate landscape there is one other feature which must not be overlooked. The lanes of Devon are as distinctive as its combes, its ferns, its " sea-ruling men " and its clotted cream. No other rural high- ways of England are like unto them, unless it were those fearsome " hollow lanes " of Selborne % which Gilbert White celebrated, but are now things of the past. The lanes of Devon are as labyrinthine as a maze, are senti- A DEVON LANE nelled on either side by lofty banks crowned with tall hedges, are so narrow that the outstretched hands may often touch either bank, but are withal the treasure-houses of nature's fairest jewels. Reflecting on these qualities a local poet found his muse inspired to celebrate a comparison 27 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS between the Devon lane and marriage, with the following result: In the first place, 'tis long, and when once you are in it, It holds you as fast as a cage does a linnet; For howe'er rough and dirty the road may be found. Drive forward you must, there is no turning round ! But though 'tis so long, it is not very wide; For two are the most that together can ride; And e'en then 'tis a chance but they get in a pother. And jostle and cross, and run foul of each other. Then the banks are so high, to the left hand and right. That they shut up the beauties around them from sight ! And hence, you'll allow, 'tis an inference plain, That marriage is just like a Devonshire»lane. But, thinks I too, these banks, within which we are pent. With bud, blossom, and berry are richly besprent; And the conjugal fence, which forbids us to roam. Looks lovely when decked with the comforts of home. Yet Devon combes, and ferns, and lanes might leave the visitor cold if they were all. Few, perhaps, ever stop to consider why some land- scapes, though painted by great artists, give the impression of emptiness. But the secret is not deeply hidden. A picture, be it a canvas or a living landscape, lacks its completing charm unless it has some touch of human nature. A B 2&7?<)c>?o&??<][>?<)[>?<)t>?<3i>?<)i>?<]c>?<]c>?<)i>?<:i>?^^<)c>^<)c>i<:c>^<)(>^<)c>^cc>i<]&i<)(>^<]i>^^<]&^^ FAIR DEVON figure or two will serve, but the springs of sym- pathy are more surely unsealed by the sight of a human dwelling. That is the most potent factor in establishing close relation between a beautiful sweep of country and its observer. Such a factor is never far to seek in rural Devon. And in most instances it takes a form of irresistible appeal. The county is particu- larly rich in ancient family mansions of the Elizabethan period, suggestive of spacious cham- bers which have been hallowed by the sorrows and joys of many generations ; of grassy alleys and flower-adorned bowers. And it is richer still in picturesque farmhouses which are little changed from the far-off years when their roofs sheltered Devon's famous " sea-ruling " sons. But richest of all is this fair land in the lowly, rose and creeper-clad, thatched cottage of the peasant. Because of their proximity to the fashionable resort of Torquay, the thatched cottages of Cockington village are probably the best-known examples of these humble Devon homes, but their duplicates may be found far and wide throughout the county. Few of the counties of England have bred so many immortal sons as Devon. To the great band of empire-builders she gave Sir Walter S9 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Raleigh, whose picturesque birthplace with its thatched and gabled roof and mullioned windows may be seen at Hayes Barton; to the company of artists she added Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose natal village awaits the visitor at Plympton Earl ; in the glorious choir of English bards she is nobly represented by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who first saw the light at Ottery St. Mary ; and Charles Kingsley, who was born at Holne, gives glory to his county in the realm of fiction. Historic landmarks cluster thickly along the south coast of Devon. It was on the Hoe at Plymouth, where a fine statue of the hero may be seen, that Drake in 1588 insisted on finishing his memorable game at bowls, protesting that there was time enough for that arid for thrashing the Spaniards too. This was the port, too, from which, thirty-two years later, the Mayflower finally set sail on her " waightie voiag." Farther east, round the lofty cape of Berry Head, on the western shore of Torbay, lies the fishing town of Brixham. Here, in 1688, a landing was effected which had as notable an influence on the course of English history as the coming of William of Normandy, When William of Orange set foot on shore in that far-off year Brixham was " undis- turbed by the bustle either of commerce or of 30 FAIR DEVON pleasure ; and the huts of ploughmen and fisher- men were thinly scattered over what is now the site of crowded marts and luxurious pavilions." The Prince landed " where the quay of Brixham now stands. The whole aspect of the place has been altered. Where we now see a port crowded with shipping, and a market swarming with buyers and sellers, the waves then broke on a desolate beach ; but a of the rock which the deliverer ENTRANCE TO KENT 8 CAVERN fragment stepped from his boat has been carefully pre- served, and is set up as an object of public ven- eration in the centre of that busy wharf." Only a few miles away as the crow flies, a short distance east of Tor- quay, is a spot which in the domain of human thought has wrought as momentous changes as the landing of William of Orange effected in English history. In a small wooded limestone hill on the western side of a valley the traveller will find the modest entrance to Kent's Cavern, the exploration of which yielded results of 31 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS immense importance in deciding the antiquity of man. Although the existence of Kent's Cavern has been known for a longer time than there is any record of, the first exploration of its numerous chambers seems to have been made less than a century ago. But a thorough investigation was not begun until 1865, when William Pengelly was commissioned by the British Association for the Advancement of Science to carry out an exhaustive exploration. The work, which was continued until 1880, thus extending over a period of fifteen years, could not have been committed to more capable hands. It has been described as " the most complete and systematic investigation of a cavern " ever attempted, and the thoroughness with which Mr. Pengelly car- ried it to its completion has assured him as secure a place in the annals of science as that of Darwin. During the fifteen years in which the work was in progress he visited the cavern almost daily for an average period of five hours, and then laboured at home in the examination of specimens often into the early morning hours. His devotion to his task, then, richly de- served the prospective epitaph he wrote for himself: 38 FAIR DEVON Here rests his head on balls of album grwcum, A youth who loved Cave-earth and stalagmite; If fossil bones they held, he'd keenly seek 'em ; Exhume and name them with supreme delight. His hammer, chisels, compass lie beside him; His friends have o'er him piled this heap of stones. Alas ! alas ! poor fellow ! woe betide him If, in the other world, there are no bones. Probably few visitors to Kent's Cavern will be interested in the minute details of Mr. Pen- gelly's laborious work; they are rather for the geologist to appraise; but no one can grope through these quiet and sombre chambers unmoved. They have been visited by countless men and women of note, and to each doubtless they have been impressive because of the indisputable evidence they have afforded of the prodigious antiquity of man. Whether the traveller in Devonshire devotes himself to exploring its combes, or wandering in its lanes, or visiting the haunts of famous men, or searching out historic spots, he will always be able to enjoy two of the county's distinctive products. Keats has preserved the memory of one of them in some verses he wrote while on a visit to Teignmouth. Thus, in a 33 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS poetical epistle to the painter Haydon — another son of Devon — he confessed : Here all the summer could I stay. For there's a Bishop's Teign, And a King's Teign, And Coomb at the clear Teign's head; Where, close by the stream. You may have your cream. All spread upon barley bread. And another set of verses opened with these lines : Where be you going, you Devon maid ? And what have ye there in the basket ? Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy. Will ye give me some cream if I ask it ? It is not surprising that Devonshire cream, " clotted cream " as it is called, should have made such an abiding impression on the poet's memory. Richard Doddridge Blackmore owns that no praise of " Lorna Doone " pleased him half so much as that encomium which declared the novel was " as good as Devonshire cream — almost." Many visitors to England who have not been in Devonshire labour under the delusion that they have tasted the cream of the county, and it certainly is true that large quantities are 34 FAIR DEVON sent to different parts of England daily through the post. But clotted cream eaten in Devon and the same cream eaten outside its boundaries are two different things; for, somehow, it seems to lose its delicate flavour when tasted anywhere save in the county itself. Perhaps a similar though not so marked a transformation may be noticed in Devonshire cider. Yet, Lf rumour be true, the transformation may be gain rather than a loss. The story is told of a gentleman who applied to a Devon apple-orchard farmer for a hogshead of his sparkling cider. The farmer replied that he could not oblige him as in previous years, as a certain London firm had purchased his entire output of the beverage. On writing to the firm in question the disappointed customer received a note to this effect : " We are not cider mer- chants. You have made some mistake. We are a firm of champagne-importing merchants from the celebrated vineyards of MM. So and So, of So and So." What adds greatly to the delights of rambling in Devon is the courtesy of its natives. The West country folk of England are perhaps more unspoilt than any others, open-hearted in their hospitality, and notable for certain old-world 35 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS graces of manner and speech. But they are not slow of wit. Thus the record stands of a boorish bicyclist who, not sure of his bearings in the quickly gathering dusk, accosted an aged farmer leaning on a gate: " I say Johnnie, where am 1? I want a bed." " You'm fourteen miles from Wonford Asy- lum," was the quiet response, " and fourteen miles from Newton Work'us, and fourteen miles from Princetown Prison, and I reckon you could find quarters in any o' they — and suit- able." S6 Ill BATH AND ITS BATHS BATH AND ITS BATHS AT the risk of offending the somewhat sensitive guardians of the honour of Bath, the reflection shall be hazarded that the future of that city cannot hope to rival the glory of its past. In view of the vicissitudes of that past this may seem a daring prophecy. A chronicler of the early eighteenth century might have felt he was on sure ground ih indulging in a similar forecast, only to have his gift of pre- vision made ridiculous by events which were still to happen. Bath, indeed, has passed through three clearly- defined epochs of prosperity. The first of these dates far back to the period of the Roman occu- pation of Britain. Ignoring as little better than idle legends such stories as are told of British precursers, it seems established beyond dispute that the earliest to lay the foundations of a considerable city in this " warm vale " of the West were the triumphant masters of the old world. In dealing with such a remote period of 39 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS history it cannot be expected that any hard and fast date shall be available, and yet it seems likely that the advent of the Romans may be placed somewhere about the year 45 of our era. It was in the early years of the reign of Claudius, that mild and amiable occupant of the Caesars' throne, that a Roman legion is recorded to have made a complete conquest of this part of Somer- setshire. To this period, then, it is usual to " attribute the first foundation of Bath, when the Romans, attracted by the appearance of those hot springs, whose uses they so well knew and so highly valued, fixed upon the low and narrow vale in which they rose for the establish- ment of a station and the erection of a town." For nearly four centuries the power of Rome was supreme in this sequestered dale of the West. Upon the rude foundations of the city reared about the year 45 subsequent rulers from the city by the Tiber upraised luxurious villas and stately temples. Due attention having been given by early comers to the military defences of the place, its subsequent and more leisurely adornment followed as the natural expression of the Roman temperament. " The elegant Agricola," surmises a local historian, " reposing a winter here from his successful campaign in 40 BATH AND ITS BATHS Wales, would, in pursuance of his customary A CORNER OF THE BATHS policy, decorate it with buildings, dedicated to piety and pleasure ; and the polite Adrian, 41 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS thirty years afterwards, founded an establish- ment in it, which at once rendered it the most important place in the southern part of Britain. This was Fabrica, or College of Armourers, in which the military weapons for the use of the legions were manufactured." Thus it is not difficult for the imagination to trace that transformation of Bath into a miniature Rome which was repeated so often in the subject provinces of the empire. And there is another factor which demands special attention in the present case. The Roman was a confirmed devotee of the bath. No city of his was com- plete without its Thermce, the meeting-place for the idle as well as the halls for ablution. An essential feature of these institutions was the underground furnace by which the water was heated, but at Bath the Romans were spared the expense and labour of furnace-constructing owing to the abundant waters issuing from their springs already hot. Under such circumstances of unusual good fortune it is hot surprising that, in addition to the baths themselves, the most notable building reared here was a Temple of Minerva. It was erected on the site of the Pump-room of to-day, and considerable remains of its beautiful masonry BATH AND ITS BATHS were brought to light years ago and may still be seen in the Royal Literary Institution of the city. These relics include the tympanum of the Temple, and substantial fragments of columns, cornices and pilasters, all testifying to the elegance and superb workmanship of a building which cannot have had its equal in all Britain. Nor are these the only surviving vestiges of the Roman occupation of Bath. Keeping them silent company are pediments, and portals, and votive altars and monumental stones. From the time-worn inscriptions on these altars can be pieced together that gratitude for recovered health which was doubtless so fresh and sincere in those far-off years, but which sounds like a grim satire on human self-importance now that health and life itself matters so little ; and this page of the dim past is fitly rounded off by the medicine stamp of a Roman quack which records that it was " the Phmhurn (or Blistering CoUy- rium) of T. Junianus for such hopeless cases as have been given up by the Physicians." Alas for T. Junianus, who is himself now in a far more hopeless case than any of those credulous patients who pinned their faith to his Blistering CoUy- rium ! For the beauty of its situation, the healing 43 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS properties of its copious springs, and the social amenities it offered, Bath was no doubt exceed- ingly popular with the Roman soldiers and governors. Such a city must have offered liberal compensations for the exile even from Italy. In hardly any other outpost of the empire could life have held so many elements of pleasure. Yet, as the fifth century opened, the premoni- tions of coming changes must have cast a gloom over this happy Roman community. Internal decay and the assaults of the barbarians on the Western Empire were sapping the power which had so long held the nations in bondage. As each of the swift and tremendous blows of Alaric crippled the strength of Rome the neces- sity grew ever urgent for the withdrawal of the legions from the remote frontiers of the empire, and thus it came to pass that soon after the fifth century had entered upon its second decade the Roman masters of Britain sailed away from its shores for ever. So closed the first prosperous epoch in the history of Bath. And now came the centuries of adversity. Left to their own resources after enjoying for so long the protection of Rqman arms, the natives of Britain became the prey of the Saxon and Danish hordes which poured into the land BATH AND ITS BATHS from over the North Sea. Many of these plun- dering bands penetrated to this fair West country and Bath itself became the centre of frequent and fierce conflict. To these years belong the exploits of arms with which romance and poetry have enhaloed the shadowy figure of Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, and some authorities have identified Bath with the prince's famous victory over the Saxons at Mons Badoni- cus in 520. But the prowess of Arthur or other native warriors was in vain ; as the sixth century was waning an irresistible army of Saxons swept down on Somersetshire, overthrew the Britons at Deorham, eight miles from Bath, and firmly established Saxon ascendency where the Romans had so long made their home. With this conquest there broke the dawn of a second era of prosperity for " the city in the warm vale." And now the Roman name of Aquw Solis gradually gave way to the Hcet Bathen — " hot baths " — of the Saxons, to be abbreviated in the unborn centuries to the one significant word of to-day. Save for an interregnum of misfortune during the raids of the Danes, Bath enjoyed many tokens of royal favour under tlie rule of the Saxons. Osric founded a convent here in 676 ; 46 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Athelstan established a mint within its walls; and Edgar, in 973, chose the city as the scene of a pageant of unprecedented splendour. " Con- demned by Archbishop Dunstan," so the story goes, " to atone for an offence against the church, he was restricted from wearing his crown in public for the space of seven years; but, when this ecclesiastical censure was satisfied, he selected Bath as the place where his forgiveness should be published, by the splendid and gor- geous ceremony of his coronation." For several centuries after the Norman con- quest Bath sinks into the background of English history. It emerges from obscurity for a brief space now and then, as when it was plundered by Geoffrey of Contance, and when, in 1574, it was honoured by a visit from Queen Eliza- beth ; but in the main the city slumbered peace- fully on in its picturesque vale, untroubled by visions of the years of fame which were drawing near. Towards the close of the seventeenth century the outward aspect of the city gave little promise of the golden era which was soon to dawn. Although it had long been the seat of a bishop, and was resorted to by the sick for its springs, Bath was then, Macaulay says, " a maze of 46 k-* W. 'Wj ' s I ^ BATH AND ITS BATHS only four or five hundred houses, crowded within an old wall in the vicinity of the Avon. . . . That beautiful city which charms even eyes familiar with the masterpieces of Bramarite and Palladio, and which the genius of Anstey and of Smollett, of Frances Burney and of Jane Austen, has made classic ground, had not begun to exist. Milsom Street itself was an open field lying far beyond the walls; and hedgerows intersected the space which is now covered by the Crescent and the Circus. The poor patients to whom the waters had been recommended lay on straw in a place which, to use the language of a contemporary physician, was a covert rather than a lodging," Some fifty years later a marvellous change had taken place. To whom belongs the credit? or to what particular incident was it due .' Bathonians and others have been exercised with those questions for a long ,time. Now and then the discussion has waxed hot and furious, and it ill becomes an outsider to venture into the melee. Yet a dispassionate survey of the situa- tion reveals several instructive facts. One of these is that the visit, in 1687, of the Queen of James II. directed attention to the waters of Bath as a probable remedy for barrenness ; a second is that the sojourn of Queen Anne in 47 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS 1702 raised the city in social esteem ; and a third introduces the claims of Beau Nash and John Wood. Here debatable ground is reached. Social England was ripe for a change. " People of fashion," as Goldsmith relates, " had no agree- able summer retreat from the town," and the claims of Bath were handicapped by the fact that the amusements " were neither elegant, nor conducted with delicacy." Manners in general were at a discount, and " the lodgings for visitors were paltry, though expensive." Nor was this all. Such reputation as the city possessed was founded upon its healing waters, and that reputation was in serious danger. One of the leading physicians of the age, in revenge for affronts offered him at Bath, declared that he would write a pamphlet which would " cast a toad into the spring." Such was the condition of the city at the advent of Beau Nash in 1703. That some twenty-five years later Bath had become the social centre of England, and had entered upon a century of unrivalled prosperity, is often placed to his credit. To him, it is asserted, the city " must mainly attribute the rapidity with which it sprang from an insignificant place into the 48 BATH AND ITS BATHS focus of fashionable life, the most ' pleasurable ' city in the Kingdom." It is well that this eulogy is qualified, but the qualification would have been more to the point had it been increased in emphasis and laid stress upon the name of John Wood. The latter was no Master of the Cere- monies; he was just a plain builder; but if destiny had not ordained his arrival on the scene at this crisis not all Nash's solemnity in " adjusting trifles " would have availed to start Bath on its career of prosperity. Yet, in claiming justice for Wood, it is impera- tive that due praise be also given to another of the creators of modern Bath. Indeed, when all the facts are considered, it is impossible to resist the conclusion that this other man, Ralph Allen by name, deserves more of the credit of the city's golden era than either Nash or Wood. Allen, a son of lowly parents, was but a youth when he settled in Bath as a post office assistant. His integrity, industry and ability soon marked him out for advancement, and in 1720 he promul- gated a scheme of postal service for England which, adopted by the government, yielded him a yearly income of twelve thousand pounds. He was also interested in another enterprise which had more momentous results for the city UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS of his adoption. Acquiring some large quarries near Bath, he conceived the idea of exploiting the peculiar stone of those quarries for building purposes, and it was in the carrying out of that scheme he called Wood to his aid. One of the greatest needs of the city was more adequate private buildings, without which the social interest in the place would speedily have died out, and that that need was met on such noble lines as are testified by the present aspect of Bath was due to the initiative of Allen aided by the executive skill of Wood and his son. Nor should it be overlooked that in other respects Allen deserves well of Bath. Not only did he take an alert interest m its municipal government, and contribute generously to all worthy public institutions, but his love of hos- pitality was the means of bringing many illus- trious visitors to the city. At his mansion of Prior Park he received a constant succession of famous guests, including Fielding, and Pope, and Mason, and Lord Chatham and the younger Pitt. So long as English literature endures Allen is secure in remembrance. Pope has enshrined his memory in the lines. " Let humble Alien, with an awkward shame. Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." 50 E3c&)C>^C>?0&?<]C>?<)C>?<)C>?<)C>?<3C>??<)[^01>?<)l>?<)(>?<)I>?<]^^ eg SITE OF HYPOCAUST BATH. THE ROMAN BATHS. ' go go go go 1^ go go go go go go go go go go Ql>i^<3t>^C^^i<)l>^<:C>^CC>^^^^<3l>i^<3^^^ BATH AND ITS BATHS It is true the poet later in life grew cold towards his generous friend, and left him £150 in his will, that sum " being, to the best of my calcula- tion, the account of what I have received from him, partly for my own, and partly for charitable uses ; " but the implied satire of that bequest wfvA BATH ABBEY was robbed of its point by Allen remarking, " He forgot to add the other to the 150," and sending the money to the city hospital. Fielding appears to have been a frequent and ever welcome guest at Prior Fark, and nobly did he repay Allen's hospitality by portraying his unselfish character in Squire All worthy in 51 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS " Tom Jones," and by inscribihg " Amelia " to him as a " small token " of his love and gratitude and respect. When the great novelist passed away, Allen undertook the charge of his children, paid for their education and remembered them generously in his will. No one can muse upon the history of Bath from 1725 onwards without being impressed by the countless shades of illustrious men and women who appear to walk its streets and haunt its buildings. Some of these, though not the most notable, found a final resting-place in the historic Abbey, which is so densely crowded with the memorials of the dead as to excuse the epigram : " These walls, so full of monument and bust. Shew how Bath-waters serve to lay the dust." Beau Nash is of those buried here; another is James Quin, the actor, who declared he did not know a better place than Bath for an old cock to roost in. It was from this city that Quin sent his famous note to his manager Rich. The actor had quarrelled with the manager, but in a milder mood held out a tentative olive-branch in the laconic message : " I am at Bath. Yours, James Quin," only to receive the curt reply, S2 BATH AND ITS BATHS " Stay there and be damned. Yours, John Rich." Wherever the visitor wanders in these streets, streets from which the tide of fashionable hfe has largely receded, he cannot escape memories of the men and women who made the fame of the late eighteenth century. Thomas Gains- borough is here, so busy with his sitters that his " house became gains' borough ; " and Edmund Burke, come on a last vain quest for health; and Nelson, so renewed in strength that he would have all his sick friends join him ; and the young Walter Scott, who was to carry away as his most abiding impression his first experience of the theatre; and Horace Walpole, so bored with the place that he could only " sit down by the waters of Babylon and weep, when I think of thee, oh Strawberry ! " ; and James Wolfe, seeking strength for his enfeebled body on the eve of setting his face towards Quebec and glory ; and the Countess of Huntingdon, busy with her arrogant letters to the ministers of her sect ; and Oliver Goldsmith, and Samuel Johnson, and countless other immortals. Other sons and daughters of fame were to enrich the associations of Bath in the opening half of the nineteenth century. Hither, as the 53 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS century dawned, came the gentle Jane Austen, to reap the quiet harvest of an observing eye and garner its fruits in many a later page. Nor should the solitary figure of " Vathek " Beck- ford be forgotten, the rich and gifted misanthrope who made so barren a use of his wealth and his genius. Late in the procession, too, comes the grand and picturesque shade of Walter Savage Landor, a familiar figure in the streets of Bath for many a year. These children of genius have all passed on, and none have suc- ceeded them. But for their sake,, and because of its storied past, Bathonia, the " city of the warm vale," will ever hold its place of pride in the annals of England. 54 IV JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY THREE villages in the English county of Hampshire have attained a world-wide fame ; in each case due to the minister of the parish ; and in all three the man to whom the fame is owing sleeps in the churchyard of the hamlet he immortalized. Those three villages are Selborne, Eversley and Hursley. In the first the patient naturalist, Gilbert White, toiled for years on his famous book; in the second the stout-hearted novelist-parson, Charles Kingsley, spent many of his most fruitful years ; and the third was for thirty years the loved home of England's greatest religious poet, John Keble. But Hursley, which lies a few miles from the ancient city of Winchester, attained a quiet notoriety in English history nearly two centuries before it became the home of John Keble. Many centuries earlier still this peaceful parish commended itself to Henry de Blois, the brother of King Stephen, and here he built a castle of which some crumbling fragments still exist on his manor of Merdon. And that the early 67 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Britons and then the Romans were not unknown in this picturesque district is pro"ved by archeo- logical discoveries that have been made from time to time. Interesting, however, though it might be to dwell upon those survivals of early British and Roman days, and to follow the faint clues of Henry de Blois' coiuiection with the parish, more tangible results can be obtained by fixing the mind on the history of Ilursley from the date — 1639 — when the manor of=Merdon came into the possession of one named Richard Mayor. This Richard Mayor was a son of the mayor of Southampton, and his name persists in the pages of history because it became linked with that of Oliver Cromwell. In this way. At the opening of the year 1648 Cromwell's eldest son, Richard, was unmarried, but, having reached his twenty-first year, he and his father apparently agreed that it was time he took a life-partner. Cromwell himself was already a figure of note in the national life. The victories of Marston Moor, and Naseby, and Basing were already inscribed on the pages of history, and by this date he was the recognized leader of the Independents and as such a man of importance and influence. So notable a man, 58 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY it may readily be imagined, might easily have formed a high matrimonial alliance for his eldest son. Indeed, actual offers of such an alliance were not lacking. Cromwell himself states that he " had an offer of a very great proposition from a father of his daughter," which, although not lacking in " fairness," he had put from him because he could not see therein " that assurance of godliness " which he desired in any union for his «on. At this juncture Richard Mayor, of Hursley, appears on the scene. How he and Cromwell became acquainted is not clear ; perhaps Mayor had fought in the army and so formed a friend- ship with Cromwell; at any rate Mayor, in the opening weeks of 1648, informed Cromwell through a mutual friend that he was not averse to a marriage between his elder daughter Dorothy and Richard Cromwell. Fifteen months later that union became an accomplished fact. That so long an interval elapsed between the opening of the marriage negotiations and their completion must be laid to the charge of Mayor himself. Cromwell was agreeable to the match; the young people appear to have been genuinely in love with each other ; but the maiden's father proved a hard bargain-driver. Carlyle char- 59 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS acterizes Mayor as " a pious prudent man." He certainly was entitled to the second adjective. Indeed, if the testimony of another dweller at Hursley is to be credited, he had claims to be described in more reprehensible terms. This witness admits that Mayor was " very witty and thrifty," but then adds that he " got more by oppressing his tenants than did all the lords (of the manor of Merdon) in sixty years before him." And in another place this local chronicler declares that when Cromwell became Protector of England Mayor took advantage of his high connection to " usurp authority over his tenants at Hursley." Cromwell himself had ample experience of Mayor's thriftiness. Among the surviving letters of the Protector there are a round dozen in which the curious may trace the history of the negotiations for Richard Cromwell's marriage with Dorothy Mayor. Unfortunately none of Richard Mayor's epistles are in existence, but those from Cromwell's pen, written during the months when he was the leading spirit of mo- mentous events, show that Dorothy's father employed every possible effort to use the marriage of his daughter for his own monetary gain. Indeed, Mayor, the " pious prudent man," 60 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY proved so obstinate on matters of settlement that the negotiations were broken off and remained in abeyance for some nine months. Meanwhile events had happened which prob- ably appealed to the prudence if not to the piety of Richard Mayor. Cromwell had suppressed an insurrection in Wales, had defeated the Scottish Royalists at Preston, and Charles I was on the threshold of the scaffold. So the astute lord of the manor at Ilursley enlisted the services of a Puritan preacher at Southampton, and through him contrived to reopen negotia- tions for the union of his daughter with Crom- well's heir. Cromwell himself was not unwilling. The Southampton preacher had adroitly en- larged on the " piety " of the" Mayor family, whether on his own initiative or at the suggestion of Richard Mayor himself does not appear. But that was the most effectual channel to Crom- well's heart, and the negotiations thus resumed, went forward as speedily as they could under all the circumstances, and on May Day, 1649, Richard Cromwell and Dorothy Mayor were wedded at Hursley. By the marriage contract the manor of Mer- don was to descend to the children of the young couple, and it did actually remain in the Crom- 61 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS well family until 1718, when it was sold for thirty thousand pounds to the family whose descendants possess it to this day. In agreement with Richard Cromwell's own inclination for a country life, he and his wife settled at Hurslcy, living in the lodge of the manor house. On the testimony of his father's letters alone, and they are the letters of a partial and forbearing parent, Richard Cromwell was of an indolent disposition. An " idle fellow," Carlyle calls him, one who could never relish soldiering in his father's army, who wished above all to " retire to Arcadian felicity and wedded life in the country." Even when Cromwell had got his son happily wedded and established in " Arcadian felicity " at Ilursley he had many anxious thoughts about his mental and spiritual welfare. " I have delivered my son to you," he writes to Mayor, " and I hope you will counsel him ; he will need it; and indeed I believe he likes well what you say, and will be advised by you. I wish he may be serious ; the times require it." Sub- sequent letters from Cromwell return again and again to the same themes : " I have committed my son to you ; pray give him^ advice. ... I would have him mind and understand business, 62 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY read a little history, study the mathematics and cosmography." From the turmoil of his cam- paign in Ireland Cromwell asks for the prayers of Mayor and his family, adding, " As for Dick, I do not much expect it from him, knowing his idleness ; " and later he bids Dick himself " Take heed of an unactive spirit ! Recreate yourself with Sir Walter Raleigh's History; it's a body of History ; and will add much more to your understanding than fragments of story." Although Cromwell had matters enough to occupy his attention, he often snatched a few minutes to indite an epistle to Hursley, but the lethargic and unoccupied Dick seldom took an answering pen in hand. Dorothy Cromwell seems to have caught the infection too, or why this rebuke of her father-in-law : " They are at leisure to write often ; but indeed they are both idle, and worthy of blame ? " Richard's mother visited him and his young wife at Hursley, but his illustrious father was never able to do so. Despite that fact the village stores its tradition of the Protector, who, accord- ing to that legend, " sunk his treasure at the bottom of Merdon Well, in an iron chest which must have been enchanted, for, on an endeavour to draw it up, no one was to speak. One work- 63 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS man unfortunately said, ' Here it comes,' when it immediately sunk to the bottom and (this is quite true) never was seen ! " Notwithstanding his father's iterated and reiterated exhortations to study, to industry and to other commendable occupations of his time, Richard Cromwell allowed the days and weeks and months at Hursley to slip by unprofitably. He even plunged into debt, thereby earning the rebuke of his father, who exclaimed, " God forbid that his being my son should be his allow- ance to live not pleasingly to_ our heavenly Father." But Richard CromwelL was as he was ; he could not do otherwise than " make pleasures the business of his life ;" and thus, when his masterful father passed away, th^re was scarcely any man in all England so little fit as he to take the Protector's place. He became, it is true, " the phantom king of half a year," but when the Rump Parhament demanded his, resignation his essential weakness of character was revealed in his quiet acceptance of the situation. No doubt he was thankful to be able to retire to Hursley again, but the quietness of his retreat was soon broken by demands for the payment of his father's debts, and shortly after he sought safety in flight to the continent. His wife, however, 64 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY continued to reside at Hursley until her death in 1675. Of Richard Cromwell's presence at Hursley there is only one surviving memorial. The lime- trees which make such a picturesque belt of verdure around the churchyard are said to have been planted by him. One other possible memento Carlyle dismisses thus : " In pulling down the old Hursley House, above a century since, when the estate had passed into other hands, there was found in sorhe crevice of the old walls a rusty lump of metal, evidently an antiquity; which was carried to the new pro- prietor at Winchester ; who sold it as ' a Roman weight,' for what it would bring. When scoured, it turned out, — or is said by vague Noble, quoting vague ' Vertue,' ' Hughes's Letters,' and ' Ant. Soc' (Antiquarian Society), to have turned out, — to be the Great Seal of the Com- monwealth. If the Antiquarians still have it, let them be chary of it." One hundred and seventy-six years after Richard Cromwell married Dorothy Mayor there came to Hursley as curate of the parish a young minister named John Keble. At that time his personal worth and unusual gifts were known to but a few ; to-day his saintly character 65 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS and the fruits of his poetic genius are among the choicest treasures of the English Church. Keble's first sojourn at Hursley as a curate lasted rather less than a year. His acceptance of that position was due to the persuasion of the lord of the manor, Sir William Heathcote, who had been his pupil at Oxford. Hence his surroundings were wholly enjoyable. " The society at Hursley itself, and its neighbourhood, and especially that which would, of course, gather from time to time at Hursley Park; the renewal of his familiar intercourse with his favourite old pupil ; the character of the country around him, dry and healthy, a- pleasant inter- change of breezy down and picturesque wood- land, hill and valley, the New Forest, South- ampton, and the sea at a convenient distance " — such were his advantages. His friends soon found him out in this ideal retreat; he tried " the coozie powers of the Hursley air " on them, and welcomed, among others, his college com- panion, Thomas Arnold, who was afterwards to win fame as the great schoolmaster of Rugby. But a death in Keble's family, which laid upon him, as he thought, the responsibility of brighten- ing his father's declining years with his com- panionship, made him resign his cure. 66 Q(^t®]t^<]c^c>?ac>%c^cS3c?iO(>^<3CS3C>^<]C>^CI>i<3Cg3C>^C(>i<](^Cg][>i<][>^^ JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY Some ten years later the death of that greatly- loved father coincided with a vacancy in the Hursley living and opened the way for his return thither as vicar of the parish. This was in 1836 and for thirty years thereafter Hursley was the home of Keble and the harvest-field of his labours. Nine years prior to his return to Hursley Keble had given " The Christian Year " to the world. In the annals of literature that book of sacred verses is, of course, his most abiding memorial, but in the peaceful village of his active ministry as a priest the church itself in its stones and mortar must always perpetuate his name. At the time he was appointed vicar here he found the church, erected in, the eighteenth century, wholly unadapted for such ceremonials as should, in his opinion, characterize the services of the Church of England. For nine years he laboured on amid the depressing conditions of that barn-like building, and then he came to the conclusion that " the irreverence and other mischiefs caused by the present state of Hursley Church "left him no option save to attempt the entire rebuilding of the edifice. Such an undertaking, however, seemed likely to prove too heavy a burden for the people of a 67 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS poor rural parish. The original estimate for the work Keble thought necessary amounted to three thousand three hundred and eighty pounds, and there were only two or three among the parishioners whose" means would allow them to contribute any material help in raising that sum. Having surveyed all the conditions, the vicar came to the resolve to meet himself the entire expense of the rebuilding, and his next step was to consider how he could most easily raise the necessary sum. Keble's first thought was to publish his " Lyra Innocentium " in the interests of his building- fund, but when he discovered that such a scheme was not quite so feasible as he imagined, he turned for help to " The Christian Year." That volume had been enormously successful. In little more than twenty years' no fewer than forty-three editions had been called for, repre- senting more than a hundred thousand copies. Throughout the author's life, the sale of the volume never flagged; and during the nine months that succeeded his death, seven editions of eleven thousand copies were sold. It is obvious, then, that in the copyright of " The Christian Year " Keble possessed a valuable asset, and that asset he expressed his willingness 68 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY to relinquish in return for such a sum as would enable him to pay for the rebuilding of Hursley Church. At this juncture three of his friends inter- vened. They very stoutly opposed the idea that Keble should sell his copyright. For one thing, they did not think any publisher would be pre- pared to offer a full equivalent; and they were convinced that " The Christian Year " was exactly the kind of work which ought to remain as long as possible in the author's own hands, and under his control. In order, then, to save Keble from making this sacrifice, his friends proposed to supply him with money as he should want it for the rebuilding of the church, their only condition being that the copyright of the book should in the meantime be regarded as their property as security. Even this arrange- ment did not for a moment involve Keble in parting with his copyright legally, for his friends did not dream of asking for any formal agreement or legal assignment of the work. It was merely an understanding between four high-minded men, one of whom undertook the business part of arranging the terms for each edition of the book as it was called for, and receiving the price. " No doubt," wrote one who was a party to 69 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS this honourable transaction, " this was a con- venience to Keble, and set his mind free from all anxiety ; but it was no inconvenience to us, nor ultimate loss. Keble sacrificed for the time the income he had used to derive from this source, but he never lost the ownership" of the book; HtTRSLEY VICAKAGE and the beneficial property returned to him when the account was cleared." Fortunate, indeed, was it for the Hursley vicar that such an arrangement was made. The cost of rebuilding greatly exceeded the original estimate. Instead of three thousand three hun- dred and eighty pounds, the bill totalled up to six thousand pounds, and if the copyright of "The 70 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY Christian Year" had been disposed of on the basis of the smaller sum, there would have been a heavy deficit to meet. Instead, as has been shown, the three friends continued to advance funds as they were called for, and were able to repay themselves from the sales of the book. Thus Hursley Church, from its foundation to its vane, is the honourable memorial of John Keble. At the edge of the churchyard, from which it is separated by a low wall, stands the vicarage which was Keble's happy home for thirty years. Many famous men and women have passed within its doors, but the most memorable meeting of which these walls have been the witness took place less than five months before Keble's death. In his young manhood E. B. Pusey and John Henry Newman had been numbered among his most intimate friends. They had laboured to- gether zealously at the dawn of the High Church movement. Then followed the parting of the ways. Newman found that he could not remain in the English Church, and the letter in which he announced his decision to enter the Church of Rome came to Keble at Hursley, to be taken by him for opening and sad perusal in a quiet deserted chalk-pit of his parish. For years 71 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS thereafter the three never met, and then, on the eve of Keble's death, a strange chance brought them together under his roof at Hursley. Newman himself gives the following tender account of that memorable meeting. " Keble was at his door speaking to a friend. He did not know me, and asked my name. What was more wonderful, since I had purposely come to his house, I did not know him, and I feared to ask who it was. I gave him my card without speaking. When at length we found out each other, he said, with that tender flurry of manner which 1 recollected so well, that his wife had been seized with an attack of her complaint that morning, and that he could not receive me as he should wish to do ; nor, indeed, had he expected me ; for ' Pusey,' he whispered, ' is in the house, as you are aware.' Then he brought me into his study, and embraced me most affectionately, and said he would go and prepare Pusey, and send him to me. I got there in the forenoon, and remained with him four or five hours, dining at one or two. He was in and out of the room all the time I was, with him, attending to his wife, and I was left with Pusey. I recollect very little of the conversation that passed at dinner. Pusey was fulf of the question 72 JOHN KEBLE'S HURSLEY of the inspiration of Holy Scripture, and Keble expressed his joy that it was a common cause, in which I could not substantially differ from them; and he caught at such words of mine as seemed to show agreement. ^ . . Just before my time for going, Pusey went to read the eve- ning service in church, and I was alone in the open air with Keble by himself. We walked a little way, and stood looking in silence at the church and churchyard, so beautiful and calm. Then he began to converse with me in more than his old tone of intimacy, as if we had never parted; and soon I was obliged to go." But a few months later, as has l^een said, Keble was laid to rest in that churchyard " so beautiful and calm." It was not in this picturesque vicarage that he died, but in apartments at Bournemouth, whither he had gone for the sake of his wife's health. His own illness lasted but a week, and was brought on by rising too early, by taking a cold instead of a warm bath, and then, without having tasted food, standing by his wife's bed to read the lessons for the day until he collapsed in a dead faint. When he had passed away, his dying widow bade her friends assemble in her own room, and then, taking a copy of " The Christian Year," and 73 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS turning to the stanzas for Good Friday, she told them how assuredly she felt that her husband's last aspiration had been — " O call Thy wanderer home ; To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side. Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may hide." Six weeks after Mrs. Keble herself passed away, and was laid in the grave which nestles closely beside that of her husbanxl. Than these two graves there are few which speak more eloquently of ideal wedded love. 74 V OATLANDS PARK OATLANDS PARK HARDLY in all England are there fifty acres which can hope to compete in varied interest with those which com- prise the famous Oatlands Park in Surrey. Here some of the most illustrious personages of the Royal House of England have had a home ; here the most notable of the ladies who have borne the title of the Duchess of York nursed the sombre thought of a blighted life; here the Princess Charlotte passed that honeymoon which was by such a short space removed from the tomb; here may be found the most wonderful grotto in England; here the most picturesque dogs' cemetery known to the history of canine sepulture; and here men whose names are written high on the scroll of literary fame have committed to paper some of their most deathless work. Oatlands, as hinted above, has had many Royal owners. The first to cast envious eyes on these richly-wooded glades was the masterful 77 UNTRODDEN ENGLISH WAYS Henry VIII, and in his days a king had only to hint a desire to break the tenth commandment and that which he coveted was his. Oatlands, the much-married Henry thought, would make an admirable addition to the adjacent Chace of Hampton, and the rightful owner promptly handed over the title-deeds in favour of another stretch of land in a less enviable neighbourhood. Next in ownership of Oatlands came " Good Queen Bess," who is credited with having practised the masculine art of crossbow shooting in these meadows, and who certainly kept court here on many occasions. The Queen of Charles I followed, and then came Anne of Denmark, the Duke of Newcastle, and, lastly, the Duke of York, the second son of George III. The two dukes, as we shall see, are still linked with the history of Oatlands Park. A Royal palace of goodly area was once embowered amid these lusty trees. It has vanished, even to the last stonB, and the only record left of its existence is one of those quaint, perspective-defying plans upon which the draughtsmen of the olden time lavished so much painful labour. Even of the building first inhabited by the Duke of York nothing remains, a fire having swept it away a few years after the 78 0[>??<)I>?<3(>?<3(>?<)!>???<3^Y?<3C>??<1(^^^ ^§ ^1 C£DARS OF LEBANON, OATLANDS. §> §3 go go go go go go go go go go go go go 3^ go go go go go go go go go go go go go go racg3C>^^<3(>^<|[>iii^i
  • i^<)i::S3(^5GCg<)l>i<]C>i^i<)l>^<3C>^^
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  • ^^<3Cg3l>^<)C>^ §^ §^ go go go go go go go go go go go go A HIGHLAND NOBLE'S HOME — with happier results, as the present soundness of the structure bears witness. Close by, and within a few yards of the Aray, is the silver fir planted by Queen Victoria in 1875. There are many magnificent avenues in the park, notably one of limes which leads to Eas-a- chosain Glen — that glen of which Archibald, the ninth earl, declared that if heaven were half as beautiful he would be satisfied. 341 OTHER BOOKS BY HENRY C. SHELLEY Literary By-Paths in Old England Contents: I. In Spenser's Footsteps; II. The Home of Sir Philip Sidney; III. Memorials of William Tenn; IV. The Birth- place OP Gray's Elegy ; V. Gilbert White's Selborne ; VI. Goldsmith's " Deserted Village " ; VII. Burns in Ayr- shire ; VIII. Keats and His Circle ; IX. In Carlyle's Country; X. Thomas Hood and His Friends; XI. Eoyal Winchester. A thoroughly readable book. His stvle is pleasing and impersonal. — The Nation, New York. One of the best books of its class seen in recent years. Written with sympathy and understanding. — Literary Digest, New York. Mr. Shelley's book is really charming. . . . Mr. Shelley is in many respects quite the ideal guide, unassuming, sympathetic, and exceed- ingly well informed. He refreshes vague memories and supplies fresh clues at almost every turn, and his is exactly the book one would like to take along on a pilgrimage to poetic shrines. -^Atlantic Monthly. With 24- fiiil'page plates and 100 smaller illustrations from photographs 8vo. Cloth, in box, fS.OO ^et John Harvard and His Times Contents: I. ENVIRONMENT; 11. PARENTAGE; III. EaKLY IN- FLUENCES; IV. The Harvard Circle; V. Cambridge; VI. Last Years IN England; VII. The New World; VIII. The Praise of John Harvard. A book of surpassing interest, educationally, historically, and scholastically. — Journal of Education, Boston. Our most vivid and plausible picture of the earliest benefactor of education in this country. — North American fteview. An interesting and excellent volume. It is indeed remarkable that it has been possible to produce such a book about a man of whom twenty.five years ago almost nothing was known. We cordially admit Mr. Shelley's scholarship, judgment, and good taste, — The Nation. So far as facts go, he has omitted nothing. More remarkable than his industry, however, is his excellent historic sense. He puts himself into the spirit of the first quarter of the seventeenth century in England. He visualizes its life in various planes. The result is that he has produced a vivid picture of John Harvard's environment. — Harvard Graduates Magazine. With S4 full-page illustrations from photographs Crown Sv'o. Cloth, in box, fZ.OO net LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers, Boston