"A merry spot, 'tis said, in days of yore,
But something ails it now--- the place is cursed."
The principal part of the house has been destroyed, and only the kitchen
remains standing. The garden has been dismantled, though a few laurels
and garden shrubs, run wild, continue to mark the spot. The fatal pond
is now only a green swamp, but so near the house that one cannot
conceive how it was ever chosen as a place of temporary concealment of
the murdered body. Indeed the whole history of the murder, and the
scenes which ensued, are strange pictures of desperate and short-sighted
wickedness. The feasting--the singing--the murderer with his hands
still bloody hanging round the neck of one of the females--the
watch-chain of the murdered man, argue the utmost apathy. Even Probert,
the most frightened of the party, fled no further for relief than to the
brandy bottle, and is found in the very lane, and at the spot of the
murder, seeking for the murderous weapon, and exposing himself to the
view of the passengers. Another singular mark of stupid audacity was
their venturing to wear the clothes of their victim. There was a want of
foresight in the whole arrangement of the deed, and the attempts to
conceal it, which argued strange inconsideration, which a professed
robber would not have exhibited. There was just one single shade of
redeeming character about a business so brutal, perpetrated by men above
the very lowest rank of life--it was the mixture of revenge which
afforded some relief to the circumstances of treachery and premeditation
which accompanied it. But Weare was a cheat, and had no doubt pillaged
Thurtell, who therefore deemed he might take greater liberties with him
than with others.
The dirt of the present habitation equalled its wretched desolation, and
a truculent-looking hag, who showed us the place, and received
half-a-crown, looked not unlike the natural inmate of such a mansion.
She indicated as much herself, saying the landlord had dismantled the
place because no respectable person would live there. She seems to live
entirely alone, and fears no ghosts, she says.
One thing about this mysterious tragedy was never explained. It is said
that Weare, as is the habit of such men, always carried about his
person, and between his flannel waistcoat and shirt, a sum of ready
money, equal to £1500 or £2000. No such money was ever recovered, and as
the sum divided by Thurtell among his accomplices was only about £20, he
must, in slang phrase, have _bucketed his pals_.[219]
We came on as far as Alconbury, where we slept comfortably.
_May_ 29.--We travelled from Alconbury Hill to Ferry Bridge, upwards of
a hundred miles, amid all the beauties of "flourish" and verdure which
spring awakens at her first approach in the midland counties of England,
but without any variety save those of the season's making. I do believe
this great north road is the dullest in the world, as well as the most
convenient for the traveller. Nothing seems to me to have been altered
within twenty or thirty years, save the noses of the landlords, which
have bloomed and given place to another set of proboscises as germane us
the old ones to the _very welcome_,--_please to light_--_'Orses
forward,_ and _ready out_. The skeleton at Barnby Moor has deserted his
gibbet, and that is the only change I recollect.
I have amused myself to-day with reading Lockhart's _Life of Burns_,
which is very well written--in fact, an admirable thing. He has
judiciously slurred over his vices and follies; for although Currie, I
myself, and others, have not said a word more on that subject than is
true, yet as the dead corpse is straightened, swathed, and made decent,
so ought the character of such an inimitable genius as Burns to be
tenderly handled after death. The knowledge of his vicious weaknesses or
vices is only a subject of sorrow to the well-disposed, and of triumph
to the profligate.
_May_ 30.--We left Ferry Bridge at seven, and turning westwards, or
rather northwestward, at Borough Bridge, we roach Rokeby at past three.
A mile from the house we met Morritt looking for us. I had great
pleasure at finding myself at Rokeby, and recollecting a hundred
passages of past time. Morritt looks well and easy in his mind, which I
am delighted to see. He is now one of my oldest, and, I believe, one of
my most sincere, friends, a man unequalled in the mixture of sound good
sense, high literary cultivation, and the kindest and sweetest temper
that ever graced a human bosom. His nieces are much attached to him,
and are deserving and elegant, as well as beautiful young women. What
there is in our partiality to female beauty that commands a species of
temperate homage from the aged, as well as ecstatic admiration from the
young, I cannot conceive, but it is certain that a very large proportion
of some other amiable quality is too little to counterbalance the
absolute want of this advantage. I, to whom beauty is and shall
henceforth be a picture, still look upon it with the quiet devotion of
an old worshipper, who no longer offers incense on the shrine, but
peaceably presents his inch of taper, taking special care in doing so
not to burn his own fingers. Nothing in life can be more ludicrous or
contemptible than an old man aping the passions of his youth.
Talking of youth, there was a certain professor at Cambridge who used to
keep sketches of all the youths who, from their conduct at college,
seemed to bid fair for distinction in life. He showed them, one day, to
an old shrewd sarcastic Master of Arts, who looked over the collection,
and then observed, "A promising nest of eggs; what a pity the great part
will turn out addle!" And so they do; looking round amongst the young
men, one sees to all appearance fine flourish--but it ripens not.
_May_ 31.--I have finished Napier's _War in the Peninsula_.[220] It is
written in the spirit of a Liberal, but the narrative is distinct and
clear, and I should suppose accurate. He has, however, given a bad
sample of accuracy in the case of Lord Strangford, where his pointed
affirmation has been as pointedly repelled. It is evident he would
require probing. His defence of Moore is spirited and well argued,
though it is evident he defends the statesman as much as the general. As
a Liberal and a military man, Colonel Napier finds it difficult to steer
his course. The former character calls on him to plead for the
insurgent Spaniards; the latter induces him to palliate the cruelties of
the French. Good-even to him until next volume, which I shall long to
see. This was a day of pleasure and nothing else. After breakfast I
walked with Morritt in the new path he has made up the Tees. When last
here, his poor nephew was of the party. It hangs on my mind, and perhaps
on Morritt's. When we returned we took a short drive as far as Barnard
Castle; and the business of eating and drinking took up the remainder of
the evening, excepting a dip into the Greta Walk.