The Bath Road Part 10

[Sidenote: _THOMAS STACKHOUSE_]

The most famous inhabitant of Newbury was that fifteenth-century clothier, that "Jack of Newbury," whose wealth and public benefactions were alike considered wonderful in his day. The most notorious inhabitant was that scandalous Vicar of Beenham Vallance, near by, who flourished flamboyantly here between 1733 and 1752. Candour compels the admission that the Rev.

Thomas Stackhouse, besides being the learned author of the "History of the Bible," was also a great drunkard. That history, indeed, he chiefly wrote at an inn still standing on the Bath Road near Thatcham, called "Jack's Booth." He would stay there for days at a time, and write (and drink), in an arbour in the garden, going frequently from this retreat to his church on Sundays, where, in the pulpit, he would break into incoherent prayers and maudlin tears, asking forgiveness for his besetting sin, and promising reformation of his evil courses. But after service he was generally to be seen going back to his inn. Here one day a friend found him and reminded him that it was the day of the Bishop's Visitation, a circ.u.mstance which he had quite forgotten. He went off, clothed disgracefully, and by no means sober. "Who," asked the Bishop, indignantly, on seeing this strange creature--"who is that shabby, dirty old man?" The vicar answered the query himself. "I am," he shouted, "Thomas Stackhouse, Vicar of Beenham, who wrote the 'History of the Bible,' and that is more than your lordship can do!" The historian of these things says this reply quite upset the gravity of the solemn meeting; and the statement may well be believed.

Camden says, "Newburie must acknowledge Speen as its mother," and Newbury, in fact, was originally an offshoot from Speen, which was anciently a fortified Roman settlement in the tangled underwoods of the wild country between the Roman cities of Aquae Solis and Calleva (Bath and Silchester).

The Romans called it "Spinae," _i.e._ "the Thorns," a sufficiently descriptive t.i.tle in that era. The Domesday Book calls it "Spone." The fact of Speen having been the original settlement may be partly traced in the circ.u.mstance of its lying directly on the old road, while Newbury, its infinitely bigger daughter, sprawls out on the Whitchurch and Andover roads, which run from the Bath Road almost at right angles.

There are quaint houses at Newbury, and old inns; some of them, like the "Globe" or the "King's Arms," converted into shops or private houses, while others perhaps do a brisker trade in drink than in good cheer of the more hospitable sort. There are the "White Hart," and the "Jack of Newbury," with a modern front, and others. The Kennet divides the town in half, and runs under a bridge which carries the street across its narrow width, bordered with quaint-looking houses. Here is the old Cloth Hall, a singular building, neglected now that the weaving trade has decayed; and on the west side of the bridge stands the parish church with a small bra.s.s in it to the memory of the great "Jack," and a very economical monument to a certain "J.W.C.," 1692, just roughly carved into the stonework of a b.u.t.tress at the east end.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AT THE 55TH MILESTONE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: INSCRIPTION. NEWBURY CHURCH.]

It is strange to think that only twenty-seven years ago (in 1872, as a matter of fact), at Newbury, a rag and bone dealer who for several years had been well known in the town as a man of intemperate habits, and upon whom imprisonment in Reading Gaol had failed to produce any beneficial effect, was fixed in the stocks for drunkenness and disorderly conduct at Divine service in the parish church. Twenty-six years had elapsed since the stocks had last been used, and their reappearance created no little sensation and amus.e.m.e.nt, several hundreds of persons being attracted to the spot where they were fixed. The sinful rag man was seated upon a stool, and his legs were secured in the stocks at a few minutes past one. He seemed anything but pleased with the laughter and derision of the crowd. Four hours having pa.s.sed, he was released.

[Sidenote: _"JACK OF NEWBURY"_]

It is impossible to escape Jack of Newbury in this the scene of his greatness. "John Smalwoode the elder, alias John Wynchcombe," as he describes himself in his last will and testament, in 1519, was the most prominent of the clothworkers in the reigns of the Seventh and Eighth Henrys. He is perhaps best described in the words of a pamphlet published towards the close of the sixteenth century:--"He was a man of merrie disposition and honest conversation, was wondrous well beloved of rich and poore, especially because in every place where he came he would spend his money with the best, and was not any time found a churl of his purse.

Wherefore, being so good a companion, he was called of olde and younge 'Jacke of Newberie,' a man so generally well knowne in all this countrye for his good fellowship, that he could goe into no place but he found acquaintance; by means whereof Jacke could no sooner get a crowne, but straight hee found meanes to spend it; yet had he ever this care, that hee would always keepe himselfe in comely and decent apparel, neither at any time would hee be overcome in drinke, but so discreetly behave himselfe with honest mirthe and pleasant conceits, that he was every gentleman's companion."

This is so excellent a voucher for him that it is not surprising so universal a favourite stepped into the shoes of his master's widow. She was rich, and he with a plentiful lack of coin; yet though she had a choice of suitors, including a "tanner, a taylor, and a parson," she set her heart on Jack with something of the determination which characterized the "Berkshire Lady" already referred to in these pages; and though he was something loth, married him out of hand. We are not told that she regretted it, but probably she did, for the stories have it that she was a gossip and given to staying out late, while Jack stopped at home and went betimes to bed. Once, when she returned at midnight, and knocked at the door, he looked from his window and told her that, as she had stayed out all day for her own delight, she might "lie forth" until the morning for his. "Moved with pity," as the narrative says, but more likely because her continual knocking kept him awake, he at last went down in his shirt and opened the door, when "Alack, husband," says she, "what hap have I? My wedding ring was even now in my hand, and I have let it fall about the door; good, sweet John, come forth with the candle and help me seek it."

He "went forth" accordingly, into the street, and she locked him out! We are not told what happened when he got in again.

He seems to have taken her loss, a little later, calmly enough, for he speedily married again, and although "wondrous wealthie," he chose a poor girl who lived at Aylesbury. A grand wedding it was when Joan (for that was her name) and Jack were married. Her head, we are a.s.sured, was adorned with a "billement of gold, and her hair, as yellow as gold, hanging downe behind her." In fact, "Her golden hair was hanging down her back," as the music-hall songster has it; which goes far to prove that the modern _penchant_ for yellow locks has a respectable antiquity, and warrants brunettes in using all the arts of the toilet to redress the errors of Nature.

[Sidenote: _JACK AS ENTERTAINER_]

Jack of Newbury entertained Henry the Eighth here, and, wonderful to relate, the floors of the house were covered with broad cloth, instead of the then usual rushes. Also, he equipped a hundred of his workmen, fifty as hors.e.m.e.n, and fifty armed with bows and pikes, "as well armed and better clothed than any," and went with them to the Scotch war. The "Ballad of the Newberrie Archers" tells us how they distinguished themselves at Flodden Field; but it must be added that it is doubtful whether they ever reached so far; which proves the ballad-maker--the "special correspondent" of that time--to have been more eloquent than truthful. That Jack was the princ.i.p.al man of his trade must be evident from these facts and from the statement that he employed a hundred looms; and a great deal more evident from his having been selected to head the pet.i.tion of the clothiers for the encouragement of trade with France. He had a pretty taste in sarcasm, too, if his retort upon Wolsey, to whom it had been referred, and who had delayed to answer it, is considered. "If my Lord Chancellor's father," said he, "had been no hastier in killing calves than he in despatching of poor men's suits, I think he would never have worn a mitre." It is only necessary to remember that Wolsey was the son of a butcher for the sting of this quip to be appreciated.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD CLOTH HALL, NEWBURY.]

XXVI

In 1531, and again in 1556, Newbury was the scene of martyrdoms; and in 1643 and 1644 the site of two battles between Charles and his Parliament, both almost equally indecisive, and both remarkable for desperate courage on either side.

[Sidenote: _FIRST BATTLE OF NEWBURY_]

The first battle was fought to the south of the town on September 18, and was the culmination of a Royalist attack upon the Parliamentary army under the Earl of Ess.e.x, on the march from Gloucester to London. Ess.e.x had designed to lie at Newbury, the town being strongly for the Parliament; but as he was marching across Enborne Chase on the 16th, his line was cut by the appearance of Prince Rupert, who charged down upon him with his dragoons. In this skirmish the Marquis de Vieuville was slain, and many others of the Royalists. The battle thus forced on by the rashness of Prince Rupert was one of the fiercest in the war.

The King was encamped near Donnington. Ess.e.x advanced and seized some elevated ground, where his men were charged by the Royalist cavalry, at whose head was the Earl of Carnarvon. Carnarvon had that morning measured a gateway with his sword, to see if it were wide enough for the prisoners who, with Ess.e.x at their head, they were to lead through it in the evening. Although they cut up Ess.e.x's cavalry, Carnarvon himself fell in that gallant charge, and was carried through the same gateway, a corpse, that night.

It was the Parliamentary foot, the London train-bands, that saved the day, which would otherwise have been a disastrous rout for their leader. They withstood the cannonading and the impetuous charges of Rupert's horse, and, with Ess.e.x himself among them, in a conspicuous white hat, drove back the Royalist infantry. It was not until night had fallen that the contest ceased. Six thousand were slain that day, and neither side had won. Ess.e.x was so weakened that he retreated upon Reading the next morning.

He had nearly reached Theale when Rupert descended upon his rear like a hurricane, and cut down many of his troops in a spot still called, from this circ.u.mstance, "Dead Man's Lane."

The Royalists perhaps had slightly the better of the First Battle of Newbury; but at what a cost! Carnarvon, the young Earl of Sunderland; and Lucius Cary, Viscount Falkland, slain! Falkland was Secretary of State, and a patriot whose feelings were above partizanship. He seems to have had a presentiment of death, for he received the Sacrament on the morning of the battle, saying, "I am weary of the times, and foresee much misery to my country; but I believe I shall be out of it ere night." There is a monument on Wash Common to him--

"The blameless and the brave,"

who fell thus with his brothers-in-arms; and mounds still mark the places where the dead were buried. The memory of this great battle has recently been revived, for in 1897 its anniversary was celebrated, and wreaths and crosses of evergreens were laid upon the monument and the tumuli.

XXVII

[Sidenote: _THE SECOND BATTLE_]

The Second Battle of Newbury was fought on Sunday, October 27, 1644. The thickest part of it raged round Speen, on the Bath Road, and in the gardens of Shaw House. This house, one of the finest mansions in Berkshire, was built by Thomas Dolman, clothier, in 1581. He was evidently something of a scholar, and worldly wise as well, for he knew that his riches and his grand mansion would rouse envious talk. Accordingly he caused Latin and Greek inscriptions to be carved over the entrance, which, Englished, run--

"Let no envious man enter here."

And--

"The toothless man envies the teeth of those who eat, and the mole despises the eyes of the roe."

It is quite obvious that Thomas Dolman had been a great deal criticized locally, and that the iron of that criticism had entered his soul.

His son became Sir Thomas Dolman, and it was his descendant, Sir John Dolman, who garrisoned the house and entertained King Charles here on the night before the second battle. A hole is still shown in the panelling of the drawing-room, said to have been made by a shot fired at the King that night when standing at the window; and a bra.s.s plate records the circ.u.mstance in a Latin inscription.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LAST OF THE SMOCK-FROCKS AND BEAVERS.]

The parapets of Shaw House were lined with Royalist musketeers on this occasion, and entrenchments thrown up in the gardens; but after a stubbornly contested fight the Royalists were too weakened to retain the position. Their ordnance and the wounded were left at Donnington Castle, a mile away, and they fell back upon Oxford. Neither side had been sorry when night fell and put an end to a hard-fought, but inconclusive, day; and for their part the Parliamentary leaders were glad to see the King's forces withdrawing by the light of the moon, and did not dare risk an attack upon them.

It is not a little singular that during all this clash of arms the Royalist governor of Donnington Castle held that stronghold, although repeatedly attacked, from August, 1644, to April, 1646, and then only surrendered when desired by the King to do so.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CURIOUS OLD TOLL-HOUSE BETWEEN NEWBURY AND HUNGERFORD.]

[Sidenote: _SPEEN_]

The road ascends to Speen, or, as it is often called, "Church Speen." The present writer was climbing it when he overtook a countryman in a smock-frock, to whom the steep gradient was evidently anything but welcome.

"You're a regular Mountjoy, a' b'lieve," said the countryman, puffing and blowing.

"A regular what?"

"A Mountjoy--a walker. But there; you bain't Newbury?"

I told him I certainly was not a native of that town.

"Well," said he, "you won't, never have heerd of 'un, p'raps."

It seems, then, that about fifty years ago Newbury boasted a pedestrian of that name, who obtained such a great local reputation that he has become proverbial with the country people, so that a "regular Mountjoy" is any one who possesses good walking powers.