SOME MIGHT-HAVE-BEENS
In closing this desultory record of a summer's motoring in Britain, I can easily see that a great deal was missed, much of which might have been included with little or no loss of time had we been well enough informed in advance. There were cases where we actually passed through places of real interest only to learn later that we had overlooked something that might well have engaged our attention. There were other points, readily accessible from our route, which we omitted because previously visited by rail; and though many of these places we should have been glad to see again, our limited time forbade. In order to get all that should be gotten out of a five-thousand-mile tour by motor car, one would have to be familiar indeed with England's history and traditions, as well as conversant with her literature. There is little opportunity for studying hand-books as one goes along. A few weeks of preparation, of well selected reading and the study of road-books and maps would make such a tour doubly valuable in saving time and in an intelligent understanding of the country and the places worth seeing. What one should have done he will know far better after the trip is over, and the main excuse for this modest record is that it may supply in popular form some data from the experience of one who has been over part of the ground, while the superb illustrations of the volume will give a far better idea of what awaits the tourist than the mere written words.
Among the places in which our time was too short is Canterbury. Another day would have given us a chance to see more of that ancient town, and a side trip of thirty miles would have taken us to Sandwich, Margate and Reculvers. We had expected to come a second time to Canterbury and to visit these three points then, but were unable to carry out our plan. Sandwich was at one time an important seaport, but lost its position from the same cause that affected so many of the south coast towns—the receding of the sea. It contains many of the richest bits of mediaeval architecture in England, and a few hours in its quaint streets would have been well repaid. Reculvers, or ancient Regulbium, was a Roman city that was destroyed by the encroachments of the sea. Here is one of the oldest and strangest of the ruined churches in England, now standing on the verge of the ocean, which still continues to advance with a prospect of ultimately wiping out the little village.
On our trip to Manchester we passed within two or three miles of Knutsford, the delightful old town selected by Mrs. Gaskell as the scene of her story, "Granford." Had we known of this at the time, a short detour would have taken us through its quaint streets.
The Isle of Wight is immediately across the strait from Southampton, and while a motor car could be transported by steamer to traverse its fifty or sixty miles of main road, this is not very often done. It would require one or two days to visit the interesting points in the island, among which are Carisbrooke Castle, where King Charles I was confined as a prisoner; Osborne House, formerly a royal residence but presented to the nation by King Edward; and Freshwater, the home where the poet Tennyson lived for many years.
Sherborne and Tewkesbury were both only a few miles off our route, and had we planned rightly we could have visited with very little loss of time these two interesting towns with their great abbey churches, which rank in size and importance with many of the cathedrals.
Ten miles from Penzance would have brought us to Lands End—the extreme southwestern point of England, abounding in wild and beautiful ocean-shore scenery, but the story of dangerous hills deterred us, though we afterwards regretted our decision. Nor could we pass again as we did at Camelford in Cornwall within five miles of King Arthur's Tintagel without seeing this solitary and wonderfully romantic ruin, with the majestic—even awe-inspiring—scenery around it.
Perhaps the most interesting trip which we missed, but which would have required more time than we could give, was a two or three days' run through the extreme south of Wales. It is only thirty miles from Monmouth to Cardiff, a coal-mining metropolis, itself of little interest, but with many places worth visiting in its immediate vicinity. Cardiff Castle, too, is one of the best known of the Welsh ruins, and here Henry I confined his elder brother Robert for twenty years while he himself, in reality a usurper, held the English throne. Ten miles north of Cardiff is the rude and inaccessible castle of Caerphilly, which is reckoned the most extensive ruin in the Kingdom.
Following the coast road for one hundred miles, one comes to the ancient town of St. Davids, at the extreme southwestern point of Wales. Here in the Middle Ages was a city of considerable size, a great resort of pilgrims to St. David's shrine, William the Conqueror being one of these. The modern St. Davids is a mere village, and its chief attraction is its grand cathedral and the ruins of the once gorgeous episcopal palace. The cathedral, built in the Tenth Century, is curiously situated in a deep dell, and only the great tower is visible from the village.
The return trip from St. Davids would best be made over the same road to Carmarthen, then taking the road northward to Llandovery, where is located one of the ruins of what was once the greatest abbey in Southern Wales. From this point the road direct to Abergavenny is a good one and passes through much of the picturesque hill country of Wales.
From Bangor in North Wales it is about twenty miles to Holyhead, from which point the car could easily be transferred to Ireland in two or three hours. This would mean an additional two weeks to the tour, and no doubt more time could pleasantly be spent in the Emerald Isle. The roads in Ireland are far from equal to those of England or Scotland, but the scenery, especially on the coast, is even lovelier, and the points of interest quite as numerous.
The Isle of Man, in the Irish Channel, is a famous resort of motorists, and many of the speed and reliability contests have been held there. It is about the only spot in the world where no speed limit is imposed, the inhabitants of the island recognizing the financial advantage which they reap from the numerous motorists. There are about fifty or sixty miles of road in the island said to be as fine as any in the world. The island is charming and interesting, with ruins and relics dating from the time it was an independent kingdom. The two days which would have to be given it would be well spent.
No one who had not visited it before would miss the Lake District in the north of England. A former trip through this section by coach caused us to omit it from our tour, though we would gladly have seen this delightful country a second time. One could depart from the main highway from Lancaster to Carlisle at Kendall and in a single day visit most of the haunts of Ruskin, Coleridge, Wordsworth and Southey, whose names are always associated with the English lakes. Many steep hills would be encountered, but none that would present great difficulty to a moderate-powered motor. It would be much better, however, if two or three days could be given to the Lakes, and this time might also include Furness Abbey and Lanercost Priory. Volumes have been written of the English lakes, but with all the vivid pen-pictures that have been drawn one will hardly be prepared for the beauty of the reality.
The Peak District in Derbyshire we omitted for the same reason—a previous visit. At Nottingham we were within ten or fifteen miles of this section, and by following a splendid road could have reached Rowsley Station, with its quaint inn, near Chatsworth House and Haddon Hall. No one who makes any pretense of seeing England will miss either of these places. Haddon Hall is said to be the most perfect of the baronial mansion houses now to be found in England. It is situated in a wonderfully picturesque position, on a rocky bluff overlooking the River Wye. The manor was originally given by the Conqueror to Peveril of the Peak, the hero of Scott's novel. The mansion is chiefly famous for its connection with Dorothy Vernon, who married the son of the Earl of Rutland in the time of Queen Elizabeth, the property thus passing to the Rutland family, who are still the owners. The mansion is approached by a small bridge crossing the river, whence one enters under a lofty archway the main courtyard. In this beautiful quadrangle, one of the most interesting features is the chapel at the southwest corner. This is one of the oldest portions of the structure. Almost opposite is the magnificent porch and bay-window leading into the great hall. This is exactly as it was in the days of the Vernons, and its table, at which the lord of the feast sat, its huge fireplace, timber roof and minstrel gallery are quite unaltered. It has recently been announced that the Duke of Rutland will make repairs to this old place and occupy it as one of his residences, closing Belvoir Castle, his present home, on account of the great expense of maintaining it.
Four or five miles from Haddon Hall is Chatsworth House, the splendid country seat of the Duke of Devonshire. This was built over a hundred years ago and is as fine an example of the modern English mansion as Haddon Hall is of the more ancient. It is a great building in the Georgian style, rather plain from the outside, but the interior is furnished in great splendor. It is filled with objects of art presented to the family at various times, some of them representing gifts from nearly every crowned head in Europe during the last hundred years. Its galleries contain representative works of the greatest ancient and modern artists. Even more charming than the mansion itself are its gardens and grounds. Nowhere in England are these surpassed. The mansion, with its grounds, is open daily to the public without charge, and we were told that in some instances the number of visitors reaches one thousand in a single day. As I noted elsewhere, the Duke of Devonshire owns numerous other palaces and ruins, all of which are open to the public without charge—a fine example of the spirit of many of the English nobility who decline to make commercial enterprises of their historic possessions.
In this immediate vicinity is Buxton, another of the English watering places famous for mineral springs. The neighborhood is most romantic, with towering cliffs, strange caverns, leaping cataracts and wooded valleys. However, the section abounds in very steep hills, dangerous to the most powerful motor.
In Yorkshire we missed much, chiefly on account of lack of time. A single day's journey would have taken us over a fine road to Scarborough, an ancient town which has become a modern seacoast resort, and to Whitby, with one of the finest abbey ruins in the shire, as well as to numerous other interesting places between. Barnard Castle, lying just across the western boundary of Yorkshire, was only a few miles off the road from Darlington, and would have been well worth a visit. These are only a few of the many places which might be seen to advantage if one could give at least a week to Yorkshire.
From Norwich an hour or two would have taken us to Yarmouth through the series of beautiful lakes known as the Norfolk Broads. Yarmouth is an ancient town with many points of interest and at present noted principally for its fisheries.
On the road to Colchester we might easily have visited Bury St. Edmunds, and coming out of Colchester, only seven miles away is the imposing ruin of the unfinished mansion of the Marneys, which its builder hoped to make the most magnificent private residence in the Kingdom. The death of Lord Marney and his son brought the project to an end and for several hundred years this vast ruin has stood as a monument to their unfulfilled hopes.
It may seem that as Americans we were rather unpatriotic to pass within a few miles of the ancestral country of the Washingtons without visiting it, but such was the case. It is not given much space in the guide-books and it came to us only as an afterthought. It was but five or six miles from Northampton, through which we passed. In the old church at Brington is the tomb of George Washington's great-great-great-grandfather and also one of the houses which was occupied by his relatives. In the same section is Sulgrave Manor, the home of the Washingtons for several generations, which still has over its front doorway the Washington coat-of-arms. In the same vicinity and near the farmhouse where George Eliot was born is Nuneaton, a place where she spent much of her life and to which numerous references are made in her novels.
In Scotland we also missed much, but very little that we could have reached without consuming considerably more time. A day's trip north of Edinburgh, across the Firth of Forth into Fife, would have enabled us to visit Loch Leven and its castle, where Queen Mary was held prisoner and was rescued by young Douglas, whom she afterward unfortunately married. Had we started two or three hours earlier on our trip to Abbottsford and Melrose, we could easily have reached Jedburgh and Kelso, at each of which there are interesting abbey ruins. Of course it would have been a fine thing to go to the extreme northern point of Scotland, known as John O' Groats, but this, at the rate we traveled, would have consumed two or three days. The country is not specially interesting and has few historical associations. Tourists make this trip chiefly to be able to say they have covered the Kingdom from Lands End to John O' Groats.
I have said little of the larger cities—we did not stop long in any of these. The chief delight of motoring in Britain is seeing the country and the out-of-the-way places. In the cities, where one may spend days and where the train service and other methods of transportation in the place and its suburbs are practically unlimited, one can ill afford to linger with his car in the garage much of the time. Of London I have already spoken. Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, Bristol, Birmingham, Edinburgh and Glasgow are examples to my point. We had visited nearly all of these by rail, but in again planning a tour by car I should not stop at such places for any length of time and should avoid passing through them whenever practicable.
Of course I do not pretend in the few suggestions I have made in this chapter to have named a fraction of the points of interest that we did not visit—only the ones which appealed to me most when I had become more familiar with Britain. I only offer these few comments to show how much more might have been compassed in the space of a week or two, leaving out Ireland, John O' Groats, and the Isles of Wight and Man. One week would have given ample time for us to include the places I have enumerated. In planning a tour, individual taste must be a large element. What will please one may not appeal so strongly to another. Still, I am sure that the greater part of the route which we covered and which I have tried to outline will interest anyone who cares enough to give the time and money necessary to tour Britain.
