CHAPTER II

A

THE MOATED GRANGE

DAY which stands out pleasantly is one which we spent in achieving a visit to the old Moated Grange - the fifteenth century manor house of Baddesley Clinton, famous in literature, being selected by Shakespeare as " Marianna's Moated Grange."

Marianna is a legendary lady of some centuries' standing at least. Her chief characteristic seems to have been sitting in the Moated Grange and sighing. When she appears in Shakespeare's pages it is in "Measure for Measure." The lady occupies a rather painful position in this drama, and there is only a passing allusion to the Grange; indeed, as the scene is supposed to be laid in Vienna, it is quite a stretch of the imagination to assume that Shakespeare had more than a reminiscence of Baddesley Clinton in mind. "I will presently to St. Luke's," observed the Duke. "There at

the moated grange resides the dejected Marianna."

Tennyson deals with Marianna at more length; as a modern writer, he amplifies the ancient legend, it being difficult to convict him of absolute invention at so remote a range. Tennyson, expanding Shakespeare's theme of the love-lorn maiden, seems to describe the old house more conscientiously. His allusion to the "ancient thatch weeded and worn," is certainly more suggestive of Warwickshire than Austria, as is also the " sparrow's chirrup." Marianna, according to Shakespeare, is constantly bemoaning "He cometh not" and "I am a-weary, and I would that I was dead."

Well, we were a-weary also by the time we got there. But we were too optimistic and too much pleased to wish that we were dead. We took the train to Lapworth, the nearest town to Baddesley Clinton. We found that this town. itself lay a mile from the station, so we started out to walk there. The town is so straggling that we were not even sure when we got there. It was a beautiful walk through a delightful country road with hedges and flowers and all the proper setting for a jaunt of this kind. We met a couple carrying a trunk between them, evidently going to the railway station. We

admired their economy, and asked them if they thought we could get a conveyance near by to take us to Baddesley Clinton. They spoke tentatively and looked at each other; "Perhaps at the Boots Inn." So, after walking another half mile, we asked an old man to direct us to the inn. He replied: "Go raound the bend in the road and you're at it." Concise and sufficient. We went round the bend, and found ourselves at it. It was a lovely little rustic hostelry, covered with a luxuriant vine which, instead of growing up over the house, grew down over the house, apparently starting at the ridge of the roof, and festooning roof and all quite down to the ground. I never saw a more effective green drapery. Inside it was as quaint as out. A tiny "bar" was set out with blue mugs, on curious oak tables with settles in front of them. We asked if they could let us have a carriage. They replied that "it" was out. Deducing from this answer that there was but one carriage, we asked when it would be back. That was quite uncertain. Was there any other form of conveyance that they could suggest? Possibly, but no horse. Then there was absolutely nothing that they could do for us? No, nothing. Did they know of any other person in town who had a carriage that we

might hire? No, they thought there was no

one.

So we reluctantly turned our steps back to Lapworth station, in order to take the next train home. On our way we passed a little shop composed of a single gable among shrubs, and we stopped and repeated our inquiry. They told us that there was a man who had a horse, and who lived directly opposite the Lapworth station. So, having walked a fruitless mile in one direction, we hastened to walk the same mile back to where we started, appreciating the reason why the young couple had carried their own trunk.

We had no difficulty in securing a springless wagonette with a partly-animated black horse, driven apparently by the mummy of Thothmes III. This relict could talk, although the "rigour "would not allow it to turn its head, and it informed the landscape that the probability was that we should not be able to see Baddesley Clinton, but that it would see what it could do for us. When we arrived at a discreet distance, we drew up and the mummy dismounted, and disappeared through the park palings, and did not emerge for fifteen minutes. Finally it came towards us, and announced that, if we would go to the inner gate on foot, the