Morning Walk through West Cowes.—Ride to Newport.—Carisbrook
Castle.—Children of Charles I.—Donkey Well.—Chapel of St.
Nicholas.—Boy Bishop.—Archery Meeting.—History of the Isle of
Wight.—Bows and Arrows.
The next morning Agnes and her mamma both rose early; and as Mr. Merton
felt inclined to take some repose, they went out by themselves to take
a walk before breakfast. They were advised to visit the Parade and the
Castle; and, accordingly, they bent their way down the main street of
the town, and soon found themselves on the beach. They strolled gently
along a terrace, supported by a sea-wall, till they arrived at a part
which was semicircular, and which was backed by a small battery,
pierced for eleven guns. This wall forms the boundary of the garden of
a moderate-sized house, which, they were told, was called the Castle.
This building had been formerly a fort, built by Henry VIII., at the
same time as Calshot Castle, for the purpose of defending the coast
against the attacks of pirates, which were then frequent in this sea;
but it has been so completely modernised, that it now retains nothing
of a castle but the name. They saw a great many bathing-machines, which
are very common here, as the gravelly beach permits the machines to be
used at all states of the tide. After satisfying themselves with this
walk, Mrs. Merton and her daughter turned up a beautiful lane, which
afforded them a most magnificent prospect; commanding the Solent Sea,
Calshot Castle, and the tall Tower of Eaglehurst, seated on the
neighbouring cliffs. In a small garden that they passed, they saw a
tortoise crawling slowly along; and Agnes, who disliked slow movements
exceedingly, expressed her pity at its miserable fate.
“Nothing is destined by the all-merciful Creator to a miserable fate,
Agnes,” said her mother; “and I am confident that every creature has a
particular kind of happiness allotted to it, though our ignorance may
prevent us from seeing in what it consists. The tortoise is also
curiously and wonderfully made: as it has neither force to resist its
enemies, nor swiftness to fly from them, it has been provided with a
shield of amazing strength, under which it can draw its head, and thus
remain in perfect safety from the attacks of birds of prey; yet it can,
when necessary, put forth its head again, so as to see and enjoy all
around it.”
[Illustration:
_Fig. 4._
TORTOISE.
]
Agnes was very much interested in this, and would have willingly staid
some time to watch it; but this Mrs. Merton could not permit, as they
had no time to spare: and, on their return to the inn, they found
breakfast ready, and Mr. Merton waiting for them. He was, indeed, very
impatient to set off; as it was now after eight o’clock, and the
carriage was to be at the door at nine. “We shall soon be ready,” said
Mrs. Merton; “for everything is packed up, and we shall not be long
taking our breakfast.”
“That is, if you can get anything to eat,” said Mr. Merton; “for I
never saw waiters so slow as these are.”
Not discouraged by these remarks, Mrs. Merton sat down to table; and
she and Agnes, whose appetites were sharpened by their morning walk,
soon contrived to make an excellent breakfast; though Mr. Merton, who
was rendered more fastidious by ill health, could scarcely get anything
that he could like. At nine exactly the little carriage was at the
door; and Agnes, after running up stairs into the bed-room, to make
quite sure that nothing had been left behind, placed herself beside the
driver, rejoicing that she had taken the precaution of packing up her
portmanteau before she went out. Mr. and Mrs. Merton sat behind; and
thus the whole party were enabled to have a distinct view of the
country they passed through.
The ride from West Cowes to Newport does not, however, contain anything
very striking; and, as the distance is only five miles, they were not
long in reaching the town of Newport, which is remarkable for its
neatness, though it has little else to recommend it. Our party called
at the Post-office; and Mrs. Merton and Agnes visited the church and
church-yard, while Mr. Merton was reading his letters.
The Church at Newport was built in the year 1172, in the reign of Henry
II., and was dedicated to St. Thomas à Becket. There is nothing
remarkable in the Church, excepting the stone which marks the
burial-place of Elizabeth, daughter of Charles I., who died at the age
of fifteen, while a prisoner in Carisbrook Castle; and the handsome
monument erected to the memory of Sir Edward Horsey, who was governor
of the island in the time of Queen Elizabeth. In the church-yard there
was pointed out to them a grave containing six persons of the name of
Shore, who all died on the same day; and this having attracted the
attention of Agnes, Mrs. Merton asked an explanation, when the guide
told them, that this unfortunate family were coming from the West
Indies, on board the ship Clarendon; and, as they intended remaining
some time in the Isle of Wight, a house had been taken for them at
Newport, looking into the church-yard. The Clarendon was wrecked off
Blackgang Chine, on the 11th of October, 1836; and this unfortunate
family were among the passengers. It is said all was prepared for them
in the house; and even a dinner had been cooked by order of a near
relative of theirs, who was anxiously awaiting their arrival when their
dead bodies were brought to Newport.
As soon as Mrs. Merton and Agnes re-entered the carriage, they
proceeded to the pretty little village of Carisbrook, catching several
views of the Castle on their route. Mr. Merton, who did not feel equal
to the fatigue of visiting the Castle, remained at a little
public-house, opposite the church, called the Bugle Inn, while Mrs.
Merton and Agnes walked to the Castle. The wind had been high all the
morning, but it had now increased so much, that, when Mrs. Merton and
Agnes ascended the Castle hill, it almost blew them back again. At the
gate were some old women, sitting at a fruit-stall; and, though neither
Agnes nor her mamma had any inclination to buy fruit, one old woman
followed them up the hill, and was so importunate that they could
hardly send her away. “Do ask the lady to buy this beautiful fruit for
you, Miss,” said the old woman, holding up a miserable green peach,
that looked as if it had fallen from the tree before it had attained
half its proper size.
“I don’t want such a miserable-looking thing as that,” said Agnes,
wrapping her cloak around her, though it was with great difficulty that
she did so, on account of the wind.
[Illustration: CARISBROOK CASTLE]
“It’s a peach, and not an apple, Miss,” said the woman. Agnes was quite
provoked to have it supposed that she, a botanist’s daughter, did not
know a peach from an apple; and, turning round angrily, told the woman
to get away, and not to dare to be so troublesome. Unfortunately,
however, while Agnes was scolding the old woman for teasing her, a
sudden gust of wind, operating upon the broad surface of the cloak,
actually blew her a short way down the hill before she could recover
herself. The old woman laughed; and Agnes, who was quite indignant,
declared that Carisbrook Castle was the most disagreeable place she had
ever seen in her life.
[Illustration:
_Fig. 5._
CARISBROOK GATE.
]
“It is rather soon to say that,” said Mrs. Merton; “when you have only
yet seen its ancient gate, and a troublesome old woman on the outside
of it.”
The man whose office it was to show the castle now opened the gate, and
called their attention to its antiquity. “These towers,” said he, “are
of the age of Edward IV., and look, ladies, at this ancient wooden
door, it is of equal antiquity.” They looked at the wooden door, which
was indeed very old and very much dilapidated; but Mrs. Merton could
not help suspecting that its workmanship was of more modern date than
that which the man assigned to it, particularly as the arms of
Elizabeth were emblazoned over the gateway. She pointed these out to
the man, who replied, “The Castle was repaired and fortified in the
reign of Elizabeth, when the whole country trembled with dread at the
apprehension of the invasion of the Spanish Armada. Look at those ruins
on the left. There is the window at which the unfortunate Charles I.
attempted to escape, but his most Sacred Majesty being, as the
historians describe him, of portly presence, the window was too small
to admit of his passing through it.” They now ascended the dilapidated
steps of the keep, but Agnes was too cross and too much annoyed by the
wind, to admire the beautiful prospect that presented itself. They,
therefore, descended again, as well as the wind would permit them, the
seventy-two stone steps by which they had mounted, and repaired to the
well-house, to visit the celebrated donkey. When they first entered
Agnes was a little disappointed to see the donkey without any bridle or
other harness on, standing close to the wall, behind a great wooden
wheel.
[Illustration:
_Fig. 6._
KING CHARLES’S WINDOW.
]
“Oh, mamma,” cried she, “I suppose the donkey will not work to-day, as
he has no harness on?”
“I beg your pardon, miss,” said the man; “this poor little fellow does
not require to be chained like your London donkeys, he does his work
voluntarily. Come, sir,” continued he, addressing the donkey; “show the
ladies what you can do.” The donkey shook his head in a very sagacious
manner, as much as to say, “you may depend upon me,” and sprang
directly into the interior of the wheel, which was broad and hollow,
and furnished in the inside with steps, formed of projecting pieces of
wood nailed on, the hollow part of the wheel being broad enough to
admit of the donkey between its two sets of spokes. The donkey then
began walking up the steps of the wheel, in the same manner as the
prisoners do on the wheel of the treadmill; and Agnes noticed that he
kept looking at them frequently, and then at the well, as he went
along. The man had no whip, and said nothing to the donkey while he
pursued his course; but as it took some time to wind up the water, the
man informed Mrs. Merton and her daughter while they were waiting, that
the well was above three hundred feet deep, and that the water could
only be drawn up by the exertion of the donkeys that had been kept
there; he added, that three of these patient labourers had been known
to have laboured at Carisbrook, the first for fifty years, the second
for forty, and the last for thirty. The present donkey, he said, was
only a novice in the business, as he had not been employed much above
thirteen years; and he pointed to some writing inside the door, in
which the date was marked down. While they were speaking the donkey
still continued his labour, and looked so anxiously towards the well,
that at last Agnes asked what he was looking at. “He is looking for the
bucket,” said the man; and in fact, as soon as the bucket made its
appearance, the donkey stopped, and very deliberately walked out of the
wheel to the place where he had been standing when they entered.
“Pretty creature,” said Agnes; “how sagacious he is!”
“He is very cunning,” said the man; “and he knows when the bucket has
come to the top as well as I do.”
The man now threw some water into the well, and Agnes, who had heard
that the water made a great noise in falling, after listening
attentively for a second or two was just going to express her
disappointment at not hearing it, when she was quite startled by a loud
report, which seemed to come up from the very bottom of the well.
“Oh! surely,” cried she, “that never can be the same water that you
threw down such a long time ago?”
“It is, indeed, miss,” said the man; “the water is five seconds in
falling.”
“Five seconds!” cried Agnes; “why, that is only the twelfth part of a
minute; surely it must have been much longer than that!”
“Time,” said Mrs. Merton, “often appears to us much longer or shorter
than it really is, according to the circumstances in which we are
placed. Thus, as we are accustomed to hear a splash of water thrown
into other water, the very moment we see it fall, the time that elapsed
between your seeing this water fall and hearing it splash, appeared to
you much longer than it really was.” The man then let down a lighted
lamp; and Agnes, who watched its descent, was astonished to see how it
dwindled away, till at last it appeared like a little star, and she saw
its reflection on the water.
They had now seen all that was interesting in the “Well House;” and
having left it, they were about to cross to the chapel on the opposite
side of the court, when they met the old gentleman who had been their
fellow-traveller in the railway carriage and in the steam-boat. He
seemed very glad to see them again, and was much amused with Agnes’s
account of all the wonders that she had seen in the “Well House.”
“And no doubt,” said he, “you have also seen the window through which
Charles attempted to escape; but are you aware that two of his children
were confined here after their father was beheaded?”
They replied that they had seen the tomb of the Princess Elizabeth at
Newport.
“Ay,” said the old gentleman; “she was said to be poisoned, but I
believe the poor thing died of grief. She was called Miss Elizabeth
Stuart, and her brother Master Harry; and it is said that the poor
things almost broke their hearts when they found nobody knelt to them,
or kissed their hands. It was said that the Parliament intended to
apprentice Elizabeth to a mantua-maker; but she died, and disappointed
them, and two years afterwards Cromwell sent the little Duke of
Gloucester to the Continent.”
“We were going to the chapel,” said Mrs. Merton; “will you walk in with
us?”
“This chapel,” said he, pointing to that to which they were bending
their steps, “is dedicated to St. Nicholas, the patron Saint of
children, students, sailors, and parish clerks.”
“What an odd mixture!” said Mrs. Merton, smiling.
“St. Nicholas,” continued Mr. Bevan as they entered the chapel, “was a
child of extraordinary sanctity; so much so, indeed, that even when a
baby at the mother’s breast, it was said he refused to suck on the fast
days appointed by the Romish Church. As he grew older his devotion
became so apparent that he was called the boy bishop; and it was in his
honour that the curious festival bearing that name was instituted in
the Romish Church.”
“I have often heard of the festival of the boy bishop,” said Mrs.
Merton; “but I was not aware that it was instituted in honour of St.
Nicholas.”
“What was the ceremony of the boy bishop?” asked Agnes.
“It was one of those strange festivals in the Romish Church,” said Mrs.
Merton, “in which people were permitted, and even encouraged, to
ridicule all the things which, during the rest of the year, they were
taught to consider sacred, and to hold in the highest reverence.”
“The festival of the boy bishop,” observed Mr. Bevan, “is of remote
antiquity, and it is said to have been practised on the Continent
long before it was introduced into Britain; though we find that, in
the year 1299, Edward I., on his way to Scotland, heard mass
performed by one of the boy bishops, in the little chapel at Heton,
near Newcastle-upon-Tyne.”
“And even that is above five hundred years ago,” remarked Mrs. Merton.
“On St. Nicholas’s day,” resumed Mr. Bevan, “the 6th of December, a boy
was chosen, at each of our principal cathedrals, from amongst the
choristers, to represent a bishop; and to this boy all the respect and
homage was paid that would have been offered to a bishop, if he had
really been one. His authority lasted until St. Innocent’s day, the
28th of December; and during this time he walked about in all the state
of a bishop, attired in a bishop’s robes, with a crosier in his hand,
and a mitre on his head. If one of these boy bishops died within the
period of his office, he was buried with all the pomp and form of a
real bishop; and there is, in fact, a monument in Salisbury Cathedral,
representing a boy, about ten or twelve years old, attired in episcopal
orders.”
“What a very curious thing!” said Agnes.
“This, I suppose then,” said Mrs. Merton, “is the reason why St.
Nicholas is represented as the patron of children?”
“Yes,” said the old gentleman, “and he was considered the patron of
students, from the following story:—St. Nicholas was Bishop of Myra,
and an Asiatic gentleman, sending his two sons to be educated at
Athens, desired them to call upon St. Nicholas at Myra to receive his
benediction. They intended to do so, but unfortunately the landlord of
the Inn where they put up, perceiving that they had plenty of money,
murdered them in their sleep, and cutting their bodies into pieces,
salted them, and put them into a pickling tub, used for pickling pork.
St. Nicholas had a vision of this in a dream; and going the following
morning to the Innkeeper, he desired him to show him the tub where he
kept his pickled pork. The Innkeeper at first endeavoured to excuse
himself, but, at length, he was compelled to obey; when St. Nicholas,
uttering a prayer, the mangled pieces of the poor young men jumped out
of the tub, and re-uniting themselves, fell at the feet of the holy
bishop, thanking him for having restored them to life. It is on this
account that, in ancient pictures, Saint Nicholas is generally
represented with two naked children in a tub.”
“I think I have heard, when on the Continent,” said Mrs. Merton, “that
St. Nicholas was also the patron of young girls; and that in convents,
when the novices had behaved well, it was pretended that he had stuffed
their stockings with sugar plums during the night.”
“Yes,” returned the old gentleman, “and nearly the same fiction was
resorted to by parents; who, when they wished to make presents to their
children, used to tell them that, if they left their windows open at
night, and had been quite good, St. Nicholas would come through the
open window and leave them something pretty or nice.”
“How very strange!” cried Agnes; “I should have thought the parents
would like to give the presents themselves, and see how happy they made
their little children. Besides, was it not very wicked to tell
falsehoods?”
“I consider it so,” said Mrs. Merton; “as I think we should never do
what is bad even when we think it will produce good. We are all
naturally so prone to do evil, that it is necessary to keep the
boundary line between what is right and what is wrong as distinct as
possible. This principle was not, however, so clearly understood
formerly, as it is now; and thus children of the present day have great
advantages over those of the preceding generation.”
While Mrs. Merton was speaking, Agnes was looking at the chapel so
earnestly that her mother asked her what she thought of it.
“I was only thinking,” said Agnes, blushing, “how very odd it was that
a saint, who was supposed to be so fond of giving pretty things to
children should have such a very ugly chapel. There is not a single
ornament in it, from one end to the other.”
Mrs. Merton smiled, and said she supposed that this chapel had been
stripped of its ornaments at the time of the Reformation.
“The old chapel of Saint Nicholas was stripped in the time of
Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bevan. “When that Queen repaired, and new
fortified Carisbrook Castle, to enable it to resist the invasion of the
Spanish Armada, she stripped this chapel of its ornaments, to remove
all traces of the festival of the boy bishop, which she had previously
suppressed in every part of England. But that does not apply to the
present chapel, which was built on the site of the old one, in its
present unornamented state, in the time of George II.”
They now left the chapel, and proceeded to the outworks, where they
found a number of persons assembled in the open space, adjoining the
castle, to celebrate an archery meeting. The gay dresses of the ladies,
contrasting with the green around, and with the grey walls of the old
castle, had a most brilliant and animating effect. Mrs. Merton and
Agnes, accompanied by Mr. Bevan, walked to the open space in the
outworks of the castle, where the meeting was to be held.
“This space,” said Mr. Bevan, “was formerly the tilt-yard of the
castle, where the fêtes and tournaments were held; and here the
beautiful Isabella de Fortibus, the lady of the Island, in the time of
Edward I., used to sit, surrounded by her court, to bestow her prizes
on the victors.”
Agnes, who had never seen anything of archery before, was more
interested in the preparations for the archery meeting than in what Mr.
Bevan was saying of the ancient mistress of the Island; and her mother
perceiving how attentive she was to all she saw, pointed out to her the
target with its painted rings of black and white, and the red spot in
the centre.
“And what is this red spot for?” asked Agnes.
“That’s the bull’s eye,” said a man who was employed in setting up the
target, “and them’s the cleverest as hits it, or comes nearest it when
they shoots.”
Agnes could hardly help laughing at the man’s bad grammar: and she
looked at her mother, but, to her great surprise, instead of Mrs.
Merton seeming inclined to ridicule the man, she entered into
conversation with him, and asked him a great many questions about
shooting. The man, thus encouraged, showed them the piece of leather,
called the bracer, which is strapped on the left arm to prevent the
wrist from being hurt by the rebound of the bow-string when the arrow
is let off; and he told them that a young lady, who had attempted to
shoot without a bracer, had had her arm so much injured as to be
obliged to have it dressed by a surgeon. “But she wouldn’t listen to
nobody,” continued the man; “and she would have her own way, and that
was the end of it. She was sorry enough, I warrant her, when she saw
the blood running down, and felt the smart; but it was too late then.”
Mrs. Merton and Agnes looked at each other again, but this time it was
with a perfect community of feeling. The man then showed them a
shooting glove, to save the fingers from being hurt when the archer
pulls the string; and, reaching down the bow, he taught Agnes how it
should be held.
“I believe the best bows are made of yew,” said Mrs. Merton.
“Yes,” said the man; “though there’s nothing that is seldomer seen than
a yew bow among the gentry that comes down from London. All the bows
that they bring with them are some queer kind of fancy wood or other. I
don’t trouble my head with the names of them, for my part; but I know a
good yew bow will beat them all hollow at any time.”
He then showed them the shaft, or arrow, which was a slender piece of
wood, headed with iron and trimmed with feathers. The best arrows, he
told them, were made of ash, as that wood was light, and tough at the
same time. Agnes was very anxious to stay and see the archers begin to
shoot, but her mother was afraid that Mr. Merton would be quite tired
of waiting for them; and they therefore left the castle, without
visiting the terraces, which are usually shown to strangers, on account
both of their own beauty, and the fine views that they command.
As they walked back to the village Mrs. Merton observed to Agnes how
much they should have lost, if they had not entered into conversation
with the man who was setting up the target. “He spoke bad grammar,”
said she, “because he had not had the same advantages of education that
you have had; but you see, in all that he had an opportunity of
learning, he was very intelligent, and that he actually knew a great
many things that we did not know, and that we were very glad to learn.”
By this time they arrived at the Bugle Inn, where they found the kind
hostess had lighted a fire for Mr. Merton as he felt chilly, and had
wheeled the sofa round to it, so as to make him as comfortable as
possible. Agnes, who had felt some contempt at the humble appearance of
the little Inn, when they first entered it, was quite ashamed of having
done so; and felt that she had committed another fault of the same kind
as that which her mother had just reproved at the castle. Nothing,
however, was said on the subject, and as soon as the carriage was ready
the whole party entered it, and proceeded on their journey.