Chapter VIII (1)

Admire well the graceful art
Of Nature's hand in every part:
Full well he knoweth how to prize
This fair Terrestrial Paradise;
And 'tis his wish sincere and true
That others should enjoy it too.

But to return to the High Cross and the Watling Street. The description on the Cross was in Latin, of which the following is a translation:

The noblemen and gentry, ornaments of the counties of Warwickshire
and Leicestershire at the instance of the Right Honourable Basil Earl
of Denbigh, have caused this pillar to be erected in grateful as well
as perpetual remembrance of peace at last restored by her Majesty
Queen Anne. If, Traveller, you search for the footsteps of the
ancient Romans you may here behold them. For here their most
celebrated ways crossing one another extend to the utmost boundaries
of Britain. Here the Bennones kept their quarters and at the distance
of one mile from here Claudius, a certain commander of a Cohort,
seems to have had a camp towards the Street, and towards the Fosse a
tomb.

We were pleased to see that the remains of the Cross had been enclosed in the garden of a house belonging to the Earl of Denbigh, a descendant of the Earl who had been instrumental in building it, and it was now comparatively safe from further defacement.

The Romans built stations along their roads, and near the High Cross stood their military station Bennones, on the side of which many Roman remains, including a Roman urn, had been discovered. It was of great importance to them that any hostile movement amongst the turbulent Britons should be reported immediately, so young men who were quick runners were employed to convey intelligence from one station to another; but this system was improved upon later by building on the side of the road, in as prominent a position as possible, at intervals of five or six miles, a house where forty horses were stabled so that news or soldiers could, if required, be carried by relays of horses a distance of a hundred miles along the road in the course of a single day. We were now only about twelve miles from Leicester, and we had to walk about six miles in that county in order to reach Lutterworth, famous throughout England as the parish where the great Reformer John Wiclif spent the last nineteen years of his life as rector. We passed through a fine grazing and fox-hunting country on our way, and found Lutterworth a rather pleasantly situated little town. Our first visit was naturally to the church, and as we walked along the quiet street leading up to it we saw a woman standing at her cottage door, to whom we spoke concerning the great divine, asking incidentally how long it was since he was rector there. She said she did not know exactly, but as far as she could remember she thought it was about 146 years since he died. On arriving at the church we found that it was about 487 years since Wiclif departed, and we thought it strange that a lady who lived almost under the shadow of the church steeple could have been so ill-informed. The church had recently been restored, and a painting of the Day of Doom, or Judgment, had been discovered over the arch of the chancel under the whitewash or plaster, which we were told Oliver Cromwell had ordered to be put on. At the top of this picture our Saviour was represented as sitting on a rainbow with two angels on each side, two of whom were blowing trumpets, and on the earth, which appeared far down below, the graves were opening, and all sorts of strange people, from the king down to the humblest peasant, were coming out of their tombs, while the fire and smoke from others proclaimed the doom of their occupants, and skulls and bones lay scattered about in all directions.

It was not a very pleasant picture to look upon, so we adjourned to the vestry, where we were shown a vestment worn by Wiclif in which some holes had been cut either with knives or scissors. On inquiry we were informed that the pieces cut out had been "taken away by visitors," which made us wonder why the vestment had not been taken better care of. We were shown an old pulpit, and the chair in which Wiclif fell when he was attacked by paralysis, and in which he was carried out of church to die three days afterwards. We could not describe his life and work better than by the inscription on the mural monument subscribed for in 1837:

Sacred to the Memory of John Wiclif the earliest Champion of
Ecclesiastical Reformation in England. He was born in Yorkshire in
the year 1324, and in the year 1375 he was presented to the Rectory
of Lutterworth. At Oxford he acquired not only the renown of a
consummate Schoolman, but the far more glorious title of the
Evangelical Doctor. His whole life was one perpetual struggle against
the corruptions and encroachments of the Papal Court and the
impostures of its devoted auxiliaries, the Mendicant Fraternities.
His labours in the cause of Scriptural truths were crowned by one
immortal achievement, his Translation of the Bible into the English
tongue. This mighty work drew on him, indeed, the bitter hatred of
all who were making merchandise of the popular credulity and
ignorance, but he found abundant reward in the blessing of his
countrymen of every rank and age, to whom he unfolded the words of
Eternal Light. His mortal remains were interred near this spot, but
they were not allowed to rest in peace. After a lapse of many years
his bones were dragged from the grave and consigned to the flames;
and his ashes were cast in the waters of the adjoining stream.

That he was a man of distinction may be taken for granted, as he was master of that famous college at Oxford, Balliol College, where his picture hangs in the dining-hall to-day.

When in Lichfield Cathedral, where we saw Chantrey's monument of Bishop Ryder, we had omitted to ask for particulars about him, but here we were told that he was appointed Rector of Lutterworth in 1801, and had been a benefactor to the town. He was made Canon of Windsor in 1808, Dean of Wells 1812, Bishop of Gloucester 1815, and finally became Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry. He died at Hastings in 1836, and as Chantrey himself died in 1841, his monument of Bishop Ryder, that had impressed us so deeply, must have been one of his latest and best productions.

Lutterworth was the property of William the Conqueror in 1086, and it was King Edward III who presented the living to Wiclif, who was not only persecuted by the Pope, but also by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London. On two occasions he had to appear before the Papal Commission, and if he had not been the personal friend of John o' Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the fourth son of the King Edward who had given him the living, and probably the most powerful man in England next to the king, he would inevitably have suffered martyrdom. He was equally fortunate in the following reign, as John o' Gaunt was uncle to Richard II, the reigning monarch, under whose protection he was spared to finish his great work and to translate the Holy Bible so that it could be read in the English language.

We went to see the bridge which crossed the small stream known as the River Swift, for it was there that Wiclif's bones were burned and the ashes thrown into the stream. The historian related that they did not remain there, for the waters of the Swift conveyed them to the River Avon, the River Avon to the River Severn, the Severn to the narrow seas, and thence into the wide ocean, thus becoming emblematic of Wiclif's doctrines, which in later years spread over the wide, wide world.

A well-known writer once humorously observed that the existence of a gallows in any country was one of the signs of civilisation, but although we did not see or hear of any gallows at Lutterworth, there were other articles, named in the old books of the constables, which might have had an equally civilising influence, especially if they had been used as extensively as the stocks and whipping-post as recorded in a list of vagrants who had been taken up and whipped by Constables Cattell and Pope, from October 15th, 1657, to September 30th, 1658. The records of the amounts paid for repairs to the various instruments of torture, which included a lock-up cage for prisoners and a cuck, or ducking-stool, in which the constables ducked scolding wives and other women in a deep hole near the river bridge, led us to conclude that they must have been extensively used.

A curious custom prevailed in Lutterworth in olden times. There were two mills on the River Swift, and the people were compelled to grind all their malt at one mill and all their corn at another, and to bake all their bread in one oven; in those "days of bondage" a person durst not buy a pound of flour from any other miller. These privileges were abused by the millers to make high charges, and it was on record that a person who ventured to bake a cake in his own oven was summoned, but discharged on his begging pardon and paying expenses. This unsatisfactory state of things continued until the year 1758, when a rebellion arose headed by a local patriot named Bickley. This townsman roused his fellow-citizens to resist, and built a malthouse of his own, his example being soon followed by others, who defied the owner of the privileged mill, and entered into a solemn bond to defend any action that might be brought against them. The contest was one of the most interesting and remarkable ever known in the district, and was decided at the Leicester Assizes in July 1758, the verdict being in favour of the parishioners, with costs to the amount of £300. One of the greatest curiosities to be seen in Lutterworth was an old clock which was there in 1798, and still remained in good working order; the description of it reads as follows:

The case is of mahogany; and the face is oval, being nineteen inches
by fifteen inches. The upper part exhibits a band of music,
consisting of two violins, a violoncello, a German flute, three vocal
performers, and a boy and girl; the lower part has the hour and
minutes indicated by neat gilt hands; above the centre is a moment
hand, which shows the true dead beat. On the right is a hand
pointing to--chimes silent--all dormant--quarters silent--all active;
to signify that the clock will perform as those words imply. On the
left is a hand that points to the days of the week, and goes round in
the course of seven days, and shifts the barrel to a fresh time at
noon and midnight. The clock strikes the hour, the four quarters, and
plays a tune three times over every three hours, either on the bells
alone, the lyricord, or on both together. Three figures beat exact
time to the music, and three seem to play on their instruments; and
the boy and the girl both dance through the whole if permitted. But
still, by a touch all are dormant, and by another touch all are in
action again. The lyricord will play either low or loud. The machine
goes eight days, either as a watch clock, quarter clock,
quarter-chime-clock or as a quarter chime lyrical clock. It will go
with any or all parts in action, or with any or all parts dormant. It
has four chime barrels, and plays sixty-five tunes, many of them in
two or three parts, on nineteen musical bells, and on the like number
of double musical wires. A child may do everything necessary to show
its varied and complicated action.

The maker was Mr. Deacon, a Baptist minister of Barton-in-the-Beans, who began life as a farm boy when he was eleven years of age. A gentleman happened to call on the farmer one evening and had some nuts given to him, and as he could not crack them, one of the other servants said to the boy, "Sam, bring the wooden nut-crackers you made!" When the boy brought them, the visitor, after cracking a nut, examined them carefully for some time, and was so struck with the ingenuity displayed in their construction that he took the lad and apprenticed him to a clock-maker in Leicester, where he became one of the cleverest workmen in the kingdom, the most elaborate and curious piece of mechanism he made being this wonderful clock.

We returned from Lutterworth by a different route, for we were now off to see Peeping Tom at Coventry; but our experiments on the roads were not altogether satisfactory, for we got lost in some by-roads where there was no one to inquire from, and eventually reached the snug little village of Monks Kirby. Here, according to the name of the village, we should at one time have found a Danish settlement, and at another a church belonging to the monks; but on this occasion we found a church and a comfortable-looking inn opposite to it, where we called for an early tea. This was quickly served and disposed of, and shortly afterwards we reached, coming from the direction of the High Cross, the Fosse, or Foss-way, one of the four great roads made by the Romans in England, so named by them because there was a fosse, or ditch, on each side of it. We walked along its narrow and straight surface until we came to a road which crossed it, and here, about halfway between Rugby and Coventry, we turned to the right, leaving the "fosse" to continue its course across Dunsmore Heath, where in ancient times Guy, the famous Earl of Warwick, slew the terrible Dun Cow of Dunsmore, "a monstrous wyld and cruell beast." The village of Brinklow was now before us, presenting a strange appearance as we walked towards it from the brook below, for at the entrance stood a lofty mound formerly a Roman camp, while behind it was a British tumulus. In the Civil War there was much fighting all along the road from here to Coventry, and Cromwell's soldiers had not left us much to look at in the church, as the windows had all been "blown out" at that time, leaving only some small pieces of stained glass. The church, however, was quite a curiosity, for it sloped with the hill, and was many feet lower at the Tower end than at the east. We walked along a rather steep inclined plane until we came to a flight of four steps which landed us on the chancel floor, where another inclined plane brought us up to the foot of the two steps leading to the altar; we were told that there was only one other church built in such a form "in all England." We were now well within the borders of the county of Warwickshire, which, with the other two Midland Counties of Worcestershire and Staffordshire, formerly contained more leading Roman Catholic families than any other part of England, so we were not surprised when we heard that we were passing through a country that had been associated with the Gunpowder Plot, and that one incident connected with it had occurred at Combe Abbey, which we would pass a mile or two farther on our way. The originator of the Gunpowder Plot, Catesby, was intimately connected with many of the leading families in these counties, and was lineally descended from the Catesby of King Richard III's time, whose fame had been handed down in the old rhyme:

The Rat, the Cat, and Lovel the Dog
Rule all England under the Hog.

the rat meaning Ratcliffe, the cat Catesby, and the hog King Richard, whose cognisance was a boar. Robert Catesby, the descendant of the "cat," was said to be one of the greatest bigots that ever lived; he was the friend of Garnet, the Jesuit, and had been concerned in many plots against Queen Elizabeth; when that queen died and King James, the son of Mary Queen of Scots, ascended the throne, their expectations rose high, for his mother had suffered so much from Queen Elizabeth that they looked upon her as a martyr, and were sure that their form of religion would now be restored. But great was their chagrin when they found that James, probably owing to his early education under John Knox in Scotland, was more ready to put the laws in force against the Papists than to give them greater toleration.

Catesby and his friends resolved to try to depose James and to place the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James I, afterwards the beautiful Queen of Bohemia, whom her royal parents had placed under the care of the Earl of Harrington, then the owner of Combe Abbey, about five miles from Coventry, on the throne in his stead. The conspirators assembled at Dunchurch, near Rugby, but held their meetings about six miles away, in a room over the entrance to the old Manor House at Ashby St. Ledgers, the home of Catesby, where it was proposed to settle matters by blowing up the Houses of Parliament. These were to be opened on November 5th, 1605, when the King, Queen, and Prince of Wales, with the Lords and Commons, would all be assembled. In those days the vaults, or cellars, of the Parliament House were let to different merchants for the storage of goods, and one of these immediately under the House of Lords was engaged and filled with some innocent-looking barrels, in reality containing gunpowder, which were covered by faggots of brushwood. All preparations were now completed except to appoint one of their number to apply the torch, an operation which would probably involve certain death. In the meantime Catesby had become acquainted with Guy Fawkes, a member of an old Yorkshire family, and almost as bigoted a Papist as himself, who had joined the conspirators at Dunchurch, the house where he lodged being still known as Guy Fawkes' House, and when the question came up for decision, he at once volunteered his services, as he was a soldier and a brave man. They were accepted, and Sir Everard Digby was to stay at Dunchurch in order to be ready to seize the young Princess Elizabeth while the others went to London. It so happened that one of the conspirators had a friend, Lord Monteagle, whom he knew would be sure to attend the opening of Parliament, and as he did not want him to be killed he caused an anonymous letter to be written warning him not to attend the opening of Parliament, "for though there be no appearance of any stir, yet I say they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet shall not see who hurts them." The letter was delivered to Monteagle by a man in a long coat, who laid it on his table and disappeared immediately. It was afterwards handed to King James, who, after reading the last paragraph, repeated it aloud, "and yet they shall not see who hurts them," and said to Cecil, "This smells gunpowder!" Their suspicions were aroused, but they waited until midnight on November 4th, and then sent soldiers well armed to search the vaults, where they found a man with a long sword amongst the barrels. He fought savagely, but was soon overpowered. When the conspirators found that their plot had been discovered, and that Guy Fawkes was in custody, instead of escaping to France as they might easily have done, they hastened down to Dunchurch, "as if struck by infatuation," in the wild hope of capturing the young Princess and raising a civil war in her name; but by the time they reached Combe Abbey, the Earl of Harrington had removed Elizabeth to Coventry, which at that time was one of the most strongly fortified places in England. They now realised that their game was up, and the gang dispersed to hide themselves; but when the dreadful nature of the plot became known, it created such a profound sensation of horror throughout the country, that every one joined in the search for the conspirators, who in the end were all captured and executed. Great rejoicings were held, bonfires lit, bells rung, and guns fired in almost every village, and thereby the people were taught to--

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November
The Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot.

These celebrations have been continued on each fifth of November for centuries, November 5th becoming known as "Bonfire Day." And in our Book of Common Prayer there was a special service for the day which was only removed in the time of Queen Victoria. Guy Fawkes was executed on February 6th, 1606.

Fortunately for the Protestants the reign of the queen who was known by them as the "Bloody Queen Mary" was of short duration, for they were then subjected to very great cruelties; on the other hand there was no doubt that during the much longer reign of Queen Elizabeth that followed, the Papists also suffered greatly; still under James they were now bound to suffer more in every way, short of death, for the great mass of their fellow-countrymen had turned against them owing to the murderous character of the Gunpowder Plot, so--

On Bonfire Day, as Britons should,
They heaped up sticks, and turf, and wood;
And lighted Bonfires bright and hot,
In memory of the Popish Plot!

We were ourselves greatly interested in November 5th, which was now due to arrive in three days' time; not because some of our ancestors had been adherents to the Roman Catholic Faith, nor because of the massacres, for in that respect we thought one side was quite as bad as the other; but because it happened to be my birthday, and some of our earliest and happiest associations were connected with that day. I could remember the time when a candle was placed in every available window-pane at home on November 5th, and when I saw the glare of the big bonfire outside and the pin-wheels, the rip-raps, and small fireworks, and heard the church bells ringing merrily, and the sound of the guns firing, I naturally thought as a child that all these tokens of rejoicing were there because it was my birthday. Then the children from the village came! first one small group and then another; these were the "Soulers," or "Soul-Cakers," who ought to have appeared, according to history, on All Souls' Day; they were generally satisfied with apples or pears, or with coppers. The most mysterious visitor was the horse's head, or hobby horse, which came without its body or legs, but could make a noise just like the neighing of a horse, and could also open its mouth so wide that a glass filled with beer could pass down its throat. To complete the illusion we could hear its jaws, which were filled with very large teeth, close together with a crack, and although the glass was returned in some way or other, we never saw the beer again. The horse's head was accompanied by a lot of men known as Mummers, dressed in all sorts of queer clothes, who acted a short play, but the only words I could remember were, "King George, King George, thou hast killed my only son!" and at that point one of the actors fell on the grass as if he were dead. But these were reveries of the past; when the spell broke I found myself walking with my brother in the dark alongside the grounds of Combe Abbey, the only lights we could see being some in the park, which might have been those from the abbey itself. We were expecting to come upon a private menagerie which was supposed to exist somewhere in the park, and we had prepared ourselves for the roars of the lions seeking their prey as they heard our footsteps on the road, or for the horrid groans of other wild animals; but beyond a few minor noises, which we could not recognise, all was quiet, and passing the small village of Binley we soon arrived at Coventry, where we stayed for the night at an ancient hostelry near the centre of the town.

St. George, the Patron Saint of England, who lived in the early part of the fourth century, and was reckoned among the seven champions of Christendom, was said to have been born in Coventry. In olden times a chapel, named after him, existed here, in which King Edward IV, when he kept St. George's Feast on St. George's Day, April 23rd, 1474, attended service. Coventry was a much older town than we expected to find it, and, like Lichfield, it was known as the city of the three spires; but here they were on three different churches. We had many arguments on our journey, both between ourselves and with others, as to why churches should have towers in some places and spires in others. One gentleman who had travelled extensively through Britain observed that towers were more numerous along the sea coasts and on the borders of Wales and Scotland, while spires were most in evidence in the low Midland plains where trees abounded. In these districts it was important to have part of the church standing out from the foliage, while on a hill or a bare cliff a short tower was all that was needed. He actually knew more than one case where the squires in recent times had a short spire placed on the top of the church tower, like the extinguisher of an old candlestick, because it was said they needed guide-posts by which to find their way home from hunting!

In olden times, ere the enemy could approach the village, the cattle were able to be driven in the church, while the men kept an easy look-out from the tower, and the loopholes in it served as places where arrows could be shot from safe cover. In some districts we passed through we could easily distinguish the position of the villages by the spires rising above the foliage, and very pretty they appeared, and at times a rivalry seemed to have existed which should possess the loftiest or most highly decorated spire, some of them being of exceptional beauty. The parish churches were almost invariably placed on the highest point in the villages, so that before there were any proper roads the parishioners could find their way to church so long as they could see the tower or spire, and to that position at the present day, it is interesting to note, all roads still converge.

We had no idea that the story of Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom was so ancient, but we found it dated back to the time of Leofric, Earl of Mercia, who in 1043 founded an abbey here which was endowed by his wife, the Lady Godiva. The earl, the owner of Coventry, levied very hard taxes on the inhabitants, and treated their petitions for relief with scorn. Lady Godiva, on the contrary, had moved amongst the people, and knew the great privations they had suffered through having to pay these heavy taxes, and had often pleaded with her husband on their behalf. At last he promised her that he would repeal the taxes if she would ride naked through the town, probably thinking his wife would not undertake such a task. But she had seen so much suffering amongst the poor people that she decided to go through the ordeal for their sakes, and the day was fixed, when she would ride through the town. Orders were given by the people that everybody should darken their windows and retire to the back part of their houses until Lady Godiva had passed. All obeyed except one man, "Tom the Tailor," afterwards nicknamed "Peeping Tom," who, as the lady rode by on her palfrey, enveloped in her long tresses of hair, which fell round her as a garment, looked down on her from his window, and of him the historian related that "his eyes chopped out of his head even as he looked." The ride ended, the taxes were repealed, and ever afterwards the good Lady Godiva was enshrined in the hearts of the people of Coventry. Many years later a beautiful stained-glass window was placed in the Parish Church to commemorate this famous event, and Leofric was portrayed thereon as presenting Godiva with a charter bearing the words:

I Luriche for love of thee
Doe make Coventry toll free.

This story Tennyson has immortalised, and its memory is still perpetuated in the pageants which are held from time to time in the city. Coventry was described in 1642 by Jeremiah Wharton, an officer under the Earl of Essex in the Parliamentary Army, as "a City environed with a wall, co-equal with, if not exceeding, that of London, for breadth and height, and with gates and battlements, and magnificent churches and stately streets, and abundant fountains of water, altogether a place very sweetly situated, and where there was no lack of venison." The walls of Coventry, begun in the year 1355, were very formidable, being six yards high and three yards thick, and having thirty-two towers and twelve principal gates. They defied both Edward IV and Charles I when with their armies they appeared before them and demanded admission, but they were demolished after the Civil War by order of Charles II, because the people of Coventry had refused admission to his father, King Charles I. Coventry possessed a greater number of archives than almost any other town in England, covering eight centuries and numbering over eleven thousand. My brother was delighted to find that one of them related to a very old man named Thomas Parr, recording the fact that he passed through the town on his way to London in 1635, at the age of 152 years. It reminded him of a family medicine known as Old Parr's Pills, which at one time was highly prized; they had been used by our grandfather, who died in his ninety-seventh year, and he often wondered whether his longevity was in any way due to those pills. They were supposed to have been made from the same kind of herbs as old Parr was known to have used in his efforts to keep himself alive, and during supper my brother talked about nothing else but that old man; if he was an authority on anything, it was certainly on old Thomas Parr. This man was born on the Montgomery border of Shropshire, where a tablet to his memory in Great Wollaston Church bore the following inscription:

The old, old, very old man

THOMAS PARR

was born at Wynn in the Township of Winnington
within the Chapelry of Great Wollaston, and Parish of
Alberbury, in the County of Salop, in the year of our
Lord 1483. He lived in the reigns of 10 Kings and
Queens of England, King Edward IV. and V. Richard III.
Henry VII. VIII. Edward VI. Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth.
King James I. King Charles I.
He died the thirteenth and was buried at
Westminster Abbey on the fifteenth November 1635
Age 152 years and 9 months.

John Taylor, known as the Water Poet because he was a Thames waterman, who was born in 1580, and died in 1656, was a contemporary of Parr, and wrote a book in 1635, the same year that old Parr died, entitled _The Olde, Olde, very Olde Man_, in which he described Thomas Parr as an early riser, sober, and industrious:

Though old age his face with wrinkles fill.
He hath been handsome and is comely still;
Well-faced, and though his Beard not oft corrected
Yet neate it grows, not like a Beard neglected.

Earl Arundel told King Charles I about this very old man, and he expressed a desire to see him; so the earl arranged to have him carried to London. When the men reached old Parr's cottage, which is still standing, they found an old man sitting under a tree, apparently quite done. Feeling sure that he was the man they wanted, they roused him up, and one said, "We have come for you to take you to the King!" The old man looked up at the person who spoke to him, and replied, "Hey, mon! it's not me ye want! it's me feyther!" "Your father!" they said, in astonishment; "where is he?" "Oh, he's cuttin' th' hedges!" So they went as directed, and found a still older man cutting away at a hedge in the small field adjoining the cottage, and him they took, together with his daughter, for whom the earl had provided a horse. Musicians also went with him, and it was supposed that he was exhibited at the different towns they called at on their way to London, and such was the crush to see him in Coventry that the old man narrowly escaped being killed. When he was taken into the presence of King Charles, the king said, "Well, Parr, you've lived a long time," and Parr answered, "Yes I have, your Majesty." "What do you consider the principal event in your long life?" asked the king, to which Parr replied that he hardly knew, but mentioned some offence which he had committed when he was a hundred years old, and for which he had to do penance in Alberbury Church, with the young woman sitting beside him barefooted, and dressed in white clothing! Whereupon King Charles said, "Oh, fie, fie, Parr, telling us of your faults and not your virtues!"

Parr was fêted in London to such an extent that he died of surfeit, and was buried in the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey, where his tombstone still exists, and is inscribed:

Thomas Parr of Y'E County of
Sallop Borne in A'P 1483. He lived
in Y'E Reignes of Ten Princes VIZ:--
K. Edw. 4. K. Edw. 5. K. Rich. 3.
K. Hen. 7. K. Hen. 8. K. Edw. 6.
Q. Ma. Q. Eliz. K. Ja. & K. Charles
Aged 152 Years
& was buried Here
Novemb. 15. 1635.

His portrait was painted by Van Dyck, who at that time was the Court painter of King Charles I, and there were other oil paintings of him in various places in England and abroad.

(_Distance walked thirty-one miles_.)

_Friday, November 3rd._

Our hotel was quite near the Coventry Parish Church dedicated to St. Michael, which was said to be the largest parish church in England, so we went out early this morning to visit it. We found it to be a very fine church, and in it we saw some workmen erecting a beautiful stained-glass window in which they had already placed the likeness of two saints, one of whom was St. Ambrose. We wondered why they should be putting such images in what we supposed to be the Reformed Church of England. The men told us we should find a very fine stained-glass window across the way in St. Mary's Hall, which had been erected in the time of Henry VI, and was originally the work of John Thornton of Coventry, who also had charge of the erection of the famous east window we had already seen in York Minster. We only saw the exterior of the windows in St. Mary's Hall, as we could not find any door that was open, so we hurried away to form the acquaintance of "Peeping Tom," whose image we had come so many miles to see. We found him high up on a corner of a street as if looking down on the passers-by below. The building in which he appeared was doing duty as a public-house, so we went in and saw the landlord, to whom we explained the nature of our visit and journey, and he kindly conducted us up the steps to the small room at the top of the house where Peeping Tom was to be seen. He was a repulsive-looking image of humanity, made of wood, without arms, and with a hideous face; how long he had occupied his present position no one knew, but as we had seen images of wood made hundreds of years ago, we were willing to suppose that he was a relic of antiquity. Photography at the time of our visit was only in its infancy, but small cards, 4 inches long by 2-1/2 inches wide, with photographic views on them, were beginning to make their appearance--picture postcards being then unknown. On our tour we collected a number of these small cards, which were only to be found in the more populous places. In our case we were able to get one at Coventry of Peeping Tom, a facsimile of which we here produce. We did not stay long in his company, for we looked upon him as an ugly and disreputable character, but hurried back to our hotel for a good breakfast before starting on our walk to the country of Shakespeare.

The dull days of November were now upon us, which might account to some extent for the sleepy appearance of the old town of Coventry; but it appeared that underlying all this was a feeling of great depression caused by the declining state of its two staple industries--watches and silk. The manufacture of watches had been established here for many years, for as early as 1727 the archives recorded that a watch-maker had been appointed Mayor of Coventry, and for anything we knew the manufacture of silk might have been quite as old an industry there; but the competition of American and Swiss watches was making itself seriously felt, and the Treaty with France which admitted French silks into England, duty free, was still more disastrous, causing much apprehension for the future prosperity of the "good old town."

We lost a little time before starting, as my brother had seen something in a shop window that he wanted to buy, but having forgotten the exact position of the shop, we had to search diligently until we found it. It was quite an artistic bookmarker made of white silk, with ornamental bordering in colours which blended sweetly, enclosing a scroll, or unfolding banner, which only displayed one word at each fold:

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

I never knew what became of that book-mark until years later, after he was married, when I saw it in his family Bible, and then I could guess where it had been in the interval. I noticed also that he began to quicken his speed considerably, and to be inclined to walk farther each day, his explanation being that we were obliged to make up for lost time. I also noticed that he wrote more notes in his diary in shorthand, his knowledge of which I envied. He said that before he started on the journey he imagined he knew the history of England, but had now become convinced that he had it all to learn, and he thought the best way to learn it thoroughly was by walking from John o' Groat's to Land's End.

A story was once told of two commercial travellers who had travelled extensively, and were asked to write down the prettiest road in all England, and one of them wrote "from Kenilworth to Coventry" and the other wrote "from Coventry to Kenilworth"! This was the road on which we had now to walk to reach what was known as "Shakespeare's country." There were many pretty roads in England, and although this road was very fine, being wide and straight and passing through a richly wooded country, we had seen many prettier roads as regarded scenery. We soon arrived at the historical Castle of Kenilworth, which, judging from the extent of its ruins and lofty towers, must at one time have been a magnificent place. According to local history the castle was originally built in the reign of Henry I, and at one time it was in the possession of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, who was born in 1206, and who has been described as the "Father of English Parliaments." Henry belonged to the Plantagenet family, the reigning house from Henry II in 1154 to Richard III, who was killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field in 1485. The strangest history in that family appeared to be that of Eleanor Plantagenet, the daughter of Henry II, who caused her to be married when only four years old to the great Earl of Pembroke, who was then forty, and who took her as a bride to his home when she was only fourteen years old, leaving her a widow at sixteen. She was thrown into such an agony of grief that she took a solemn vow in the presence of the Archbishop of Canterbury never to marry again, but to become a bride of Christ. Seven years afterwards, however, she returned to the Court of her brother, who was then Henry III, and, meeting Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, the king's favourite, one of the most handsome and accomplished of courtiers, to whom he had given Kenilworth Castle, the widowed countess forgot her vow, and though solemnly warned by the Archbishop of the peril of breaking her oath, Montfort easily persuaded Henry to give him his sister in marriage. The king knew that both the Church and the barons would be violently opposed to the match, and that they could only be married secretly; so on one cold January morning in 1238 they were married in the king's private chapel at Windsor; but the secret soon became known to the priests and the peers, and almost provoked a civil war. The Princess Eleanor was not happy, as her husband, who had lost the favour of her brother the king, was ultimately killed in the cause of freedom, along with her eldest son, at the Battle of Evesham. He was the first to create a Parliament.

In the year 1206 a festival was held at Kenilworth, attended by one hundred knights of distinction, and the same number of ladies, at which silks were worn for the first time in England, and in 1327 Edward II was there compelled to sign his abdication in favour of his son. Kenilworth Castle probably attained the zenith of its prosperity in the time of Queen Elizabeth, who in 1563 conferred it upon her favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who entertained her there with great magnificence on four different occasions, 1566, 1568, 1572, and 1575. But the former glory of Kenilworth Castle had departed, and we only saw it in the deplorable condition in which it had been left by Cromwell's soldiers. They had dismantled the lofty towers, drained the lake, destroyed the park, and divided the land into farms, and we looked upon the ruins of the towers, staircases, doorways, and dungeons with a feeling of sorrow and dismay. We could distinguish the great hall, with its chimney-pieces built in the walls; but even this was without either floor or roof, and the rest appeared to us as an unintelligible mass of decaying stonework. And yet, about half a century before we made our appearance at the ruins, a visitor arrived who could see through them almost at a glance, and restored them in imagination to their former magnificence, as they appeared in the time of Queen Elizabeth. He has described the preparations for the great feast given in her honour in 1575 by the Earl of Leicester, and resuscitated the chief actors in that memorable and magnificent scene. He was described as "a tall gentleman who leaned rather heavily on his walking-stick," and although little notice was taken of him at the time, was none other than the great Sir Walter Scott, whose novel _Kenilworth_ attracted to the neighbourhood crowds of visitors who might never have heard of it otherwise.

We had begun to look upon Sir Walter in the light of an old acquaintance, once formed never to be forgotten, and admired his description of Kenilworth Castle:

The outer wall of this splendid and gigantic structure inclosed seven
acres, a part of which was occupied by extensive stables, and by a
pleasure garden, with its trim arbours and parterres, and the rest
formed a large base-court, or outer yard, of the noble Castle. The
Lordly structure itself, which rose near the centre of this spacious
enclosure was composed of a huge pile of magnificent castellated
buildings, apparently of different ages, surrounding an inner court,
and bearing in the names of each portion attached to the magnificent
mass, and in the armorial bearings which were there blazoned, the
emblems of mighty chiefs who had long passed away, and whose history,
could Ambition have lent ear to it, might have read a lesson to the
haughty favourite who had now acquired and was augmenting the fair
domain. A large and massive Keep, which formed the Citadel of the
Castle, was of uncertain, though great antiquity. It bore the name of
Cæsar, perhaps from its resemblance to that in the Tower of London so
called. The external wall of this Royal Castle was on the south and
west sides adorned and defended by a Lake, partly artificial, across
which Leicester had constructed a stately bridge, that Elizabeth
might enter the Castle by a path hitherto untrodden. Beyond the Lake
lay an extensive Chase, full of red deer, fallow deer, roes, and
every species of game, and abounding with lofty trees, from amongst
which the extended front and massive towers of the Castle were seen
to rise in majesty and beauty.

The great feast provided by the Earl of Leicester in honour of the visit of Queen Elizabeth to Kenilworth Castle in 1575 was of a degree of magnificence rarely equalled either before or since, extending continuously over the seventeen days of the queen's stay, beginning at two o'clock, at which time the great clock at the castle was stopped and stood at that hour until the Princess departed. The cost of these ceremonies was enormous, the quantity of beer alone consumed being recorded as 320 hogsheads.

Sir Walter describes the preparations for the feast and the heterogeneous nature of the crowd of people who attended it. The resources of the country for miles round were taxed to their utmost, for not only the queen's purveyors, but the Earl of Leicester's household officers had been scouring it in all directions to provide the necessary viands and provisions. The services in this respect of all the leading families had been requisitioned, and--

They took this opportunity of ingratiating themselves by sending
large quantities of provisions and delicacies of all kinds, with game
in huge quantities, and whole tuns of the best liquors, foreign and
domestic. Thus the high-roads were filled with droves of bullocks,
sheep, calves and hogs, and choked with loaded wains, whose
axle-trees creaked under their burdens of wine-casks and hogsheads of
ale, and huge hampers of grocery goods, and slaughtered game, and
salted provisions, and sacks of flour. Perpetual stoppages took place
as these wains became entangled; and their rude drivers, swearing and
brawling till their wild passions were fully raised, began to debate
precedence with their wagon-whips and quarter-staves, which
occasional riots were usually quieted by a purveyor, deputy-marshal's
man, or some other person in authority breaking the heads of both
parties. Here were, besides, players and mummers, jugglers and
showmen, of every description, traversing in joyous bands the paths
which led to the Palace of Princely Pleasure; for so the travelling
minstrels had termed Kenilworth in the songs which already had come
forth in anticipation of the revels, which were there expected. In
the midst of this motley show, mendicants were exhibiting their real
or pretended miseries, forming a strange though common contrast
betwixt the vanities and the sorrows of human existence. All these
floated along with the immense tide of population, whom mere
curiosity had drawn together; and where the mechanic, in his leathern
apron, elbowed the dink and dainty dame, his city mistress; where
clowns with hobnailed shoes were treading on the kibes of
substantial burghers and gentlemen of worship; and where Joan of the
dairy, with robust pace and red sturdy arms, rowed her way onwards,
amongst those prim and pretty moppets, whose sires were knights and
squires. The throng and confusion was, however, of a gay and cheerful
character. All came forth to see and to enjoy, and all laughed at the
trifling inconveniences which at another time might have chafed their
temper. Excepting the occasional brawls we have mentioned among that
irritable race the Carmen, the mingled sounds which arose from the
multitude were those of light-hearted mirth and tiptoe jollity. The
musicians preluded on their instruments--the minstrels hummed their
songs--the licensed jester whooped betwixt mirth and madness, as he
brandished his bauble--the morrice-dancers jangled their bells--the
rustics hallow'd and whistled--men laughed loud, and maidens giggled
shrill; while many a broad jest flew like a shuttle-cock from one
party to be caught in the air, and returned from the opposite side of
the road by another, at which it was aimed.

The arrival of the Queen, who had journeyed from Warwick Castle, had been somewhat delayed, and the Guards had some difficulty in keeping the course clear until she appeared with the lords and ladies who accompanied her. It was dark when she approached the Castle, and immediately there arose from the multitude a shout of applause, so tremendously vociferous that the country echoed for miles around. The Guards, thickly stationed upon the road by which the Queen was to advance, caught up the acclamation, which ran like wildfire to the castle, and announced to all within that Queen Elizabeth had entered the Royal Castle of Kenilworth. The whole music of the castle sounded at once, and a round of artillery, with a salvo of small arms, was discharged from the battlements; but the noise of drums and trumpets, and even of the cannon themselves, was but faintly heard amidst the roaring and reiterated welcome of the multitude. As the noise began to abate, a broad glare of light was seen to appear from the gate of the park, and, broadening and brightening as it came nearer, advance along the open and fair avenue that led towards the Gallery Tower, lined on either hand by the retainers of the Earl of Leicester. The word was passed along the lines, "The Queen! The Queen! Silence, and stand fast!" Onward came the cavalcade, illuminated by 200 thick waxen torches, in the hands of as many horsemen, which cast a light like that of broad day all around the procession, but especially on the principal group, of which the Queen herself, arrayed in the most splendid manner, and blazing with jewels, formed the central figure. She was mounted on a milk-white horse, which, she reined with peculiar grace and dignity, and in the whole of her stately and noble carriage you saw the daughter of a hundred kings.

Leicester, who glittered like a golden image with jewels and cloth of gold, rode on her Majesty's right hand, as well in quality as her Host as of her Master of the Horse. The black steed which he mounted had not a single white hair on his body, and was one of the most renowned chargers in Europe, having been purchased by the earl at large expense for this royal occasion. As the noble steed chafed at the slow speed of the procession, and, arching his stately neck, champed on the silver bits which restrained him, the foam flew from his mouth and speckled his well-formed limbs as if with spots of snow. The rider well became the high place which he held and the proud animal which he bestrode, for no man in England, or perhaps in Europe, was more perfect than Dudley in horsemanship and all other exercises belonging to his rank. He was bareheaded, as were all the courtiers in the train, and the red torchlight shone upon his long curled tresses of dark hair and on his noble features, to the beauty of which even the severest criticism could only object the lordly fault, as it may be termed, of a forehead somewhat too high. On that proud evening he wore all the graceful solicitude of a subject, to show himself sensible of the high honour which the Queen was conferring on him, and all the pride and satisfaction which became so glorious a moment. The train, male and female, who attended immediately upon the Queen's person, were of course of the bravest and the fairest--the highest born nobles and the wisest councellors of that distinguished reign, and were followed by a crowd of knights and gentlemen. It was now the part of the huge porter, a man of immense size, to deliver an address and drop his club and resign his keys to give open way to the Goddess of the Night and all her magnificent train, but as he was so overwhelmed with confusion of spirit--the contents of one immense black jack of double ale--Sir Walter only records the substance of what the gigantic warder ought to have said in his address: