GES rO:.OLD HOMES FLETCHER MOSS %fnjm> M'' UBMRt s /A / iJ /^^ :^!r>e«^'2«-'5«f*:s 'i5as«S«=!KS«aaS?si«?>?*^' PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES -i-r^TJfiMtfrr'-^-^^ PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES By FLETCHER MOSS OF THE OLD PARSONAGE DIDSBURY, ESQJJIRE One of His Majesty's Justices of the Pe;ice for the County Palatine of I,ancaster ENGLAND JOHN LANE COMPANY 67 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK MDCCCCVI '^gOD SAVE YOU, ^JLq%IM^ mjithcr are you hound f'"" All's Well that Ends Well. Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &■ Co. At the I^).illantym- Press o P r e f a c e N( 'E upon a time there was a man Avho said it was wicked to go on pilgrimage ; but that man soon got into troul)le, though he was very honest and respectable : for, like the Ephesians of old, who felt their faith and craft endangered, the Clhin-ch became alarmed, and the lawyers scented a job, so they accused him of heresy, and here are some extracts from his trial. Eryal of Jlastrr SEiUiam ^Ijorpr Prrstr for IlKrcsur 3 3uUi U07. Itnoiiim bcut tn all fflen tliat rctic . . . " Slnli tijc Hrriirbisliop ^niti, ' itHijnt saist tijou — (K\)at mm slniltic not go on ^Sclarcmacjcs,' . . . anti ^ sait . . . ' tiriamijnr luliosocticr intll tfaentfc of tljcs i^ilgvimis anti ijr sljall not funtir ttirc Ittcn or (LHaoinrn ti)at knotoc siirclu a (Tommauntimcnt of #oti, nor can sao ttiet'r ^atfr^i^ostEV anli 3[ljf fttavia, nor tl)ctr tTrctio rcticlu in ong mancr of ILanguagc. . . . illjru go fntiicr anti ttiitiifv noiri on \^iU grimagcs more for tije |]dti)c of tJjcir ISotitcs tijan of tijcir Joules . . . aul) sprnl^c nukill ifflonrg anti (Tiootirs upon btn'ous hostelers . . . anti snngc luauton Snugrs anti some oilier iJilgrrmis toill 1)auc iDttli tlicm 38aggc ^ipcs ; soc tiiat currii J"oliinc llicu romc HiroUJC, tnlial njiHi tl)c i^ousc of tljri'r J^ungingr anti luitli tlir sountic of tlirir IJiping anti toiH) tije Jiangcloiig of tlirir CTantrvburo Lirllis, anti mitii tiir IS-irhiing out of ©oggt's after il]nn, thru maUr inorr iloisr tljan if tijr iiung came tljttc ainaoc toitij all I)is Clarions anti manu oilier IBrnstrrllrs. Unti if tf)£S fflcn anti JElomrn br a fflonrtli in tlirir IJiglrimagr manu of tlicm sljall be an lialf=gcar after grrat Jangrlcrs, dlale^ (tellers anti Eoers.' viii PREFACE " Hull t!if 3rciifliisliop saiti to mr, ' ILrutir losdl, t'pou sfcst not frvrr uuougli in tliis matter. . . . IJiltjvrmos linur initli tiirm iicitli ^iingns anti also ^Jiprvs tliat tolian our of tlirm tliat gortl) bavfotc stvikcili i)is CToo upon a Stone anti liuvtrtli Inim t-orr anli niakctli liyni to blctir it is ttrll tionr lliat iir or In's iFcloto brgnn tlian a Sougc or rise taUc out of l]is Bosomc a Darfgc^pupr for to tiraif alnay luit!) sodic Iflcrtiic tiir iiuvtr of ijis Jprlotn. JTor luitlj sociK solace tlK JTraurll anti iLBcrinrssr of t\)t ^^olgrrmcs is lirjiitrlg anti mcrilu broucfhtf fortbc' " Hnt) E saili, ' Sir, Sruntr ^aulr tradict ittcn to lucpr luiti] tbcni tljat rurpc' llnli tlK ilrrl}rbis1ioppr saiti, ' iCUiat janglrtli tliou agrinst fHnmis Daiocion? ^^H)at sodirr tiiou or sorlj otlirr saij, C say ti)at t\}t pilgrimarfc tbat nolu is uscti, is to tl)r:ii that tioo it a prausablc anti a gooti mranc to comr tijc ratiirr to 6 rare. . . . iLtliiat gcssc m tfiis utiiotc inill sprakc . . .' batilir tlir roustablr to iiaur nic fortli tfirns in liastc ... to a foul unlioncst prison." ilftcr tljis it is not knoinn faijat bcramr of Ijim. As the archbishop had burnt one Lollard, and a clerk on his knees begged that he might cure this one in three days, we may guess what became of him. It is liere recorded, in the words of an archbishop who used strong language and strong measures, that a pilgrimage is " praysa])le," Imt all the same let us examine ourselves carefully as to the complaints of Master William Thorpe. Firstly : w'e do know the commandments — fortunately nothing is asked al)out keeping them. We admit the health of our bodies is a o-reat consideration with us, and we do spend money in hostels, but we hope the hostelers are not all vicious. We deny the singing of wanton songs, or the playing on bao-pipes. I admit that it takes more than tlie winter half of the year to Avrite this tale-telling of our pilgrimages; and the difficulty of knowing wliat is truth is as great to-day, in spite of all our education, as it was in the days of Pontius Pilate. Neither the archbishop nor his victim, the " Leude losell " (*.i^^ ■?v- . . .. -■'♦•' THE GARDEN OF THE BISHOP 9 see it then," and I feel that he has been schooled by the priests. Xear it grew the finest specimen known of the Ailanthus, the Chinese tree of heaven, but the winds of heaven in the autunni blew it down, and in the Fichl newspaper the bishop asked counsel of common laymen as to the heavenly wood. Here also flourish the royal tree of Japan, a Catalpa from the Mississippi, a pomegranate, shrubs and climbers quite unknown to me, and on the ruined banqueting hall, now open to the sky, is the finest crojD of figs I ever saw- The green grass p-rows over this great hall, and climbers climb and twist among the weathered stones of towers and ^\•indows. It is a beautiful memorial of priestly pride and episcopal revelry. Bishop Burnell l)uilt it in the thirteenth century, and Bisho^j Barlow destroved it in the sixteenth. Older than it are parts of the present palace, built bv Bishop Josceline seven hundred years ago, and not yet worn away. Ralph of Shrewsbury made the moat and all-encircling massive wall in the fourteenth. Centuries seem to linger lovingly here. The years may come and go, as in our busy cities, but decay and waste look idly on. Hall or palace, home after home, patched, restored, rebuilt, or ruined, the rain comes softly down on all alike, the works of the just and the unjust. From a terrace raised aloft above the garden one may see them all, and also see beyond the battlemented walls the open country and the distant hills. Here Bishop Ken paced to and fro as he composed those well-known hvnnis for mornino- and evenino- : — '* Awake, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run." " Glory to Thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light." Lesser luminaries than a bishop might compose smooth verses if they had a })lace like this to meditate at 31~H0iI> KSS'S STEPS THE WATERS OF WELLS 13 eventide. Hifi'h above these ruined li(»ines there shine the stately towers of the cathedral ; all around them rushes the never-failing waters of the wells, while in the garden there is peace. From these wells, the fon.s ef <>ri(/n of the little citv, there wells np a bounteous Hood of clear \\'ater which rolls over a small cascade, then i>-irdles round the palace, filling the spacious moat, the finest moat in England, and tlien. till recent vears. sup])li;:'d the common folk with all they needed in the town. ( )ur guide says these wells are bottomless ; no plummet vet has found the bottom, and the water comes straight up. When I ask him how it is the water is not boiling hot, he seems quite shocked at levity on a sacred subject in a bishop's garden. Then it occurs to me what a tremendous power this supplv of water to the city must have given to the bishops in the olden time. If some poor sinners lacked faith or were too ardent for reform, the bishops merely cut tlieir water off and jDromptly brought them to believe in anything. As the day wore on the weather went worse. A north-east wind brought gloomier skies witli fitful storms. The roads were bad and the light was bad, so we decided to leave our things at the inn and go bv train to Glastonbury to wander round that famous land, on foot. The utter ruin that has befallen the famous and once magnificent abbey of Glastonl^ury has left so little for the pilgrim of to-day to look upon that one wonders how so great a destruction could, in England, come to that shrine where her Christianity began and where for ages her kings and mighty men were buried. The scantv remnants of the ^eat abbev are an exceedino-lv lofty corner of the central tower, broken off about the chancel arch, and, on the southern side, the pointed windows with some ornamented bits of wall. The twentv columns of the lonof - drawn - out nave have TJIK CATHEDRAL, WKLl S GLASTONBURY 15 vanished, and beyond, where once the eastern wnidow stood, a mansion jars on one's senses as an incongruous receiver of stolen goods. Even the ruins of St. Joseph's or the Lady Chapel seem to be utterly neglected, although it has been often extolled as one of the most beautiful or richly sculptured chapels in the world. On that site have been chapels for nigh two tliousand years, the earliest, primitive enough, of wattles and sticks. That was encased and added to, but in 11 84 the abbey and all were l)urnt, and this marvel of carved stone was begun. Below It is the well, the usual fountain of clear water, to which all our ancient churches came. The wonderful history of this place cannot now be lost, as the stately buildings themselves are lost. It may be hard to tell truth from untruth, actual fact from more or less mysterious legend, but for a few rough outlines of what has here happened let us take the following. Tradition said that the apostles Philip and James came to this island sanctuary. There were no doubts in the belief that Joseph of Arimathea, who begged the body of Christ for burial in his own garden, fled here with the Holy Grail, the chalice which held the last drops of the Holy Blood, invisible to all l^ut the pure, and the Holy Thorn which grew and flourished, always blossoming at the Nativity. The first abbot was St. Patrick, who was said to be i 1 1 years old when he died, and was buried here in 472. That seems very early in the dark ages. Then came other saints whose names we have heard before, Bridget and David. The latter gave a splendid sapphire to the abbey, and when the authorities prudently asked the Welsh saint where he got it from, his reply was, " It came down from heaven," an answer w^iich enormously increased its value and his fame. But another Welshman came in time and stole it back again, adding murder to his crime. He was the great Defender of the Faith who ^^ GLASTONBURY ABBEY ST. JOSEPH'S CHAPEL, GLASTOXBURY B i8 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES took the je\yels from the house of his God to deck the attune of his harlots. Twelve hundred years ago King Ine, the Saxon, built a church of stone wliere the British had had theirs of timber, and here was the grave of Arthur, the semi-mvthic hero of romance whom poets rave about, the flower of kings, who was to rise again to lead the Briton in triumph over the hated English. Centuries after he had passed came Norman kings of England to satisfy themselves by sight and touch that he and Guinevere with their £:olden hair were really in their grave at Glastonbury, and the heir of the Plantagenets received the name of Arthur tliat he mitrht be the founder of a line of British kino-s. But his uncle John killed him, and his mother CVnistance cried — " Grief tills tlie room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks iip and down with me ; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words. Oh ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son I ]My widow's conifc rt and my sorrow-'s cure ! " The first of the Tudor kings, being of British race, tried the name again and called his tirst-born Arthur, but they married the lad too young, and so he died. Many years afterwards the name did revive in the son of a family who long ago had settled in the district, for Arthur Wellesley (or Wesley), Duke of Wellington (Avhom I remember see- ing in the streets of Manchester), made it popular again. Many years after Arthur, with all the imaginary immaculate knights of the Round Table, had gone to " where beyond these voices there is peace," a more real man and possibly usefid saint was born near Glastonbury and called Dunstan. Educated at the abbey, he became a dreamer, wanderer, outlaw, hermit, musician, artistic worker in metals, visionary wrestler with the devil, abbot, teacher, statesman, archbishop, almost king — a great ruler of men though never popular. ST. DUNSTAN 19 He died at Canterbury, and was there buried, a.d. 988, just as the fears of the approaching millennium were convulsingf Christendom. Two hundi-ed years after his death, the abbey at Glastonbury, with all its con- tents, was burnt even to the bones of the saints. So other relics had to be invented, and three centuries of wordy warfare went on between Canterbury and Glastonbury as to who had got Dunstan. As the fame of his relics at Glastonbury increased, they proved at Canterbury that his orio-inal s^rave had never been opened before, and there he w^as. In our days St. Dunstan's fame mainly rests on his feat of seizing the devil by the nose with his tongs while metaphorically he twisted the old o-entleman's tail. We tried to emulate his good deeds when we were boys, but only got into trouble. There is still preserved in the Bodleian Library at Oxford a book of his with scraps of writing in Greek and Latin, and British or Welsh. The glories of this great burial-place for generations of kings and saints increased until Glastonbury was one of the finest and wealthiest relio-ious houses in the land. When the great robbery came, it had eleven thousand ounces of plate besides the gold and the jewels. The shekels in the treasury, the costly furni- ture, the rich vestments, all were declared to be meet only for the king's majesty and for no one else. There- fore, the king's jninister, Cromwell, wrote an order, of which this is a facsimile copy — (FROM ABBOT GASQUET's HISTORY) — " Item : The Abbott of Glaston to (be) tryed at Glaston and also executyd there wt his comply cys." So they 20 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES condemned thoni first, then tried them, havuig ah'eady £^ot the hurdles and the pitch and the old abbot, who was eighty and sickly, also his accomplices, and without spending much time on them, dragged them up " Torre hyll ' — that is, the high Tor whence all the country-side for many miles could see the "execucyon." All this was done that the courtiers might grab the spoils, and the pride and power of the great head of the Church be increased ; and now, where are they all ? " The seyde Abbot's bodye being devyded into foure partes, and the hedde stryken off, whereof oone (piarter stondythe at Wells, another at Bathe, and at Ylchester and Bridgwater the rest, and his hedde uppon the Abbey Gate of Glastonburye." What a glimpse of Merry Eni2:land in ve olden time ! The celebrated Holy Thorn that blossomed at the Nativity, what became of it '. There was proof positive the wicked thing flowered at Christmas, so a zealous reformer clio|)ped the poor tree down as if it had done griev^ous sin, and all we know is that he gashed his leg when chopping, and a sjilinter hit him in the eye. Any schoolboy would probably say, " Serve him jolly well riofht." Bound about the melancholy ruins we wander up to our knees in the long, wet grass — rich green grass, rank and luxuriant. Is the dust of heroes, martyrs, saints, or kings better for manure than that of connnon folk ? The associations and memories of two thousand years of history seem to be worth nothing here. The first home for Christian worship in our land or empire lies deso- late ; the flycatcher nests in the renmants of its con- secrated walls ; the shepster chatters and scolds from her cranny in the broken sculptures ; the carved stones have been taken for hovels, pigsties, or advertised at sixpence per cart load to mend the dirty roads. Let us go hence. That wonderful building, the abbot's kitchen, was "'' 'IIP' THE ABBOTS KITCHEN, GLASIONBURY B 2 22 PILGRIMAGES T(J OLD HOMES the greatest surprise to nie at Glastonbury. In tlie middle of a field is a beautiful stone hall, forty feet square at the bottom. Inside, each of the corners has been made into a fireiilace, h'lg- enouo-h to roast an ox whole. The chimney flues from these four irreat vaulted fireplaces turn inwards ; the four corners of the square are cut off, and the building becomes octagonal, witli eight ribs of stone to strengthen it. Then it slopes u|)\vard FIREPLACE acutely pyramidal to a doul)le lantern seventy-two feet from the ground. Even the roof w^as of bevelled stone, all kept in good repair, and very interesting, though it did rather shock me to see the key to it that we had borrow^ed had been made in America. The jackdaws had worked so hard at brincrino- sticks for the nests they could not build in the lantern or flues that there was enough for a bonfire in the centre of the hall. The mournful effigy of an al:)l)ot looked sadly down on the vanished glory, ;in(l in the gloom I tried to picture to THE FEASTS OF THE CLERGY 23 myself the good old times when two or three oxen and as many sheep were being roasted whole for the feasts known as the church-ales. In the midst of a burning fiery furnace half inked scullions or serfs would turn the gigantic spits ; perspiring monks would do the basting, while the superior clergy would keep an eye on the toothsome undercut of the loin for their ow)i and the TITH EBA UN , U l.A.STON HU IIY lord abbot's table; while at times, it was said, live hundred pilgrims or paupers waited for the scraps. Another great monument of the feasting and plenty of the religious houses still exists in the enormous tithe- barn. It is of stone, cruciform in shape, ninety feet long, sixty wide, and thirty-six high, ornamented like a church, and biir enoufjh for all the horses and the waoffTons in the country to drive in fullv laden, turn round, and come empty out. Having seen the wonderful kitchen and the gigantic 24 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES storehouse, let us visit another monument showing the care our forefathers took in providing for their daily bread. In the olden time pilgrims were entertained at the abbot's expense. That was equivalent to the rate- payers' expense of the present day ; but the only way in which we can now enjoy their hospitality is to go into the tramp ward. Within the precincts of the Abbey of Glastonbury there was a guest-house, or hostel for pilgrims, but the crowds who came increased so much that Abbot Selwood built and gave another hostel across the road from the abbey gates, and that identical house is still standing as an inn or hostel after more than four hundred years of use. Statements are often made about inns which are not correct, but the age of this richly-ornamented stone building is plain on the face of it, and it was originally built for an inn. The arms of Edward the Fourth are over the door with other shields, and between each of the crenellated battlements was a statue of an apostle — twelve apostles all in a row, watching who went into the pul)lic-house. Only one of them is there now. It may i)e the police objected to them. They make such curious objections nowadays to inns. The vaulted cellars are the same as they were, but are probably emptier than they used to be. One of them contains a well of clear water, which is useful in many ways ; for tradition says it was used as a cell for the penance of those taken in the oldest and most respectable of sins, for as the water ran all over the Ha^iied floor and there were not anv seats the sinners could be left to cool and repent. As bona-fide pilgrims we took our ease in a real original pilgrim's inn where the charges have advanced with the times. We also visited the charming little museum where the treasures of the lately discovered lake- village are preserved. Professor Bovd Dawkins had urtred me not to miss it or the site of the lonof- forgotten English Venice. It was certainly very THE PILGraM'S HOSTEL, GLASTONBURY 26 PILGIIIxAIAGES TO OLD HOMES interestiiiii-- local relics of all nires leixiblv labelled, with- out rubbish. Here is a pilgrim's staff that was taken from beside a skeleton in a stone cotKn in the abbey. It seems to be from foiu' to five feet Ions:, and to have been broken and spliced more than once. As it is in a glass case I could not be sure of the wood. It may be oak, ash, or crab, but is probably thorn — possibly from one of the offspring of the original Holy Thorn. There is no record of its work, but we may siu-mise it was a companion to its master on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Doubtless he trudged tlie weary way, painfully grasping his cherished staff in heat or cold, hunger or thirst, fog or storm. When his wanderings are done, the journey ended, the victory won, and he gains his home again — what hath he at last ? A orave in Glastonbury Abbey, with his treasured staff beside him. There he rests in peace for ages, until he and his are all forgotten, and modern Christians violate his grave, taking the well-worn staff from the well-worn bon€S that they may show it for twopences. What did they do with the bones { They should be worth some- thing, if only for manure. Other bones and skulls ara here, possibly a thousand years older than the other long-forgotten ones ; for they come from the still older, prehistoric village, where they adorned the palisades around the island homes. One of these heads has a big crack, showing where sword or battle-axe ended its aching for ever. Another looks good enough to have been the liead of Joseph of Arimathea ; for if he came to these primitive barbarians telling them of a risen Christ and the strange doctrine of love to one's enemies, what more likely than that they should kill the teacher of what, to them, was dangerous folly, and stick up his head on a spike, as even the Chris- tian teachers did in recent times '. For after seventeen hundred and forty-five years of their teaching the head of a relative of mine was spiked on Temple Bar in ■ PREHTSTOlUf' irOMES ON PILES 27 London, by order of tlie head of the ( 'hin'cli, because he upheld the cause of the rightful kini;- of Englmid against the German George, To return to our dried bones. Some of them show what the epicures of those days ate. The familiar swine and cattle are there ; also stags, roe-deer, otter, and the long-vanished beaver. Swans and cranes appear to have been common Inrds, and even the strange pelican. Thousands of hard clay pellets tliat would be thrown from slings at these various wildfo^vl are there, with weapons and tools in stone, bone, horn, wood, bronze, and iron. Pottery and glass, rings and l)rooches, remnants of looms, crucibles, (pierns — all show these long-forgotten folk were fairly civilised, and with a last look at the famous canoe, eighteen feet of an oak-tree's trunk hollowed out into a substantial boat, we hurry on. Downhill, across the moors, as they term the marshes here, we started for our tramp to the long- buried dwellings that once were built on ])iles amid the swamp. The rain was ceasing, and the light of midsummer should not fail for hours or I dare not have ventured over miles of morass. Ruins of the abbey showed in walls along the lane, and mullioned windows let in light to a cart-shed, but soon we were in a land of dvkes and ditches, deep and Ijroad, in all directions among the flat fields, with rows of pollard willows as the only guides to keep the wearied traveller on his way when another inch or two of water hid the road from the deep blackness tliat bounded it on either side. What an impassable, impregnable country this must once have been ! We found the site of the long-buried, jn-ehistoric British village, the forgotten homes of the aborigines of our fen. Circular mounds very slightly raised above the fields are all there is to see, but every mound once held a hut built on ])iles of oak above the water, pro- bably of wickerwork all daubed with clav. There 28 PILGKIMAGES TO OLD HOMES were sixty or seventy of these huts, with floors of clay in layers to the depth of five feet. They were eighteen to tliirty-live feet in diameter, and about six feet high. They were probably dome-shaped, with a central post, and thatched with reed. Since they were l)uilt the peat has accunudated around tliem to the de})th of six to ten feet. There is now sixteen feet of peat below the level of the field, and the bottom of the peat is said to l)e about "mean tide level'' of the sea, which is fourteen miles distant. Where or how could they bury their dead { Did they sink them for tlie eels and the pike? Their island homes were safe refuge where men could not walk and l)oats could not float. Sour buttercu})s grow rank over them now, and in wet herbage to my waist I wandered round a lonely heron fishing where our web-footed forefathers dwelt. Carefully feeling my way back to the road and X, who sat upon a gate, we tramp on. A drowned gold- finch on the path reminds me how very rare those showy birds are now. Starlings nest in the pollard willows, and all around a continuous distant monotone of cuckoo sounds. In the wet an untended cow has cast forth lier burden and carefully licks her new- born calf. E-ats dive in the water at every few steps, and on the bank a duck cowers over lier brood ready to tumble all into safer hiding. As tlie daylight slowly fades, innumerable bats flit all around in constantly increasing numbers. For two hoin-s we go tramping on until we reach the little Nornjan church of Goldney U})on higher ground, and can look back to where the Tor and Tower of Glastonbury gleam white against black clouds gathering rovmd the misty fen : — " The island valley of Aviliui), Where falls not hail, or rain, or any sn(j\v, Xor ever wind l)lo\vs loudly ; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns, And lju\vei-v hollows cnjwned with sununcr sea." A STORMY SUNDAY 29 Fine poetic language of his lordship, the late Poet Laureate. It may be poetic licence, for whicli we use a harsher word as the north-easter howls and shrieks throuMi us with drenchino; sleet and rain in the bahny month of June. He that endureth over- cometh. We must tramj) back and go to bed. It rained all night, and the next morning, Sunday, seemed wetter than ever. As Monday was little better, we abandoned hope and fled homewards. Those three days made a record for rainfall in that part of the country. It was said that six inches of rain fell in the upper Tliames valley, and the cricket ground at Bath was three feet under water. At Wells, where we were, the storms from the north-east were almost incessant, and as the Assizes were being holden in the city the little procession of the civic dignitaries was rather damped. I determined to go to the cathedral service, but X objected to Popish processions. We had come to the parting of the ways, and for the first time we parted. Without attempting any description of the stately, beautiful Cathedral of Wells, I may say that the chancel or choir is like a church within the greater church, and at its portals, where many were being turned away, I ventured to ask if they could And me a seat. The man's answer surprised me : " Yes, sir ; I will take you to a stall." Goodness knows who he mistook me for, but grey homespun seemed rather out of place under a canopy of sculptured stone in ample seat of carved oak. There was a blare of trumpets, and all the rulers of the little city, the judges, the sherifls, the counsellors, the treasurers, the clergy, with many humbler folk, came in long procession to pniy for all sorts and conditions of men and to look at one another. First were a few specimens of the majesty of the law, rather red and swelled about the face. Then the fire brigade, very uncomfortable in white gloves. A mayor in fur. J o PILGEIMAGES TO OLD HOMES Aldermen in robes. Common councillors in go-to-meet- ino- black. Choristers and vicars choral. The Bishop, bsfore whom stalked an ascetic-looking priest grimly grasping with l)oth hands a gigantic crozier. Beadles or vergers (I hope the titles of all these gentlemen are correctly stated) with beautiful little silver maces. The blaze of the High Sheriffs uniform, and last, but by no means least, the towering colossal figure of his Majesty's Judge of Assize in full-bottomed flapping wig and robes of scarlet and drab, Mr. Justice Liwrance, six feet four without his boots and wig. The service was good, and the sermon was about two sparrows being sold for a f irthing, though according to another text the price was less if you took a quantity, and as we were worth many sparrows we should have better houses, which was all right with a little more boiling down. I have somewhere read that after Sedge- moor, the last battle fought in England and near to Wells, some of the prisoners were brought to the cathedral, had a long sermon by the bishop inflicted on them, and were then hanged. The poor men might have been hanged flrst. They had thought that among the manv bastards of his Sacred Majesty, the Duke of Monmouth must be right, for had he not cured the King's Evil by his mere touch ? The grand procession retired with the pomp and ceremony with which it came. X was waiting in the nave, where he had been wandering about all the time, until he found a seat l^ehind the altar where he thought no one saw him and he could listen to the music. But he knew not the subtleties of the satellites of tlie church. They had marked him down for the collection, followed him even there, and actually said " Thank you, sir," when they got something. After lunch the deluge still descended, and in despair we went to church again. This time X accompanied me, though it was diflicult to keep him still. His noncon- THE TRIBUNAL, GLASTONBURY 32 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES formist conscience fidgeted at the elaborate perform- ance ; only the music soothed him, for music is one of his pleasures and indulgences. The anthem was Men- delssohn's " Hear my prayer, God." Suddenly he was still, with keen gaze and riveted attention. A boy's voice was pouring forth aspirations for wings, for the wings of a dove, that he might flee far away Mnd be at rest, for ever and ever at rest. The storm might rage witliout, but as those flute like notes rose amid the chiselled arches and soared aloft where on the glistening stone the jewelled light shone through glass of hues so brilliant that none can equal now, dim echoes seemed to come from far on high — " for ever at rest." Who doth not long for rest ? Petty troubles seemed to fade and fly away. Cares and worries were forgotten as a peaceful calm came o'er us. The nonconformist conscience sighed itself to rest. HOIiSlXGTON CROSS WALFORD HALL IN the springtide, when " a fuller crimson comes upon the roljin's breast," I was bidden to a bridal, as the old folks would say, or, in more modern phrase, invited to a wedding. An old bachelor who has survived the perils of life and goes to a wedding is like the skeleton at Grecian feasts — an object of pity, scorn, and dread. It is better for all parties that he should abstain ; but in this case the bride-ale was at an old home where many generations of my kindred have lived and died, and therefore I obeved the summons as to a gathering of the clan. In my younger days there were several old homes of the family, but all are now gone, save one. Three ancient halls were within three miles of one another in a beautiful, hilly, fertile part of north-western Stafford- shire. Mees Hall, where my father was born, is now in ruins, and " the desolate home of my fathers " is one of the most picturesque illustrations in my last book. Staiidon Hall, a fine old black and white house, is mentioned in most of my writings, principally in " Folk-Lore." Walford Hall is still tenanted by relations, and four generations of them may be seen there now. In it my father's mother was born ; from it she was married at seventeen, and to it she returned as a widow, to die. It seems stransre to our hurryiniJ- life for any one to be born, to be married, and (after rearing a dozen children) to die at the same house. Walford is a not uncommon name in England. I believe it to be another form of Wellford. The 33 ^ 34 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES nearest field to this iioiise is still called the Wellyard, and in the manor-rolls is mention of the town well. The present "town" consists of three farmhouses, one of them having part of the moat in the garden. Fifty years ago I helped to empty one of the little pools, or wells, in the hillside where the cattle drank, and was astonished to capture some big fish. Two, I remember, STAXDON HALL were trout ; the one I took to Didsbury weighing three and a half pounds. The manor of Standon, Stauiidon, or Stawn, appears to have had a Vyse of Walford as bailift' in 1422 ; the rent of all Walford then being fifty-seven shillings and twopence. In 1564 Humphrey Vyse of Walford, gent., buys the manor, and for about two hundred years the Vyse family hold it and live at Walford Hall, not at Standon Hall. Tlien the old home is advertised for sale by auction ; new owners and new tenants come, and shortly the })icturesque, black and ^^•hite, gabled Hall with its dormer windows is bricked up into an AN ANCIENT COFFER 35 ugly, respectable, Georgian farmhouse, the goal of many a pilgrimage. A curious relic of the Vyses is their coffer, or deed- chest, where tliey probably ke|)t, as in a safe, the court- rolls of the manoi', many of them being now in the William Salt Library at Stafford. This coffer was, like some other furniture I have known in country houses, GRANDMOTHER BESSY MOSS From a paintiui/ hi/ Ben. Faui,KNEK, c. 1840 too big to l)e got out of the house, and so heavy or clumsy that nobody liked it. It is made of six slabs of oak, varying in thickness from an inch to an inch and a half The length is seven feet four, breadth one foot five, heiofht two feet seven — from the OTound one foot. There is no carving whatever, excepting a small plain cross at each end ; but this probably dates it in pre-Reformation times. As we know that Hmnphrey 36 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES Yvse of Walford H;ill ])ouo-lit the manor of Staiidon in 1564, and previously his family had been bailiifs, we mav be siu'e that oak-trees were cut down at Walford in the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries, and six thick planks of them joined into a coffer within tlie house, where it remained for centuries, and after the house was rebuilt around it. This coffer had sometime been painted white, and tradition says it had been sold or valued at half-a- crown. It was used as a blanket-chest, but the heavy lid trap})ed manv fingers, and it was given to me. Six men were required to move it ; and all went Avell until the London and North Wester] 1 Ivailwav Company got hold. They delivered it at Didsbury witli the front utterlv smashed and pieces missing. They denied all liability, as thev had told the waggoner who took it to them thev would onlv carry it at " owner's risk," and that it should have been safely packed. An inch and a half of solid old oak is stron2:er than a brick wall, and they did not even deliver the pieces. Another old wooden plank that had held cheese for generations was used to mend the coffer, and I sat down with the robbery by the raiL\av company ; for experience had then been tc-aching me that to go to law was to fall faster into the clutches of rol)bers, or as the old folks would say, " Out of the frying-pan into the fire." Along the great south road where I have tramped, ridden on horseback, driven in coach or gig, I now ride a bike ; and as the reader of my books should know the Cheshire country fairly well, let us begin this pilgrim- age on the further side of what is known as Newcastle in the Potteries. As we near Trentham we leave the grimy desolation of the land where wealth is made for the rich beauty of the land where wealth is spent. Well-kept fences, young trees carefully guarded, old trees preserved, neat A FAMILY TALE zi farms, handsome lodges, are all redolent of a dukedom. Round sheds thickly thatched, with here and there a hound or hunter, remind one of the kennels of a hunt. As the road mounts into the hills of a park- like country, there are fanciful cottages at the wav- side, where temperance drinks are displayed Ijy neatly dressed maids : for the Duchess of Sutherland encourages temperance ; and it seems doubtful whether the scene is real, or whether some fair damsel will not step from cottage garden with a glass of lemonade, singing like a fairy in an opera. \vl line air and scenery the road winds upwards, and memory brings unbidden to my thoughts a family tradition of mv OTeat-o-randfather, Thomas Moss, who, in a dark night of the winter of 1772, rode for miles along this lonely way, then a mere track across desolate liills. having the dead body of Izaak Wood slung across the pommel of his saddle. He had seen Wood at New- castle market ; found him drowned at the ford of a little river ; hoisted the heavy burden on to his own horse, and wearily plodded homewards. At the Ram Inn, Clifford's Wood, which to-day is a lonely farmhouse on high land at cross roads, he sought admittance, but was refused. The host in his bed would not want unnecessary risks, and knew the dangers of the times and country. Moss and his horse were tired with the ghastly burden, and he called out : " If you don'r fot him, I'll swot him." In my boyhood I was often told if anything had to be dumped, or tlirown down heavily, to " swot it, like your o-reat- grandfather did old Izaak Wood." The drowned man was a freeholder who farmed his own land, and was known as Wood of Coates. I remember a orrandson of his who weio-hed three hundred and sixty pounds ; had nineteen children, and boasted he could drink twenty glasses of ale at a sitting. But the times have chansred. If the above authentic C 2 T,S PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES tip'ures were divided by Iavo, or even by three, the results would now be considered more fashionable. Even I, after beino- reared in the faith of " (Jhurch and State," have forsaken the ways of niy fathers, and ride a bike instead of the horse of my younger days. How could any one do the work of a good Samaritan or carry a corpse on a bicycle ? The land of my sires is before me : miles of fertile country all around, and miles of good roads downhill towards home. There is danger in rabbits that scurry about and might get mixed up in the wheels. A brace of partridge are nearly run over as they fluff themselves in the dust : their tails spread like blazing fans as they jump into flight. Startled waterhens scutter away in the lower grounds, and many things there are to see ; but the pace was too good, as one rolls downhill in fair weather, to notice aught beyond the exhilaration of rapid easy movement. The valley is crossed, and, walking u|)hill, I come to the little church and churchyard where so many of my kindred lie. It is nearly hidden in big trees, the rectory and a few cottages being the only houses near ; but there is evidently excitement and commotion amono- the neighbours. The rooks seem noisier than ever, being- disturbed or jealous of the fuss. The peewits plaintively Qvy pec-e-ivit-wit-wit , as if fears were mingled with their iov of the sininoftide. The mallards flit round the yews of the rector's pool, spreading out their feet when they liofht on the water ; for their matrimonial eno-ao-ements are proceeding satisfactorily, as the ducks are sitting and the fox has not yet taken them. The future hoers of turnips and milkers of cows are putting on clean surplices, which hide everything but their hobnailed boots and shock heads of hair. Trans- formed into choristers, they will soon be singing " The voice that breath'd o'er Eden " with voices used to the " howoop I " the calling u]) of the cows, or the scaring THE WEDDING 39 of birds from the corn. From all sides, in many varied vehicles, there comes a gathering- of the clan, a " knit- ting sever 'd friendships u[) ' of friends not seen for years. The bridegroom looks so exuberantlv happv that it would do any one good to see him. It is verv meet and right he should be happv, f>r not manv months before he was lyino- amono- the dead of the STANDOX CHURCH The former church was destroyed Ijy Sir Gilbert Scott : only' one Saxon or Norman arch remains. The photograph is an old one. showing my mother, when nearly ninety, in the pony-cart. Black Watch in tlie slaughter-pit of Magersfontein from Friday to Sunday, shot through the leg, untended and uncared for ; yet here he is again, lively enough in the gladness of his heart, for to be left for dead and shot at by Boers whenever he stirred was far worse than getting wed. Others of the family wlio had o-one to that land of war and not come home again cause mv thoughts, which must wander when in church, to mino^le " Give 40 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES peace in our time, O Lord," with the exhortations and advice so freely given to those who embark on the holy estate of matrimony. Reverently we listen and fervently we pray that the Merciful Father will bless " these two persons, that they mav both be fruitful in procreation of children, and also live tog-ether long in godly love and honesty." We sing for joy, are thankful all is safely over, and we hasten oft' to the wedding- feast. We go up the steep hill, through a cutting in the rock, and down again to the old hall, or what remains of it, where, under the massive oaken beam which still spans the ingle nook, the bride and bridegroom receive congratulations. This great beam of the original house is still in situ, and exactly six feet from the floor. It interested me greatly to see how well the happy pair fitted the space ; for all members of the family should be reared so that their heads will touch the beam when tliey stand erect beneath it. An allowance of six inches out of the six feet may be made to fem.ales or ricklings ; but any below that height are not fitted for a country life, being more like the little pale-fliced folk who dwell in towns, striving to make money out of one another in the slippery paths of honesty. The head of the bridegroom and the head-dress of the bride (which was about two inches above her head), exactly touched the beam ; and not a man or woman of the family there present was six inches below^ its standard. Much more remarkable was the fact that the bridegroom's father and brother had to be careful they did not knock their heads against the beam or the doorway, for the old man was six foot six, and the brother tallest of all. The granny was in her glory. Her children's children's children are in every quarter of the earth ; but there were plenty there to talk to. Tongues were going like bell-clappers. Age has not weakened hers, ONE GENERATION PASSETH AWAY 41 or more than ninety years of unremitting- work lessened its power of repartee. The old, old tales of ruination through free trade and education were ready for me as soon as I tried to get a word in edgeways. Another feather in her cap Avas the recent reconversion of the Tories to "tariff reform,' or "reciprocity," or whatever it might be called. Had not she persisted in it all her GRANNY IN HER NINETY-FOURTH YEAR lono- life ? Now thev were comino' round. Just in time. It was nearly too late, and every one was ruined. When I timidly suggested that import duties might run up the price of fresh butter to half-a-crown a pound, she did not argue, like a mere member of parliament, with confusing figures, but boldly said, "So it ought to be : it's worth it. Stop that foreign grease you free traders have to eat in towns ; you may well look poorly." 42 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES As the advice of age should always be treated n-ith respect, and hers is given freely without any doubts or misgivings, I thought it would be better for me, as a member of the Education Committee of Manchester and a trustee of National Schools, to learn what she would teach if she had all her own way in everything. After a little bewailing of the good old times when servants could not read or write, but could bake, brew, or scrub, far better than anv could do now — that beinix their education — and were glad to work for their keep, with, perhaps, a guinea or two at Christmas, if they were good all the year round, I persuaded her to begin at the beginning, and say what she would teach. Her answer was as follows: "The first thino^ I would teach a girl would be to wash a plate without breaking it ; to set and side the breakfast things without knocking the handles off the cups ; to bake good bread ; to boil a potato ; to sew ; to darn ; to knit ; to hem. Then, when she could do those necessary things ]>roperly, she might learn to read. Tliose donkeys of parsons teach them to read first, and to submit themselves lowly and reverently to all their betters. Then, all that they read upsets everything else, and they are always looking out for young lords coming a-courting, or some other mischief they would learn fast enough of themselves. Why, the blessed parsons and professors themselves don't know whether a girl should sweep the dust of the kitchen floor out of the door or into the fire ; and if you tell some of the fine damsels to skin a rabbit, they turn pale and cough. Oh dear ! more than eighty years ago, my poor old uncle Thomas, sitting on that very settle, said, ' Mark my words, this education will ruin the country.' It has ruined it ! We have to work our fingers to the bone to scrat for a living. It's all mauling, and fending, and slaving. He prophe- sied it years before that old humbug Gladstone with his free trade was ever heard of What a fuss they ANOTHER GENEKATION COMETH 43 made of the old humbug, and now all the clever folk are coming round to what I always told them ; but if my poor uncle Thomas knew what is going on in the country nowadays it would make him turn in his grave." A YEAR AFTER CHARTLEY SOON after the excitement of the wedding re- corded in the previous chapter liad somewhat subsided, I set oif from Walford for a day's cychng, with the hope of finding the wild white cattle of Chartley. Through the primitive park of 8wvnnerton and over the hills beyond I travel on to Stone and the vale of Trent. A fine piece of the road to London goes past the gorgeous gates and park of Sandon Hall, the seat of the Earl of Harrowby. Beyond tlie park I turn to the left in country lanes in the direction of Uttoxeter. Chartley Hall is still in a very secluded district — a modern house on the side of an island surrounded by a moat broad enough in one part to be called a mere. A little further on, in the park and near to the roadside, the ancient ruined castle stands on a rock, rising beautifully above the encircling trees. A few yards more, and there is an unrestored, un- spoilt, timber-framed Tudor manor-house on the other side of the road, and after a sharp ascent towards the higher moors I find a picturesque cottage, where the head gamekeeper happens to be at home. He told me the cattle were not always easy to find ; for the moors were miles across, and strangers were not allowed to ramble anywhere. Seeing my name and address, which are plainly printed on the bicycle, he asked me if I knew Mr. Daniel Adamson (the founder of the ship canal), wlio had lived at Didsburv ; for he had "kept " for him in Shropshire. I replied, "Yes, I knew 46 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES liini well. We were near neighbours ; l)iit I did not know he could shoot." To this the gamekeeper shrewdly re- marked : "■ Well, he couldn't ; but he found sport for gents from Manchester, who blazed away at anything and everything." We took long sticks, and set off for a tramp up one of the most primitive, wild, dark moors, that I had ever trod. There seemed to be no shelter for miles, and nothing for cattle to eat. All around was cold and bleak, witli lierbage like coarse brown peat. We soon found fallow-deer, and then the heads and horns of lordly stags were seen against the sky. A wild whistle suddenly rings around, Ivat tlie keeper merely says, " curlew," and opens a big tield-glass for distant view. He reports the cattle to be in a distant hollow, where there is water ; and a cow has a calf which causes her to be more dangerous than any bull. My breath being scant, discretion is better than venturing too near : so we sit on a trough for corn that may be used in the winter, and there we rest a while. Miles of solitude, almost desolation, but abundance of invigorating air for any well-fed animal, are all around us. On other high ground is a withered tree, where the keeper says, Mary Queen of Scots was wont to sit. What a mixture of thoughts, it seems, to talk of that heroine of romance and w^ild cattle I Let us learn what we ca.n of the latter, first, and leave the fascinating lady for study in the winter. On that day all that were left of the famous Chartley cattle were thirteen. They were divided in two small herds, the younger ones being in the park, and, dreadfLil to relate, one of them was black. The Chartlev cattle have longer horns tlnin those in the other Enp'lish wild herds. Their hair is more o shaggy, in rough curls on the forehead, mane, and dew- lap or brisket. The colour is white, but glossy black on muzzles, eyes, ears, tongues, teats, and hooves. liouiid 48 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES the eves and nose are many small black spots, gTadually fa din o- awav on the neck, with some on tlie leo-s. In country parlan.ce, this spotty colouring is known as flea bitten, or grizzly. They are handsome, good-looking cattle, from the point of view of either tlie artist or the butcher. The meat is said to be verv like venison, ^ >^-. _..^:,';^. _ :.-;^^vv ■-^•^ ■■€^.: 1^ '^-*;ii3^^|-^^^ ^*y^" YOUNG WILD CATTLE. CHARTLEY PARK, I903 especially in the fat. Fifty years ago, the herd numbered forty -eight. Thirty years since, they had dwindled to twenty-seven. During the next twenty years there was little change in them; but in 1903 there were only thirteen, and ten when we saw them the following summer. About 1878 I rode or drove to Lyme Park, in Cheshire, to see the remnant of the herd of wild cattle THE WILD CATTLE 49 that were there dving^ out. There were then three cows on the hills, and a young bull that was tied up. They looked very like the Chartley cows, but all are now gone. It seems inexplicable how our wealthy landowners, who waste thousands, grudge the pittance to keep the remnants of the picturesque, interesting, ox THE HIGH MOCRS. CHARTLEY. 1934 One old cow shakes her head dangerously. and useful wild cattle, which are und(»ul)tedlv the original stock from which our present givers ui' milk and meat are descended. In Somerford Park, Cheshire, there is a domesticated herd which are said to be of pure descent from the wild ones, but thev have been gradually brtd to be hornless. I wrote to the owner, Sir Waltei* Shakerley, D 50 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES for information about tlieni and leave to photogra})h them. The Shakerleys have not been at Somerforcl much more than a hundred years, and have no records of the cattle, who were there long before them, though they liave carefully ]ireserved the breed. The Somerfords of the Domesday Simireford became extinct in Tudor times. The park is on the banks of the Dane, about thirty miles from Chartley and half that distance from Lvme. The cattle are unmistak- A SOMEKFORD COW ably like those of Chartley and Lyme, excepting for the absence of horns. Li days long since gone, some one has driven the wild white cattle from the neighbouring hills into the fine and fertile park of Somerford, kept them for milk, and by careful breeding developed a hornless variety from what was probably originally an accidental or chance sport without the useless excrescences of horns. Tlie cows certainly look good " Imtcher's beasts" and good milkers. As in all dairy farms, the calves are not allowed to suck, and tlie cattle are treated in the common custom of the coimtrv. Thev are white, with s^rr? 52 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES black muzzles, ears, teats, and ''flea-bitten" spots on the necks and legs. The bull appeared to have a very high-arched neck, Init I kept a very respectful distance from him, as we could not find any one to go with us. The herd \\'ere straggling about in a very difterent manner to the wild herd at Chartley, who " bunched " together, witli the bull alwavs in front. They are " dosome, ' and a cheese factor of fifty years' experience told me the richest cheese in Cheshire came from the Dane valley. Black calves have been known at rare intervals, but all tradition or folk-lore is lost, as generally happens when a family does not live in one house or on one spot for centuries. At (Jhillingham, in Northumberland, tlie well-known herd of wild cattle difiers from that at Chartley in having red ears instead of black, with horns shorter and more " cockv, " but their historv shows that orio-inallv the markings of them were black, like to the others. At Whalley, in Lancashire, the abbots strictly pre- served the wild cattle on the surrounding hills, and Houghton Tower was a noted centre for them. To this day the chief inns of most of the towns and villages in Lancashire are called the Bull, or the White Bull. The Whallev herd seems to have been well pre- served until the death of Sir John Assheton in 1697. It was then divided, one half l)eino- sent to Middleton near Manchester, from wlience the successors were driven, about 1765, to Gunton, in Norfolk, the seat of Lord Suftield. Some survivors were recently at Blickling Hall and Woodbastwick, in Norfolk. The other half of the Whalley herd were kept at Gisburne, where the last bull was solemnly killed at 8.35 a.m., 10th November 1859, and his weight recorded as being 742 pounds of beef, without oftal, all being respectfully done after his portrait had been painted by Ward, B.A., for the sign of the White Bull at Gisburne. At Cadzow, across the Scottish l)order, there is an THE WILD CATTLE 53 original herd and scattered reiiiuants or survivals in various parks. As a, rule, it seems as if the wild cattle did the best on the bleak hills that bisect the northern half of England. At Vale Koval, in Cheshire, a herd had been preserved until the Civil War, when all were plundered ; but one cow escaped, and travelled home from far away. She was v/hite, with red ears, and was greatly treasured ever after. Only a few years since I BRED FUR MILK had a cow from Staffordshire which was distinctlv like the Chartley breed. Ordinary cows were then taken in the park to lev, and tlie old-fashioned cows of Staffordshire wei'e lono--horned. Two hundred years ago, white cattle with Ijlack or red points, and more or less in a state of nature, appear to have been connnon in our northern district. Xote the pictures of cows on p}). x, 34, and 72. One hundred years ago, seven herds of wild ones are recorded. Now there are tlu^ee, or, it miy be said, oidv two : D 2 54 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES for as I write these lines, in A})ril 1905, there is news that the Duke of Bedford has bought the eirjlit beasts left at Chartley and taken them to Woburn. Six hundred years ago, when folk believed more in folk-lore, when there was much less learning but more simple faith, it was fervently believed, in the country round Chartley, that a black calf born in the herd of wliite cattle denoted death or disaster to the Ferrers family who owned them. The first instance I have read of is in 1322. There may have been some coincidences, if not reasons, some instances, for the popular belief Of course, we superior beings know it was all rubbish — old wives' fables, &c. The game- keeper tells me (in confirmation of what I knew long before) that black calves are sometimes born, l)ut that he or other custodians would kill them at once, so that no one, not even the devil himself, should know, and the evil should be averted. Lately, Earl Ferrers ridiculed this barbarous practice, and told the keeper not to do it again. A black heifer calf had been born and reared in 1902, the year before I went. In 1904 it had a white calf, and is shown in the photograph. In the notes of my first visit I expressed surprise that the keeper had not made the little black stranger into veal pie. Since then barely two years have elapsed, but many things have happened. The uncanny beast has thriven. There have been prosaic sales l3y auction. Chartley is owned by other lords ; the wild cattle have left the home where they roamed for a thousand years ; the white bull and the black heifer alike have been carried into captivity. Little time was lost before X with his camera accompanied me to Chartley ; but one day was not sufticient for us ; and having in the meantime read the letters of Sir Amias Poulet, the keeper of the Scottish queen, I planned another journey that would take in Tutbury Castle, and also arranged with the TUTBUEY TOWERS AND TOWS lii t iS^'' -- DOORWAY TO TUTBUEY CHURCH TUTBURY 57 gamekeeper for a day when the weather should be tine for the moors. We went by train to Derby ; burst my hind tyre in the street with their new tram-lines ; had to buy a new tyre ; then cycled across the country through an unknown land, where there were many picturesque A BIT OP TUTBURY CASTLE old houses (one at Hilton ?) that we knew nothing about, and had no time to ask, until w^e came to Tutbury, once a famous stronghold in the Midlands, but now left severely alone by the great railways and industries of the present day. The ruins of its castle are on a steep little hill, and half-way up is a fine Norman church, securely locked. We had no 58 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES time to waste A\'ith parson or verger. Perhaps their sermons may tell some one that patience and lono- suftering are characteristic of (Christians, but we shall not be there to hear. Contrary to custom, X actually photographed the Norman doorway, and I begged for a shot at the church from the castle gate. The rooms that were set apart in the castle, and probably reno- vated for the use of the queen, are all hi ruins ; but THE CHAMBERS OF THE QUEEN OF SCOTS IN TUTBCKY CASTLE we give their pictures, and one of them seems to show the ghosts of Mary's ladies, if not herself, still lingering about their former haunts. A very curious resurrection, though certainly not a ghostly one, occurred at Tutbury in the freshness of the summer, the early days of June 1831. For untold ages the mill had stood upon the river Dove and the mill-race needed cleansing. Some coins were discovered in the gravel and silt below the water, and as most men are fond of finding money, the search was more and more successfully prolonged, until the good TREASURE-TROVE 59 folk of Tutbury ftiirly lost their precious wits through the treasure that was so bountifully bestowed on them. They dani'd the river, and everything else ; dug down to — goodness knows where ; found pints, quarts, or gallons of coins, all ready for spending, rather dirty — but that was a trifle — good for trade and drink — especially drink. " Let us drink, for to-morrow we die." Two hundred thousand coins of the kings Henry III., Edward I., and II., with some foreign and some church-money, were said to have been recovered from the bed of the little river Dove, which was at one spot a mass of silver coins. They could not be given to the Caesars whose image was on them, for the poor Caesars had been gone five hundred years. Besides, common folk say, " finding's keepings." They do not know what treasure-trove means, and do not want to know : their o-reat regfret would be thev had not found it sooner and told no one. Antiquaries Ijelieve that here were the lost or hidden funds for the war of the Earl of Lancaster, who was in rebellion against the second Edward in 1322, and who had accused the Abbot of Burton (where the ale comes from) of having stolen his treasure. It is now plain that the rebel barons lost their military chest in their flight across the river by Tutbury Castle. Ferrers of Chartley was one, and that year is the first record of a black calf dropt at Chartley. Truth stranpfer than fiction ao^ain. To think of the hungrv and covetous prowling round this stream for five hundred years, the miller grinding on, the angler fishing for tiny trout, and the ready money rusting in peace, when manv of them would have ruined them- selves, body and soul, to have got it if they had known. They were kept from it as we were from the locked church, where we mig^ht have heard old tales about the love of monev and the fliorht of time ; Ijut we hasten on. 62 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES through Dravcot hi the Olay and Scrnh, or Stuh, lane to onr rendezvous with the gamekeeper at Chartley. A long tramp, probably three miles, across the bare moor, takes us to the dwindlino- herd of wild cattle. X carried his camera and stand, while I had four })lates. There were two chances to consider : the bull might charge us, or the whole herd might bolt. To guard against the latter, an underkeeper came with a bag of cake over his shoulder. If the former happened, the keeper said our only course was to hide ourselves, and as nothing, not even bracken, grew much higher than a few inches, there was barely cover for a goose. The cattle were out in the open, where there was no shelter, not even a tree-stump, for nearly a mile. We manoeuvred to approach on the sunny side and let the man with the cake go first. I was afraid the shining camera ^\•ould frighten them, and suggested to X that if the bull did charge, to leave him the camera, put the black cloth over his head, and let him take his own photographs while we ran down a rabbit-hole. X focussed, while I watched Billy and made the exposure. He looked as pleasant as a cow's husband, as the dairymaids would say ; but he was wonderfully good, for he was only two years old and wanted more cake. We had a long tramp back across the wilderness, some of the most desolate-looking country in England, but after a much-needed tea we rushed the eight or nine miles to Statibrd in forty minutes and caught an express for home. Safe and sound, fagged, but happy. Considering everything, our inspection and photo- graphs of the wild cattle were all we could wish. We got near to them in good light, and that might never occur again. The previous year we approached a few young ones under the shade of a tree in the park while a gale was blowing, and that was all we could manage. Another day we never went, for it was hopelessly wet. An enthusiastic entomoloo^ist tells me that this bleak CHARTLEY HALL 63 moor of Chartlev is the southern hiiiit of the largfe heath butterfly : it seems more fitted for curlew or wild geese. All that remains of Chartley Castle are two round towers whose crumbling ruins crest a conical hill rising above the fine old yews and other trees that clothe its sides down to the water of a pool or mere that is shaped like unto a horse-shoe, the ancient badtje of the Ferrers family. At the heels of tlie shoe stands the hall, but it looks strarijj-elv modern for its Ions: and romantic history. Although surrounded by water, two other houses have been burnt to the ground on the same site — the one that held the Scottisli (jueen and its successor — and the modern building is uninhabited. Perhaps it is haunted. If it isn't, it ought to be. It is to be let, or sold, and the custodian is discreetly silent. He shows us a bed- stead, dated 1470, which is said to have been used by the queen ; but what about the previous fires ? The front door bell-handle is a horse-shoe, and in the hall are heads of the wild cattle and a stufied buzzard that was shot near the castle. By far the most interesting part of the house is the basement, where the orio-inal duno-eons. with their ponderous doors, still exist. Along the wall, near to the water, are strong iron bars, on which are fetters for the legs of the prisoners who were chained up fast in the glorious days of Good Queen Bess. Tliev were bright with use then : now the iron rusts. How the poor chained wretches must have longed to drown themselves and their troubles in the deep water which surrounded and tempted them ! The water laps on the same stones, by the same fetters, to-day, but water- lilies grow in it now, and the grass on the bank is mown smooth. Our picture shows the original round arches where the dunoeons were. There is about an acre of lawn and garden within the moat ; and where the water broadens out into a small lake is another island, on which a swan serenely THK BACK OF CHAUTLEY HALL CHAPa'LEY CASTLE 66 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES sits on her nest in glistering- white ])hnnage conspicuous from afar. We went round the mere and clambered up the castle rock, from whence there was a grand view over a fertile park and country, to the black moor on one side and the dark hills of Cannock Chase on the other. The wind blew like a hurricane, increasing our diffi- culties in finding a spot to fix the camera for the taking of a tower. A j^laintive, cheeping sound, that seemed familiar, attracted mv attention, and as I searched amid the nettles and grass for the cause of it, a hen-pheasant rose with a frightful clatter, and, like lightning, her little chicks disappeared in the herbage. They had not long been hatched, and their complaining cheeps as the mother was skulking away were like those of lost chickens. For the return journey we set off on another voyage of discovery, for though I had been to Croxden Abbey before, the intervening country was quite un- known to me, and there was a good road as far as Uttoxeter, the scene of Dr. Johnson's penance ; but after that the ways were bad indeed. All the country looks poor and uncared for, as if every one were making all they could out of it and neglecting it. The hills are small, but steep. Between them there is generally an unbridged stream of water, wdiich the cyclist has to charge at the risk of a bath and the certainty of wet legs, or he has to dismount and carry his bike over a plank which is kindly provided for pedestrians. Another extraordinarv and most unpleasant feature of the district is a horrible, loud, groaning noise, that for miles deadens all other sounds. It is caused by the strongly braked wheels of lorries laden with big blocks of stone from quarries, that are slowly taken down the steep hills to the railways or canals in the valleys. We could not talk to one another, for the excruciatino- la-oaninir deafened us. It reminded us CROXDEX ABBEY ^1 of the sermons we used to hear, describiiio- the moans of the damned reverberating from the bottomless pit. Amono- these twistino- lanes we find the ruined CROXDEX ABBEY Abbev of Croxden. A public road goes through and about the abbey itself, j^ossibly over the high-altar. The ruins are visil)lv less tlian wlien I saw them a few 68 PILGEIMAGES TO OLD HOMES years before. The Gothic arches are on tlie road itself, and some are doubtless in it. The hii^'hway tramp may shelter in the buttressed corners. The swine forage around, and the hens nest in tlie nettles, for, as usual, the soundest buildings have been converted into a farm- stead. The abbey seems to have been mentioned in history as being the place where King John wished to have what he called his heart buried. Did the heart CROXDEN ABBEY do the abbey any o-ood :' Or the abbey save the heart ? What are the pigs rooting up '. Our stay was short, for soon we wandered on to another famous place of grandeur and magnificence ; I cannot call it a home. It is known as Alton Towers, one of the seats of the Earls of Shrewsbury. Unstinted wealth has been lavished in transforming hills and dales into enchanted o-ardens strewn with statues, stairs, ter- races, and bridges, leading to temples, palaces, or pagodas. Fountains and waterfalls, rocks and caves, natural and artificial, weary and bewilder one. The monument to CEOXDEN" ABBEV E 2 yo PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES the proud old lord who caused all this confusion says : " He made the desert smile." My wearied eyes would rather rest on banks of primroses, or the heavenly blue of hyacinths that once were spread 1)eneath the oaks, or on the I'usset ripeness of our English orchards, than see all this Ijelauded grandeur. Whv coulchi't he let our English desert smile in peace, as it was wont to smile, without his Grecian gods and naked Ivomans i These journeys by different ways to and from Chartley showed us a cold, bleak, and neglected country. Many of the large houses are emptv or are used as private asylums. There are plenty of wealthy lunatics in and about Man- chester, and the care of them is a profitable business. The gamekeeper told us that Chartley itself would have been taken for that purpose, but for the encircling moat. The safeofuard of the surroundino- water was of the p-reat- est importance in the captivity of the Queen of Scots, for if she had been found dro\\ned some day, the Queen of Eno-land would have o-one into mournino- and reioiced greatly. But, on the other hand, it might be difficult to keep lunatics out of the water, and to lose customers reck- lessly is like killincf the o-eese who lay the o-olden ej>'ofs. Some very interesting letters having been sent from Chartley during the captivity of the Scottish queen, and contemporary records being so much better than courtly histories for giving vivid and life-like pictures of what actu- ally happened, the following extracts from them are given. Sir Amias Poulet, from Somerset, was appointed by Queen Elizabeth, in i 585, to be the custodian of Mary Queen of Scots, wdio was then in Tut bury C^astle. A terrible task it proved to him, and he died soon after her. His descendants or family connections have developed into. Earl Poulett ; Paulett, Marquis of Winchester ; Powlett, Duke of ( 'levelancl. He spelt his name Amice, and that of Cavendish, the previous kee})er, Candish. The spelling probably gives the former pronunciation. Tlie diplomatic and cautious term he used for Mary was " this queen." THE CAPTIVITY IN CHARTLEY 71 The keeper and the kept and all tli<'ii' retinue complained bitterly of the cold, unconifortahle, badly furnished castle at Tutbury. The " beggarl}^ little town " Avas dangerous for plots, and " this Queen had gotten the hearts of all by her alms, giving twenty marks in a day, casting down in the street good little sums to be taken up by them that list to stoop for it." Laundresses and priests were always passing to and fro ; they appear t<> have been the special bugbears of the keeper. Servants were constantly mixing with the townsfolk, and cochers or coachmen would exercise horses about the countrv. The ceilings and walls of the castle were not plastered, and carpets or hangings were wanted to keep draughts out of the rooms. On Christmas eve, 1585, the whole company flitted to Chartley, where, if some troubles were ended, others began. A. P., as the wily keeper signs a letter, says the sur- rounding water was a better safeguard than the strongest wall ; that a bit of paper as big as his finger could not be conveyed in without his knowledge, and " one commodity suflicient in itself to recompense many incommodities is the abundance of water, so the Queen's laundresses may be lodofed and do their business within the orates." The retinue were too many for the hall, and as the governor had thirty soldiers and forty servants he probably kept them at the neighbouring castle. He " would not like to have less, for he must be stronger than the Scocs, or mio-ht have his throat cut and lose his charge." What could it matter to him about his cliarge if his throat were cut \ Elsewhere he calls them " seely, simjjle souls," but one has a " malicious, cankered, traitor- ous heart, ' when he has taken all his money off him. " This Queen " had fifty-one in her suite. There were an apothecary, four grooms of the chamber, two yeomen of the pantry, two cooks, a pastelar, four turnbroshes, an embroiderer, gentlemen's gentlemen, and sixteen females, including both ladies and wenches. 72 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES They liad fifteen chambers, oiilv five of which had liangings ; that is, supposing the queen had the five best rooms, there would be ten others without curtains, and probably without plastered walls and ceilings, for fifty people. In March, when the weather is bitterly cold and sea-coal costs ten shilhiigs a load (sav, ten LOCAL CATTLE pounds at present values), and my lord Essex, who owns Chartley, is troubled about his timber, " this Queen " will persist in having four fires going at once. The price of a sheep is seven shillings, a veal (an elastic animal) is nine, and fowls are threepence each. There are sixteen dishes wanted at both courses, fish-days and flesh-days. The hungry Scots " fast " in winter, MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS jz wanting eggs and fish when there are none, and are everlastingly "craving." The "cavilling" is grievous, but " the wife's oversight is not unprofitable." Troubles thicken when a baby is born in the house and another is expected. Whatever must be done about midwives, nurses, and priests, even if godfathers and godmothers are sternly kept at a distance? The much-perplexed A. P. writes : " There will be no end of marrying in this great household if they may marry without controlment according to their own religion ; " and he forbids a priest to enter. This higli-spirited queen says a priest must be admitted to christen the child. She scolds them all round, frets and fumes, and snatches up the babe, sprinkling it with anything that is handy, and says, " Mary, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." There are many queer little bits recorded about this romantic Queen of Scots, whose peerless beauty and won- drous fascination are so belauded in the courtly histories. Like the authentic portraits of her, they vary greatly. She indulged in the queenly sport of duck-hunting with dogs on the pool. A winged duck on the water is chased by a swimming dog. As the dog gets near to the duck, the poor thing dives until its breath is spent, then it has to rise again, and again the dog tries to grab it. If it gets its teeth fast into the duck, the dog takes it to its royal mistress, who would doubtless pet it fondly, and perhaps eat the duck after. We may also learn that " this Queen " complaineth of a weak stomach and drinketh much sack. She also suffers from rheum, which causes a distillation into her len-s and bereaves her of the use of them. That does not sound very well, but A. P. considers it rather an advantage for him if her legs are really bad ; but the sack, or sherry, is very dear, and " his Queen " is ex- ceedingly penurious — the perplexities of the poor man may be seen from the following starthng glimpse into 74 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES the deep deceit of the Jezebel ^^ horn the Low Cliurch parsons style "the Great and Good."' Walsing-ham, the muiister of the queen, writes by his secretary, Davison, both sio-ninof the letter, to Sir Amias Poulet, telling him that her Gracious Majesty the Queen is much displeased with him, and blames his '• lack of tliat care and zeal in her service that you have not in all this time found out some wav to shorten the life of that Queen," and '' cast the burthen upon her, knowing as you do her indisposition to shed blood, espe- cially of one of that sex and quality, and so near to her in blood as the said Queen is " : . . " Referring the same to your good judgments : we conmiit you to the protec- tion of the Almighty." How polite they are I They want him to shed the blood of that sex and quality (by accident), and refer liim to the Almighty ! They might well want their letters to be burnt at once, like heretics, or returned. Wary old A. P. copied them iirst, and kept copies. Who knew what might happen! If "his" queen were "got at" first — and hundreds were hungry for the job — then "this or that" queen would become " his " queen. Very dangerous, indeed, were some of these glorious days of " Good Queen Bess." She gave orders face to face, but would not sign. Stout-hearted, shrewd Sir Amice struggled painfully on, missed the many pitfalls in his path, and died in his bed at last. Chartley had no great hall for a spectacle in blood- red and black, like Fotheringay ; but it had a deep moat all round it, and if the Queen of Scots had been found drowned by the window^ or the garden-side there would have been another mystery. Would it have been an accident, or a murder as foul as Darnley's, or even Rizzio's ? Sir Amias would not do " an act which God and the law forbiddeth . . . and make so foul a ship- wreck of my conscience," but he kept a copy of the order which would have been disowned in anv event. THISTLES FROM TEARS / D The sun still shines on the fair lands and the glit- tering pool of Chai'tley as it did when Mary sadly sat there sighing for the help that never was to come ; the only deliverance was death. The stately castle's ruins stand aloft as a remembrance of her, and in their shade the cattle rest whose forebears were here before queens were heard of, whose ignorance is bliss, and placid contentment better far than all the glories of the throne of hio-h-souled ladies full of bitter strife and hatred, cousins in blood " of that quality" — two painted queens who sought to murder one another, at or from the Hall of CUiai'tlev. Little is left of them now but tales and thistles. Idle legends tell that prickly thistles first sprang up there on the patches of earth that were sodden with the tears of the Scottish Queen. THE STANDISH PEW IN CHORLEY CHURCH, LANCASHIRE "^ ^\Y T HEX the pilgrim fathers sailed in the Speed- \ \ / well and the Mayflower, they fortunately V V had with them Myles Standish, the Puri- tan captain, who turned out to be the Oliver Cromwell of the party ; for he feared God and kept his powder dry, placing his one little howitzer or cannon on the roof of the church, where it could speak to some purpose in the conversion of the heathen. Very little is known of him, though he was a chief founder of the American nation. Without him, the little band of pilgrims woidd have been annihilated by the Indians, for they suffered great hardsliips and had " plenty of nothing but gospel " ; yet he was blamed for not converting some of the heathen before killing anv. Myles Standish appears first as a soldier in the Netherlands against the Spaniards. He was a born fighter and leader of men, studied Caesar and the Bible, was militarv commander over the budding com- monwealth of America for its first thirtv-six vears, nursed the sick when nearly all were in great distress and refused to take the cloaks of beaver-skin from the Indian women. In his wall he left to his son, Alexander, estates in Lancashire, which, he said, were given to him "as right heir by lawful descent, but surreptitiously detained from me, my grandfather being a younger brother from the house of Standish of Standish." The Standishes SEATS IN Till; PEW ( F STANDISII OF DLXBUliY 78 PILGKIMAGES TO OLD HOMES of Standish were, and are to this day, Catholics ; but the Standishes of Duxburv, their kinsmen, were Protes- tants, and as he named his place in America, Duxbury, it is most likely he was one of them. He may have been illeo-itimate, f>r his relatives said he was, so that they could keep the estates and send him off for a soldier of fortune to make his own way in the world. That was the usual way of disposing of natural sons for many ages in our history. The old hall of Duxburv is efone, and I know of no relic of the Standish family but the pew in Chorley Church, whicli I happened to see when going with the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society to Worden Hall, and at once asked leave to come again and photograph it. It is a large, square, family pew, with the arms and crest of Standish of Duxburv carved in oak over two quaint sadilia, or seats. The crest is a cock — not an owl, as some say ; therefore Longfellow was riofht — " He was a gentleman born : could trace his i)e(ligree plainly Back to Hugh Standish of Duxbury Hall, in Lancashire, England. Heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely defrauded, Still bore the family arms, and had for his crest a cock argent Combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of the blazon." If any one has not read " The (Jourtship of Myles Standish," let him learn how the daring captain of the Puritans dare not meet Priscilla, the Puritan maiden, but sent his secretary to do his courtship for him. John Alden, the secretary, was in love with her him- self, and therefore in a great quandarv twixt ol)edience to his chief and love for his girl. " Still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he said it, 'Let not him that [.utteth his hand to the [ilongli look backwards.' ' Ls it my fault,' he said, 'that the maiden hath chosen between us? Is it my fault that he failed — my fault that I am the victor?' STAXDISH OF DUXBURY 79 Then within him there thundered a voice, like the voice of the Proi)het : ' It hath displeased the Lord ! It is the temptation of Satan ! ' ' Better to be in my grave in the green old churchyard in England, Close by my mother's side, and among the dust of my kindred.' " But Priscilla, the Puritan maiden, " in modest apparel of lionie-spuu," ended the matter by saying, " Speak for thyself, John," and Myles the captain went off on the warpath for the conversion or quiet- inpf of the lied Indians. The chancel of the church, we were told, was owned by the Standishes of Duxbury, and it contains their memorials and arms. One of the family brought the bones of St. Laurence out of Normandy in 1442, accordino; to a certificate of that date whicli is still in existence, and the mouldering bones may still be seen in a recess in the eastern wall. Thev were brouo-ht for the " pfite and auaile of the sayd church to the intent that the forsayd Sir Bou Standish, Kt., and Dame Jane . . . with their pdecessors and successors may be in the sayd church ppetually prayed for." Precious few of the good folk of Chorley pray for them now. Some pray for good trade ; some that their football team may win, and others pray not at all. The bones are a curiosity for strangers, but I preferred seeing the carved oak, there being another pew in the church, with a canopy supported by tine old oaken columns, each column having two spirals separate from one another. The church regfisters 1 carefullv examined for anv record of the baptism of Myles (about 1584) but could not find his name. The old books are very faded, stained with damp and much thumbing, but are not wilfully mutilated. When Myles Standish w^as studying his Bibles and Cfesar in the new colony, a namesake of his was killed at Manchester in the very beginning of the Civil War, 1642. He was on the Bovalists' side. One account 8o PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES describes liim as Captain Standish of Standish ; another one as the eldest son of the squire of Duxbury. The family seem to have been fond of fio-htinof, for as late as 1812 there was not only litigation about Duxbury Hall, but blows, ejectment, and imprisonment. Knight, or squire, or dame, of Standish of Duxbury sit no more in state under the carved can.opy of their fine old pew in Chorley Church with the cock on the helm above. It mav be this is the only memorial left in England of tlie brave man who for so many years guarded the Puritan pilgrims in America. " He was a gentleman born. A gamecock of long pedigree, Not argent, nor combed, like the crest of the Puritan captain But sable and gules, a knight without fear or reproach. Dubbed by the hand of his mast,er, in Didsbury, England." F HOGHTON TOWER "^ ROM Cliorley we went wandering northwards along the uninteresting roads of Lancashire. It was the first time we had gone north, and was no better tlian if we had gone east to Derby- shire. It is a melancholy land, devastated with its own inner wealth. Grimv smuts settle on all thino-s, even on the faces of the wayfarers, and stay there. The roads are worn with toil and traffic. The clouds are dull and lowering, shutting out the brightness of the sky. Far ahead, on the very top of a high hill, stands Hoghton Tower, and round it runs the little river locally called Darren. Milton's ode to the " Chief of men " mentions — '' Darwen stream with lilood of Scots imbued." There are more Scots than ever round it now ; but thev take better care of their blood, and imbue the streams with Turkey- red dye or other waste refu.se out of which they have " squozen " all there is to squeeze. All the land seems given up to mills and pits and dyeworks. It may be wealth beyond the dreams of avarice even of a brewer ; but what is the good of it, if the getter is to be choked with soot and stink in the crettino- of it, and live in duhiess and depression that he niay (in local language) "cut up" respectably when he is dead ;' Hoghton Tower stands conspicuously before us, with a perfectly straight drive continuously going ujjhill, and more than a mile in leiio'th. There is somethiiii-- very uncommon in the approach to the house or castle with the ever-widenino- view over Lancashire. Not manv centuries ao-o all this land was wood or forest, HOGHTOX TOWKR IX THE DISTA^X'E THE OUTKR GATE 84 PILGRIMAGES TU OLD HOMES noted for its wild cattle and deer, and the wild white bull is still the cognizance of the family. We toil slowly upwards to a large, massive castle, ^^'hose l)attle- mented gatehouse is tianked by towers. A shield of arms shows a man holding a bull, but the histories say it is a gritHn ; let any one have the benefit of any doubt. There are also the lettei-s T. H., standing for Thomas Houghton, who Iniilt the castle in 1564, and had a lawsuit with his architect or builder. '' Thomas Houghton of Houghton, in the (Jountie of Lancaster, Esquier . . . lawfullie seased in his Demesne as of fee of and in the Manour of Houp'hton . . . hathe enter- prysed and begun to buylde a Howse there. ..." Crossing the first courtyard, we come to a steep flight of rounded steps with an inner court or enclosure beyond them, then more steps, and another gatehouse. The archway through this gatehouse is older than the greater part of the building, for here was a very strong tower which the Royalists treacherously and perfidiously blew up with gunpow^ler when treating for the sur- render of the castle. Captain Starkey with about sixty men of the parliamentarian army were blown to bits, "a wofull blast" and " fearefull spectacle," The Royalists said it was quite an accident ; but they had taken care not to be hurt themselves, and having previously fired the beacon on the tower to rouse the country-side, the friends of the parliament were very wroth against " the Papists and Malignants," and the name of Sir Gilbert Houghton was struck ofi' the roll of the Justices of the Peace, Having arrived safely at this furthest court, the puzzle was to find the front door. There were many doors, and dogs barking in all directions. We might be blown up or bitten before we could deliver our letter from Sir James de Hou-hton, who had kindly ofiven permission to inspect and photograph. We found a very substantial, massive castle, built of stone, with stone roof, many round balls of stone, and everything THB GATKHOUSE F 2 THE HALL, HOCIHTON TOWEU 88 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES ke]3t ill l)eaiitifnl order. Tliis was better than was to be expected from the writings of Ruskiii, or some one who wrote that any one who would put a sham Norman prefix to their Anglo-Saxon or English name would be likely to build a sham Gothic castle, containing other shams. It was in 1862 that the Hoghtons obtained leave to affix the word "de" before their name as the Traftords, Tableys, and others had done, thereby spoiling a good old English name. From my earliest years I had heard of Hoghton Tower as the scene of the tale of the kino; and the beef, and at last I was to see the historic spot. Pre- suming that all the world knows that the loin of beef first became the sirloin when it was knighted by the pedantic numskull. King James the First, who had found the making of liaronets to be so profitable, they may see the })hotograph of the table at which it was done in the right hand corner of our pictures of the hall. The king had private apartments, and the table was then in another room, Avhich we did not photograph. In those days there was a noted herd of the wild white cattle in the park or forest round Houghton, and it seems to me probable that His Sacred Majesty, who was not altogether without the instincts of an animal, was served with the juicy undercut of the loin of a wild heifer, and, scarcely knowing whether it was beef or venison, the king enjoyed himself exceedingly. " Ho fishes, drinks, and wastes tlie lamps of night in revel." The Sir Richard Hougliton of that day certainly treated his guests well. From the local histories I copy the bill-of-fare for the dinner on August 1 7, 16 1 7, merely remarking that the ever-famous sirloin of beef is not mentioned there, therefore the kiti^- had probably polished that off at breakfast, as the supper was merely a repetition of the dinner, with the addition of " wild-l)oar })ye, umble })ve, red-deer pve, and neat's toiiii-ue tart." LANCASHIRE HOSPITALITY 89 On the Lord's Day. " For the Lords Table. ''First course. — Pullets, Ijoiled capon, mutton boiled, boiled chickens, shoulder of mutton roast, ducks boiled, loin of veal roast, haunch of venison roast, Ijurred capon, pasty of venison liot, roast turkey, veal burred, swan roast, one, and one for to-morrow, chicken pye hot, goose roasted, rabbits cold, jiggits of nuitton boiled, snipe pye, breast of veal boiled, capons roast, pullets, beef roast, tongue pye cold, sprod boiled, herons roast cold, curlew pye cold, mince pye hot, custards, pig roast. " Second course. — Hot pheasant, one, and one for the king, quails, six for the king, partridge poults, arti- choke pye, chickens, curlew roast, peas buttered, rabbits, ducks, plovers, red-deer pye, pig burred, hot herons roast, three of a dish, lamb roast, gammon of bacon, pigeons roast, made dish, chicken burred, pear tart, pullets and grease, dryed tongues, turkey pye, pheasant tart, hog's cheeks dryed, turkey chicks cold." The names of all the artists are given : two chief cooks styled Mr., four labourers for the pastries, four for the ranges (no nasty cooking in gas-ovens here), two for boiling, and two for pullets. The last two probably were dressers of the game and poultry. Dr. Morton, the Bishop of Chester, preached ; he would probably give the benediction also, while his mouth watered for the good things provided. But why did they boil the ducks, or eat fishy heron or curlew cold ? Sprod is a local name for salmon-trout when first re- turned from the sea. A "jiggit" or gigot, of mutton is the leg and loin. The word " burred " is not to be found in the dictionaries. I have little doubt it means the same as the local terms, bishoped, or devilled — that is, willed on red-hot coals. 90 PILGEIMAGES TO OLD HOMES On the same day a great petition was presented to the king from tlie connnon folk of Lancashire, who com- plained that they had been deprived of all their lawful recreations on the Sabbath. They were not allowed to have music, bull-baitings, bear-baitings, games, ales, wakes, &c.. on the Sabbath, or on holy days. His Sacred Majesty felt jolly after his good dinner, and sympathised with them. Shortly after, he issued a notable proclamation, saying that " papists and puritans much infested His county of Lancaster, but His pleasure was, they should either conform or leave." Briefly, the narrow-minded bio-ot commanded that those who went to churcli — that is, His church, of ^^■hich He was the Defender of the Faith — could do as they pleased after- wards ; but if they did not go to church they must have no recreation or games, and quit His country. '• Then to supp. Then about ten o'clock a Maske of Noblemen, Knights, Gentlemen, and Courtiers, afore the King, in the middle round in the garden. Some Speeches, of the rest, dancing the Huckler, Tom Bedlo, and the Cowp Justice of Peace." This quotation is from the private journal of Nicholas Assheton, Esquire, who says that he and other neighbours dressed in the livery of the Houghtons for the occasion. The vain king wore green, with a big feather in his cap and a horn at his side. A further confession says : " Wee were desvred to be merrie and at nyght were soe. . . . He to seller and drunk with us kindlie in all manner of friendlie speake, as merrie as Ilo])in Hood and all his fellowes. . . . This morning wee plaid the Bacchana- lians" — "the riot of the tipsy Bacchanals." All parties appear to have discreetly suppressed any account of what they drank in the " seller," or any approximate estimate of the quantity. None of my friends can tell me anything about " dancing the Huckler." Perhaps the word should have been spelt " hustler." " Tom Bedlo ' is evidently Tom-a-Bedlam, a name given to 92 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES madmen who had been, or ought to be, in Bedlam, the famous madhouse called after Bethlehem. Under the circumstances we can forgive the author of the journal some vagaries in spelling. His last-recorded amuse- ment means Coups or Jousts in Peace — that is, a sham tournament. Football could be nothing to a tournament, if the gallant cavaliers were not too drunk to charge. "Midnight shout and reveh-ie, Tijisie dance and jollitie. Braid your locks with rosie twine, Dropping odours, dropping wine. Eigor now is gone to bed And Advice with scrup'hms head : Strict Age and sow re Severitie With their graue 8awes in slumber lie." The glorious day at last \vas done, leaving Hoghton Tower for ever memorable as the place where the wise king knighted the loin of beef and told his faithful people what sports lie would allow on Sunday. Then he caused " The Book of Sports " to be published and read in all churches on Sundays, and some say that had an appreciable effect in bringing on the Civil War. It seems strange that, after all this rejoicing about the first King James, there shoidd be in the inner courtyard a PTand statue of the Dutchman who frio-htened his grandson, the second James, out of England. Why not rename the statue, William the Conqueror, in the act of forfeiting the; manors of the conquered English ? The modern name of the lords is bastard Norman. The " Howse which Houghton of Houghton, Esquier, enterprysed to buylde and ffynysh in 1562 " still stands, a magniricent specimen of the baronial residence when the Englishman's house was literally his castle, when wealth increased and times appeared more peaceful. A relic of the feudal ages, it was perclied on high like the nest of an eagle, and as if to justify its existence, war, in its worst form, and horrible treachery followed it. From its topmost tower the fiery beacon flares no more to rouse 94 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES the country-side to war. The smoke that darkens all the boundless plain around is not the smoke of burning homes or hostile camps, nor is the stained stream of Dar'en dyed with blood of Scots or Englishmen, for in our land in our time, thank God ! there is peace. Wll ALLEY CROSS YALE-BALA ONE of our little pilgrimages that was marred by the wet weather of rQ03 was to find Yale, the lonely spot in the Welsh mountains that was the home of the Yales for ages, and is still theirs two hundred years after a wandering member of the fiimily had his name perpetuated in what has grown to be the great University of Yale in America. On a fine breezy morning we had taken the train to Wrexham, struggled uphill for about five miles with coal-pits or other works around, risen against the wind for a thousand feet, wrestled with the incomprehensible language, and finally, like many other intruders into the wilderness of the Welsh hills, been driven "weather- beaten back." The Welsh pronunciation of any language tends to make an Englishman ill, while the Celtic evasions exasperate him. The following is a fairly correct verbatim report of a dialogue, without attempting to write it phonetically, I had at a small shop near to diverging roads at Bwlchgwyn : — " Can you speak English { " " Yes, indeed, for sure. Yes, yes." " Would you tell me the ^^'ay, please, to Plas-vn-Yale or Bryn Eglwys { " " Oh, well indeed. You can go either way. You can, sure." " Which is the better way for good roads ? " " Well, well, the roads are not so bad indeed. There's worse roads than these, sure. There's some downhills. There is. Yes, yes." " How many miles is it ? " 96 PILGKIMAGES TO OLD HOMES " Oh, it is some miles. Yes, indeed. It may be five miles. Oh yes ; it may be ten. It is some miles, sure ; but there is some downhills, and there's worse roads than these. Dear me. Yes, yes." "What place is this?" "Oh, this! Well, well. This is the coldest place on earth. It is, sure. And there's winds ; that's why it's cold. Yes, indeed." " But what do you call the place ? " " Oh, its name, sure, in Welsh." Then he spit out words that sounded as if they began with capital B's and were made up of double consonants all through. My approximate rendering of it would be " Bloody Gulch." We turned our backs to the storms and wind, and scudded downhill to return to Wrexham, for there is a church that is one of the seven wonders of Wales, and the town apparently rejoices in its civilisation and prosperity. The smell of the ale in tlie churchyard was so strong that it would have led or driven many men to drink. We hear of the connection of beer and the Bible, but it does seem rather brazen-faced to put church, brewery, and poorhouse close together. Perhaps the bad weather affected us, for when I ven- tured to remark about the time X was taking to photograph, he said the day was dark and the plates were like our minds and wanted longer exjDosures. So I left him and went to church, where I soon found a brass inscribed with praise and poetry. " Here lyes a church warden A choyce flower in that Garden Witliout doubt he is Blest." Of course a churchwarden with brass would be Blest. Could any one with a knowledge of both worlds doubt it ? But why post it up in the church i Per- haps the time-honoured j^rayer, " Upon his soul may WliEXHAM CHURCH 98 PILGRIMAGES To OLD HOMES God have mercy," would be thought perilously wicked here. The tomb of Yale is in the churchyard l)y the western door, and as Americans may wish to know what is written on it, and g'uide-books seldom copy f^'idji^^^yi TOMB OF ELIHU YALE, FOUNDER OF YALE UNIVERSITY anything correctly, I took especial care to haye a correct version, and check the photograph. " Born in America ; in Eurojte bred ; In Africa travell'd, and in Asia wed, AVhere long he liv'd and tliriv'd ; in London dead. Mucli good, some ill, lie did : so hope all's even. And that his soul thro' mercy's gone to Heaven. You that survive and read this tale, take care, For this most certain exit to prepare ; Where, blest in peace, the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in the silent dust." ELIHU YALE 99 The other side of the tomb siiii]jly records, under the letters M. S., the burial of EHugh Yale. Es(|., on 2 2]id July 1721 ; and on the end we are told it was restored bv the authorities of Yale Colleo^e, United States. Yale, I am told, is a corruption of the old Welsh word lal, meanino- pleasant ; and though the hills of Yale may be pleasant enough in tlie summer-time, they look to me as if they had far more of the winter and rough weather. In the early years of the Civil War, one David left these pjleasant hills to find a better home across the ocean. Whether he went for relio-ious liberty, safety, or from ])enurv we do not know ; Ijut in America, probably at Newhaven, Connecticut, in 1648 he had a son who was named Elihu. The family returned to England in 1652, settliuf/ in London, and in 1672 Ehhu went to Lidia in the service of the East India Company. He appears to have risen rapidly, as men do in India, unless they die. At the age of thirty-nine he \vas Governor of Fort St. George, Madras ; but he nnist have made money too quickly, for in five years he was suspended and (juariel- ling with his governors. One tale is that he hanged his groom and had to pay /, 20,000 fine, which is a big price for a groom in India. Probablv it is not true, or the man deserved hanging ; for neai-lv everv one of the high officials in India were accused of all sorts of crimes. Those in the ring were jealous of them, and the lawyers wanted to share the plunder. Even to-day, if a man is thought to have made monev quicklv he is lucky if he escape blackmail. The ''most respect- able " lawyers will prosecute the most unjust cases to the ruin of any one if thev can sav thev are actinof for a client, while all the time thev are hired assassins. The murderers hired by Macbeth or other villains merely acted for their clients. After the Honourable East India Companv had got all they could, they took Ehhu into partnership, loo PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES making him one of their governors, for he had evidently something " in him." He brought so many things home from India that he had a sale by auction of them — that was about i 700 — and is said to be the first auction sale that was ever held. One of the Hakluyt Society's publications gives several interestino- bits about Governor Yale. " Wee could likewise desire our new President, Mr. Yale, whom God hath l^lessed with so great an estate in our Service, to set on foot another o-enerous charitable work — that is, the building of a Church for the Protestant blacks . . . get our common Prayers translated into the Portugueze Dialect of India. ..." The scandals about the married women are discreetly forgotten there. The Company's servants were paid ^5 a year when they were sent out, with advances up to ^20 and leave to trade honestlv without prejudice to the Company, They doubtless learnt the trade with the honesty, and even Governor Yale was accused of " drivino^ a o-reater trade than the Company." Here is an extract from a letter written to him by John Pitt in 1704 : ", , , comfortable news for you . , . a supercargo dying said he had injured you. . , , I told him I was your attorney, and if he dy'd without restitution he would certainly be damn'd. I made his Confessor give him an hourly memento of the same and he was very active in it soe that at the last gasp he began to make a will , . . but before compleated he dy'd . . . which I gott into our court, recover'd the money, and have gott it to send you ... or good and cheap Diamonds," So the attorney and the confessor, the law and the church, pestered the last gasp out of the dying man and seized the money without the will, the next-of-kin being probably halfway across the world. In 171 8 Yale was appealed to for help to Ijuild the collefjiate school of CJonnecticut. His father had emi- grated there, and probal)ly he was l)orn there, seventy years before. He sent a cargo of books and things fllA *^1 n ^ WEST END OF WREXHAM CHUKCII. AND TOMB OF ELIJIU VALE G 2 102 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES which they valued at /,Sco, besides a few minor gifts. It seems little to us now, but was a great deal then. The seed w^as opportunely sowed on hard but good ground. A portrait of Elihu is now in the Yale College. He is litei-allv " a bio: wio- " and looks well satisfied with himself and all tilings. His house at Plas Gronow, Wrexliam, lias gone, and his body was buried in the churchyard. Its value will increase with the time that turns it to dust ; for if the Americans make the fuss they are now doing for the remains of Paul Jones the pirate, what should they give for the body of their benefactor \ It will be diamond cut diamond in old- fashioned bargaining when the Yankee meets the parson ; and when the latter shuts his eyes and takes the almighty dollar, may the Archangel Michael with all his experience be there to see fair-})lay. As nothing would induce X to face the Welsh hills and roads again, an.d I had nothing to do in the very fine Whit-week of 1 905 excepting a share of duty at the county police court, I took a change of the more neces- sary clothes on my bicycle, maps and sandwiches in pocket, and went by train to Wrexham for a lonely pilgrimage over the stormy hills of Wales. It was I'ain- ing when I left home ; but the glass was high and the wdPid in the north-east. On the hills it was fair, and the wind was with me. The lilacs and hawthorns were struggling to flower, the date being thirteenth of June, and ours at Didsbury had been over about a fortnight. x\. mile beyond where we had turned back, the road passed through black boggy moorland and then began to descend ; on the whole, it was fairly good, for there was no traffic. The wind blew from just the opposite quarter to what it did when we were on these hills before, and I scudded before it. The country on my right became more like a park, and the rabbits were so crowded, even on the road, that I had to take care they did not get into THE HOME OF THE YALES 103 my wheels. I could not see a house, Ijut the place was Plas- yn-Yale ; for soon I saw the little church of Bryn Eglwys upon its steep mound surrounded with its tine dark yews. The lane or path to it is a stiff climb for any one, and ends at an inn which seems to bar tlie way to tlie church. It is a good example of the primitive custom of having an inn by a church ; for even if we have no pity on the victims of long sermons, many a bridal or funeral party would have to toil and struggle up that steep and narrow patli. There is little of antiquity to see about this quaint old church. Two oaken pillars mark the Yale chapel from the chancel. The pulpit is old, and a framed extract from the will of Eliza Flora Yale is on the wall. I rested in the dense shade of the yew-trees and enjoyed the scenery around. On a knoll in a fertile vale is this hill church ; whitewashed fjirms are dotted up and down, and the green fields merge into brow^n moors that, in their turn, become lost in the bluer mountains. On the ground adjoining the churchyard, which is steeper than the roof of a house, an old man and a young one were earnestly chattering. I went to them for information. The old man was deaf, or would not bother with English ; but the young one lifted his cap as if he had been to a Sunday school, thought slowly as he mentallv translated my questions into Welsh and their answers back into English, and civilly told me all that he could. They were absorbed in the great question of potatoes, and doubtless knew better how to grow and cook potatoes there than all the professors in Yale University could tell them. Their patch of oats and contentment was better than the wheat-pit of Chicago. My eye caught a name on a gravestone that rather shocked me, for I read " Ananias Jones," and wondered whether some of the pedigrees going back to the Apostles (and beyond) were correct. Perhaps I misread the Welsh, but on another stone the name " Maggie Beans" was evidently very English. I had picked up a I04 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES book in the road tliat morning; it was called "'The Sinner," and inside it was the name, " H. Jones." As I had not met one person to the mile, it seemed strange to find a respectable-looking book there. Had it been cast like bread iijjon the waters, or seed sown by the w^ayside ? I gave it to the first stonebreaker, although it would Ije hard to sin at stonebreaking ; but in English as broken as his stones he said he might know a man named Jones who perhaps was a sinner, and maybe he would give it to him. Finding the day kept fine and pleasant, I journeyed on for Bala. The country was more fertile in the lower grouiids ; sheep-shearing was in progress, the hawthorns in bloom, and the voice of the cuckoo wandering round. A bit of the Holvhead road was an abomination, for there the motor-cars, with the dust and stink of civilisa- tion, were an abhorrence ; but 1 soon turned into the hills again, and was well pleased with the scenery round Bala. A bed was secured and a good tea enjoyed by post- time at seven, and then, in a lovelv June evenino^, I strolled slowly up the road by the side of the lake. A fairer scene no one could wish for. Lio-ht and shade chased one another over the hills as the clouds were blown before the wind, and the sinking sun tinted all with many colours. The water changed from glittering silver to deepest blue. The lofty peaks of the Arans reminded me of the Langdales, but even as I looked the rolling mists came down them, and heeding not the warning, I wandered on to the beautiful little church- yard of Llanycil, the old church of Bala. It stands by the waterside as churches in Norway where the })eople come in boats. Grand old yews surround it, and its God's acre is encircled by the glowing mountains and the glittering waters of the lake. On its bellcot croaked a jackdaw, and in the long grass croaked the crakes as waning light caused me to turn for bed. Soon the big drops fell, and the village folk were praying for rain. On a seat under a spreading sycamore I sat and listened BALA AND THE BERWYNS 105 to the pattering on the leaves as the rain descended and the hills darkened all around. It was all very pleasant until the deluge came with a tempest, then I had to make myself as small as possihle and crouch against the trunk. The furies lifted up the lake and seemed to pour the water out upon the land. Everything and everywhere was soaked. At last I hurried to the hotel, had a glass of milk, and went to bed. Up betimes in the morning, by eight o'clock had started for the pass over the Berwyns, crossing the foot of the lake by the bridge Mwnogl-y-Llyn, and through the village of Rhosygwaliau, where is an old house named Rhiwfedog, meaning bloody cliff, whicli the guide-books say bears boreal blasts, and was the home of a beautiful poet who had lost twenty-four sons in battle, but composed Welsli poetry, for he could not sleep. I was too frightened of the name to ask about the place. The narrow winding lane went up and down and round sharp corners, with children, dogs, and cats all about the village ; but gradu- ally I got into the woods, where it was cool and dark, quiet but for the songs of the birds, damp, and refresh - inp;. Above the woods came the moors in brilliant \hjht. The trees changed and disappeared, and more inte- restinof than the varvino^ veofetation was the chanj^e in the varieties of the birds. Wagtails were common by the lower streams ; redstarts were in the banks ; a golden - crested wren hunc: on the end of a fir bouLrh over the ascending lane ; brown-headed gulls flapped leisurely over the fields and moors on the higher ground, their pale wings showing beautifully against the varying greens ; the wandering cuckoo was all around ; then came the call of the ^rrouse and the whistle of the curlew. At stepping-stones across a stream I lay down and lapped, much to the annoyance of sandpipers who had a nest or young about the spot. Tlie climb became very stiff*. It was impossible to cycle even in descent, for the narrow path was of loose shale, with a precipice io6 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES of two to three Imndred feet sheer down for nearly a mile. The first hour I had travelled four miles ; in tlie second hour three, and was about the top of the pass. As I went round a corner, a greyish black wolf ap- parently was asleep in the path. It came liercely toward me, when a shepherd lazily rose from behind a rock to scold it. Further on an old man was washino- his socks and shirt in a stream. It startled me to wonder whether that was the same water from which I had been drinking, but consideration comforted me. On returning I found the old man's washing was drying on tlie rocks, while he was cleansing tufts of lost wool that he had found. The water, w4ien he had done with it, would go to Liverpool, where, no doubt, they would put sometliing in to kill the microbes. With botli brakes hard on I bumped down to Lake Vyrnwy, The gutters made across the path by de- scending streams were taken by the bicycle as a hunter takes fences in his stride. It was rough and dangerous travelling, not fit for vehicles, and yet it is constantly used, though I never met any one all day. The sudden and steep drop from the primitive track over the wild hills brings us to the smooth and stately road that winds all round the beautiful though artificial lake of Vyrnwy. For eleven miles we can roll along a level way in lovely scenery of mountains that descend into the water in many a steep and shapely curve. It was a fine June day when I went round, and the broom, the azalea, the hawthorn, were in their glory though late in the season ; for their elevation is nearly a thousand feet above the sea. This great reservoir of water for Liverpool is a grand work well done ; of supreme utilitv and very beautiful, for art has added to the charms of nature. The lonely hotel is perched on high above the lake, an excellent place to rest — when you have got there. 1 struggled back to Bala ; after an early tea went on to C^orwen, where was a train for Manchester, LAKE VYENWY 107 and I went for home. It was unnecessarily hard work, for I must have cycled fifty miles, including twice the steep pass over the Berwyns ; but it was a well-spent and happy day. The train from Chester to Manchester went the thirty-eight miles under the hour though it was in Whit-week, and as the long June day was darkening I cycled the six miles to home through the streets of the city in forty minutes. STUDYING THE MAP THE HALL A HADDON HALL CHARMING home of many ages is Haddoii Hall, well known to all the world, and there- fore little shall he written of it here : for tourists throno- its courts and stairs : in corners giggle about Dorothy ; suck oranges upon its famous terrace, and munch their '• bao-o-ino- " wherever they can find a place to rest. It is in the midst of Derbyshire, a county cyclists should avoid ; i'or if the summer sun shines warmly, its roads are limekilns, glaring white with dust that settles in and on and round the traveller — encrustinfr. irritating: lime. Kain soon turns the dust to slippery slime ; but, fine or wet, the hills are many, steep, and Ijare, and the cattle, with every creep- incr thinof, are of the sort that is known as '^ skinny." The house itself is such a line example of so many ages of an English home, and is so well preserved, that although books of all sizes have been written about it, we must o;ive some record of it here, \yhen oriirinally built, it was not allowed to be fortified, and therefore it escaped sieges and is here now. For about two hundred years it has not been inhabited. It is well kept, and has, doubtless, a considerable income. As might be expected, the oldest bits are in the chapeL Of the i'ourteenth-century hall we give two illustration.s. The upright one shows the screen near to the outer M-all, whereon is the fetter-lock or wristlet for fastening up a man's arm. When to be "as drunk as a lord " was a mark of high culture, men ^^■ho would not or could not drink their share had the drink })()uied 112 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES on them ; but 1 have experienced that in our degenerate days without any fetter-lock. Even in city feasts " pop " is now provided for the abstemious. The other picture of the hall shows the half-closed dosf-fi'ates that were made to ]irevent the dogs from going upstairs, and the worn-out high table on the rigiit. i'i;i\A ri-: uining-uho.m Behind the dais of the great hall is the more modern room, now called the dining room. Its panelling and decorations are interestino- in beincr of c^reat a<2:e, older than those in the upper rooms, although later than those in the hall. There is a date 1545, many shields of arms, portraits in oak, and over the fireplace in very quaint letters, " Drede God and Honor the Kyng." HADDON HALL 113 Perhaps some old Tory may say they spelt " Honor" as if they were Americans and did not quote the Autliorised Version correctly ; but there were no Yankees, and no " Authorised Version " when that wood was carved. The room above is the drawino--room, of later date and lighter style, with ornamental plaster frieze and geometric-patterned ceiling. Its walls are hung with tapestry or panelled, still bearing traces of the green and gold that once adorned them. Remnants of furniture are left, and the terraced garden is down below, with the river further down windino- round- the enclosinof hills. Several curious, complicated rooms, opening from one another and the drawing-room, are called the Earl's apartments, and across a passage are huge semicircular steps leading to the well-known ballroom or gallery. The steps and the floor-boards, which are from one to two feet in breadth, are said to have been made from one of the park oaks. As chapters innumerable have been written about this room, we will 2:0 on and see the door and steps used by Dorothy in her romantic flight sixty odd years before they were made, for the prosaic accounts of stewards and the lively imagination of authors contradict one another. The state bed is such an awful structure that only duchesses could be expected to sleep in it. It was taken to Bel voir for George IV., but was soon brought back again, although it may not have been all the fault of the bed if His Gracious Majesty did not sleep com- fortably. It is fourteen and a half feet high, with hangings of green silk velvet and white satin em- broidered with fine needlework wrought by a lady in the fifteenth century, and has the family cradle beside it. What more could any one wish for { There is a verv curious washino--tallv with revolvino- discs and columns for " Kufies," " Sockes," &c. The floor of the room is of concrete, and here also are tapestries, with many other tilings to see, not forgetting tlie rack H THE BALLROOM THE STATE BED THE TERRACE, HADDON 117 for stringing bows bv the guard-room beyond, and where Jewitt's guide-book says '" iiinuinerable bats built tlieir nests " I The terraced garden that runs alongside the pro- jecting bays and oriels of Haddon is the best-known glory of the place. Other pleasure-grounds there are higher up the hill ; ;i disused, forgotten butts for archery ; an acre of bowling-green ; and, nearer to the hall, a Ijroad avenue of tall sycamores, called Dorothy's Walk, or the Rookery. Another descent brinijs one to the ^vinter garden, near to the door of the elope- ment, Avhere tlie trees are yews and the shade of them dense enouo-h for any o-irl to i)lay at beino- Dorothy. It seems heartless to say there could be little or no shade from them in her time. The balustrade that runs along this terraced walk, the twenty-six steps that lead into the upper garden that is below, with the Vmckgrouiid of oriel windows, dark yews, lofty sycamores and hill, all together form what is perhaps the best-known garden scene in the world. The followino- are .some shortened selections of the " Expencs ot the howsholde at Haddon " as published by the custodian of the mumiments there. The first relates to the immortal Dorothy when she was fiye years old, and they paid threepence for " a payer of hosse " for her. " Itm . . . yis Master-schepe dyd loa.sse at ye dys.se . . vj'* viij'' It. payde for iiij Chekyiis for my Mast'" .... iiij'' It. payde for a pound of suger . . " . . xiiij'' It. payde for a pygge fur my M"" . . . . . viij''." Therefore a pound of sugar was worth nearly two pigs or fourteen chickens. The price of " Ressyngs, gynger, nytmvks, Cloyys, Maysse,"' or anything in tlie spice line, is enormous when compared with wages at a penny a day for " bearynge of wayter unto ye sestorne," or skilled workmen at sixpence " ye wyke," for whicli there are many entries. About the same time a cow cost sixteen shillings, " a veylle " three H 2 *./ I20 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES and foiirpeiice, but " oxe beyffe " was dearer and wethers were about three shiUings "a pesse." These Derbvsliire knights and squires amused them- selves with the time-honoured gentlemanly sports of cocking, hawking, " ye dysse," " pyping and dauncynge," mostly done by others — also the fighting ; for although they bought " gunpowther, quirashiers, bandilieres," &c., the owners of Haddon appear to have discreetly kept out of war and preserved their home for us to see. In 1639 — that is, just l)efore the (Jivil War — they bought some pewter. I wonder wlietlier it is in existence now. " Pd. for 60 tie dishes of large puter and 1 2 plates waighing 200, 15 li att I4d. pei- li, m'kd., .Jni. F., etc Pd. for hallaiid for my M^ his britches Pd. for a salt catt for the piggions .... Pd. for a lycence vnder the greate seale to eate flesh Pd. for Babbies and a primer and dyall for the gentlewomen ....... Pd. for catching 18 doz. of Crefishes \\h h;uit' gone to Bel voire ....... Pd. for Isaac Bradshaw for heliiing to pike and [lun crabs wh made 3 liogsheads of verjuice With reference to the last two items, it may be as well to explain that " crefishes" and "crabs" are not quite the same, as the former v/ord means crawfish and the latter apples ; Derbyshire apples making vinegar, not cider. As times improved, the wages of harvesters went up to twopence a day and worn-out horses to eiohteen pence apiece. I cannot find honey mentioned in the accounts, although some people try to keep l)ees in Derljyshire at the present time. Milk is also produced in the county, much to the trouble of our analysts, though that may not be the fault of the poor cow. As the fame of Dorothy increases, and it seems likely she will soon be said to be another of the most beautiful women who ever lived, we went to Bakewell to see her etfioy on her tomb. Great care was taken £oiS , ■ 03 ' . 6 000 . ■ 03 • . 6 000 , . 01 , . 8 005 . ,11. , 8 000 01 ■ 4 000 . 04 , , 6 000 • o.s . &.-' DOKOTHY VERXON S MONUMENT SIR GEORGE JIAXXERS'S TOMB MOPvS ITEK VIT.E 123 to make effigies like the deceased, and from hers she appears to have been a fairly nice-looking woman ; Ijut the night must have been very dark when she made her famous elopement, for Sir John Manners looks like a vulofar woodcutter with a forehead retreated to the uttermost. It is said that his skeleton showed that he had a very long, high nose, and she had plenty of hair with six brass hairpins, at the premature resur- recti if i JIUCHELXEY ABBEY beauty ? " he said to me. I thought her beastly ugly, for her big ears flapped over her f\\ce ; but she was happy in the expectation of a family, and had })rovision for a dozen ; if there were more, they would be ricklings, destined to clem. He, the lord and master, was happy in gloating over the wealth they would bring him and the bacon she could be salted into after they were reared. Wondering to myself whether these men and pigs ALFRED'S JEWEL 137 were descendants of King Alfred's serfs and swine, and wiietber there were any cakes in the cottajTes, tlie thought of that curious relic known as Alfred's jewel came to me, and the time-worn proverb that truth is stranger than fiction. Within a few miles of where I was roaming and dreaming, at North Newton or Petherton Park, there w^as dug up, in 1693, an antique jewel or work of art which is now in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford. It is described as a gold plate, enamelled with a figure, and protected by rock-crystal, enshrined in a golden frame, round which is the legend — AELFRET) MEC HEHT OEWYRCAN — meanincr, " Alfred me had worked," or " Alfred ordered me to be made." There is little or no doubt that it was made by order of King Alfred, and probably worn in his crown or helmet. Though history never mentions it, the jewel bears its own authenticity. Two of the letters — C and G — are angular, the Anglo-Saxon form ; the otliers are lioman, which Alfred caused to be more often used. The commentators on it make many guesses. To me it would appear most likely the jewel would be treasured in the Abbey of Athelney until the dissolution, when it would disappear, only to turn up again near to its original home in little more than a century. As I steadily rolled down this land of swamps, a conical hill with a ruined church on the top became nearer to me — a steep, isolated hill near to the junction of the Tone and the Parret. It was Alfred's fort, his last stronghold in his own land ; and of coiu^se I climbed it, leaving the bicycle at an inn. Hither should come any pilgrim student of English history to see where England began. Without seeing it one cannot realise Avhat an almost impregnable stronghold this steep little hill in a i:;S PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES 3 world of morass must have been In those primitive times. For manv miles in all directions it is even now one vast swamp, of which the land will be some feet higher than it was in Alfred's time. Ships could not float nor could foemen walk across the miry bog : only natives knowing- slippery paths could live. It was Eastertide 87S when the fugitive chieftain liere built liis fort. From it there is to-day an almost l)oundless vision. Churches rise above the fen in all directions. Glastonbury Tor, Avith all its memories, is there before us, and utter silence and solitude. The wind blows keenly, but there is no other sound ; for the silence of autumn has fallen on bird and beast. Alone I meditate, till cold and hung-er drive me down, wondering at the lonescmeness over all the great plain around me. Waning light gave little time for rest ere I travelled on towards Taunton. There were two miles of straight road across the fen, then about six more through Durston. Unfortunatelv it was a Friday night, and immense droves of cattle were being driven to Taunton for the morrow's stock-market. The labour of having constantly to dismount from the bicvcle or be knocked over bv pigs, sheep, cows, or colts, added greatly to my weariness, and it was quite dark before I reached the town. As it seemed a busy, noisy place, I asked for the best hotel ; and just as a bedroom was allotted to me, the liarsli, raucous voice of a German Jew made me shudder. Then a little foreigner told me there was table dliote a la carte, " vot zu vont ? " Instinctively I felt there would Ije notliing I should l)e likelv to want, so I told him to bring something, and left it to chance. At the next table were two men, feeding. One had a soft, blubbery mouth, and the other had a mouth like a rat- trap. The one would evidently say anything and be- lieve anything. The otlier would, like his professional brother, say anything, but believe nothing. A })arson and a lawyer ! Did the prodigal son have such luck ? TAUNTON 139 Til my bewilderment I asked myself if I had left home for this, or why I had not taken pot-luck, like King Alfred, in a herdsman's cottage in the marshes of Athelney and supped off" cake and milk. To see what the noisy town might be like, I strolled about among militia-men, shop-lads, shop-ladies, news- boys ringing bells with fearful din to sell their printed gossip, cattle-drovers swearing in English. Irish, Welsh, and Somerset, at their wretched, harried cattle and at one another, while through all the motlev crowd charf- inp- trams came with horrible clatter, forcino; all to flee. I went to my bedroom and sliut the M-indow, ])ut the Avires of the trams were just outside it, and the constant clanging was worse than that of many trains. All night long the poor cattle bleated and l^ellowed inces- santly, waiting in torture for their death. \\ hat a relief it would Ije to them when carnivorous man or beast had eaten them ! Durinof a wretched nitdit I endured the horrors of civilisation, but day dawned again, and as soon as breakfast could l)e had, I fled. Westward Ho, or anywhere out of Taunton, for the droves of sheep and oxen are still coming in as if the town were about to hold an autumnal carnival, I took the road f »r tlie C)uantocks, a-raduallv risino- through a beautiful country. On my right is one of those fine church-towers for which Somerset is noted ; but time is too precious to turn aside for it, as a lonely journey over a wild country is Ijefore me, where an accident might be serious, and I must not throw any chance or time away. Bishops Lydeard is the place, and here at Conquest farm, in 1666, an urn containing eighty pounds weight of Roman coins was found. At another villacre further on, with the curious name of Stogumber (Stoke-Gomer), a similar treasure has been found. At Crowcombe I found a treasure in a model village, where, in close proximity, are church, hall, ruined school or almshouse with outer stairs, cross, inn, and I40 PILGKIMAGES TO OLD HOMES backoToiiiid of stee}) hills with hio- trees. A beautiful secluded s})ot, and ancient history tells me it was once the a'ift of Gvtha for the soul of Godwin. The inn is called the C^arew Arms, and when I pronounce that name as if it were Carey, I J^m told that liere it is pronounced Cwrw, and they brew their own. " J'espere bien" is the motto on the sign, and I may well hope the home-brewed is not as mixed as is the language of the sign. A grand pair of horses comes through the old- fashioned gatew^ay before the Queen Anne house of Crowcombe Court, where lives the Honourable Mr. Trollope. Up steep steps I climb to the beautiful old church. Its glistening stones look blotched with blood wliere autunm's breath has dyed the creepers' leaves a deeper purple. Dark and rich in contrast is the everlasting green of a giant yew with bole of shining chestnut, and the steeply slo})ing liill that seems to crowd upon the church is richly clothed wdth shelter- ing firs and oaks. The bench-ends were a surprise for me, for I had never heard of them and know none better. One is dated Mcccccxxxiiii. It needs a small sum in arithmetic to add that up to 1534, and there are many elaborately carved ends to pews that I could not interpret. There are men lighting dragons, fearful beasts, Gothic arcliitecture, linen pattern, scroll-work, &c. Shelves for books are two inches thick in solid oak, strong enough to hold a cartload of l)ricks. The door is three inches thick ; and many other things there are to see, but no one to tell me anything. In despair I resolve to beard the parson in his den. He is not in, so I rest a while, and drowsiness o'ercomes me till I wonder in the (piietude what century it is up here. Shall I sleep the sleep that knows not waking, or, like a second Hip van Winkle, tind the world is whirling on while I am dreaming in the Quantocks? Four hundred feet of fall rolls me (piiekly towards 142 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES Watchet and the sea. All the way across Somerset I have seen hundreds of trees hlown down by the great storm that had raged about ten days before, and every bit of foliage that was exposed to the south-west wind was burnt as it were with fire. The soil of this higher land was brownish red ; and the red earth is the earth for me. Sheep and pigs are of the same livery, though the pigs are blotched with black and dirty }'ellow. Some came to talk to me as I sat on a gate enjoying the air and scenery. They had enormous rings in their noses, and huge fiapping ears that hid their little twinkling eyes. I share my last apple with them — that is, I give them the peel — and resume my pilgrim's way. The small ruined Abbey of Cleeve is the next place at which I halt, and here is a girl tending poultry who greatly interests me ; for she is fully six feet high, and thirteen or fourteen stone weight, with an extraor- dinary name. Cleeva Plevena Clap poetically embodies the name of the place, the battle of Plevna, and the family. When X hears of this girl and abbey I know he will come and })hotograph, therefore I spend little time before I journey on for Dunster. ¥;\r on the right there is the sea, and a station with the romantic name of Blue Anchor. Then a castled crag comes right in front, and further round among the wooded hills a lordly castle. Sharply turning to the left, up a steep bank, I reach the charming little town of Dunster, and an inn that w^as built by monks in bygone ages extends to me its hospitality. The lamps from the Luttrell Arms threw bright rays of light into the darkness as I sat by the roadside in the ancient porch wondering whether the scene around me was real, or merely painted for some opera, a pageant that would })ass away. The fresh air of the hills and woods assured me, and with my fingers I felt the eyelets, or slits in the stone, through which the 144 PILCxRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES archers of old shot their arrows as they guarded the portal. It was substantial enough to last a few more centuries. Close to the inn-door is the quaintest radiat- ino- market-sted in all the world. It has stood three hundred years, and civil war, and loss of all its trade. THE KITCHEN WINDOW OF THE LUTTRELL ARMS and is now more ])recious than ever. Higli aloft and near to, is a ghostly tower on a wooded hill shutting in one end of the little town whose one broad street slopes away downhill, only to rise again towards another towered castle, the feudal stronghold of the Luttrells. Over it is the new moon, shining, with its attendant star, K 146 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES and anvthino- more like the iairvlaiid of fairv-tales I never saw. There are no hghts but the lamps of heaven, and there are no sounds but the gentle sio-hinir of the wind, with now and then the foot- fills of a horse ; for it is eight o'clock, and the natives seem mostlv ffone to bed. I stroll around to see what there may be to see. One shop is open ; it is a butcher's, where, in bits, they sell the local cows Avhen they can milk no more. The guardian dog curled up in the doorway is fast asleep. There are no cats, no police, no lawyers, no motors, no trams. Oh, what an ideal place 1 All down one side of the street and up the other I could not find a single brass plate. There is a church, so probably there will be a parson somewhere, but })erhaps he leaves his flock in peace for six days in the seven. Let us to bed and sleep the sleep of innocence. My bedroom was over the projecting porch of the hostelry where long fronds of the polypody fern luxuriated in the outer walls, and very soon was I in Paradise. But, ere long, Whoo-oo-oo-oo ! loudly rang around the little room, startling me from sleep. Oh, " fatal bellman which gives the steru'st good- night ! " is it thou? W/ioo-oo-uo-oo ! rang out again as the bird of ill - omen fiew from by my open window^ to its " ivy - mantled ' home. Whose turn is next, thought I, for " blind Furv with the ab- horred shears to slit the thin-spun life " ? Is it mine ? Drowsily I thought it best to chance it, and went to sleep again, but not for long. Strange sounds steal in upon my slumbers, and half awake and half asleep I wonder what it is I hear now. Dimly, old memories revive, something about angels and pilgrims singing. Like Justice Shallow, I heard the chimes at midnight. A hymn oft suno; in boyhood but seldom lieard now in Dids- bury's old churcli. " O'er earth's green fields and SUNDAY IN SOMEKSET 147 ocean's wave - beat shore " the bells of Dunster are pealing — " Augels ! sing on, your faithful watches keeping. Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above ; Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, And life's long shadows break in endless love." The following morning, being Sunday, I went to church as usual, and saw one of the largest and finest rood screens in the countrv. It is said this church has two owners ; for the chancel and chapels were owned by the Priory of Dunster, whose property was confis- cated at what is commonly called the Reformation, and subsequently bought by the ancestor of the Luttrells for /;Ss, 1 6s. 8d. ^ Soon after service I started for Minehead and Porlock. The former appears to be a fashionable resort for holldavs at the seaside ; the latter is like a primitive fishing village and much more pleasing to me, but the road down to it is one of the most dangerous corkscrews on anv main-road, and vet sundrv vouno- men were flying down it at a pace of fullv twentv miles an hour. It looked as if they would all have been dashed to pieces if it had been done on any other day than Sunday. On my return I sought a model village named Selworthy, up in the hills, where are almshouses deeply thatched standing round a village green — model cottages, model iini. model evervthing- that wealth and Ijeautv of place can give. The way to it is up romantic Devonshire lanes where the trees meet overhead and the fern-fronds deck the banks. I trudged up con- tentedly, anticipating my tea with relish, but had reckoned without mv host. No one would let me have any tea, or anything else. Why ? Because it was Sunday. It would be dreadfully wicked to have tea on Sunday. I ought to have known that ; for in 148 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES parts of Cheshire cottagers are forbidden to give even a cup of cold water to thirsty travellers on the Lord's day. It is said a tenant farmer had to quit his farm for taking a friend to service in a church in " private " PTOunds and allowino- the friend to desecrate the Sabbath by snapshotting the church. Hungry and tliirsty I had to travel on, thankful that all my life I had been taught to do either with or without. Over wild moorland hills, a farmer sent me on a shorter way which proved a very doubtful one, and glad was I to reach a better road before the light was gone and where all the people were not quite so good. Early next morning men come to breakfast in hunting toggery, booted and spurred, ready for the chase of the red-deer, and all is bustle and excite- ment. They tell me there are twelve miles of roadwork with a rise of a thousand feet in three miles, nearly as much to descend, and then another rise. I should then have to leave my bicycle and go on foot if I wanted to see any hunting. Of course I went ; there could be no hesitation about that. At fox-hunting I had had many a good gallop, but never seen a wild stag in chase or at bay. The road is good and well graded, slowly rising along a well- wooded ravine with rushing stream below and gorse-clad hills above. The noted Somerset beacon, Dunkery, is on my right, and further on the ascent grows steeper, but the road is always good and engineered well. At Wheddon Cross on the top of the watershed is an inn, the " Rest and be thankful." I am thankful, but have no time to rest. The scenery is wilder and tlie crowd thicker, for all up this long tramp horses and horsemen have been constantly over- taking me. Even on the previous evening I had noticed many smart grooms with good hunters ; to-day there were scores of them, and many rode as if they had luid THE MEET 149 military training. Then come the carriages — dogcarts, donkey- carts, pony-carts, all sorts and sizes of vehicles, from the stately landau and pair with men-servants to the more lordlv coach and four. After a lonir roll downliill to Exton we turn sharp to the right, up tlie A DEVONSHIRE LANE valley of the Exe for Exmoor, and towards Exford instead of going on by Exebridge for Exeter, and I regret that X is not with me. Winsford is a village in the hills, apparently created for artists and preserved for sportsmen. In the centre of it two rushing, rambling little rivers join, but there are no bridges f )r horses, and the place is blocked witli K 2 ISO PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES tliem. Grand carriages splasli and jolt tlir(»uyh the rockv stream while the ladies cling to the sides and scream. I left my bike in the stick-ruck of a cottage and went towards the Royal Oak Inn, but it was thronged with sucli a surging crowd of folk, dogs, and horses that I went of^' u}) the hill, hoping there would be something left. For three miles I tramped up a narrow lane where tlie ferns often hung like tapestr\% and into them I had to squeeze as horse- men passed. Horsewomen treated pedestrians as dirt ; but that is no new thinsf. Glittering: horse-shoes were flashing in all directions, and the crowd became thicker as we neared the meet. Cromer's Cross is at the end of some lanes that lose themselves in the open moor. Here are tlie hounds, and a horseman being lielped on to a side-saddle is Lord Ebrington, the master, who has not recovered from an accident. He looked odd, but I was told there were ladies riding as cavaliers who looked odder to those Avho could tell which was which. Rumour had it that an enterprising Yankee was tliere whose steam- tug was waiting for him in Porlock Bay wliile he o-alloi)ed all over Exmoor in a day. '' Ware boo- niv lords ! " a groom shouts to two boys wlio splash through a puddle near to me. All sorts and conditions of men are here. At last I see an aborigine — shepherd, poacher, gamekeeper, or one of the hangers-on who follow most packs of hounds ; his rags looked picturesque. In his greasy cap was a lock of the long coarse hair from the red-deer's mane or brisket, and hi.s l^oots looked like fimilv heirlooms. He was gazing intently at tlie top- boots and l)uckskins of two gentlemen's gentlemen whose livery alone would have cost more than the poor man could have earned ni a year. I tried to talk with him about the deer and their wavs, but it was very difficult to understand anything he sa.id. Gradu- ally I learnt there were more deer than the farmers STAG-HUNTING 151 liked, and they had lately driven five into a funnel, lassoed, and killed them. For some time he would not say what liad Ijecome of them, \mt when it slowly dawned on him tliere was no harm in my foolish questions, in astonislnnent that any simpleton could doubt, he blurted out, " Some one's hetten em, o' coorse." The words are probably not correctly stated, for I was too amused with mv own io-norance to write them down at the time. Of course some one ate tlie deer. All of us and everything get eaten in turn. Venison, called by them of old time — Venzon — Savoury meat, such as thy soul loveth. It would make the mouth of an angel to water, and for seven hours that day, seven hours of hard work, I tasted nothing but two apples and a big mushroom that I picked up on the moor. The next native fiom wliom 1 seek information is a big farmer who sits on a good cob for an hour like a statue, while all around tlie liounds are trying for a stag which that mornino; was harboured in the wood below us, or for a smaller one that was at the Punch-bowl. They lie close and are never found. On the skyline of all the hills around for miles are horsemen, and jolting over the ruts and through the heather and rushes of the moor are carriao-es of all sorts and sizes. The wind increases in force and chilliness as the day wears on. As I toiled up the hills in the morning, I had literally "larded the lean earth," and now an icy blast blows through me as I cower under a gorse-bush and still wait for s])ort. But none comes, and thin rain is driven before a storm from the Atlantic. I seek the shelter of the Royal Oak at Winsford, as did a hard-pressed hind some seasons since. Why she went into an inn is a mystery ; but hunted deer do queer things. Perhaps she panted like the well-known hart when heated by the chase, but not for cooling 0- PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES water oiilv. They took her in, in very deed — for they cut her tliroat, and ate her, " The long easy gallo}» tliat can tire The hound's deep hate and the liunter's fire" might have saved her if she had not been ruined by the temptations of the pubHc-house. At the cottap-e where I left mv bike in the thatched stick-ruck I asked the nice old woman, who had cheeks like red-russety apples, what I owed her. She, too, stared at me as if I were daft or talked nonsense ; but when I gave her threejjence, she dropped an old-fashioned curtsey nearly to the ground, and, beaming with joy, showed the small fortune to her daughter. In heavy rain I started again for a long roll down the valley of the Exe, turning to the right when I regained the main road to Exeter. More thaii twenty miles of free-wheelinp; was before me if I had o-one on, but the road became slippery, the hills w^ere hidden by mist, and the rain became a deluge. After endur- inp; this for some miles I saw a shed below an over- hano-iiip- rock and took shelter therein. No woodman or roadman came to claim it, and I saw no one but now and then galloping horsemen for the hour I staid there. It was a charming place for a short rest. Ferns grew through the nicks in the wooden walls and roof. Lofty hills witli fine vegetation were all around, and the brawling little river was rapidly Ijecoming a torrent. What a wonderful thinjj- has this chase of the red- deer become ! Far and wide over many miles of country every noble, squire, farmer, or sojourner at seaside have tlieir thoughts on the S})ort. Every child who marks a slot in the lane runs to tell. Every lonely angler in the mountain streams is an enemy in ambush against the wily stag who seeks the water for safety. STOEM ON EXMOOR ^5. Every hoer of turnips, road-mender, or solitary shepherd on the hills — in fact, the hand of every man, woman, or child over twenty miles of country is against the poor hunted deer. Even at sea, from Watchet to fashionable Minehead, from Porlock to Lynton, where the cliffs drop sheer down to the water, the rugged fishermen keep an eye to the land, for well they know a stag hard ])ressed by hounds will bound down those steep crags and swim straight out to sea. Possibly some hounds may struggle after, and these are tish for lucky fishermen worth tons of cod or mackerel. As darkness draws on, I think about a refuge for the nio-ht, and wonder whether there is a tramp ward at Dulverton. If the weather had been fine and warm I could have enjoyed staying out all night, for our County Stipendiary says there is no crime in sleeping out if one has money but no matches in his pocket. It is always well to have ready money, but I was so drenched and dirty that even with the necessary cash an innkeeper might refuse me a bed. 1 had to chance it, and knowing 154 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES there were two inns at Dulvertoii named after the animals that are to he down together at the millennium, 1 happened on the quieter, or inside, animal first, and went in, pushing the bicycle as an emblem of re- spectability. The landlord came, saying I could have a bed, and offered a change of clothes ; but as his clothes were far smarter than mine, I thought he was making a sporting offer. The boots acted as valet ; tea was ready in a few minutes, and rest was welcome. Soon after it was dark a galloping horse was pulled up at the door, and eager voices caused me to go with others to hear the news. Man and horse looked as if they had been dragged through a pit, and excitedly we heard that after the rain came on many had gone home, but some deer were roused, and the hounds were quickly on the scent of a stag which had gone west. There had been a terrific burst ; only five men saw it through, l)ut they rolled him over in the open. A cheer went up from the little crowd as for a victoiy over the Boers. Our friend said he had been gallop- ing for hours ; had not a dry thread on him, but had had a rattling day, and was radiantly happy. ''Immortal Gods, for sucli another hour Then throw my carcase to the dogs of Rome." We adjourned to the bar-parlour, where everybody seemed to want a drop of something " short," and I " broke teetotal." The landlord and company all con- gratulated one another on the death of the stag, and when I asked "Why?" they explained that no day could be successful or properly finished without some- thing being killed Gradually the atmosphere thickened like unto that of a committee-room when the cigars are paid for out of the rates. The talk was of horse, nothing but horse, until far into the night. It vividly reminded me how I, too, had talked of horses, night A HORSEY BAR-PAELOUK 155 after night ; but that was forty years ago, ere age and work had dulled the keenness for a gallop. With us, horses are being forgotten, but here in the liorsiest little town in England I was mixing with a more primitive people. The baby still wants a whip for the gee-gee. The boy's glory is to ride ; the proudest day of his life when he is allowed spurs. The solace of age is to talk of what he once could do or what he once had seen. As some one has said, the horse is a noble creature, but has a most pernicious influence on every one connected with it. A sporting butcher offered to trot his little mare, weight for age, against all creation ; but the company seemed to know either the mare or her master, for there was no heed to the generous offer. A young farmer's grand colt had been taken with colic and " chucked it afore you could wink." Lady So-and-So's noted fiery chesnut had sprung a curb and was dead lame. The squire's old horse had gone thick in the wind and could be heard half a mile. Bog-spavin, Bone-spavin, Blood-spavin echoed around. I remem- bered them all, and the words of Shakspere also : — " He's mad that trusts a horses health." "Let us to bed and sleep for more wit.' As soon as it was lia-Jit the constant clatter of horses' lioofs awoke me, but when I looked for troops of cavalry, found hunters at exercise. One stable tiu^ned out twenty with ten grooms and a stud-groom in the rear. The boots came with dried thino-s, tellino- me he had already cleaned the bike, which is rather unusual. The rain had hardly ceased and the roads were very bad, but there was a railway station two miles off*, where a noble lord had given the land for a station and built an hotel of his own Thither I went, after breakfast 156 PILGRIMAGES To OLD HOMES and settling my surprising bill, wliich amounted to five shillings for the lot. Here my tale should have ended, but curiosity, when at ease in my own home, made me look in the Field for the account of the day's stag- -hunting on Exmoor. There I read of the afternoons storm and a blank day. Even in this primitive, unsophisticated moorland inaccuracies will occur, for there was nothing killed, and the deer all lived to eat more turnips. GOING TO MARKET I904 SOMERSET " Wliaii that Aprille witli his shr)wres sute The clroghte of March hath perced to the rote And smale fowles maken nielodye That slepeii al the nyghte with open ye Than longen folk to goon on pylgryniages." THEREFORE, according to Chaucer, when April came with his sweet showers we were to com- plete the pilgrimage that had been stopped by the drenching rains of the previous midsummer. For this journey we took the express train to Bath. The weather was fine when we started, became overcast, and turned to heavy rain. We left our bikes at the station and went off to see the famous city. Manv are the bits of folk-lore respecting it, and the time had come to test them as we could not cycle in the wet. " Go to Bath and get your head shaved " is a piece of advice often given. "When at Bath eat Bath 1)niis" is a simpler recommendation. '' See Bath and die ' is a much sterner one, and the probable fate of any one who recklesslv does the two hrst. We beo^an with the buns. X swallowed his, regardless of consequences. I struggled with one, but thought it more suital)le f >r a cab-horse. Soon we were interested in the never-failing hot waters that rush from tlie wells, and the works of the Romans all around them. The citv autlmrities are 158 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES now taking- care of what for ages has been neglected. Statues of the Roman emperors as large as life stand as if they were meditating a plunge into the steaming water when the band stops playing. We sit down in the damp to watch them. There is the hook-nosed Julius whose troubles in Gaul were such trouble to us in our boyhood. He will soon begin — " Dar'.st thou, Cassius, now Lea]i in with me into this angry Hood, And swim to yonder point ? " Thev are all ready, accoutred as they are, upon this raw and gusty day, to plunge. Mark Antony has come to Imry Ca?sar, not to praise him. He will deliver the oration over the body. As I hesitatingly try to re- member what S. P. Q. R. stands for, X shuts me up bv saying, " Small profits and quick returns ; it's onlv the old bagman's motto; that's what he came here for." The Bath bun, the brass band, and tlie bad weatlier doubt- less disturbed his usual tranquillity. The weather we had to endure. There are many things to see in the o-ioantic and lono- hidden works of the Romans that are now being dug up from under the streets of Bath. Here was civilisation for four centuries, almost before our history begins, and then came long ages of bar- barism when our forefathers abjured w^ater, hot or cold. A bit of the oldest writing in England has lately been found fifteen feet below the level of the King's bath. It is on a leaden tablet that was probably cast into the holy well (as into a spiritual post-office) fifteen or sixteen hundred years ago, and has now been de- ciphered by the Bodleian librarian. It is from Vinisius, a Christian, to Nigra, and mentions Viriconium, that is our well-known Wriconium or Wrekin citv. Damp and dismal we wander about the abbey church and some of the streets feelino- that we cannot cvcle and liad better go on by train to Wells. The local trains i6o PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES are very tantalizing ; they struggle slowly in circuitous ways with trecjuent changes and stops. Nineteen miles is the distance from Bath to Wells by road, and the train took two hours for the journey. We were nearly there when we were taken off at a tangent to a place with the creepy name of Evercreech, changed again, and sent ott' in another direction to Glastonbury ; changed again, and roundabout again. Everywhere and every thing was wet and our prospects were dull. To keep alive and warm we tried gymnastics in the railway carriage. X practises touching the ground without bending his knees, from standing erect and back to position. What boys call " touching toes and up again." I kissed my own toe, or ratlier the boot that enclosed it, but he said that any puljlic man ought to be too stiff in the back for such a [)osition, especially one who was sixty years of age. The next morning the rain had ceased, and though the roads were very slippery and dirty we set off cycling for Glastonbury. There the light was so bad we could not photograph, and on we \\ent through Street, guided by maps and countless enquiries for the curious Gothic manor-house of Lytes Gary. This old liome of the Lytes is very picturesque, bewitching for an artist, tantalizing for a photographer. The projecting gables of the front face to the north-east, and are therefore acrainst the lio-ht of afternoon. Fruit- trees crowd on to the cha})el and the little forecourt. The interior is dark and ruinous. It has long since passed from the family, but descendants of the old stock have resumed the name, and Sir 11. (\ M. Lyte, Keeper of the Records, has written a short history of the place and its lords, from wlience I have gathered many of the following particulars. He is a grandson of the Rev. H. F. Lyte, who composed the well-known liymn, " Abide w^ith me," and I hope he may ere long buy back the home of his ancestors. THE BAY-AVIXDOW. 1 533 i62 PILGRIMAGES To OLD HOMES The earliest mention of tlie name is of William le Lyt, in 1255. Peter le Lyt was the fonnder of the house, and probably built the chapel in 1343. Lyt is a contraction of "little," not of "light" ; the first of the name probably l)eino- a little man. A Thomas Lyte, who is thoug-ht to liave built the hall, had a Pope's Bull in 1439 giving full absolution for the " synnes " of himself and his wife Joan. The date of 1533, and initials I and E on either side of the shield of arms on the central band of the ffreat bav-window, may even be read in our photograph. The letter I and the swans on the dexter side of the shield stand for John Lyte, the E and the horses' heads on the sinister side for liis wife Edith Horsey. Jolm Lvte also built " two great portclies, the oriell, and closets. ' Over the porch is the swan holding the swan - shield of the Lytes, and over the adjoining oriel is a weather-worn beast holding the horsey shield of the Horseys. This John Lyte probably "overbuilt" himself, for in 1539, when abbeys and religious-houses were falling fast all around him, he was summoned to appear before the Abbot of Glastonbury, to whom he owed /, 40. He paid the one-fourth of the amount on the first Friday " in the lytyll parlor uppon the righte honde withyn the gret hall of tlie al)bey " by producing tallies for thirty quarters of wheat, delivered, at the })rice of tenpence a bushel. Then " uppon Saynt Petterys day at Myd- somer then beying Sonday in the gardyng of the said Abbotte's att Glastonbury whilles hio-lie mass M'as syngyng made payment unto the said Alibott of thirtye pounds in good aungell nol)lis." The Abbot said he could not tlien find the bond, but would send it. He never did send it. for he was hano-ed soon after, and John Lyte was ao-ain asked for payment. John Watts, one of the monks, and Lord Stourton, bore witness to the money having ])een paid "in a erber <>f l)ay in tlie gJ^yi'dyng, the Aljbot being LYTES GARY 163 very glad att that tyiiie that hit was payde in golde for the schorte tellying as also he wollyd iiott by his wyll have hit sene att that tyme." It looks as if the old Abbot was perilously like the unjust steward in the parable. Why did he want "short" gold and count it in a garden harbour on Sunday '. It is professional to take money in church on Sundays, but not to trade otherwise. Perhaps he was " very glad " to get it before he was hanged, for he knew it would be no use to him after. John's son, Henry Lyte, of Lytes Carye, Esquire, wrote, or partly translated out of the " Doutche or Almaigne tongue," " A newe Herball or Historie of Plantes," and studied the cultivation of fruit-trees, &c. Forty years after {1618) his son Thomas noted there were then at Lytes Gary " three skore severall sortes of Apples, forty four of Pears and wardens, fifteen divers kynds of Phnnmes, Grapes, Philberts, Figges and many other fruits." Thomas Lyte wrote wonderfully. He made out pedigrees of himself and his king from the Trojan heroes and a bit beyond. Also something possibly more useful on " Gookerye," " Husbandrye," "Physike" [might be dangerous], " Markett matters," " Divers good instruc- tions wdiich I had found Ijy to deer experience in husbandrye in our clay countrye to be trew." The experience about the pedigree was not " to deer," though he wrote on vellum in a hand fairer than any print, and illuminated in " ritcli coulers"; for King James gave him a miniature of himself, by Nicholas Halliard, set in gold, with his initials in diamonds. This jewel was lately sold for ^2835, its original cost having probably been about as many pence. Another pedigree, more than twelve feet wide, gives the descendants of his grandparents John and Edith, wdio were married in 1521, Eight hundred and thirty-eight of tliem had accumulated in the 1 12 years to i64 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES A.D. 1633. A great tribute to the industry and luck of the family. He writes : " This Genealogie was collected by Tliomas Lyte of Lytes Carie, Esquire, Anno 1633 . . . not for any ostentation of birth or kinred, knowing, as saythe Job, that corruption is our mother and the wormes our sisters and brethren. . . ." Several members of the family are recorded as being by great misfortune " brent ' or drowned. Jane was " not so fortunat as fayre/' Another Jane was " twise maried, tasted both of pros- perity and adversitie.' The portraits of several are o'iven in their old-fashioned costumes. In 1 63 I he ''repayred" the chapel, adorning it with gorgeous shields of arms around the walls ; seventeen on the north side were of men's only ; twenty of women's on the south side. Their faded remnants now are all forlorn. Other parts of the house are sadly interesting. The great hall is utterly darkened ; used as a cider- cellar, its once splendid roof is all decaying, angels on the corbels hold the proud emblazoned shields of arms, but their wings drop otf with rot and damp behind the barrels of the drink below\- The elaborate cornice, the pierced tracery, the delicate pinnacles, are wasting their beauty in the dark, unseen and uncared for. The oaken panelling throughout the rooms is ashen grey, slowly decaying, but often very fine. Up a round staircase of wide stone steps we pass through a door- way into a little vestibule screened oflP from the great chamber by an oaken screen of linen-{)attern panels carved with flowers and crested with pinnacles. It is well worth better preservation, as it is uncommonly fine. One side of the great chamber is full of win- dows, and the coved ceiling of ornamental plaster is decked with the swans of Lyte and the horses' heads of Horsey. Dowii the stone stairs we jro to the o-reat vaulted cellars, reminiscent of the revelry of Ions: agfo. A THE CHAPEL. LYTES GARY L 2 i66 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES little slit in the wall by the claTs end of the oriel, or private dining-room that was built off the great hall, is another curious relic. Through it scraps of the feast could be passed by lord or lady to the beggars without, but as it is onlv the size of the drunistick of a goose or turkey, when held upright, the charity would be carefully dispensed. On the inside of the wall there was probably a shutter, Ijut no glass. In the country homes of England there was for ages a custom that no beggar should be turned empty away. At least something should be given, if only bread and water. In some great houses the hospitality was unbounded, but nowadays it is the number of tramps and vagrants that is unbounded. Our bicycles were sheltering in an enormous cruci- form barn. The tenant kindly showed us round and directed us to another ancient house called the Abbey farm. At Charlton Makerel Church where the Lytes were buried many of their effigies or mementoes were preserved, but all have been lost, for what escaped the reformer has been destroyed by the restorer. In the afternoon the light became better and we hurried back to Glastonbury, where at last we could photograph, though only for a short time. Then to the Pilgrim's Inn, where tliey still take pilgrims in. The next day was Sundav, the weather beinp' fine but dull. It took us an hour to go three miles up the Mendips ; then in a bleak country and on bad roads we cycled another fourteen miles to Norton St. Philip, where is the wonderful old inn with the rich brown cider. Here we rested and piiotographed, re- turning through the town of Frome, where the roads are steep and twisting like a corkscrew held upright. The little village of Nunney we ibund asleep among the hills. Here is a castle or fortitied manor-house encircled by a moat, a small river bubbling past cottages built at all angles, with a cliurcli upon tlie furtlier i68 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES bank. Sir Joliu Delamare liad licence to crenellate it in 1373. The family tonil)s are in the clinrch. Leland wrote of it : " A praty castle havynge at eche End by Northe and Southe 2 praty rownd Towres gatheryd by Gumpace to joyne into one. The Waulles be very stronge and thykke, the Stayres narrow, the lodginge somewhat darke." We went into a farmyard to photograph the castle, and iinfortnnately asked permission first instead of after. A woman came and solemnly asked if we thought the Lo]'d would prosper such work. I replied that we could tell better when we saw how the exposures developed. She told us to go away and come another day. We replied w^e should never come again. She forbade us to do any work in her yard that was not " Holy unto the Lord," and ours was not Avork fit for the Sabbatli. We e'ot one view of the castle from the lane outside her gate, and readers must use their own judgment as to whether or not the Lord blessed the work. We committed w^orse sins than photographing, for X was cross, saying it was like narrow-minded church-folk, and it was throuofh me o-oins: to the cathedral in the morn- ing to what he called " Early Mass." He felt sure the woman was a self-righteous church goer, so I offered to Ijet him that she was a dissenter, one of those rabid dissenters who would dissent from everything or any- thing. As the contention was sharp between us, we went to the inn to settle the matter. They were not too religious to supply us witli tea at tlie inn, for it was not far from the cliurch and they would probably be church-folk, as they seemed deliglited to tell us that our female lecturer was a " primit-tive." Refreshed nnd llap})3^ w^e set off again to climb the Mendips and find our way l)y Shepton Mallet back to Wells. I constantly preached caution of the misfor- tunes that suddenly come u})on the wicked, such as side-slip on the greasy roads; or the jirosperity of the fjr. ^3;j^.- NUNNEY CASTLE lyo PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES ungodly being cut short if they free-wheeled downhill too fast ; or the calamity that niiMit overtake us in a motor-car ; but no troubles befell us, for which we were duly thankful. We are told cycling on the Sabbath is a sill, photographing another sin, ])etting another, and entering a pul)lic-house worse and Avorse — iniserair, miserrDiios. Would it have been better to have spent that Sunday evenino- in the fresh air of the hills witli the chorus of the birds in the gladness of spring- tide, or with a headache in church tryino- to make sense out of what a parson might shout at you, the incoherent raving that he thinks is pure Gospel ? Mile after mile of banks and woods all carpeted A\itli primroses we rode through — cartloads of primroses, tons of them, in profusion everywhere. I asked a farmer who leaned over a gate if there were any Tories in this country. He replied, " Oh, aye, zur, there be a vew left- yet." I explained to him that where we came from every primrose for miles had been stolen or conveyed by the Tories, and if he could sell those of his they would fetch more than his wheat. He opened a mouth that reminded me of a butcher's shop, and would have traded there and then if it had not been Sunday. Three miles of Morions rolling- down the hills l^rinos us to where the o-rev towers of Wells rise above the encircling mist, and the light fades rapidly as we descend among the trees of the little city. Our next day was to be a busy one at Bradford- on-Avon. We set off by train, but when changing carriages at Frome a postman marvelled at us as being not quite right. He was a cyclist, knew the roads, and said we should go quicker and pleasanter by road than by the trains of that country, so we tlirew the railway tickets away and went. The celebrated Saxon church was the first object of oin- pilgrimage. I had not previous! v heard the BRADFOED-OX-AYON 171 theory that it was orin-jnahv hiiilt without either floors or windows. Then the chapel on the l)ridge we photographed in intervals of tratBc. Wl:ien used as a lock-up it would be very convenient to let some of the baser sort through a false floor into the river below. This Broad-ford of the Avon has a long; historv. Kinof BRADFORD-ON-AVON Lear may have seen the British defeated at Braden- ford in 652. The o-rand old manor-house of South Wraxall was easy to find and well worth the seeing. It is of many styles and ages. The terraced courtyard reminded me of Houo-hton Tower, but here roses bloom, and all seems built for more peaceful neighbours and a milder clime. The fierce fighting and the wild revelry that raged round Houghton would here seem out of place, SOUTH WRAXALL MANOR-HOUSE 174 PILGEIMAGES TO OLD HOMES even the flimilv leirends are milder, more of a milk-and- water tyj^e. A second wife makes her stepson drunk and ahenates his father from him, which is common enough in any pohce court ; but a httle romance is woven into the tradition here, for, as the family lawyer draws up the old man's unjust will, a ghostly hand three times obscures the light, scaring even " the devil's own " from the dirty job. But another of the legions of Evil e'ets it done and the testator dead. Then the first one tells how he, as an honest lawyer, would not unduly influence the dying man, and there are words and scenes, and a renunciation of the will before the burial is allowed. The bereaved widow, contrary to promise, soon marries again, and the picture of lier former husband falls upon her, causing her to weep, while others jeer. South Wraxall has been owned by the Long family for centuries. Leland says that a lord Hungerford set a man named Long Thomas on some land. He, or his sons, developed into Thomas Long, and one of them " could skille of the law " and stuck to the land, having two " sunnes Syr Henrv and Syr Richard." A Sir W. Long fought at Edgehill for the Parliament sometime after becomino- Rovalist. Part of the house was built about 1430, and considerably more at the end of the sixteenth century. Some of the mantel-})ieces are dated 1575 and 1598. The drawing-room has a very elaborate one with figures of Prudentia, quite proper for the place ; Arithmetica, a female doing sums in a book ; Geometria, with instruments not very suitable for a drawing-room ; and Justicia, with scales apjDa- rently unjustly balanced. Many other details may be seen in the photograph ; also a bit of the very fine ceiling, but nothing of the grand window. The mantel- piece in the dining-room is uncommonly original. Two Ionic colimms rise to the ceiling ; between them are two shields or panels having Latin mottoes on them, and between them sits a baboon on a bracket inscribed THt; UliAWlNG-ROUM THE GATEHOUSE M 178 PILGEIMAGES TO OLD HOMES " Mors rapit oiiinia." Around tliem all are flowers, fruit, and human heads, tor the baboon or death to carry otf when dinner is over. In the recess in tlie wall is some tine china, and there are more things worth noting in this fine old house than we have time for. The most picturesque bit is the gatehouse, but a modern architect has put as ugly a modern patch alongside it as he could imagine. Why any one should let him do it is more than I can imagine. The gate- house has narrow, circular stairs, leading to the room wdth the beautiful oriel window. There are squints to see who might be at tlie gate, and the chimney is well worth notice ; also the grotesque gargoyles in the courtyard. Within about two miles of South Wraxall is another fine old house at Great Chalfield. It is jjrobably of fifteenth century date, but being used as a farm is not so well preserved as the other. We were told there was nothing inside the house, and as it was evident we were not wanted we soon departed. The photo- graphs had to be taken against the light, and therefore the extremely beautiful oriel windows, the carved stone, and the four pinnacles or finials to the gables show badly. These finials are said to be men in armour of the time of Henry VI. Masks of stone with perfora- tions for the eyes are lying hy the wall of tlie house. They may have been built into the hall at some time for secret services, but little is known of them or the history of the house. It is believed a man named Thomas Tropenell built both the hall and the chapel about 1450 to 1490, and inscribed his motto on it, " Le joug tyra bellement." If this means, " The yoke sits beautifullv," we may infer he married for money and s])('nt it on the house. Extensive farm-buildings appear to include ruined fortifications ; the chapel abuts on the lawn in front of the house, and a moat engirdles all. The estate is said to be small, to have been owned BARRIXGTON COUIiT iSi by iiiany families, and to have suti'ered, like so many others, from the lawyers. The next day, Tuesday, we went by train to Yeovil, very undecided as to our further journey, but making Barrington ( Jourt the goal of our day's pil- Some enterprising land - agent had tried 1 L i i lit -i 'w^MH^^^^M ^^^H6-v--j3*^^^^ m ^^^^^.._ ...^-. ---'S^^j^^H?^,./,:...' ... ..___t.^ ■"■^5* mm ^v 1 '"■■i:*." —iS _,, GREAT CHALFIELD MANOR-HOUSE fo sell Barrington Court to X, telhng him it was one of the finest houses in Enodand. to be sold for a tithe CI of its cost. This is not verv untrue, and we hear it has since been sold to the Society for the Preservation of Places of Historic Interest. The ditiicultv is to lind the place, and that little diihculty rather deliglits us. If we had known that Trent was the next station to Yeovil we sliould have visited the village and tried to have seen the hall, for it has one of the undoubted M 2 MONTACUTE i8 o hiding-holes used by the young Charles for many days in his flio-ht from Boscobel. We avoided the town of Yeovil and went west, quite unexpectedly coming to a very large farmyard with fine old Gothic barn and house. From the name on tlie carts it is Preston Abbey farm, and that is all I know about it. It stands by the roadside, venerable and picturesque. Ere lone: we came to a villa a'e where even the cottages looked like bits of abbeys — time-worn stone and Gothic architecture. The natives have evidently never known anything else ; and let us hope they never will. The manor-house is one of the noted houses of EnofLind, but we have neither letter of introduction nor time to stay. We did photograph the gatehouse of the ruined priory. It was built about 1520, and is now used as a farm. Behind it is the conical hill, or Moas acutus, which gave the place its name of Montacute. The hill appears to be called Hamdon, famous among builders for its quarries of good stone, among antiquaries for its ancient camp, and among believers in the miraculous for the finding thereon of the Holy Cross of Waltham. Our next stopping-place was Stoke-sub- Hamdon, where, in our ignorance or natural depravity, w^e never went to see an ancient church that conq)rises every known or unknown style of architecture, but spent some time in an inn, the Fleur-de-Lis, w^iich has an arched doorway, a big room full of ' ale or cider barrels, and other signs of having been connected with bygone ecclesiastical establishments. A " boozy " customer told us he would show us a rare old castle that was now a butcher's shop if we would stand him a pint, and that would cost three-ha'pence. " Woe unto him that eiveth his neio-hbour drink ! " Hardened sinners as we are, we chanced it, and were rewarded with a beautiful jiicture. Tlirough a tine archway of stone we enter a neglected court, or yard, wherein are remnants of THE BACK-WAY TO THK BUTCHER'S SHOP, STOKESUB-Jl AM DON i86 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES ancient buildings, a ruined dovecot, l)ack premises of modern shops spoiling a gable crowned with bell-cot. Our guide calls this the castle, though castle, church, and tombs we cannot see. Lord Beauchamp here built his fortitied manor-house in 1333, where also were chapel and college for priests; but all seems to have vanished into dust as he has, save this picturesque entry, up which our guide says we can go and buy mutton-chops. The place, like so many others, was spoiled in the reign of Edward YL, a small part being rebuilt by Strode, who left his mark on it in 1585. It is written : "In the multitude of counsellors is wisdom,'" but the nudtitude of ways we were told to o'o from the Fleur-de-Lis to Barrino-ton Court was rather confusing. We wandered on by many twisting, devious lanes to the house we sought, to find doctors in consultation over a case of serious illness, and therefore we did not enter. Externally, the house is a magnificent stone building. The pliotograph shows seven gables in front and otliers at the side, each crowned with three twisted pinnacles matching twisted chimneys, and all in Avarm-coloured stone. It is not known who built it, but the very absence of armorial bearings would show me it was built by the Colonel Strode who was so active in the Civil War on the side of Parliament. He and his wife were of families of wealthy clothiers who probably had not inherited arms and disdained the vanity. I had difiiculty in finding or hearing any history of Barringtoii, when suddenly, in reading about tlie C^ivil War in Somerset, I came upon a very drainatic bit. William Strode, the son of a clothier in Shepton Mallet, was a factor, or merchant, with Spain, who married a wealthy heiress named Barnard. He was one of the first passive resisters, though he was not very passive ; for, when they seized his cow for ship- money and sold it for ^3, los. od. when it was worth BARRIN'GTOX COURT i88 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES £6, he rescued the cow and sued tlie coustable. The matter was referred to the bishop, aud he told the bishop he did uot examine the slieriti' as he should. What flat blasphemy I In the next few years he bou^-ht large estates and was made a Deputy Lieutenant for the Comity. He advanced money to the parliament and Avas a Colonel in the army ; was defeated at Glastonbury ; and elected knight of the shire at Ilchester. Pride's purge tm^ned him out of parliament. He was imprisoned and fined. Then his sympathies were for bringing back the king, but after the restoration he was at loggerheads again about sending horses and men for the militia. Here are some of his own words relating to the one day's history of the old house we had journeyed to see. "Tuesday, lo September 1661. — Cornett Higdon with thirty or forty troopers came to Barrington howse and entred the hall armed, sent for Mr. Strode, seised upon him in his hall, told him he was his prisoner. Mr. Strode asked him by Avhat warrant, hee layd liis hand on his sword and sayd This. . . . Then sayd Mr. Strode he is very old and weake and desired to know whither he should go. Higdon told him he should know that when he came thither. One of the troopers held him. Mr. Strode showed liim a letter of protection from the Duke of Ormonde. Higdon ranted and made a bussell, sayd his authority was by his side and he would take him dead or alive and would not let him out of his sight. Soe hee sent for his bootes and other things and they took him to Ivill- chester, six miles a wearysome journey and kept him in an Inne, the George. Guards attendinge him when he went to bed and he was seventy two years old and very ill. Savs he was a Presbiterian and had been soe ever since he knew what religion was . . . 'tis a hard matter to lye in alehouses so longe and be Sl I90 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES caiTved about in trvumphe three dayes and made a spectacle of scorne." Coloner Helver says Strode was a "most dangerous false person avIio had falsified his word before and the cornett was chidd. He was a presbiterian and therefore ao-ainst the kina' and church. He had to go on his knees before the king- and neighbours and heg pardon for his manv sins. " History does not say whetlier he was converted. What a grand subject for a picture by some fashion- able artist would this forgotten scene in Barrington Court be I The fine old hall, with the ofiicer and troopers of the king, every one of them a model of grace and beauty, arrayed in the sumptuous trappings of war. In true cavalier fashion the young cavalier shows liis sw^ord for his warrant, and one can almost see the old Presbyterian shrivel up, with sprouting of horns and tail, as he feels his time has come to be confronted with his betters, possibly by His Holiness a Bishop. We have here another glimpse of Merry England at its merryest. Tlie reaction from Puritanic rigour was unbounded. The great Norman nobles were extermi- nated in the Wars of the Roses, and the new nobility, made of base courtiers wdio had fattened on the plunder of the charities, were being leavened in their highest ranks by the bastards of the king. From Barrinjrton to our bed at Wells was more than twenty miles of unknown country. I liad notes to remind me of Martock and Muchelney if we were near to them, but there was barely time to see one of them. Martock was further from the homeward way, so we left it, though the church tower is said to be one of the finest of the manv fine towers in Somerset. A fine ruined liall is a worksho]). and a chapel-barn used for " ordinary non- conformity, whatever that may mean among the two hundred odd sects of Christians in our free country. MUCHELXEY ABBEY 191 Mucheliiey Abbev, foiiiided on an island in the swamps A.D. 939, prospered for centuries, and is now a farmhouse, where the cliief event of the day is milk- ing time, and we unfortunately happened on it. The abbot's room is well preserved and very fine, but we had to be content with seeing- the cider- cellars, where fan-vaulted roofs and panelled walls of stone are the artistic remnants of the '" studious cloysters' pale." ■■^■hs0: MUCHELNEY ABBEY Never in om- Avanderincrs had we seen anvthino- like the ruined religious houses and the still stately churches that we saw this dav. We had no time to see the in- side of any churcli, for we wished to cvcle through the countrv, visitino- the ancient homes : but in a ride of tliirty to forty miles we pasised Yeovil, Preston Abbey farm, Montacute Priory, Beauchamp (Jollege or Chapel, Stoke-sub-Hamdon, South Petherron, Shepton Beau- champ, Kingslmry Episcopi, Muchelney Church and Abbev, Huish Episcopi (a magnificent tower and Norman doorway), Somerton, Glastonburv, Wells — the names 192 PlLGPvTMAOES TO OLD HOMES alone are suggestive of tlie times and the work of those who named them. Within a few miles of Barrington I find on the map six places named after six saints, and the coinitrv round is sparsely peopled with farmers or husbandmen. It is said of a district where we wandered through a few years ago that the chief products of the land are pigs and parsons ; here the pigs seemed to have ''■^'" : jr- SOM EETON gained on the parsons, for although the churches are wondrously fine, the houses around are comparatively few and far between. Cattle are tethered in the once holy precincts, swine have their sties in the courts, and in many cases the beautifully sculptured liomes of the religious have fallen into heaps of stones. " The heathen are come into thine inheritance ; thy lioly temple have they defiled and made an heap of stones." PARSONS 193 After the lapse of nearly four centuries the great crhne of robbing the charities and the destruction of the homes and works of art that generations of men had spent their lives, their labour, and their wealth in beautifying, is liorrible to those who think of it. It is doubtful if any king or courtiers, however rapacious they may have been, could have done it if the people had resolutely opposed it ; but they all seem to have been sickened of the monks and clergy, and to have let the lands left for pious purposes be confiscated by a vile king instead of having the management of the charities reformed. It was confiscation, not reformation, they got, and possibly they deserved it ; but cui boitof In our Church of England to-day the presentation of a parson to a " ciu'e of souls" may be bought and sold. A young man gets up in a pulpit and preaches nonsense. In any other assembly of men he would be shown his errors and he miglit improve ; but to con- tradict the most blatant nonsense, or even in extreme cases to rebuke insults, would be brawling in church. If he locks up and leaves idle his church and school for six days in the seven there is no appeal. The preacher soon becomes more self-conceited, more convinced of his own righteousness, if not of his infallibility, intolerant of others, and quarrelsome until it is often said the parson is the most intolerant and quarrelsome man in his parish. He may pluck up and throw aw^ay the flowers a parishioner has planted on his mother's grave because that man lias not asked his permission to })lant in the rector's freehold and })aid a fee for so doing. Even in our day charities left for the good of all when filtered through the fingers of a parson are oft diverted to his favourites only; and reasoning from the present to the past, it seems to me that in the great da y of trouble when the clergy were called to account, the people hated them and let them fall, though in doing so they lost what was their own. N BUR 195 Wednesday, the next day, was one of the most satisfactory that we ever had. We were so satisfied with cycling against the wind on a good road, that when we had to chmb the Quantocks with a gale from the Atlantic fnll against us, and encumbered with luggage, we were almost too tired to walk. We took the train to Bridgewater, and without tarrying there — for we had had to change carriages twice in a few miles — sought the uncommonly quaint old manor-house of Bur, or West Bower. Tlie curious turrets of stone contain some charming glass with forjnal roses and archaic letters. M, that probably stood for Malet, also stands for Moss, and, as a new front door was wanted for my house, I copied the glass and got some old oak beams to make another door. There is an enormous circular dove- cot with thatched roof, walls of mud three feet thick, and nests for one thousand pairs of pigeons. It is now used as a storehouse for mangolds, and an excellent storehouse it makes. In this queer old manor-house Sir John Seymour is said to have had eight children, the eldest of whom, Jane, became the mother of King Edward VI. Fortunately for her, she, in old-fashioned phrase, soon took good ways. Going westerly, we made our way in pleasant country towards the Quantock hills. Slightly rising ground at Nether Stowey caused us to walk, when suddenly my eye caught a tablet in the wall of a small liouse by the road, " Here Samuel Taylor Coleridge made his home, 1 797-1800." He described it as a miserable hovel, but it has evidently been restored, so we left it alone. It was along the way on which we were going that he and Wordsworth conceived and began that undying poem, "The Bime of the Ancyent Marinere" — a poem that for all time to come holds up to scorn the wretch who shot tlie harmless albatross. It is an easy one for boys to learn, and %9iff BUR MANOIJ (OE COUET) THE DOVECOT 198 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES some like the recitation. The following bits are from the original version : — " It is an aiicyeiit Marin ere And he stoppeth one of three. By thy long grey beard and glittering eye Now wherefore stoppest me ? Water, water, every where. And all the boards did shrink ; Water, water, every where, Ne any drop to drink." We saw nothing of the ghastly crew witli tlie glazing eyes, that could not die ; but we went wdiere — And— " The hermit good lived in that wood Which slopes down to the sea." " Sometimes a dropping from the sky We heard the Lavrock sing : Sometimes all little birds that are How they seem'd to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning. A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune." In the wooded hills to our left is Alfoxton Park, an old manor-house that Wordsworth tenanted, furnished, f^r £-3 a year. A remote and quiet place in a beautiful country. But the owners soon gave him notice to quit, for it was said that he and his sister Dorothv went mooning about the hills at all times and in all weather, possibly without their hats. They also consorted witli two dangerous republicans, Coleridge and Southey, who were staying in the neighbourhood, and all three of them wa'ote poetry which w^as not understood in that country. Wordsworth wrote about a little girl THE QUANTOCKS 199 with curly bair who could not count seven correctly, and also of a general merchant to whom — " A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more." when he ouo-ht to have known that it would be a political emVjlem worn by a sect of Christians in the worship of one of their saints who ate primroses as salad in the church's Lenten fast. If the peasants on these lonely hills had anv tradi- tions of the past they might well be suspicious of strangers. Here are some extracts, packed or patched together, of the history of some of the Quantock lands. Several manors were owned by Henry Courtenay, Marquis of Exeter, in 1539. He was a possible heir to the throne, for his mother was daughter to Edward IV. Therefore the jealous tyrant, Henry VIII., had him beheaded, and settled his estates upon his tifth new queen. Then her head was chopped off, and the estates reverted to the Crown. To the joy of Christendom, the Head of the Church was taken away, and his son, Edward VI., gave the estates to the Duke of Somerset, who was already one of the most prosperous men on earth ; for he had acquired untold spoils from churches, schools, and charities. But ere lono- he also literallv lost his head, and the estates were given to the Duke of Northumberland. Then the sickly king died. His sister, " bloodv " Marv, succeeded him. and beofan aofain. She soon had the duke's head chopped off, and gave the estates to a Courtenay. Ere long this man died " on his own," to use a local phrase, so he was luckier than his predecessors. In about fifteen years there appear to have been ten changes of ownership — kings and queens and the greatest nobles in England were lords of the land. One queen, a couple of dukes, and an odd marquis, all had their heads chopped off. We 200 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES hear little of their serfs, the poor peasantry, during these exciting times. They were happiest who lived their lives most like to their cattle. If they essayed higher fates, the burning faggot, the hangman's rope, the sword, or the dagger, awaited them. If the Anointeds of the Lord, the Heads of the Church, the illustrious nobles, behaved as they did, is it any wonder if the lonely dwellers in the Quantocks gave the radical poets notice to quit ? Our day's journey was along one of the finest roads in England, through a country rich and varied in its soil and scenery, and full of interest, historical, literary, warlike, and sporting. It was a day of very hard work, for we were heavily laden, travelling against a wind that on hig-h. Pfround became a sfale. Rest for the weary came at Quantockshead. Oh, what a blessing was tea with Devonshire cream, iiome-made preserves from native fruit, and butter freshly made from the juice of cows I I hereby note the remem- brance of our enjoyment, heedless of the critic's scoff or scorn when he reviews this book over his dirty pipe. We had left Wells in the morning, passing through Glastonbury, going by Edington, pi'obably the site of Alfred's great battle of Aethandune against the Danes ; Sedgemoor, scene of the last great slaughter of English- men on Eno'lish soil ; alonu- many a mile of rich alluvial plains where the cattle fatten in peace in green pastures ; and further on tlie road rises towards the hills, where the cattle give place to sheep, greyish brown sheep in greyish brown fields, and higher up are the woods and the wild hills where remnants of the lordly red- deer roam, and the sea comes in sight on our right hand, nearer to us as we mount higher, " the stately ships go sailing by " ; but the wind from the ocean blows us to a walk until the corner is turned, and one of the grandest scenes on England's rocky coast is all A GLORIOUS SCENE 20I before us. The hills of the o-reat forest of Exmoor are brown or blue as light and distance sliade them. On Minehead's rock the waves are dashing-. 'i'here seems no limit to the view o'er sea and land, from the dim coasts of Wales by the islands in the Channel to the blue haze of hills bevond the Beacon of Dunkerv. A BIT OF CLKEVE ABBEY Close below are charming parks and pleasaunces at St. Audries, where woods and gardens seem to slope right down to the shore amid the foam of the sea. Very reluctantly we had to leave the fair scene and go "'freeling'' down to lower ground. Past Watchet we went for Cleeve to photograph tlie beautiful ruins of its little abbey. We found the bio^ youno- woman 202 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES and her father havino- a consultation about some duck- lings in the cloisters. On seeing me, she said, " Oh, I know you.' I replied, " Very likely. I'm well known to the police," and was amused to hear her father say, " I don't know vou, and I've bin in the force over thirty yeer." Our pictures of bits of the Cistercian Abbey of Cleeve must tell their own tale. Great care is now taken of the fragments and ruins that are left. In the custodian's garden, among the beds of onions and potatoes, are beds of tiles shielded from the sun and rain. Imperishable tiles that bear the arms of Plan- tagenets and Norman nobles who once were donors to the abbey of what they had gotten, possibly, by force or fraud from others ; and now the tiles alone are all there is to keep the once proud lords in remembrance. Even in our time, we are told. Christians come and steal, or, shall we say, convey, these old armorial shields, unless they are carefully watched. It is diffi- cult not to covet many things, but in some the interest or value is lost when they are torn from their home. There is a bell-cot, or projecting shelter for a bell, high up on the wall of the refectory that now is crowned with polypody ferns, though the bell is gone that told the monks when the eels were nicely fried or the carp and egg sauce were ready. It was a shame to take the bell, as it would be to take even the ferns from the turret : fortunately they are out of reach. At the east end of the once splendid refectory, or hall, is a large faded painting or fresco of the crucified Christ. To the right of it is a recess for a pulpit, where one of the brothers could read scriptural in- junctions about eating too much or lecture tlie others on the sin of gluttony while he watched the feeding. Pigeons, or it might appear more religious to say doves, cooed among the beams of the roof and hovered 204 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES over the liolv rood. Tlie bird of wisdom snored in hidden crannies, and chattering shepsters scolded our intruding presence. Jackdaws w^ere scarce — probably the police-sergeant took care of his daughter's duck- lings and chickens ; but all seemed peaceful and happy now, and we enjoyed our little rest l)efore the lono- dav's last stao-e to Dunster. AXCIEXT OVKRMANTEL AT TlllO LUTTKKLL ARMS On the following morning we began photographing before breakfast, Ijut the light was dull all day, and it was our seventh day from liome. A l)ack wing of tlie Luttrell Arms inn was the first bit to take, and a more ])icturesque kitchen it would be difficult to find if we omit the grander one at Glastonbury. In an upper ro(.m ail overmantel in plast(^)' shows some curious THE PRKSEXT FRONT DOOR OP DUXSTER CASTLE 2o6 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES costumes of about a.d. 1620. The centre panel has three trees with three dogs eating a man. The women at the sides look the other way and seem grotesquely pleased. Having a letter of invitation from the squire, or King of Dunster as he is locally termed, to visit him in the castle, we waited impatiently until it was probable he was comfortably downstairs and had read his letters before we presented ourselves. The old gentleman re- ceived us himself; very kindly showed us round, and left us to photograph anything we liked. Then the em- barrassment of riches and fugitive time bothered us. The very rare, interesting coranii, or leather hangings required long exposure for some parts, while the shiny surface reflected light in others. They are believed to be of seventeenth century date and Venetian or Italian workmanshi}), painted and glazed, representing Antony and Cleopatra with their courtiers. The original Chippendale chairs and settees we understood better, and were told they had not been out of the castle since they were made. China teacups with the arms of Luttrell were made in China before any one in England could make them. Many other treasures were courteously shown to us by the squire, his lady, and daughter. The staircase is w^ondrously massive yet finely carved, and the profile head of Carolus 11. dates it. There is a secret and dark hiding-hole behind the bed in one room. A fireplace is dated 1620 and a coat-of-arms 1589. A ceiling, elaborately ornamented in ])laster and dated 1681, was shown as being very fine ; but infinitely finer to me was the view from the window. It would seem impossible to have a fairer scene than tliat across the sea to distant Wales and the Quantock hills, with the park and miles of wooded country far below the lordly tower on the height. The extreme top of the tor is now a gardeii or bowlinof-pfreen, for when the castle was " sleio-hted," or THE GRAND STAIRCASE, DUXSTER THE OLDEST DOOK (EDWARDIAN) 2IO PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES reduced, in 1650, the keep and St. Steven's Cliapel, wliich had been there four hundred years, were totally de- molished. The buildings that remain are of ages far apart from one another. Existing documents tell many interesting bits in the history of Dunster, and have been fortunately pul)lished or edited by Sir Maxwell Lyte in " Dunster and its Lords." To that work, and also to his writings on Lytes Gary, I am much indebted. The most curious thing in the long and chequered history of that " right goodly and stronge Gastelle of Dunestorre '" is that only once has it ever been bought and sold ; and then l^y one widow to another. At the Conquest the de Moion, Mohun, Moyon, or Moon, &c., turned out Aluric the Saxon and held the Torre. It was then washed by the sea, and in 1183 the reeve of Dunster was heavily fined for exporting corn from England. In 1376 Dame Joan de Mohun, or Moun, sold the succession to the castle and manor, and the manors of Minehead and Kelton, and the Hundred of Carhampton, to Lady Elizabetli Luterel for live thou- sand marks, the equivalent of ^3333, 6s. 8d. ; but that sum should be multiplied Ijy a himdred to make the equivalent more just at present values. The original recei])t given for the money is still in existence among the documents of the castle. Lady I^uterel was a Courtenay, grand-daughter of Edward I., and died before Dame Joan, but Sir Hugh Lutrell, her son, got the estates after years of litigation. Sir Hugh was "Great Seneschall of Xormandie," received the surrender of several French towns in the time of Henry V., and l)uilt the present gatehouse to the castle in 141 9. Like Sir Hugh Calveley of Cheshire and others, he was doubtless ei niched with the spoils of France. Inventories of his plate are in existence ; for instance, "an liie coppe ycoveryd with ft-theris yplomyd." In 1460 Jamys, or James, Lutrell took up arms for the Lancastrians and died of wounds received at the THE LFTTP.ELLS 211 second battle of 8t. Alhans. Edward IV. gave his estates to Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, who kept them till the other side had him beheaded, when his son succeeded him. It was not till after Bosworth fioht o and twentv-four years had passed that vonnu" Huirh Loterel got his own again, with the experience that lawyers were as bad as civil war. At the " Reformation " the Lnttrells secured the Priorv of Duiister. witli its appurttMiancrs : Init when Queen Marv came to the throne she was told that the Thomas Luttrell of her day had married a wife to whom his mother had been godmother, and therefore the married couple " in religion '' were brother and sister. This was a crime endano-erino- excommunication, and only the Pope could rectify the awful consequences. Of course they got off by paying fees or blackmail ; but it does seem very hard that such an ideal arrange- ment as a vouno- man marrviuff a airl to whom his mother had been godmother, and had therefore known her from a child, and her parents before her, should be an excuse for plunder. Thomas seems to have been impetuous in other matters, for he died young, leaving his son in ward to a London laAvyer. Naturally, the lawver robbed every- body — more or less according to law. He appears to have Ijought the tithes, and paid a curate eight pounds a year to do the clergyman's work, to claim a shoulder of every deer as tithe, and, worst of all, to have young Luttrell, aged about fifteen, engaged to his daughter, who. the neighbours said, was "a slutt." and the boy would be " utterlie cast away in mariing with such a mi.serees daughter." The young heir was wed at twentv, and possibly the father-in-law soon died ; for George Luttrell spent much money in rebuilding parts of the castle. Somewhere about 1 600 he erected the charming octa- gonal market-cross in the street near to the inn. In his son's time came the Civil War, Duiister was K-v^ THE GATEHOUSE OF I4I9. FROM OUTSIDE i^ST^-V; THE GATEHOUSE OF I419. FROM JNSIDE O 2 2 14 PILGRIMAGES TO OLD HOMES held for the parHameiit, given up t<> the king, besieged b\" parliament for i6o days, and surrendered. Twenty men of the garrison were killed, and four shillings and eightpence spent in bell-ringing for the victory. During the siege a shi]) from Wales anchored at Watchet for the relief of the g-arrison ; but the tide left it nearly drv, and Popham's troopers, who were literally liorse- marines, rode into the water and took the ship. Omitting all modern history of the most interesting castle, church, and town of Dunster and its lords, it should be noted that since the ( ivil War many great alterations have inevitably been made. In 17 6 a carriage -drive was made around and up the castle hill, being further extended, in 1763, with a bold sweep ascending- to a new front door on the north-west side of the house, the former front door being on the other side, on the slope. Important additions were made to the castle in recent years. Tlie tower on Conygar hill, which is such a conspicuous landmark at the other end of the village street, was built in 1775. and in 1825 the timber-sheds in the main road were swept away, to its immense improvement. The Dunster estate corresponds very closely with that which the Luttrells bought from the Mohuns in the reign of Edward III., augmented by lands inherited at Quantockshead and Withycombe. The family arms generally used were a bend V)et\veen six martlets, but in the course of time many differences and variations were adopted. The crest was a fox, and it is amusing to read in the chapter on the heraldry in the book above quoted, that when Sir John Lutn-l]. about 1428, took an otter for his badge, the lawyers oljjected. They would naturally prefer a fox. It would seem that the family name may originally have been Norman, meaning " little otter." The beautifully illustrated " Loutrell " psalter that is well known to antiquaries as showing the dress, armour, 2i6 PILdlUMAGES TO OLD HOMES and arms of its period, was illuminated for Sir Geoffrey of Iriiham, Lincolnshire, about 1340. Under the head- ing, " Dns Galfridus Louterell me fieri fecit," he, his horse, wife, and daughter are represented in full dress, every inch bedecked with bends and martlets. Of all the stately homes of England that in our little wanderings we have seen, Dunster Castle is the most beautifully stately. The grand houses in the classic style of Grecian temples or Italian palaces where many of our English nobles dwell convey no sense of home to me. They are too stift' and formal for happi- ness. Comfort could not exist in their frigid grandeur. The nooks and corners of the many-gabled, timbered halls of Cheshire and the country round are the homes for cosy comfort ; or the old gardens where the roses grow on the walls of the house, and the twilight brings again the sad and happy memories. The castle at Dunster has grown with the times, its stones bearing record to the cha.nges in the liome life of Englishmen. Graduallv has the fortress become the comfortable home. No modern sham or classical monstrosity is here ; neither has the name of castle or fimily been changed. Morris has not assumed tlie name and arms of De Montmorency, Vilikins of De Winton, Hunt of De Yere, or Smith and Jones the many aristocratic aliases under which they hide. Louterel is Luttrell still though spelt in many ways, and the time-honoured Lutrell of Dunster is infinitely better than any name or title mixed up with the ridiculous Norman " de." In the beginning, or as near to it as we can get, the Tor, or steep rock (possibly the Tor on the downs, or Dunestor), was the fortress of prehistoric man. Its crown or summit is now a garden lawn with nothing more excitinix than a o-ame of bowls where once the arrows whistled and the bolts of tlie crossbow wliirred. The castle's stones still show the work of Plantagenet, a2 =