_Northampton_.
WHEN I took my leave of the honest shoemaker in Castleton, who would have
rejoiced to have accompanied me, I resolved to return, not by Tideswell,
but by Wardlow, which is nearer.
I there found but one single inn, and in it only a landlady, who told me
that her husband was at work in the lead mines, and that the cavern at
Castleton, and all that I had yet seen, was nothing to be compared to
these lead mines. Her husband, she said, would be happy to show them to
me.
When I came to offer to pay her for my dinner she made some difficulty
about it, because, as I had neither drank ale or brandy, by the selling
of which she chiefly made her livelihood, she said she could not well
make out my bill. On this I called for a mug of ale (which I did not
drink) in order to enable me the better to settle her reckoning.
At this same time I saw my innkeeper of Tideswell, who, however, had not,
like me, come on foot, but prancing proudly on horseback.
As I proceeded, and saw the hills rise before me, which were still fresh
in my memory, having so recently become acquainted with them in my
journey thither, I was just reading the passage in Milton relative to the
creation, in which the Angel describes to Adam how the water subsided,
and
“Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky.”
_Book VII._, 1. 285.
It seemed to me, while reading this passage, as if everything around me
were in the act of creating, and the mountains themselves appeared to
emerge or rise, so animated was the scene.
I had felt something not very unlike this on my journey hither, as I was
sitting opposite to a hill, whose top was covered with trees, and was
reading in Milton the sublime description of the combat of the angels,
where the fallen angels are made, with but little regard to chronology,
to attack their antagonists with artillery and cannon, as if it had been
a battle on earth of the present age. The better angels, however, defend
themselves against their antagonists by each seizing on some hill by the
tufts on its summit, tearing them up by the root, and thus bearing them
in their hands to fling them at their enemy:
“—they ran, they flew,
From their foundation loos’ning to and fro,
They pluck’d the seated hills with all their load,
Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops
Uplifting bore them in their hands—.”
Book _VI._, 1. 642.
I seemed to fancy to myself that I actually saw an angel there standing
and plucking up a hill before me and shaking it in the air.
When I came to the last village before I got to Matlock, as it was now
evening and dark, I determined to spend the night there, and inquired for
an inn, which, I was told, was at the end of the village; and so on I
walked, and kept walking till near midnight before I found this same inn.
The place seemed to have no end. On my journey to Castleton I must
either not have passed through this village or not have noticed its
length. Much tired, and not a little indisposed, I at length arrived at
the inn, where I sat myself down by the fire in the kitchen, and asked
for something to eat. As they told me I could not have a bed here, I
replied I absolutely would not be driven away, for that if nothing better
could be had I would sit all night by the fire. This I actually prepared
to do, and laid my head on the table in order to sleep.
When the people in the kitchen thought that I was asleep, I heard them
taking about me, and guessing who or what I might be. One woman alone
seemed to take my part, and said, “I daresay he is a well-bred
gentleman;” another scouted that notion, merely because, as she said, “I
had come on foot;” and “depend on it,” said she, “he is some poor
travelling creature!” My ears yet ring with the contemptuous tone with
which she uttered, “poor travelling creature!” It seems to express all
the wretchedness of one who neither has house nor home—a vagabond and
outcast of society.
At last, when these unfeeling people saw that I was determined, at all
events, to stay there all night, they gave me a bed, but not till I had
long given up all hopes of getting one. And in the morning, when they
asked me a shilling for it, I gave them half-a-crown, adding, with
something of an air, that I would have no change. This I did, though
perhaps foolishly, to show them that I was not quite “_a poor creature_.”
And now they took leave of me with great civility and many excuses; and I
now continued my journey much at my ease.
When I had passed Matlock I did not go again towards Derby, but took the
road to the left towards Nottingham. Here the hills gradually
disappeared; and my journey now lay through meadow grounds and cultivated
fields.
I must here inform you that the word _Peake_, or _Pike_, in old English
signifies a point or summit. The _Peak_ of Derbyshire, therefore, means
that part of the country which is hilly, or where the mountains are
highest.
Towards noon I again came to an eminence, where I found but one single
solitary inn, which had a singular inscription on its sign. It was in
rhyme, and I remember only that it ended with these words, “Refresh, and
then go on.” “Entertainment for man and horse.” This I have seen on
several signs, but the most common, at all the lesser ale-houses, is, “A.
B. C. or D. dealer in foreign spirituous liquors.”
I dined here on cold meat and salad. This, or else eggs and salad, was
my usual supper, and my dinner too, at the inns at which I stopped. It
was but seldom that I had the good fortune to get anything hot. The
salad, for which they brought me all the ingredients, I was always
obliged to dress myself. This, I believe, is always done in England.
The road was now tolerably pleasant, but the country seemed here to be
uniform and unvaried, even to dulness. However, it was a very fine
evening, and as I passed through a village just before sunset several
people who met me accosted me with a phrase which, at first, I thought
odd, but which I now think civil, if not polite. As if I could possibly
want information on such a point as they passed me, they all very
courteously told me, “’Twas a fine evening,” or “A pleasant night.”
I have also often met people who as they passed me obligingly and kindly
asked: “How do you do?” To which unexpected question from total
strangers I have now learned to answer, “Pretty well, I thank you; how do
you do?” This manner of address must needs appear very singular to a
foreigner, who is all at once asked by a person whom he has never seen
before how he does.
After I had passed through this village I came to a green field, at the
side of which I met with an ale-house. The mistress was sitting at the
window. I asked her if I could stay the night there. She said “No!” and
shut the window in my face.
This unmannerliness recalled to my recollection the many receptions of
this kind to which I have now so often been exposed, and I could not
forbear uttering aloud my indignation at the inhospitality of the
English. This harsh sentiment I soon corrected, however, as I walked on,
by recollecting, and placing in the opposite scale, the unbounded and
unequalled generosity of this nation, and also the many acts of real and
substantial kindness which I had myself experienced in it.
I at last came to another inn, where there was written on the sign: “The
Navigation Inn,” because it is the depot, or storehouse, of the colliers
of the Trent.
A rougher or ruder kind of people I never saw than these colliers, whom I
here met assembled in the kitchen, and in whose company I was obliged to
spend the evening.
Their language, their dress, their manners were, all of them, singularly
vulgar and disagreeable, and their expressions still more so, for they
hardly spoke a word, without adding “a G—d d— me” to it, and thus
cursing, quarrelling, drinking, singing, and fighting, they seemed to be
pleased, and to enjoy the evening. I must do them the justice to add,
that none of them, however, at all molested me or did me any harm. On
the contrary, every one again and again drank my health, and I took care
not to forget to drink theirs in return. The treatment of my host at
Matlock was still fresh in my memory, and so, as often as I drank, I
never omitted saying, “Your healths, gentlemen all!”
When two Englishmen quarrel, the fray is carried on, and decided, rather
by actions than by words; though loud and boisterous, they do not say
much, and frequently repeat the same thing over and over again, always
clinching it with an additional “G— d— you!” Their anger seems to
overpower their utterance, and can vent only by coming to blows.
The landlady, who sat in the kitchen along with all this goodly company,
was nevertheless well dressed, and a remarkably well-looking woman. As
soon as I had supped I hastened to bed, but could not sleep; my quondam
companions, the colliers, made such a noise the whole night through. In
the morning, when I got up, there was not cue to be seen nor heard.
I was now only a few miles from Nottingham, where I arrived towards noon.
This, of all the towns I have yet seen, except London, seemed to me to be
one of the best, and is undoubtedly the cleanest. Everything here wore a
modern appearance, and a large place in the centre, scarcely yielded to a
London square in point of beauty.
From the town a charming footpath leads you across the meadows to the
high-road, where there is a bridge over the Trent. Not far from this
bridge was an inn, where I dined, though I could get nothing but
bread-and-butter, of which I desired to have a toast made.
Nottingham lies high, and made a beautiful appearance at a distance, with
its neat high houses, red roofs, and its lofty steeples. I have not seen
so fine a prospect in any other town in England.
I now came through several villages, as Ruddington, Bradmore, and Buny,
to Castol, where I stayed all night.
This whole afternoon I heard the ringing of bells in many of the
villages. Probably it is some holiday which they thus celebrate. It was
cloudy weather, and I felt myself not at all well, and in these
circumstances this ringing discomposed me still more, and made me at
length quite low-spirited and melancholy.
At Castol there were three inns close to each other, in which, to judge
only from the outside of the houses, little but poverty was to be
expected. In the one at which I at length stopped there was only a
landlady, a sick butcher, and a sick carter, both of whom had come to
stay the night. This assemblage of sick persons gave me the idea of an
hospital, and depressed me still more. I felt some degree of fever, was
very restless all night, and so I kept my bed very late the next morning,
until the woman of the house came and aroused me by saying she had been
uneasy on my account. And now I formed the resolution to go to Leicester
in the post-coach.
I was now only four miles from Loughborough, a small, and I think, not a
very handsome town, where I arrived late at noon, and dined at the last
inn on the road that leads to Leicester. Here again, far beyond
expectation, the people treated me like a gentleman, and let me dine in
the parlour.
From Loughborough to Leicester was only ten miles, but the road was sandy
and very unpleasant walking.
I came through a village called Mountsorrel, which perhaps takes its name
from a little hill at the end of it. As for the rest, it was all one
large plain, all the way to Leicester.
Towards evening I came to a pleasant meadow just before I got to
Leicester, through which a footpath led me to the town, which made a good
appearance as I viewed it lengthways, and indeed much larger than it
really is.
I went up a long street before I got to the house from which the
post-coaches set out, and which is also an inn. I here learnt that the
stage was to set out that evening for London, but that the inside was
already full; some places were, however, still left on the outside.
Being obliged to bestir myself to get back to London, as the time drew
near when the Hamburg captain, with whom I intend to return, had fixed
his departure, I determined to take a place as far as Northampton on the
outside.
But this ride from Leicester to Northampton I shall remember as long as I
live.
The coach drove from the yard through a part of the house. The inside
passengers got in in the yard, but we on the outside were obliged to
clamber up in the public street, because we should have had no room for
our heads to pass under the gateway.
My companions on the top of the coach were a farmer, a young man very
decently dressed, and a blackamoor.
The getting up alone was at the risk of one’s life, and when I was up I
was obliged to sit just at the corner of the coach, with nothing to hold
by but a sort of little handle fastened on the side. I sat nearest the
wheel, and the moment that we set off I fancied that I saw certain death
await me. All I could do was to take still safer hold of the handle, and
to be more and more careful to preserve my balance.
The machine now rolled along with prodigious rapidity, over the stones
through the town, and every moment we seemed to fly into the air, so that
it was almost a miracle that we still stuck to the coach and did not
fall. We seemed to be thus on the wing, and to fly, as often as we
passed through a village, or went down a hill.
At last the being continually in fear of my life became insupportable,
and as we were going up a hill, and consequently proceeding rather slower
than usual, I crept from the top of the coach and got snug into the
basket.
“O, sir, sir, you will be shaken to death!” said the black, but I
flattered myself he exaggerated the unpleasantness of my post.
As long as we went up hill it was easy and pleasant. And, having had
little or no sleep the night before, I was almost asleep among the trunks
and the packages; but how was the case altered when we came to go down
hill! then all the trunks and parcels began, as it were, to dance around
me, and everything in the basket seemed to be alive, and I every moment
received from them such violent blows that I thought my last hour was
come. I now found that what the black had told me was no exaggeration,
but all my complaints were useless. I was obliged to suffer this torture
nearly an hour, till we came to another hill again, when quite shaken to
pieces and sadly bruised, I again crept to the top of the coach, and took
possession of my former seat. “Ah, did not I tell you that you would be
shaken to death?” said the black, as I was getting up, but I made him no
reply. Indeed, I was ashamed; and I now write this as a warning to all
strangers to stage-coaches who may happen to take it into their heads,
without being used to it, to take a place on the outside of an English
post-coach, and still more, a place in the basket.
About midnight we arrived at Harborough, where I could only rest myself a
moment, before we were again called to set off, full drive, through a
number of villages, so that a few hours before daybreak we had reached
Northampton, which is, however, thirty-three miles from Leicester.
From Harborough to Leicester I had a most dreadful journey, it rained
incessantly; and as before we had been covered with dust, we now were
soaked with rain. My neighbour, the young man who sat next me in the
middle, that my inconveniences might be complete, every now and then fell
asleep; and as, when asleep, he perpetually bolted and rolled against me,
with the whole weight of his body, more than once he was very near
pushing me entirely off my seat.
We at last reached Northampton, where I immediately went to bed, and have
slept almost till noon. To-morrow morning I intend to continue my
journey to London in some other stage-coach.