CHAPTER VII.

NOTTINGHAM--ROBIN HOOD--SOUTHWELL--NEWARK--NOTTINGHAM--WARWICKSHIRE--DUGDALE-- COVENTRY--DERBY--STRATFORD--ROMAN ROADS--YORK--RIPON-- WAKEFIELD--PONTREFRACT.

Nottingham is well supplied with all materials necessary for building. The best of stone, lime, and wood are found here, and its early dwelling-places have in consequence been substantial and numerous. Mansfield, at the western extremity of Sherwood Forest, is a fine old country town, and still bears many traces of its ancient importance, though it has been much modernised. Sherwood Forest is the most celebrated feature in Nottinghamshire, and one of the most romantic parts of England. It is estimated to have been some twenty-five miles in length, and nearly eight broad in the times of Robin Hood, who would thus have about two hundred square miles to roam about in and kill deer. This popular outlaw has found a warm advocate across the channel in the person of Mons. Thierry, who recognises in him a sort of embodyment of popular feeling that existed against the singular severity of the Norman forest laws. There were at one time, it is said, over sixty Royal forests in England, all protected by laws of great cruelty. The celebrated Greendale Oak in Welbeck Park was quite a venerable tree in Robin Hood’s time. There is a coach road now through its stem. The “Parliament Oak,” in Clipstone Park, is so called because tradition asserts that King Edward I. called a parliament beneath its boughs. “The ancient date,” says Mr. Major, “may be illustrated by the fact, that when some of these trees were cut down at the latter end of the last century, letters denoting the king’s reign in which they were thus marked, were found stamped on them. One of these, eighteen inches beneath the surface of the tree, when it was felled in 1791, and more than a foot from the centre of the tree, bore the letters showing it had been marked in the reign of John (A.D. 1199); and allowing that it was a hundred years old when it was thus marked, it must have weathered seven centuries. This is probably the age of the oldest yet standing in the numerous parks, which still attest the dimensions of the good old forest of Sherwood.”

Though it would be rather straining the point to allude to them as the homesteads which it is the object of this work to delineate, a passing mention may be made of the caves with which this part of England abounded, and which made such safe retreats for outlaws in those days. Many of these are of natural formation, either owing to the porous yielding limestone being eroded by water, or to the rock commonly called “pudding-stone” being disintegrated. Some are artificial, as the one called “Robin Hood’s Stable,” which is, however, more like a chapel, and probably has served as one. Sherwood Forest has for generations been yielding to the axe and the plough, though a goodly number of the old trees yet remain. The trunks, which are found bedded in the ground, induced a very intelligent writer to say that it had once before been levelled for cultivation, but this is probably not the case, for those who could fell a tree would know its value for domestic uses. Camden gives the clue to these relics. “It was anciently thick set with trees, whose entangled branches were so thickly twisted together that they hardly left room for a single person to pass,” and such a state of vegetation is soon fatal to the growth of large trees. Many American forests are similar to the Sherwood that Camden describes; the writer has not unfrequently heard the crash of some tall forest tree, whose roots were strangled and starved; indeed a traveller is often surprised, on entering some grand-looking wood, either in Canada or the States, to find it paved with huge trunks between which a more recent growth appeared. Such a place, with its caverns and its vast extent, might easily enable a freebooter and his bands to set authority at defiance, especially when his followers were desperate men, often flying from the mutilation or death they had subjected themselves to by breaking the forest laws; nor were the exploits of these bands confined to the limits of Sherwood. We find Robin Hood turning up in Derby and Yorkshire: a bay there yet bears his name. As an instance of the way in which a forest may disappear, might be mentioned the celebrated Wirral Forest in Cheshire, occupying at one time the dreary promontory between the Dee and the Mersey. Now hardly a bush can be induced to grow here, but at one time it was so thickly wooded that there was an old saying

“From Birkenhead to Hilbere, A squirrel may go from tree to tree.”

But Sherwood is not the only interesting part of Nottingham historically. The market town of Southwell, about fourteen miles from the county town, was the scene of the final surrender of Charles I. to the Parliamentary forces. This event occurred at the Saracen’s Head, a fine old-fashioned hostelry, built at various times: some parts of it appear to be of Henry IV.’s time, though they have been called more ancient. This is still the principal hotel in the town. Shilton, in his History of Southwell, says, “On the 26th March 1646, Montreville, the French King’s ambassador, arrived at this inn, where he lodged till Charles the First could make his escape from Oxford, which he did as the servant of, and with, Lord Ashburnham, and arrived at the inn on the 4th of May following; and Montreville having occupied the above room, which was then divided into a dining-room and bed-room, gave it up to the King. The next day the King sent for the Scotch Commissioners (who occupied the palace) before dinner, and dined with them at this inn. Here he gave himself up to them, and in the afternoon went under an escort of their army to Kelham; both rooms are now thrown into one; the line of separation is easily discernible on the ceiling, and the whole of the walls are now covered with the identical wainscot extant at the time.”

The palace here alluded to was frequently the residence of the Archbishops of York, and is a splendid ruin. The architecture principally appears to be of the latter part of the fifteenth century, and the proportions and mouldings of the windows are remarkably graceful and rich. The chimney here given is a valuable example for modern imitation.

Though the closing scene of Charles I.’s liberty took place at the Saracen’s Head, he was often a sojourner at the palace. The portion shown here is part of a homestead, which, with other remains of the palace, group exceedingly well in combination with the great minster. The beautiful minster, of which the tower is shown, is so called from the South Well, which was a place of pilgrimage in the middle ages. There were other wells near here, such as the Lady’s Well, which has been filled up in consequence of a clergyman being drowned in it one dark night, and St. Catherine’s Well, still famed for rheumatic cures.

The chimneys in Southwell Palace are very fine. Those shown in the next illustration are all of brick, and somewhat peculiar in construction. They are, in a sense, octagonal, but simply the angles are taken off, courses of bricks project at the top, and there is a slight battlement, which might either be made in moulded bricks or ordinary ones. These chimneys are very striking and happy in their effect, and might, without much expense, be reproduced. There is, indeed, much more scope in brick chimneys than in stone and terra-cotta. The latter always are open to exception, and are tame, while stone ones, which we see in perfection at such places at Helmingham or Hinchinbrooke, are costly; but brick chimneys may be made of a hundred forms, and that with economy. Homestead and all as the palace is now, there is singular dignity in the remains. The windows are peculiarly rich in mouldings, and, though late in style, they are extremely beautiful.

Southwell was the place that monarchs and nobles almost vied with each other in endeavouring to endow. All the land near it would seem to have lapsed to the ecclesiastical commissioners, showing its great possessions, and there were a great number of resident dignitaries who drew great emoluments long after their (at any time) nominal duties had ceased. Two singular discoveries of bodies were made at this palace--one in a cloth of silver tissue, with leather boots on, a wand by its side, and on the breast something like a silver cup, with an acorn or bunch of leaves at the top; and the other skeleton was found in the vault of the palace, here shown, in an upright position, with an axe-blade in a cleft of the skull.

Newark is situated on a branch of the Trent, and is famous in history for its castle, where John died after his army was swamped in the Wash and he had reached Swineshead Abbey with great difficulty. The scene here given is of a lane leading from the great market square to the close round St. Mary Magdalen’s Church, and is very characteristic of an old English town. The roof of the house seems very high to our modern ideas, and the seed-shop on the ground-floor is as singularly low. Between the house with the high roof and the

gabled house on the left hand there is an alley that is hardly like any I remember to have seen in England before. The houses on each side have projecting storeys, and a projecting eaves to the roof, and so narrow is it that at one part it is quite closed overhead, and the rain-water from the higher house discharges itself, if the gutter is full, upon the tiles of its opposite neighbour. The church, which is seen through the opening, is said to be one of the finest parish churches in England. There is a strange piece of street architecture on the road leading from the station to the town: among other detached houses is a fine specimen of Queen Anne’s reign, of fair size and highly enriched, that has been inhabited for generations by the same family; and behind it is a beautiful miniature park with every accessory, including even deer, yet in passing along the street nothing is seen of this.

Newark Castle is an extremely picturesque ruin, almost rising on one side out of the river, and on the other is the cattle-market. It seems to have departed in a measure from the old rule that made such places merely fortresses, for there are many windows of great beauty and justness of proportion, though most of them belong to a later date than the original construction. The castle, of course _new work_, gave the name to the town, and was built by the celebrated Bishop Alexander, who had a passion for castle-building, and does not seem to have endeavoured to check it in any degree. Perhaps it was one of the 1100 castles that are said to have been built in the reign of King Stephen, though the precise period of his reign cannot exactly be said to have been strictly adhered to in the estimate. Some of the work in this castle is as recent, according to all appearances, as Henry VII., and there is a beautifully corbelled oriel adjoining a window of this period that dates to the early part of the fifteenth century. A stranger in Newark will hardly fail to be struck with the number of signs that still remain; they are used to distinguish shops, and are hung out in the same manner as public-house signs are in other places. In the civil wars Newark Castle held out very steadily against the Parliamentary armies, and twice successfully resisted Cromwell’s forces. Indeed it was only when Charles himself surrendered to the Scotch Commissioners, and told them to surrender to the adversaries, that the gallant defenders gave the castle up to destruction.

The town of Nottingham is about sixteen miles from Newark; between the two are no considerable towns or villages of interest. A Roman road goes nearly the whole distance, only branching off at Bingham, or rather the Roman road proceeds south, and that to Nottingham branches to the west: many armies have passed along it, on all possible causes, the last being Cromwell’s. In the revolution of 1688, the Duke of Devonshire, Lord Howe, and other noblemen, sounded the disposition of the people of Nottingham by mustering along the road with some 500 horse, and suddenly sounding to arms, saying that James II. was within four miles of the town; whereupon “the whole town was in alarm; multitudes who had horses mounted and accoutred themselves with such arms as they had, whilst others appeared in vast numbers on foot, some with firelocks, some with swords, some with other weapons, even pitchforks not excepted, and being told of the necessity of securing the passage of the Trent, they immediately withdrew all the boats that were then at hand to the north side of the river, and with them and some timber and barrels in the wharf, and all the frames of the market stalls, they raised a strong barricade.” Well pleased with this, Lord Howe and the Duke of Devonshire communicated the subject to the prince, and at the old market cross, now pulled down, many people on the following Saturday proclaimed their danger, and enlisted a troop.

Warwickshire is justly noted for the number and richness of its mediæval remains. Warwick Castle and Kenilworth are objects of pilgrimage from all parts of England, and when the former was partially burned down in 1871, a national subscription was raised to restore it. It is one of the few castles still preserved in something of its original condition, and inhabited. The state-rooms were saved, but immense loss was sustained by the fire. Kenilworth must have been even a more magnificent seat in its time, and part of it would seem to date back to Henry I.’s reign. These are buildings, however, that have plenty of chroniclers, and are noticed in passing here to indicate, as it were, what a prospect the county affords of such more humble remains as were sure to accompany these baronial piles. There are many such in Warwick. The building here engraved is Leicester Hospital, founded by the lord of Kenilworth. It came into possession of the Dudleys in 1571, and Robert Dudley obtained an act of incorporation for it, and constituted it collegiate, converting it into an hospital for a master

and twelve brethren. The master was to belong to the Established Church, and the brethren were to be retainers of the Earl of Leicester and his heirs. Especial preference was to be given to those who had been wounded in the wars. The act of incorporation also gives a list of towns and villages, and specifies that Queen’s soldiers from these, in rotation, are to have the next presentations. There is a common kitchen, with cook and porter, etc., and each brother receives some £80 per annum besides the privileges of the house. He is obliged to wear a blue cloth gown, with the bear and ragged staff in silver. Hardly any more favourable specimen of street architecture could be found than this fine old pile. The chapel, which has been restored in nearly the old form, stretches over the pathway, and there is a promenade at the top of the flight of steps round it. The black-and-white gabled building that forms the hospital is peculiarly beautiful, and the carvings on it are very fine. There is a spacious open quadrangle round which the buildings run; and the galleries and covered stair are models of picturesqueness and beauty.

Passing through the arched gateway, we come to the fine old porch attached to the decayed hostelry, the “Malt Shovel.” It is extremely quaint, and the bow window in the projection is a very characteristic feature. Many are the relics in the town of Warwick itself that would suit the present work. One here given is a very curious instance of the way in which an acute-angled street may be made to contain rectangular rooms, on an upper storey. This is remarkably beautiful, and of almost puzzling

simplicity. It can only be explained in some such a manner as this. Draw an acute angle--say something a little less than a right angle--and cut it into compartments; or, if preferred, an obtuse angle, and cut this into compartments also. Now the roadway may be so prescribed as to prevent right angles from being made on the basement, but the complementary angles are ingeniously made out by allowing the joists to be of extra length and cutting the ends off when they come to the square. The effect is extremely picturesque, and I cannot remember seeing this peculiar piece of construction elsewhere. The villages of Warwickshire are generally remarkable for their picturesque beauty. Meriden, near Polesworth, is extremely fine, and from its churchyard are some very beautiful views.

Merivale Hall is the seat of the Dugdale family. Sir William Dugdale inherited the estates in 1624, and published his celebrated _Monasticon_ between 1655 and 1673. Very little has been added to our knowledge of the subject since this marvellous production. These pages are much indebted to it, and some charters that have been recorded by Sir William Dugdale would now be entirely out of reach, if not lost, but for his labours.

Coventry is a very ancient city. A convent was built here by Earl Leofric and his Countess Godiva, a few years before the Norman conquest, and in it they both were buried. To quote a summary of the

city history from a careful writer: “Henry IV. held a parliament here called the unlearned, or Layman’s Parliament, from the forbidding in the writs of the return of lawyers, and from the stringent laws that were passed relative to the privileges of the Church. Henry V., when Prince of Wales, was committed to prison by the Mayor of Coventry for his disorderly conduct here on one occasion. Henry VI. and his Queen, Margaret, were great benefactors to the city; and its inhabitants remained faithful to the cause of Lancaster during the dreadful period of the Wars of the Roses.” Henry VII. also came to this city directly from Bosworth field, and Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned here. The spire of Coventry (St. Michael’s) is one of the most beautiful in England. The church is said by the historian of Coventry to be, next to Yarmouth, the largest in the kingdom; but if churches (not being cathedral) where parochial service is held are intended, neither one or the other is nearly the largest. The quaint irregular buildings in front form a beautiful composition with St. Michael’s spire; they are occupied as dwelling-houses.

“The parish churches, ancient hospitals, monastic buildings, and old timber houses of Coventry, are still numerous, and exhibit in their varied features, historical relations, and distinctive characters, abundant matter for the study of the architect and antiquary,” so says Britton in his excellent work on the _Antiquities of English Cities_. St. Mary’s Hall is engraved in Britton’s work, and here it is just seen on the left hand; a beautiful gable projects before it. This hall was commenced in 1394, and finished in 1414, on the site of an old hall; the

buildings surround a courtyard, and are entered by an arched gateway from the street; and it is hardly possible in all the city architecture of England to find a more interesting and fine apartment than the great hall. It has been well described elsewhere. Bablake Hospital is another ancient corporation, and affords an admirable example of an old city building. It was founded in the latter part of Henry VII.’s reign by the Mayor of Coventry. In the distance is the tower of St. John’s Church. The whole groups very beautifully, and is in a good state of preservation.

Of Ford’s Hospital, in the same city, John Carter, the painstaking archæologist, made the minutest drawings, and declared that such a splendid specimen of domestic architecture “ought to be kept in a case.”

The ecclesiastical monuments of Derby are few, having rather more than shared the troubles of their brethren in 1536 and 1539; and, indeed, there are not many archæological remains of any kind in the county, always of course excepting Hadden. The title of the Earls of Derby is not derived from any part of this county as has been supposed, but from the hundred of West Derby, near Liverpool. The Iron Gate was a very fine old street till lately, but it is somewhat changed since the drawing from which this engraving is taken was made. The Church of All Saints remains, however, in its entirety.

There is a curious angle-post in Derby, apparently of about Henry IV.’s time; it is very richly panelled, but the building it supports has been much modernised and changed.

Wirksworth is a market-town of considerable antiquity, and, to judge from many architectural decorations in the houses, it must have been of much greater importance at one time than it is at present. Rooms in some of the shops have fine ceilings of Elizabethan character, and there are several curious fire-places. At the Hope and Anchor Inn, quite an unpretending house of accommodation, there is a chimney-piece of great splendour. Two tall Ionic columns support each side, and their caps are inverted. Carved flames seem to issue out and reach the ceiling, which is rather high. These columns are about eight feet apart, and except a square opening for a fire-place all the space between them to the ceiling is covered with rich but barbaric carvings. Wirksworth is about fourteen miles to the north-west of Derby. Wingfield Manor is three or four miles to the south of Matlock, and is a lovely ruin. Here Mary Queen of Scots was confined, and the Babbington conspiracy hatched, for which the head of the house of Tichborne lost his life. Bradshaw, the president of the council who tried and condemned Charles I., was a native of Derbyshire; and of the more peaceful residents it may suffice to say that Arkwright and Florence Nightingale were born in this county.

It is impossible to close our notice of Derbyshire without some little reference to Hadden Hall, the seat of the Duke of Rutland; but though it is of course on princely dimensions, there is much in it, very much, that would suit a humbler dwelling. The bow windows, for example, in the drawing-room and other rooms are large wide projections, and not a slight bulging out of a wall; and how greatly they always add to the pleasantry of a room where the sun can reach them at so many different angles, is a thing that goes without telling. Whatever the extra expense may be, it is slight as compared with the cheerful aspect they give to a room. It is almost impossible, indeed, to exaggerate the size to which bow windows may be reasonably extended with advantage. If they are too large for the winter, if the exposed surface is apt to make them cold, nothing is easier than to shut them off with a baize curtain. A window seat runs round the one in the dining-room, and how much this adds to the pleasure of a room any one who has ever seen such a feature can tell. All these things can be arranged with absolute economy, or they would not be here alluded to. The private chapel at Hadden has been admirably lithographed by Nash in his _Ancient Mansions_, and however unsuitable it may be for an appendage to a modern house, it is a very fine example for a village church; parts of it are very ancient indeed.

If it would be allowable, under any circumstances, to strain the aims and purposes of the present work, it might almost be permitted to describe something of the ancient “home-keeping” of Hadden in Queen Elizabeth’s days. The last possessor of the line, in whose hands it had been so long, was Sir George Vernon, the last male heir of the Vernon family--“the King of the Peak” as he was familiarly called by his neighbours. The present appearance of the hall differs little from that which it presented when it was finished in Henry VIII.’s reign; of course the ancient parts of the chapel, which to all appearance are four hundred years earlier than Henry VIII., remain as they were seen when Vernon altered it. The hospitality of Hadden was always proverbial, and when it changed hands, and came into the Duke of Rutland’s family, this was not neglected. The first Duke of Rutland is said to have employed nearly 150 servants in doing the rites of hospitality, and in Queen Anne’s time there were twelve days’ feasts at Christmas with accompanying revelry, the almost expiring life of the old days of the “Lord of Misrule.” Hadden, it is said, “like other magnificent abodes, seems to be cut out for appearance rather than comfort.” “The doors,” a chronicler states, “are very rudely contrived, except where picturesque effect is the object; few fit at all close, and their fastenings are nothing better than wooden bolts, clumsy bars, or iron hasps. To conceal these defects, and exclude draughts of air, tapestry was put up, which had to be lifted in order to pass in or out; and when it was necessary to hold back these hangings, there were great iron hooks fixed for the purpose. All the principal rooms, except the gallery, were hung with loose arras, and their doors were concealed behind.” This, however, says nothing for the broken beautiful style of building that prevailed in the Tudor age, and the hundred pleasant nooks and corners that are characteristic of it;--nooks and corners too, that need not cost any extra amount of money, and always make a house cheerful and companionable. If the only objection to these houses is that the carpentry and joiners’ work is not free from exception, this may apply to any bad work; some of it is excellent, but some of it rather tends to remind me of a country carpenter, who came from Formby to Liverpool to a joiner’s establishment at the beginning of the present century, or the end of the last, and when he was asked if his door would fit, by the foreman, and if he could get a _hair_ through the space between the door and the jamb, he declared that it was impossible, he knew how to fit a door better than that, and said it would be as much as any _hare_ could do to put her foot through. Whatever there may be, however, of want of precision in some of the domestic carpentry--always remembering one thing, that we must make due allowance for shrinking, for the summer sun, and the winter cold, and also remembering that the masonry, at any rate, which was free from such exigencies, is perfect, and evidently put up by men to whom we now could teach very little indeed, in the plenitude of our knowledge--nothing in this supposed shortcoming in carpentry can prevent our taking lessons in its general form and style. The chimneys and the doors of Hadden are well able to give us lessons of construction, even for modest dwellings.

Stratford-on-Avon is a remarkably bright-looking cheerful town, and is, of course, more visited than any other of its size in England. The population is not quite 4000. In the sixteenth century Stratford was an exceedingly beautiful town. The houses were mostly of wood, and each situated in its own garden. One of them still stands in High Street, and has a well-carved front, resembling one of the many that remain in Chester. Stratford derives its name from the ford over the Avon that was here, and which seems to have satisfied the primitive manners of the people till a wooden bridge was built; but this again was superseded by an excellent stone one. Of course the exterior of Shakespeare’s house, in Henley Street, is familiar to every one; it is an ordinary specimen of a house of about the early part of the sixteenth century. The one which Shakespeare himself built in New Place was pulled down in 1756, by the Rev. Francis Gastrell, who unhappily came into possession of the property. He first cut down the celebrated mulberry tree that the poet had planted, and when the inhabitants of Stratford were astounded, he showed them that he could even eclipse that by pulling down the house that Shakespeare had himself designed. From Kenilworth to Evesham, in Worcester, the Avon is full of beauty and interest. There is the celebrated Guy’s Cliff, Hatton Rock, where the river is confined in its course and rapid, the splendid Warwick Castle, the Marl Cliffs of Bidford, and Charlcote Park, while the river itself is full of quiet English beauty. It glides through richly cultivated meadows, and past overhanging boughs from wooded banks; there are long lines of alders and willows, and here and there some quaint quiet homestead, that looks the very embodiment of peace. Warton well describes this part of the river:--

“The willows that o’erhang thy twilight edge, Their boughs entangling with the embattled sedge, Thy brink with watery foliage quaintly fringed, Thy surface with reflected verdure tinged.”

Eight villages round Stratford have been characterised, in some well-known lines, by some old resident who had the talent for rhyme. It is remarkable how familiar these are to the country people, and how invariably they ascribe them to Shakespeare.

“Piping Petworth, Dancing Marston, Haunted Hillborough, Hungry Grafton, Dudging Exhall, Papist Wicksford, Beggarly Broom, and Drunken Bidford.”

Watling Street forms the north-eastern boundary of Warwickshire, separating it from Leicestershire for many miles, and perhaps a word may not be quite out of place here regarding this remarkable Roman Street. It is one of the four great roads with which the Romans intersected the country, and according to Mr. Hirsley, whom Camden quotes, most of our military ways were laid by Julius Agricola, who extended them as he pushed his conquests forward. The others are called Hermin Street, the Fosse, and Ikning Street. Watling Street crosses the kingdom thrice. It goes from Richborough through London (where it retains its name) towards Chester, then crossing again it goes to York, and once more it turns in a westerly direction and extends past Carlisle. Watling Street is the name also given to the road which goes through Wales into Anglesea; a causeway is yet visible going out into the sea towards that island. The three other _itinera_ also have Watling Street for their base.

_Hermin Street_, or _Ermine Street_, is the great military road that reaches from London to Lincoln, and so to Wintringham, in a nearly straight line. The _Fosse_ proceeds from Bath to Lincoln, and, Dr. Stukeley thinks, to Seaton. “I am most at a loss,” he says, “about _Icknild Street_. Some think there were two Roman ways of this name, but I cannot say we are certain of either. It must have been some way that led either to or from the country of the _Iceni_, and that this is the reason of the name, possibly Icen Elde Street, or old street. It is therefore natural to suppose that _Venta Icenorum_ must have stood on this way, and perhaps been the limit of it. The way, then, according to which the 9th iter is directed, should, I think, be best entitled to the name of any in the Itinerary. This I shall show to be the Roman road that came through Caister near Norwich, by Colchester or Malden, to London. The military road from London by Speen and Marlborough to Bath, or rather that by Silchester and Old Sarum to Dorchester, may be looked upon as the continuation of it. The military way which goes from Silchester to Old Sarum, and so to Dorchester and Pentridge (as Mr. Gale informs me), passes by Gussage St. Michael’s under the name of Ickling Dyke.”... Dr. Plot, however, who was a very learned man, and secretary to the Earl Marshall in the year 1687, argues for an Ickning Street, which passes through Derby and enters Stafford at Stretton near Tretbury, leading by Burton-upon-Trent and Lichfield and Warwickshire, near Handsworth, where it appears near Birmingham.

The treasures that a few feet of soil cover in Roman art are untold; wheat has grown and cattle have grazed for centuries on many a Roman city or villa. The town of Wroxeter, near Shrewsbury, is lying under rich farming lands, totally hidden from human eye. A few hundred pounds was spent in trying to open up some part, and the wealth of Roman remains and Roman ingenuity and civilisation is astounding. I had occasion to go there while writing the present chapter, and probably few persons who have not visited our own Herculaneum would credit the wealth of Roman art that lies buried at our doors. A small space only has been opened up, and baths, villas, public buildings, and tessellated pavements met the astonished eyes of the explorers. A space of probably 300 acres is still covered up, and conceals we know not what. The history of this premature civilisation of the Romans is absolutely lost. On their leaving the island the great roads and bridges, which the sagacious policy of the rulers always supplied to the colonies, fell into disuse. No longer government property, they were pillaged or neglected, and the towns and villas, quite unsuited to the natives of the island, were left to bats and moles. “Had travellers or maps existed at that early period,” says a very able writer, “they would have afforded us a picture of numerous isolated communities, whose continuous homesteads were surrounded with broad patches of rich corn and pasture, and whose arable and meadow land was fenced in by dark rings of forest, or heaths pastured in common by the herds and flocks of the small republic. No ‘wandering merchant bending beneath his load,’ no adventurous stranger smitten with the desire of roaming from land to land, brought his wares or his tidings to these remote villages.” But we must admit our total ignorance of the condition of England under Roman rule. It certainly was not military only, let the villas with tessellated pavements testify to that. The inhabitants were held no doubt under an iron hand. In some lead mine I once saw in Cardigan, the excavations came across Roman workings; these seem to have been chipped out little by little, and they reach to vast depths and to long levels. The Britons whom they employed must have spent their weary lives in a sort of tunnel, in which it was quite impossible even to kneel, far less to stand; yet some parts of Wales are quite burrowed with these terrible holes. The writer already quoted says, “The historian is involved in inextricable perplexities. The few _civil_ inscriptions we possess speak of Triumvirs, Quatruumvirs, and other municipal or fiscal magistrates. As the personal strength of the soldier degenerates, more care and labour are bestowed on material fortifications. Yet how or why did the Cyclopean walls of Chester or Leicester, or many other sturdy encampments, crumble away before tribes unprovided with the rudest artillery? Into what bottomless undiscernible gulf were precipitated the Roman municipia and their institutions? The oracles are dumb; and we know really more of the Britons whom Cæsar invaded and Agricola subdued, than of the Britons whom Honorius left exposed to the savages of the Grampians and to the adventurers from the Elbe and Baltic.” This is true indeed, and, though sufficient margin must be left for the way in which Roman remains were often regarded simply as quarries for materials by the monks, and also for the absolute difference in race, religion, and habits, between the Roman colonists and their British subjects, there is much that is wholly inexplicable. No doubt the classes, like the Cardigan miners, whose terrible lot has been alluded to, would be apt to desire to wipe out every trace of their subordination. “Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!” was doubtless the rallying cry of a large number of Britons when the Romans so suddenly and thoroughly left the island. There seems to be a common error in turning up Roman remains, that we hear of from those who perhaps may be well excused for the supposition,--if a Roman hypocaust is found, it is at once dubbed a bath; but the way the Romans heated their rooms was similar to the way in which Turkish baths are now commonly warmed, except when, in milder weather, braziers were sufficient.

It has justly been observed by Mr. E. J. Willson that “no city in England contains so many interesting specimens of architectural antiquities as York. This observation may be especially applied to the remains of its ancient fortifications, a class of architecture of the greater value, since so very few examples are now left standing in England. Clifford’s tower and the four great gates, or bars, are admirable specimens of the castellated style; while the _posterns_, or lesser gates, with the towers, turrets, and embattled walls that surround the city, exhibit a delightful variety of curious and picturesque forms. The view of these ancient bulwarks forcibly recalls the mind from present scenes to the contemplation of those stirring times when such safeguards were necessary; and whilst we feel grateful for the security and quiet enjoyed in our days, it is painful to see those monuments of the valour and skill of our ancestors sacrificed to petty considerations of economy or to some trifling improvement. Encircled by walls and towers, York could never be viewed without respect, as the very model of an ancient city.” The view of York from Samson Square is characteristic of the city. There are many of those narrow wynds that have been little altered since they were built, and the Cathedral always forms a conspicuous and delightful background. What would Mr. E. J. Willson, who wrote the above in 1827, have thought if he could have known that the fine old buildings on the lower side of Samson Square were to be destroyed to make room for a new covered market? They are safe yet; a majority of the council saved them for the present. There are some very noble wooden framed structures, one of which has been a royal residence, and this, with the others, it was proposed to sweep away for the market. I met a gentleman in the city, at the hotel, who explained the whole circumstances to me, and expressed his regret that

the narrow-minded prejudices of the majority--only a small one--prevented a great public improvement from being carried out! “What a site for a market!” the spirited burgess remarked,--“drainage all the way to the river, and nothing to do but sweep away some old lumbering property that has been standing in the way for a couple of hundred years or more.” It was rather pleasant to find some one who owned to being so thorough a spoliator, though the remarks in reply were not complimentary. There is another drawing of York which occupies the next place, and represents the west end of the Minster, with a college on the right hand side. This is called St. William’s College. It is a very imposing old building, quadrangular in form, and the interior of the quadrangle is extremely impressive and grand, but now it is let off to cottage tenants. The noble pile was built by Henry VI. for the chantry priests to reside in. In one of the rooms Charles I. set up the royal printing presses in the year 1642. This was the time when York may be said to have been his sole metropolis. And opposite this interesting street is Goodramgate, where another college for the vicars choral was established. This also belonged to the Minster. Of course the grand Cathedral forms no part of the scope of this work; but we all of us know how splendidly it towers above the city, making itself conspicuous everywhere; and the tradition that one hears all round the precincts, that high in the windows the gorgeous glass is principally composed of precious stones, becomes half credible if we look to the clerestory on a bright summer’s day,--indeed I am well informed

that in many chapels on the Continent very thin slices of precious stones have been introduced in judicious places, and they form a bright spot for the eye to rest on. Goodramgate or Guthrum’s Gate, or Street, is called after Guthrum, the Danish leader who fought against King Alfred; and here is the Church of St. Crux, in the pavement near which stood until lately a market cross and tolbooth; here also is an old doorway formerly leading to the Merchants’ Hall, the interior of which is extremely interesting. It contains two halls, one of which is hung round with some fine old portraits, and underneath there is a chapel. This hall was formerly an hospital, and was founded about the year 1373, and dissolved by Edward VI., along with many other religious houses, chapels, and chantries.

Walmgate Bar has been kept in good repair and order by the city corporation, and is even in a better state than when W. H. Bartlett made his drawing of it for Britton’s _Picturesque Antiquities of English Cities_. It is in the entrance from Beverly, Hull, Lincoln, etc., and is supposed to derive its name from a corruption of Watling Street, the great Roman road that has already been alluded to, and in all probability this supposition is correct.

Micklegate Bar forms the chief entrance to York from the London road; and has been more noticed than any of the other bars, from its advantageous position. The stone of the gate singularly shows its variety of date, and corresponds with the architectural features that adorn it. Drake, the historian of York, Britton tells us, regarded the stone-grit as a certain indication of Roman architecture, and he went so far as to suppose that the semicircular arches were of Roman construction from their form; but this hardly stands the test of somewhat more modern criticism, though the Earl of Burlington and other distinguished antiquaries of the period fully held the same view; but Mr. J. Essex, in _Archæologia_, vol. iv., has quite refuted this, as has also Sir H. Englefield in his observations on the ancient buildings of York. Britton truly says that “no person who has studied the peculiarities of ancient architecture can fail to recognise the Norman style in these three arches. The upper part of the building may be pretty safely referred to the reign of Edward III., whose arms, old France and England quarterly, are sculptured on a large shield in the centre, between two shields bearing the arms of York City.” The outwork was sometimes called the Barbican or Turnpike, from its being guarded by a military engine of that particular name.

Bootham Bar, Britton says, was rebuilt after the dreadful vengeance that William the Conqueror inflicted on the city after its revolt in the year 1070. It crosses the old Roman road, and was much damaged in the wars of the Commonwealth.

Coney Street runs almost parallel to the River Ouse, between Sampson Square and the water; and in many of the houses, such as the old George Hotel, are traces of former splendour; indeed at one time this street was the favourite quarter for the residences of the nobility and gentry. Too frequently Micklegate Bar was used for exhibiting the decapitated heads of partisans of different reigning houses, especially during the wars of the Roses. The heads of Richard Duke of York, the Earl of Northumberland, Lord Scrope, and Lords Devonshire and Wiltshire, with many others of similar rank, have been exposed on this bar after the senseless quarrels were over or lulled.

“Off with his head, and set it on York gates, So York may overlook the town of York.”

is the unfeminine speech of Queen Margaret after stabbing the Duke of York. Nor does she seem to have felt much remorse, for afterwards, when the head must have been there for some time, she says, in entering York, to Henry--

“Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York; Yonder’s the head of that arch enemy; Does not the object cheer your heart, my lord?”

and as if to show what a common sight such terrible spectacles were in those days, a poetic justice is dealt out in the same play of Henry VI. on Clifford, where Warwick says--

“From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father’s head, which Clifford placed there; Instead whereof let this supply the room, Measure for measure must be answered.”

The old prints of London bridge show these shocking accompaniments to ancient street scenes; and indeed to translate them into modern language, the photographs of the Greek brigands that were clustered in a group after murdering some estimable English gentlemen are only a reflex. These photographs, after whatever feeble justice could be done, are yet exposed in London.

Stonegate Street overlooks the Cathedral from the south side, and at every step there is some view that would gladden the eye of Prout or Cattermole. The south transept opens up at every turn, and forms some new combination with the surrounding quaint old houses. The colouring is extremely rich and beautiful, the various tints of ochre being freely used on the fronts of the buildings, and many quaint old windows and gables thrust themselves in front of their neighbours, as if in amicable rivalry which could be the most picturesque.

In speaking of the Ouse bridge, Britton says, “The superior construction of bridges may justly be the boast of modern architecture. Those of the middle ages were generally built in a clumsy and unscientific manner, with huge piers and straight arches; the passage over them was usually narrow, and in towns they were generally covered by shops and houses built on their sides. Notwithstanding these inconveniences, the picturesque features of some of those old buildings make their destruction a matter of regret to the admirers of antiquity. The Ouse bridge at York was chiefly remarkable for the size of its central arch, which certainly was an extraordinary effort of art, its span exceeding that of any arch in England, until the erection of Blackfriars Bridge in London.[8] This arch was pointed, but approached nearly to a circular curve. It had been built in the reign of Elizabeth after a great flood had swept away part of the bridge with twelve of the houses standing on it,” and it had been recently taken down when Britton wrote. It must have been intensely picturesque. There was a chapel at one end with a lancet front; and under it were two pointed cavernous arches spanning the water; while at the other side were tall houses like those in Rotterdam, with buttresses and mullioned windows.

The illustration here given of Richmond is from the Market Square, and it affords a characteristic idea of the singular scenes that sometimes meet us in outlying country towns. It has been asserted that a cannon fired down the streets of Richmond or Pontefract, at any time of the day, would not be likely to entail a coroner’s inquest. Camden gives a curious charter, by which the town of Richmond was conveyed away in the time of William the Conqueror: “I, William, King of England, do give, and grant to thee, my nephew, Alan, Earl of Bretagne, and to thy heirs for ever, all the villages and lands which of late belonged to Earl Edwin in Yorkshire, with the knights’ fees, and other liberties and customs as freely and honourably (?) as the same Edwin held them. Dated from our siege before York.” Many streets yet retain their Norman names, and the vast castle, of which the keep remains in a state of high preservation, was now built. The keep is 99 feet in height, and the walls are 11 feet in thickness. The tower and chapel, here shown, and so strangely mixed up with houses and shops, formerly stood in the castle walls, and are the remains of the garrison church, which was built in the twelfth century and rebuilt in 1360. This church has had a singular history. The patronage of it was vested in the corporation at the time of the Reformation, and they seem to have used the building for purposes certainly different from those which its founders intended. Until the Town Hall was built in 1756, the north aisle was used for the town sessions; then it was a consistory court; and now it is added again to the church, excepting some small shops, which are, as it were, inserted into it. It is to be hoped that no dispute will ever arise about party walls or rights of any kind, for there would be rather some nice points of law and evidence. Thus, in a curious way, some dwelling-houses are inserted between the nave and the tower; these belong partly to the church and partly to the corporation. The tower, however, belongs entirely to the corporation. The patronage formerly was possessed by Mr. Cooke, but Lord Zetland purchased it and presented it to the trustees of the Grammar School, so that now the whole block is fairly confused. The way in which Richmond was entailed on a follower of the Conqueror is a curious instance of the manner in which such grants were commonly made, and in the _Registrum honoris de Richmond_ there is a most singular illumination of the investment. The lucky nephew is kneeling down, while the king is presenting him with a charter to which the great seal is attached; and thus villages and manors were given away in every direction by the stranger king. Domesday Book is the most extraordinary book perhaps that now exists; it gives an absolutely accurate description of England, excepting some few of the northern counties, and it is quoted at the present day as indisputable authority in the courts of justice. No other country possesses anything at all like it, and it strikingly exhibits the damage done by pillage and conquest.

The date of the survey is 1086, and it may be seen by special permission. It is said that by the Conquest the rental of England diminished in twenty years to one-fourth of what it was under Edward the Confessor. Thierry has shown in his history how complete the spoliation of the kingdom was by the Norman conquerors. “The king’s name was placed at the head of the county, with a list of his domains and revenues; then followed the names of the chief and inferior proprietors, in the order of their military rank and their territorial wealth. The Saxons, who by special favour had been spared the spoliation, were found only in the lowest schedule; for the number of that race who still continued to be free proprietors, or tenants in chief to the king, as the conquerors called it, were such only for small domains. They were inscribed at the end of each chapter under the name of thanes of the king, or by some other designation of domestic service in the royal household. The rest of the names of an Anglo-Saxon form, that are scattered here and there through the roll, belong to farmers holding by a precarious title a few fractions, larger or smaller, of the domains of the Norman earls, barons, knights, sergeants, and bowmen.”

There is little of interest in Ripon besides the Cathedral. The houses have generally been

modernised, and they do not seem to be more than about a century or a century and a half old. The dedication of Ripon Church was attended by Egfrid, king of Northumbria, who feasted the people for three days; and here it may be in place to allude to these dedications as bearing on some village customs that have died out happily in nearly every part of England--the rush-bearings, the wakes, and church ales. Gregory the Great bade St. Augustine not to destroy the pagan temples, but only the idols that were in them, purifying the site and sprinkling it with holy water, etc.; and because the people were in the habit of assembling on certain days, and having their orgies and feasts to their gods, the crafty pontiff knew it would weaken his hold on them to bring such things to a sudden conclusion, and ordered that these bacchanalia were still to be continued, but kept on the saint’s day the church was dedicated to; and in the then condition of the people that would tend rather to attach them to the new religion. The Unicorn Inn in Ripon has some slight traces of antiquity, but it is more as a foreground to the west front of the Cathedral, than to any particular merits of its own, it owes its architectural value.

The fine old three-gabled house at Wakefield, here shown, was probably built about the same time as the battle of Wakefield; it is now divided into small shops, and the carved work has been much defaced and removed. There is nothing in it essentially different from any other black-and-white house that may be seen in Chester or elsewhere.

Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, figures in the third part of “Henry VI.,” and is now in ruins, and the Duke of York wished to remain here on the defensive against the army of 20,000 that Queen

Margaret had mustered under promise of plunder if her cause should be successful. The Duke’s forces mustered not more than a quarter of the number, but the Earl of Salisbury prevailed on him to advance to meet the Queen’s army. When the Yorkists advanced in good order they probably did not even guess at the superior forces they were pitted against, and as their leader was allowed to advance towards Wakefield he was cut off from Sandal, and was nearly the first to fall. His head, as we have seen, was put on York gates, and scenes of exceptional barbarity, even for the Wars of the Roses, followed Margaret’s victory. The Duke of York’s son, Edmund, Earl of Rutland, was murdered with great cruelty after the battle, by Lord Clifford, at Wakefield bridge. He is made to say in “Henry VI.”

“No, if I digg’d up thy forefathers’ graves, And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul; And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell.”

The chapel on Wakefield bridge, which was in a ruinous condition till the late Vicar of Wakefield restored it, was built by Edward IV., the brother of the young Rutland who was murdered by Clifford. He erected it on the spot where his brother was slain. The intercession of the young Rutland for his life is powerfully told in Shakespeare, and the gibes and jeers that Clifford gave way to when he stabbed him. Even Clifford’s own party could not excuse this act, for Rutland is always described as an extremely amiable gentle youth. Hall says that not a few of his party after the murder stigmatised Clifford as “no gentleman,” a censure that we cannot say errs on the side of severity when judged by our modern ideas. These wayside chapels, we are told,

were the only places of public worship to which no burial-ground was attached. “They had no walled enclosure, and could never have been more alone than many are now on the highways to Walsingham. Those near Hillborough have been planted on the bleak brows of elevated ground near the roadside, and are without particular architectural distinction, etc. The interior, which could once afford rest to the weary and a pittance to the distressed, is now too desolate to be sought as a refuge by cattle.” This chapel at Wakefield was at one time such a place, for it is supposed to have been originally built in the time of Edward II., and no doubt correctly so supposed, but it was transformed or almost rebuilt in the superb form we see it now, in the reign of Edward IV. In case this wonderful chapel may not be understood with sufficient clearness, it may be well to remark that it occupies a sort of large pier, an exaggerated kind of buttress to the bridge. The windows are certainly curious and beautiful: the singular part of them is that they contain a two-centred head in a square, the spandrels being pierced.

Pontefract is rather a disappointment to those who visit it for the first time, and who are expecting to see much of its ancient glories left. The house here shown is rather curious, and evidently of considerable antiquity. The outside stair and the slits in the wall are defensive, but sash windows have replaced mullions, and now it is a good substantial farm-house. The population of the town is said to be nearly 12,000, but they are nearly all cottagers, and apparently in rather humble circumstances. The rocky foundation on which the castle was built is now a valuable quarry of filtering stones, that are sent to all parts of the kingdom. The liquorice-grounds

become a distinctive feature here, and the making of pomfret cakes forms quite an industry among the natives. Few if any castles in England have played so conspicuous a part in the history of the country. It was built by Ilbert de Lacy, a follower of the Conqueror. He received as his share of the plunder 150 manors in Yorkshire, ten in Nottingham, and four in Lincolnshire. The gentle baron took a fancy to Pontefract because he considered that it bore a resemblance to his old home in Normandy, and readily had it transferred from its original possessor to himself. The area enclosed by the castle walls is said to have been about seven acres, and it was of course fortified with all engineering expedients then known. The dungeons are a remarkable feature here, not only on account of their stern forbidding appearance, but from the number and importance of the prisoners who have been confined in them. Pontefract Castle was the seat of the Earl of Lancaster in the reign of Edward II., when the country was torn to pieces by factions, and the Royalists and the house of Lancaster fought for predominance. In one of the battles the Earl of Lancaster was defeated and taken to his own castle, and there, without a hearing, and under circumstances of great barbarity, he was put to death. In the short reign also of Richard III. many great men were confined in these dungeons, and afterwards executed; Woodville, Gray, and Rivers among the rest. This castle held out longer than any other against the army of Cromwell; indeed was not taken till after Charles was executed. A singular tale is told of its final surrender and demolition. It would seem that when the Royalists were reduced to straits, General Lambert, who commanded the Parliamentarians, summoned them to surrender, and offered them honourable terms. The only ones he excepted from these terms were six gentlemen who were obnoxious to Cromwell, and these he said it was desirable to have executed. The garrison, who were composed principally of Nottingham men, objected to this, and asked Lambert to agree to the following singular condition:--the castle was to be held for a week longer, and then surrendered; but if, in the interim, these six gentlemen could escape by fair means, they were to be permitted. Lambert said if he only had his own way he would let them all off free, and rejoice at it, but he was completely tied down by his instructions; however, he would take upon himself to agree to the week. Several skirmishes took place during this week, and four of the six besieged gentlemen effected their escape. It is not improbable that no very great diligence was employed in their capture. Still, however, two remained, Sir Hugh Cartwright and another, and they would not let any further trouble or loss be incurred on their behalf, so they found a chamber in the walls, and caused themselves to be loosely walled in with a month’s provisions in the room. They calculated that the castle would be retaken by the Royalists within the month. The garrison then surrendered, and Lambert reduced the castle to the ruinous condition in which it now is; and the tale that passed current was that he just happened to pass the part where they were concealed, and they escaped and went abroad; at any rate one of them died at Antwerp some time after.

The doorway with the royal arms, which is correctly shown here, is in a cottage opposite the castle, and no doubt at one time was connected with the great establishment. It is evidently only part of a much more important building, and probably stood in the castle enclosures. It is hardly necessary to remark here that it was at Pontefract Castle that Richard II. met his death in the year 1400, when only thirty-five years of age. Nothing is known of the manner of his death. Some suppose that he was murdered or starved to death, as the two gentlemen in Cromwell’s time might have been but for timely accidents; and tradition says that Sir Piers Exton, with a select band of assassins, murdered him there, that a stout resistance was made, and some were killed besides the king.

The well-known scene in “Richard II.” favours this view. The captive, in a long soliloquy in a dungeon that is yet pointed out as his prison, says--

“How these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the flinty ribs Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls, And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves That they are not the first of fortune’s slaves, Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame.” RICHARD II. _Act V. Scene 5_.

Beverley is near Hull, and perhaps rather remote from the parts of the island that are most commonly traversed. It is a town, however, of great beauty and interest, and contains among other attractions two fine old churches. One, St. Mary’s, has been engraved in some recent works, and the minster has quite the proportions and style of a first-class cathedral. Britton remarks that it resembles Salisbury in plan and general style. The ancient family of Percy were great benefactors to the building; and the shrine, commonly called the Percy Shrine, built apparently in the fifteenth century, is very commonly regarded as the finest piece of workmanship that is left us from the mediæval ages. This family possessed two grand residences in the neighbourhood--Leconfield Manor and Wressel Castle.

The lamp with which this chapter is closed is a good example of old wrought-iron work. It may have been constructed any time from the Edwardean period to the Stewart age; for, singularly enough, there are no features in this class of wrought-iron work that indicate any period in the same way as stone-work does. With close attention some slight character may be detected in a leaf, but generally such an index as this is quite wanting.