Gray days and gold in England and Scotland

Front matter

li a:

"'^2><9>^°

IN ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND

Preface To The Illustrated Edition Of Gray Days And Gold

This book^ containing description of my Gray Days in England and Scotland^ has, in a niiniatiire forni, passed tJirough several editions, and it has beeji received by the public ivith exceptional synipatJiy and abundant practical favour. Its publisJiers are, tJierefore, encouraged to present it in a more opulent style, and ivith the cmbellisJiment of pictorial illustrations. Its success, — and indeed the success wJiicJi has attended all my books, — is deeply gratifying to jne, the more so that I did not expect it. My sketches of travel were the 7inpremeditated citations of genial impulse, a?td I did not suppose that they zvould endure beyond the hour. If I had anticipated the remarkably cordial approbation zuhich has been accorded to my humble studies of British scenery and life, I should have tried to make tJiem better, and, especially, I should have taken scrupulous care to verify every date and every historic statenicjit set forth iji my text. That prccautioji, at first, I did not ijivariably take, but as my mood zuas that of contemplation and reverie, so 7ny method was that of the dreamer, ivJio drifts carelessly from one beautifid thing to lO PREFACE TO ILLUSTRATED EDmON

anotJicr, uttering simply wJiatcver covics into Ids thoughts, ht preparing the text for this edition of Gray Days, Jioivever, anel also in preparing the text of Shakespeare's England /(?r the pictorial edition, I have careftilly revised Diy sketches, and have made a studious and conscientious endeavour to correct every mistake and to remove evoy defect. The chapters on Clopton and Devizes have been considerably augmented, ajid the record of Shakespeareaii affairs at Stratford-7ip07i-Avon has been continued to the present time. A heedless error in my chapter on Worcester, respecting the Shakespeare marriage bond, has been rectified, and i?i various ivays the 7iarrative has been made more autJientic, the historical embellishment more complete, and, perJiaps, the style more flexible and more concise.

Eight of the papers in this volume relate to Scotland. My fi?'st visit to that romantic country zvas made in 1888, and zvas limited to the lozvlands, but since that time I have had tJie privilege of making several highland rambles, and, in particular, of passing tJioughtful days in the lovely island of lona, — one of the most i?iterestijig places in Europe, — and t J lose readers zvho may care to keep me co^npany beyojid the limits of this work will find memorials of those wanderijigs and that experience in my later books, called Old Shrines and Ivy and Brown Heath and Blue Bells.

W. W.

Preface

This book, a companion to Shakespeare's England, relates to the gray days of an American wanderer in the BritisJi islands, and to the gold of tJiought and fancy that can be found there. In Shakespeare's England an attempt was made to depict, in an nncom'entional 7}ianner, those lovely scenes that are intertzvined zvitJi the name and the memory of Shakespeare, and also to reflect the spirit of that English scenery in geiieral wJiicJi, to an imaginative mind, mnst always be veiierable zvith historic aittiquity and tenderly hallozved zvith poetic and romantic association. The present book continnes the same treatment of kindred tJiemes, referring not only to the land of Shakespeare, but to the land of Burns and Scott.

After so much had been done, and superbly done, by WasJiington Irving and by other authors, to celebrate the beauties of our ancestral home, it zvas perhaps an act of presumption on the part of the present zvriter to touch

12 PREFACE

tJiose subjects. He can only plead, in extenuation of his boldness, an irresistible impulse of reverence and affection for them. His presentmoit of them can give no offence, and perJiaps it may be found sufficiently sympatJietic and diversified to awaken and sustain at least a momentaiy interest in the minds of those readers who love to muse and dream over the relics of a storied past. If by happy fortune it sJiould do more tJian that, — if it should help to impress his countrymen, so many of ivJiom annually travel in Great Biitain, with the superlative importance of adorning the physical aspect and of refilling the material civilisation of America by a reproduction zvithin its borders of ivhatever is valuable in the long experience and 2U hat ever is noble and beautiful in the domestic and religious spirit of the British islands, — his labour will not have been in vain. The supreme need of this age in America is a practical conviction that progress does not consist in material prosperity but in. spiritual advancement. Utility has long been exclusively zvorshipped. The IV elf are of the future lies in the worsJiip of beauty. To that worship these pages are devoted, zvith all that it implies of sympathy zvith the higher instincts and faith in the divine destiny of the human race.

Many of the sketches here assembled were originally printed in the Nezv York Tribiuie, with zvhich journal their autJior has been continuojLsly associated, as dramatic reviezver and as an editorial contributor, since August, 1865. TJu^y have been revised for publication in this

PREFACE 1 3

form. Part of the paper on Sir Walter Scott first appeared in Harper s Weekly, for wJiich periodical the author has occasionally writtcji. The paper on the Wordszvorth country ivas contributed to the Neiv York Mirror. TJie alluring field of Scottish antiquity ajui romance, ivhich the author has ventured but slightly to touch, may perhaps be explored hereafter, for treasures of co7itemplation that earlier seekers have left ungathered. [ This implied promise has since been fulfilled, iji Brown Heath and Blue Bells, 1895.]

The fact is recorded that an impoi^tant recent book, 1890, called Shakespeare's True Life, written by James Walter, incorporates into its text, without credit, several passages of original description and reflection taken from the present zvriter s sketches of the Shakespeare country, published in Shakespeare's England, and also quotes, as his ivoi'k, an elaborate narrative of a nocturnal visit to Anne Hathazvays cottage, zvhicJi he never zurote and never claimed to have zvritten. This statement is made as a safeguard against future inftistice.

IV. ir.

CHAPTER I CHAPTER n Haunted Glens and Houses 36

CHAPTER HI Old York 53

CHAPTER IV The Haunts of Moore 66

CHAPTER V The Beautiful City of Bath 84

CHAPTER VI The Land of Wordsworth 94

CHAPTER VII Shakespeare Relics at Worcester . . . . . .112

[6 CONTENTS

CHAPTER VIII

PAGE

Byron and Hucknall-Torkard Church 122

CHAPTER IX Historic Nooks of Warwickshire 141

CHAPTER X Shakespeare's Town 150

CHAPTER XI Up and Down the Avon 172

CHAPTER XII Rambles in Arden 181

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV Bosworth Field 198

CHAPTER XV The Home of Dr. Johnson 209

CHAPTER XVI From London to Edinburgh 223

CHAPTER XVII Into the Highlands 230

CONTENTS 17

CHAPTER XVIII

PAGE

Highland Beauties 238

CHAPTER XIX The Heart of Scotland ' . 24S

CHAPTER XX

Sir Walter Scott 265

CHAPTER XXI

Elegiac Memorials in Edinburgh 2S7

CHAPTER XXII Scottish Pictures 297

CHAPTER XXIII Imperial Ruins 305

CHAPTER XXIV The Land of Marmion 314

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

^' York Cathedral Photogravure . Frontispiece

Edinburgh Castle ..... Vignette . Title-page

Stoke-Pogis Churchyard 26

Gray's Monument .......... 28

Portrait of Thomas Gray ......... 29

All Saints' Church, Laleham ........ 31

V Arnold's Grave ..... Photogravure . . face ^^

Portrait of Matthew Arnold ........ 34

Hampton Lucy 37

Old Porch of Clopton 39

L Clopton House ..... Photogravure . . face 44

Warwick Castle, from the Mound 46

Warwick Castle, from the River ........ 48

Leicester's Hospital . . . . . . . . . 51

From the Warwick Shield .... Tailpiece . . -52

Bootham Bar 54

York Cathedral — West Front 57

York Cathedral — South Side .60

York Cathedral — East Front 62

Portrait of Thomas Moore ......... 67

The Bear — Devizes 70

St. John's Church — Devizes . 73

Hungerford Chapel — Devizes ........ 75

The Avon and Bridge — Bath . 85

Portrait of Beau Nash 86

ILLUSTRATIONS

Bath Abbey High Street — Bath .

A Fragment from an Old Roman Bath Remains of the Old Roman Bath ^ Penrith Castle ....

Ullswater

Lyulph's Tower — Ullswater

Portrait of William Wordsworth

Approach to Ambleside

Grasmere Church

Rydal Mount — Wordsworth's Seat

An Old Lich Gate .

Worcester Cathedral, from the Edgar

The Edgar Tower

Portrait of Lord Byron

V Hucknall-Torkard Church Hucknall-Torkard Church Hucknall-Torkard Church — Interior The Red Horse Hotel

The Grammar School, Stratford Interior of the Grammar School Trinity Church ....

The Shakespeare Memorial Theatre An Old Stratford Character : George Anne Hathaway's Cottage

V The Gower Statue

Evesham ....

Clopton Bridge Charlecote, from the Terrace The Abbey Mills, Tewkesbury

^ Wootton-Wawen Church .

Beaudesert Cross

Tailpiece rhoios^raviire

Tailpiece Tower

Thotogravure

Robbins .

Photozravure

Pliolos-raviire

ILLUSTRATIONS 21

PAGE

Portrait of Henry Irving, 1S88 191

i- The Stratford Fountain . . . Photogravure . . face 193

Mary Arden's Cottage 196

. Bosworth Field .... Photogravure . . face 200

Higham-on-the-Hill 207

Lichfield Cathedral — West Front . . . . . . .211

Lichfield Cathedral — West Front, Central Doorway . . -213

House in which Johnson was born . . . . . . .217

The Spires of Lichfield . . 220

Peterborough Cathedral . . . Photogravure . .face 224

Stirling Castle , . . . . . . . . . .231

'- Loch Awe ..... Photogravure . . face 246

Corbel from St. Giles .... Tailpiece . . . 247

The Crown of St. Giles's ......... 249

Scott's House in Edinburgh* . . . . . . . -252

Gray friars Church . . . . . . . . . .256

High Street — Allan Ramsay's Shop 257

The Canongate 260

Holyrood Castle, and Arthur's Seat . Photogravure . . face 262 St. Giles's, from the Lawn Market ....... 263

Portrait of Sir Walter Scott . . . . . . . .266

Edinburgh Castle .271

The Canongate Tolbooth 277

22 ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Grayfriars Churchyard 292

The Forth Bridge 298

Dunfermline Abbey 300

Northwest Corner of Dunfermline Abbey 303

The Nave — Looking West — Dunfermline Abbey .... 304

Loch Lomond 3°^

Dunstaffnage 3^2

Tantallon Castle . .' 316

Norham Castle, in the Time of Marmion 321

'■'■ Whatever withdraws lis from the poiver of our senses, ivhatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. . . . All travel has its advantages. If the passetiger visits better countries he may learn to improve his ozvn, and if fortune carries him to worse he may learn to enjoy it.'^

DR. JOHNSON,

" There is pven, Unto the things of earth which time hath bent, A spirit' s feeling ; and where he hath leant His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power A7td magic in the ruined battlement. For luhich the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and 7vait till ages are its doiver.^^

BYRON.

" The charming, friendly Ejiglish landscape I Is there any in the world like it? To a traveller returning home it looks so kind, — it seems to shake hands with you as you pass through it.''^

THACKERAY.

GRAY DAYS AND GOLD CHAPTER I

ONDON, June 29, 1888.— The poet Emerson's injunction, "Set not thy foot on graves," is wise and right; and being in merry England in the month of June it certainly is your own fault if you do not fulfil the rest of the philosophical commandment and " Hear what wine and roses say." Yet the history of England is largely written in her ancient churches and crumbling ruins, and the pilgrim to historic and literary shrines in this country will find it difficult to avoid setting his foot on graves. It is possible here, as elsewhere, to live entirely in the present ; but to certain temperaments and in certain moods the temptation is irresistible to live mostly in the past. I write these words in a house which, according to local tradition, was once occupied by Nell Gwynn, and as I glance into the garden I see a venerable acacia that was planted by her fair hands, in the far-off time of the Merry Mon-

CHAP.

arch. Within a few days I have stood in the dungeon of Guy Fawkes, in the Tower, and sat at luncheon in a manor-house of Warwickshire wherein were once convened the conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot. The newspapers of this morning announce that a monument will be dedicated on July 19 to commemorate the defeat

Stoke-Pogis Ch urcJiyai d.

of the Spanish Armada, three hundred years ago. It is not unnatural that the wanderer should live in the past, and often should find himself musing over its legacies.

One of the most sacred spots in England is the churchyard of Stoke-Pogis. I revisited that place on

I CLASSIC SHRINES OF ENGLAND 2/

June 13 and once again rambled and meditated in that hallowed haunt. Not many months ago it seemed likely that Stoke Park would pass into the possession of a sporting club, and be turned into a race-course and kennel. A track had already been laid there. Fate was kind, however, and averted the final disaster. Only a few changes are to be noted in that part of the park which to the reverent pilgrim must always be dear. The churchyard has been extended in front, and a solid wall of flint, pierced with a lychgate, richly carved, has replaced the plain fence, with its simple turnstile, that formerly enclosed that rural cemetery. The additional land was given by the new proprietor of Stoke Park, who wished that his tomb might be made in it ; and this has been built, beneath a large tree not far from the entrance. The avenue from the gate to the church has been widened, and it is now fringed with thin lines of twisted stone ; and where once stood only two or three rose-trees there are now sixty-two, — set in lines on either side of the path. But the older part of the graveyard remains unchanged. The yew-trees cast their dense shade, as of old. The quaint porch of the sacred building has not suffered under the hand of restoration. The ancient wooden memorials of the dead continue to moulder above their ashes. And still the abundant ivy gleams and trembles in the sunshine and in the summer wind that plays so sweetly over the spired tower and dusky walls of this lovely temple —

"All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath."

GRAY DAYS AND COLD

CHAP,

It would still be a lovely church, even if it were not associated with the immortal Elegy. I stood for a long time beside the tomb of the noble and tender poet and looked with deep emotion on the surrounding scene of pensive, dream-like beauty, — the great elms, so dense of foliage, so stately and graceful ; the fields of deep, waving grass, golden with buttercups and white with daisies ; the many unmarked mounds ; the many mould-

Gray's Monument.

ering tombstones ; the rooks sailing and cawing around the tree-tops ; and over all the blue sky flecked with floating fleece. Within the church nothing has been changed. The memorial window to Gray, for which contributions have been taken during several years, has not yet been placed. As I cast a farewell look at Gray's tomb, on turning to leave the churchyard, it rejoiced my heart to see that two American girls, who had then just come in, were placing fresh flowers over the poet's dust. He has been buried more than a hundred years, — but his memory is as bright and green as the ivy on the tower within whose shadow he sleeps, and as fragrant as the roses that bloom at its base. Many Americans visit Stoke-Pogis churchyard, and no visitor to the old world, who knows how to value what is best in its treasures, will omit that act of reverence. The journey is easy. A brief run by railway from Paddington takes you to Slough, which is near to Windsor, and thence it is a charming drive, or a still more charming walk, mostly through green, embowered lanes, to the ''ivy-mantled tower," the "yew-trees' shade," and the simple tomb of Gray. What a gap there would be in the poetry of our language if the Elegy in a Country Churchyard were absent from it ! By that sublime and tender reverie upon the most important of all subjects that can engage the attention of the human mind Thomas Gray became one of the chief benefactors of his race. Those lines have been murmured by the lips of sorrowing affection beside many a shrine of

Thomas Gray.

buried love and hope, in many a churchyard, all round the world. The sick have remembered them with comfort. The great soldier, going into battle, has said them for his solace and cheer. The dying statesman, closing his weary eyes upon this empty world, has spoken them with his last faltering accents, and fallen asleep with their heavenly music in his heart. Well may we pause and ponder at the grave of that divine poet! Every noble mind is made nobler, every good heart is made better, for the experience of such a pilgrimage. In such places as these pride is rebuked, vanity is dispelled, and the revolt of the passionate human heart is humbled into meekness and submission.

There is a place kindred with Stoke-Pogis churchyard, a place destined to become, after a few years, as famous and as dear to the heart of the reverent pilgrim in the footsteps of genius and pure renown. On Sunday afternoon, June 17, I sat for a long time beside the grave of Matthew Arnold. It is in a little churchyard at Laleham, in Surrey, where he was born. The day was chill, sombre, and, except for an occasional low twitter of birds and the melancholy cawing of distant rooks, soundless and sadly calm. So dark a sky might mean November rather than June ; but it fitted well with the scene and with the pensive thoughts and feelings of the hour. Laleham is a village on the south bank of the Thames, about thirty miles from London and nearly midway between Staines and Chertsey. It consists of a few devious lanes and a cluster of houses, shaded with large trees and everywhere made beautiful with flowers, and it is one of those fortunate and happy places to which access cannot be obtained by railway.

There is a manor-house in the centre of it,. secluded in a walled garden, fronting the square immediately opposite to the village church. The rest of the houses are mostly cottages, made of red brick and roofed with red tiles. Ivy flourishes, and many of the cottages are overrun with climbing roses. Roman relics are found in the neighbourhood, — a camp near the ford, and other indications of the military activity of Caesar. The

//iT

All Sanits" Church, Laleham.

church. All Saints', is of great antiquity. It has been in part restored, but its venerable aspect is not impaired. The large low tower is of brick, and this and the church walls are thickly covered with glistening ivy. A doublepeaked roof of red tiles, sunken here and there, contributes to the picturesque beauty of this building, and its charm is further heightened by the contiguity of trees,

32 GR.\Y DAYS AND GOLD chap.

in which the old church seems to nestle. Within there are low, massive pillars and plain, symmetrical arches, — the remains of Norman architecture. Great rafters of dark oak augment, in this quaint structure, the air of solidity and of an age at once venerable and romantic, ^vhile a bold, spirited, beautiful painting of Christ and Peter upon the sea imparts to it an additional sentiment of sanctity and solemn pomp. That remarkable work is by George Henry Harlow, and it is placed back of the altar, where once there would have been, in the Gothic days, a stained window. The explorer does not often come upon such a gem of a church, even in England, — so rich in remains of the old Catholic zeal and devotion ; remains now mostly converted to the use of Protestant worship.

The churchyard of All Saints' is worthy of the church, — a little enclosure, irregular in shape, surface, shrubbery, and tombstones, bordered on two sides by the village square and on one by a farmyard, and shaded by many trees, some of them yews, and some of great size and age. Almost every house that is visible near by is bowered with trees and adorned with flowers. No person was anywhere to be seen, and it was only after inquiry at various dwellings that the sexton's abode could be discovered and access to the church obtained. The poet's grave is not within the church, but in a secluded spot at the side of it, a little removed from the highway, and screened from immediate view by an ancient, dusky yew-tree. I readily found it, perceiving a large wreath of roses and a bunch of white flowers that were lying upon it, — -recent offerings of tender remembrance and sorrowing love, but already beginare low, massive pillars and plain, symmetrical arch. . — the remai n architecture. Great rafters

of dark oak ' tructure, the air of

solidity and <■ .i<ie and romantic,

whi^- :-'. ]-)old, sp . ainting of Christ and

I'cu ' ■ 'ditional sentiment

. I remarkable work

iirv Harlow is placed back of

■ there would have been, in the

I window. The explorer does not

ih a gem of a church, even in

i,nt>iand, — su rich in remains of the old Catholic zeal

• ;■' ' !^rtt worship.

>f Aii bamts' is worthy ot the

insure, irregular in shape, surface,

'|uare and on on- 'nrmyard, and

•a 'oy liiany trees, some < : ' >. and some of

, .1 size and age. Almns' that is visible

near by is bowered with ' : with flowers.

No person was anyw J it was only

after inquiry at vaiio. <vtf)n's abode

could be discovered obtained.

The poet's i;rwive Ls itr» Itie church, but in a

secluded spot at tb" '. a little removed from the

highway, and s. ^ immediate view by an

ancient, dusl 1 readily found it, perceiving

n lar • and a bunch of white flowers

that --recent offerings of tender

rcn:r;M. lu^ love, but already beL;i;v

I CLASSIC SHRINES OF ENGLAND 33

ning to wither. A small square of turf, bordered with white marble, covers the vaulted tomb of the poet and of three of his children.^ At the head are three crosses of white marble, alike in shape and equal in size, except that the first is set upon a pedestal a little lower than those of the others. On the first cross is written : " Basil Francis Arnold, youngest child of Matthew and Frances Lucy Arnold. Born August 19, 1866. Died January 4, 1868. Suffer little children to come unto me." On the second: ''Thomas Arnold, eldest child of Matthew and Frances Lucy Arnold. Born July 6, 1852. Died November 23, 1868. Awake, thou. Lute and Harp! I will awake right early." On the third: ''Trevenen William Arnold, second child of Matthew

'1 Since these words were written a plain headstone of white marble has been placed on this spot, bearing the following inscription : —

"Matthew Arnold, eldest son of the late Thomas Arnold, D.D., Head Master of Rugby School. Born December 24, 1822. Died April 15, 1888. There is sprung up a light for the righteous, and joyful gladness for such as are true-hearted."

The Letters of ATatthew Arnold, published in 1895, contain touching allusions to Laleham Churchyard. At Harrow, February 27, 1869, the poet wrote : " It is a wonderfully clear, bright day, with a cold wind, so I went to a field on the top of the hill, whence I can see the clump of Botleys and the misty line of the Thames, where Tommy lies at the foot of them. I often go for this view on a clear day." At London, August 2, 1869, he wrote : " On Saturday Flu and I went together to Laleham. It was exactly a year since we had driven there with darling Tommy and the other two boys, to see Basil's grave ; he enjoyed the drive, and Laleham, and the river, and Matt Buckland's garden, and often talked of them afterwards. And now we went to see his grave, poor darling. The two graves are a perfect garden, and are evidently the sight of the churchyard, where there is nothing else like them; a path has been trodden over the grass to them by people coming and going. It was a soft, mild air, and we sat a long time by the graves."

C and Frances Lucy Arnold. Born October 15, 1853, Died February 16, 1872. In the morning it is green and groweth up." Near by are other tombstones, bearing the name of Arnold, — the dates inscribed on them referring to about the beginning of this century. These mark the resting-place of some of the poet's kindred. His father, the famous Dr. Arnold of Rugby, rests in

Rugby chapel, — that noble father, that true friend and servant of humanity, of whom the son wrote those words of imperishable nobility and meaning, " Thou, my father, wouldst not be saved alone." Matthew Arnold is buried in the same grave with his eldest son and side by side with his little children. He who was himself as a little child, in his innocence, goodness, and truth, — where else and how else could he so fitly rest } " Awake, thou. Lute and Harp ! I will awake right early."

Every man will have his own thoughts in such a place as this ; will reflect upon his own afflictions, and from knowledge of the manner and spirit in which kindred griefs have been borne by the great heart of intellect and genius will seek to gather strength and patience to endure them well. Matthew Arnold taught many les-

Mattheii) Arnold.

sons of great value to those who are able to think. He did not believe that happiness is the destiny of the human race on earth, or that there is a visible ground for assuming that happiness in this mortal condition is one of the inherent rights of humanity. He did not think that this world is made an abode of delight by the mere jocular affirmation that everything in it is well and lovely. He knew better than that. But his message, delivered in poetic strains that will endure as long as our language exists, is the message, not of gloom and despair, but of spiritual purity and sweet and gentlepatience. The man who heeds Matthew Arnold's teaching will put no trust in creeds and superstitions, will place no reliance upon the transient structures of theology, will take no guidance from the animal and unthinking multitude ; but he will '^ keep the whiteness of his soul"; he will be simple, unselfish, and sweet; he will Hve for the spirit ; and in that spirit, pure, tender, fearless, strong to bear and patient to suffer, he will find composure to meet the inevitable disasters of life and the awful mystery of death. Such was the burden of my thought, sitting there, in the gloaming, beside the lifeless dust of him whose hand had once, with kindly greeting, been clasped in mine. And such will be the thought of many and many a pilgrim who will stand in that sacred place, on many a summer evening of the long future —

" While the stars come out and the night wind Brings, up the stream, Murmurs and scents of the infinite sea."

Chapter II Haunted Glens And Houses

ARWICK, July 6, 1888. — One night, many years ago ^ a brutal murder was done, at a lonely place on the highroad between Charlecote Park and Stratford-upon-Avon. The next morning the murdered man was found lying by the roadside, his mangled head resting in a small hole. The assassins were shortly afterward discovered, and they were hanged at Warwick. From that day to this the hole wherein the dead man's head reposed remains unchanged. No matter how often it may be filled, whether by the wash of heavy rains or by stones and leaves that wayfarers may happen to cast into it as they pass, it is soon found to be again empty. No one takes care of it. No one knows whether or by whom it is guarded. Fill it at nightfall and you will find it

1 The crime was committed on November 4, 1820. The victim was a farmer, named William Hirons. The assassins, four in number, named Quiney, Sidney, Hawtrey, and Adams, were hanged, at Warwick, in April, 1821.

"36

Chap. II Haunted Glens And Houses 3/

empty in the morning. That is the local belief and affirmation. This spot is two miles and a half north of Stratford and three-quarters of a mile from the gates of Charlecote Park. I looked at this hole one bright day in June and saw that it was empty. Nature, it is thought by the poets, abhors complicity with the concealment of crime, and brands with her curse the places that are linked with the shedding of blood. Hence the strong lines in Hood's poem of Eugene Aram:

" And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, And still the corse was bare.'"

Hampton Lucy.

There are many haunted spots in Warwickshire. The benighted peasant never lingers on Ganerslie Heath, — for there, at midnight, dismal bells have been heard to toll, from Blacklow Hill, the place where Sir Piers Gaveston, the corrupt, handsome, foreign favourite of King Edward the Second, was beheaded, by order of the grim barons whom he had insulted and opposed. The Earl of Warwick led them, whom Gaveston had called the Black Dog of Arden. This was long ago. Everybody knows the historic incident, but no one can so completely realise it as when standing on the place.