Seems a sort of imitation of Horace’s Brundusian journey. Davenant has “a
journey into Worcestershire” (page 215. fol. edit.) in a similar vein,
says Headley. If the popularity of this poem may be estimated by the
frequency of manuscript copies in the public libraries, we may conclude
it was valued very highly, as the transcripts of it are very numerous.
Misled by one of these, I considered this poem, the longest and most
celebrated of bishop Corbet’s productions, to have been written in
1625: subsequent examination has induced me to place the date of its
composition considerably earlier: the reasons on which this opinion is
grounded, will be detailed in the following analysis of the Tour.
Our author commences his journey from Oxford in a company consisting
of four persons, two of whom then were, and two of whom wished to be,
doctors: but there is nothing in the course of the tour to show us
which of the classes he belonged to, unless we are to suppose, from the
shortness of cash which discovers itself before the termination of his
adventures, that he was rather one of those who had wealth in expectancy
than in possession.
[Sidenote: 30]
[Sidenote: 12]
They set off on the 10th of August, and, long as the days are about that
period, had a good chance of sharpening their appetites by their first
half-day’s ride, thirty miles before dinner, when they sat down to dine
with Dr. Christopher Middleton, at his rectory of Ashton on the Wall in
Northamptonshire, about eight miles north of Banbury; where we learn that
their entertainment was better than the looks of their host, whom they
left in the evening, and rode to Flore, about twelve miles north-east,
and took up their lodgings for the night.
At Flore they were entertained by a country surgeon, or (in the vulgar
phrase) bone-setter, the tenant of Dr. Leonard Hutton, the rector of
Flore and dean of Christ-Church, who fed them upon venison.
[Sidenote: 5]
The third morning they set off for Daventry, about five miles. Here it
happened to be the market- and lecture-day: and after having washed down
the dust which their throats had acquired in the ride, one of them was
summoned by the serjeant at mace to deliver the lecture; for which they
were all rewarded with thanks and wine.
[Sidenote: 16]
[Sidenote: 13]
The fourth morning they rode to Lutterworth in Leicestershire, about
sixteen miles. This was once the benefice of Wickliffe, the father of
English reformers; and here the tourist very properly remarks on the
double injustice done to that venerable character, first by the Papists
in burning his body, and afterwards by the Puritans in destroying the
sacred memorial of the interment of his ashes. At Lutterworth they were
met by a parson, who though well-beneficed was better-mannered, and was
their guide to his dwelling within a mile of Leicester. A note on the
older editions of Corbet calls this gentleman the Parson of Heathcot:
but there is no place of the name of Heathcot in that neighbourhood;
and as, by comparison with other parts of the tour in which miles are
mentioned, one mile will be invariably found to signify one and a half at
the least; and as less than two reputed miles is accounted only one mile
in the distance of places, I presume it was Ayleston, and not Heathcot,
where the party rested, and were regaled with stale beer. At length they
arrived at Leicester, thirteen miles north of Lutterworth, where, passing
over six steeples and two hospitals, (“one hospital twice told,”)
which he refers to the eye of Camden, he censures the ignorance of the
alms-man, who, notwithstanding it was written on the walls that Henry
of Grisemont laid the foundation, told them it was John of Gaunt. Henry
Plantagenet, earl of Lancaster, was the first founder of the hospital
in the Newark at Leicester in the year 1330, which was considerably
enlarged and improved, and converted into a college by his son Henry, the
good duke of Lancaster, in 1355; but there is a more general sense in
which the word Founder is used, namely, that in which it is extended to
all those who inherit, either by descent or by purchase, the patronage
under the original founder. And in this sense it may be applied to John
of Gaunt, the second duke of Lancaster, who married his near kinswoman
the heiress of the former duke, and perfected both in buildings and
endowments what the others had commenced. The other hospital alluded to,
is that founded by William Wigston, merchant of the Staple, about 1520.
The tourist next observes on the extortion of the innkeeper, who,
reckoning by the number of his guests rather than the goodness of his
provision, charged them seven shillings and sixpence for bread and beer;
but, after a kindly caution to the publican to forbear such cozenage upon
Divines in future, lest they should be suspected of drinking as freely
as he charges them, turns from a subject so unworthy of his Pegasus in
disgust, and inquires if this be not the burial-place of Richard the
Third; and, finding that there is no memorial for him, moralizes upon the
neglected state in which he lies, as the eventual fate of all greatness:
then from Richard proceeds to Wolsey, who was also buried at Leicester,
and produces similar reflections; and from Wolsey, to William the ostler
of the inn, who outdoes the company in years as well as drink, and calls
them to horse as imperiously as if he had a warrant from the earl of
Nottingham.
The earl of Nottingham here glanced at was Charles lord Howard of
Effingham, lord high admiral of England under queen Elizabeth and king
James the First. He died in 1624.
[Sidenote: 25]
From Leicester to Nottingham (twenty-five miles) the travellers pass
without noticing any thing on their way, until approaching the latter
place they cross the Trent, pray to St. Andrew as they ride up hill, into
the town, and observe that the people burrow, like conies, in caverns,
from whence the smoke ascends at the feet of the woman who stands on the
surface watching, down the chimney, the cooking of her dinner. The part
of the town at which they enter is described as the Rocky Parish, higher
than the rest; and the church of St. Mary, as embracing her Baby in her
arms. From hence they proceed to the Castle, which is described as a
ruin, with two statues of giants at the gates, whom the tourist severely
censures for their negligence in permitting their charge to come to ruin,
and reproaches them with the fidelity of the giants at Guildhall and
Holmeby, who had carefully kept the buildings committed to their charge
when the founders were dead. The poet might still compliment the giants
at Guildhall; but of Holmeby (Holdenby House, Northamptonshire, built
by queen Elizabeth’s lord chancellor, sir Christopher Hatton,) not one
stone remains upon another: nay, the very memory of the giants might have
perished but for the Iter Boreale.
The travellers then go to dinner at the Bull’s Head, where the archbishop
of York had been before them, and where their discontent with bed and
diet was answered by a reference to the satisfaction which _he_ had
received; and where the aged landlord, formerly an ostler, is noticed as
a rare example to those who have an itch for gold.
[Sidenote: 20]
Their next stage was to Newark, (about twenty miles, or, according to
the reckoning of the poet, twelve), which is spoken of as no journey,
but only a walk; and the banks of the Trent as so fertile and beautiful,
that the English river takes away the palm from the celebrated Meander.
The pleasure of this part of their journey was not diminished by their
reception at Newark, where they met with a friend, out of respect to whom
the town united as a family to give the travellers a hearty welcome; and
even the landlord of one inn did not repine that they had passed his
house to go to another, and the landlord of the inn where they rested
was more solicitous of their approbation than his own profit. The very
beggars rather prayed for their friend than begged of his guests, and the
Puritans were willing to “let the organs play,” if the visitors would
tarry.
From Newark they saw Bever (Belvoir) and Lincoln, and would fain have
gone there but for the limitation on their purse and horses. At three
o’clock they set off, with twenty (thirty) miles to ride, (probably to
Melton Mowbray); and having neither guide, nor horse of speed, after
losing their way, two hours after sun-set blundered upon a village, from
whence they obtained a guide to Loughborough. From thence they set off
next morning for Bosworth, (eighteen miles,) but in their way thither
are lost in Charley Forest, and ask their way from the travellers they
meet about the coal-mines at Coalorton, without receiving an answer; when
William, their attendant, seeing a man approach, imagines himself to be
in Fairyland. But the party are agreeably surprised by finding him one of
the keepers of the forest, who conducts them within view of Bosworth.
At Bosworth they meet with far better treatment than the appearance
of the place had promised; and, when their host there, who was their
guide the next morning, brought them near to the field on which the
battle of Bosworth was fought, are greatly amused by his romantic
description of the battle. The guide seems to leave them at Nuneaton in
Warwickshire, six miles (about nine) from Bosworth; from whence they
proceed to Coventry, nine miles; and from thence, having scarcely had
time to dine, depart for Kenilworth, five miles, where they are offended
by the indecency of an aged parson, who attended the servant of the
lord Leicester, it is presumed, to show them the Castle. The Castle of
Kenilworth was once the splendid residence of Robert Dudley, earl of
Leicester, one of the favourites of queen Elizabeth, and on his death,
in 1588, passed to his son, Robert Dudley, who used the title of earl
of Leicester,—but by a decree of the Star-Chamber was declared to be
illegitimate, and from disgust at that sentence retired into Italy, under
a license for three years; and being summoned by the privy-council, at
the instigation of his enemies, to return into England, and refusing to
obey the summons, the Castle of Kenilworth was, for his contumacy, seized
by the Crown under the statute of Fugitives; and Henry prince of Wales,
in the year 1611, purchased a release of the inheritance of it from sir
Robert Dudley, who was to have the constableship of the Castle, under
prince Henry, for life. It does not appear, however, that sir Robert
Dudley resided at Kenilworth afterwards: he probably had little regard
for a place of which he had been compelled to relinquish the inheritance.
This may account for the neglected state in which it was found by our
poet and his companions.
From Kenilworth they proceed to Warwick, three (five) miles, noticing
in their way the Cave of the celebrated hero of English romance, Guy
earl of Warwick, as also his Pillar: and at Warwick we have a humorous
description of the landlady of the inn. From the inn they proceed to the
Castle, where they are received by “the lord of all this frame, the
honourable Chancellor,” whose politeness and elegance of manners receive
favourable notice. Sir Fulk Greville obtained a grant of Warwick Castle
from king James the First, in the second year of his reign, (1604,)
and was about the same time appointed chancellor of the exchequer; and
resigned his office of chancellor, on being elevated to the peerage by
the title of lord Brooke, 19th of January, 1620-21. It may be observed,
that the author of the Iter notices him as an honourable chancellor, not
as noble lord; which he certainly would have done if the Iter had not
been of an earlier date than 1621.
With sir Fulk Greville they found a prelate of the church, an archdeacon,
whom a note in the old editions calls archdeacon Burton. This, I presume,
was Samuel Burton, A. M. of Christ-Church, Oxford, who paid first-fruits
for the archdeaconry of Gloucester, in the cathedral of Gloucester, the
9th of May, 1607, and died the 14th of June, 1634, and was buried at
Dry-Drayton in Gloucestershire. He is described as sufficiently corpulent
to deserve the displeasure of the Puritans, whom our author never loses
an opportunity of lashing.
From Warwick they arrive at Flore, (about twenty-one miles,) having been
able to make both ends (of their purse) meet; and, after staying there
four days, arrive at Banbury on St. Bartholomew’s day, (24th of August,)
desirous to see what sport the saint would produce there. At this place
(where they rested at the sign of the Altar-Stone) the tourist finds
the altar converted into an inn, and, judging by the sign, lodged in a
chapel, but, by the wine, in a bankrupt tavern; and yet, by the coffins
converted into horse-troughs, a church. But though you may judge, by what
is found at the inn, that the church is full of monuments, you will be
disappointed; for there was not an inscription in the church except the
names of the last year’s churchwardens,—with buckets and cobwebs hanging,
instead of painted saints, in the windows. In short, the town seems to
have been a strange collection of sectaries differing from each other.
From hence he returns to Oxford, twenty-two miles, with as little coin in
his purse as sir Walter Raleigh brought from his unsuccessful expedition
to Guiana in 1618; between which period and 1621 it is clear the poem was
written.