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JOHN AND BETTY'S HISTORY VISIT
BY
MARGARET WILLIAMSON
_ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS_
BOSTON LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Published, March, 1910
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
_All rights reserved_
JOHN AND BETTY'S HISTORY VISIT
Norwood Press
BERWICK & SMITH CO.
Norwood, Mass.
U. S. A.
[Illustration: THEY SUDDENLY SAW THE TREMENDOUS CATHEDRAL LOOMING UP
BEFORE THEM.--_Page 70._]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. FIRST IMPRESSIONS 9
II. THE FIRST EVENING 15
III. WESTMINSTER ABBEY 20
IV. PENSHURST PLACE: THE HOME OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 37
V. THE TOWER OF LONDON 50
VI. ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL AND ITS VICINITY 65
VII. A SUNDAY NIGHT CHAT 83
VIII. WINDSOR CASTLE, STOKE POGES, AND ETON SCHOOL 94
IX. MORE ABOUT LONDON 107
X. RICHMOND AND HAMPTON COURT PALACE 122
XI. STRATFORD-ON-AVON 138
XII. A DAY IN WARWICKSHIRE 161
XIII. WARWICK AND KENILWORTH CASTLES 181
XIV. SHERWOOD FOREST AND HADDON HALL 203
XV. WINCHESTER, SALISBURY, AND STONEHENGE 222
XVI. CLOVELLY 238
XVII. ROCHESTER AND CANTERBURY 251
XVIII. GOOD-BY TO LONDON 273
INDEX 289
ILLUSTRATIONS
THEY SUDDENLY SAW THE TREMENDOUS CATHEDRAL
LOOMING UP BEFORE THEM (_Page 70_) _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
"OH, WHAT'S THIS PLACE? I AM SURE I HAVE SEEN
PICTURES OF IT!" 12
"DO YOU REMEMBER THOSE QUAINT LITTLE VERSES
ABOUT 'BOW BELLS'?" 16
"I ONLY WISH I COULD BE A GUARD AND RIDE A HORSE
LIKE ONE OF THOSE!" 20
"THERE'S THE ABBEY RIGHT AHEAD OF US" 26
"WHAT'S THE USE OF HAVING SO MANY DOORS?" 40
"THIS SEEMS TO SPEAK OF PEACE, HAPPINESS, AND SAFETY" 44
"I WANT TO SEE WHO THOSE FELLOWS IN THE FUNNY
RED UNIFORMS ARE" 50
"THE KING CANNOT PROCEED INTO THE 'CITY' WITHOUT
BEING FIRST RECEIVED AT TEMPLE BAR BY THE
LORD MAYOR" 68
"I'D FEEL LIKE 'LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY' GOING
AROUND WITH THOSE CLOTHES ON!" 84
"YOU REMEMBER, DON'T YOU, HAVING THE GUIDE POINT
OUT LONDON BRIDGE?" 88
THE MOSS-GROWN SAXON PORCH 96
JOHN MILTON LIVED THERE AFTER HE FLED FROM LONDON 106
"OH, HERE'S THE OLD CORONATION CHAIR, ISN'T IT?" 114
"EVERY TIME I VISIT THIS PALACE I MARVEL AT THE
AMOUNT OF HISTORY WITH WHICH IT IS CONNECTED" 136
"WHY, I DIDN'T SUPPOSE IT WAS AS BIG AS THAT!" 140
"DID ANNE TRULY LIVE HERE?" 164
"THEY KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THEY ARE, AND THAT
THIS GARDEN WOULDN'T BE COMPLETE WITHOUT
THEM" 184
"IT STILL SEEMS ALIVE WITH MEMORIES OF THE FAIR
DOROTHY VERNON" 218
"THERE STILL REMAINS THE QUESTION OF HOW THESE
TREMENDOUS STONES WERE BROUGHT HERE" 236
ONE OF PLASTER AND THATCH, OVERGROWN WITH ROSES 240
"YOU'LL FIND NOTHING AT ALL LIKE THIS STRANGE
LITTLE CLOVELLY" 250
"WILLIAM OF SENS, IN 1184, FINISHED THE BUILDING
WHICH WE NOW SEE" 264
OLD GENTLEMEN, STOUT LADIES, YOUNG PEOPLE, AND
SMALL CHILDREN, ALL RIDE IN ENGLAND 286
JOHN AND BETTY'S HISTORY VISIT
CHAPTER ONE
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Two eager young Americans sat, one on each side of the window of an
English train, speeding towards London. They had landed only that
morning, and everything seemed very strange to them, as they watched
the pretty scenes from the car-window. The lady who had met them at
the steamer, was an old friend of the family, who had often been to
America, and was well known to the children, though they had never
seen her son and daughter, whom they had come to visit. Mrs. Pitt soon
aroused them by saying:--
"Come, John, we are almost there, so please fetch down Betty's wraps
from the rack. Here are your umbrellas; you may take Betty's bag and
I'll take yours. Yes, it is really England, and soon we'll be in
London, where Philip and Barbara are very impatiently waiting to meet
the American friends with whom they have been exchanging letters for
so long. They have been studying history hard, and have learned all
they possibly could about their own country, which they love, and want
you to know, too. They have never seen very much of England, and this
is an excellent chance for them to do some sight-seeing with you. I
think you'll have a jolly time seeing all the strange sights and
customs, and visiting some historic places. Now, you must not expect
to find Philip and Barbara just like your friends at home; English
children dress very differently, and may use some expressions which
you do not exactly understand, but you'll soon become accustomed to
them all. Here we are at Waterloo Station."
As the guard swung open the door, two impatient young people hurried
up to the party.
"Here we are, Mother; did they come?"
John and Betty shyly shook hands with their English friends, but did
not find anything to say, just at first. Mrs. Pitt went to the
luggage-van, to find the children's trunks, and the others followed.
"Aren't the trains funny, John?" said Betty, nervously holding her
brother's hand.
"See, this is the baggage part of the car, but isn't it small!"
"Oh, there are several on each train," explained Philip. "Are your
vans any bigger?"
"There are our trunks, Mrs. Pitt," called John. "I know them by the
C's we pasted on the ends."
"Here, porter, put this luggage on a four-wheeler, please," and Mrs.
Pitt and her charges crowded in, the luggage was piled on top, and
they drove away.
"Do you think you will like London?" asked Barbara of Betty, rather
anxiously.
Betty ventured to answer, "Oh, I think so, only it is very different
from New York."
It certainly was! Great, top-heavy buses swung and lurched past them,
some of them drawn by splendid horses, but still more with motors. The
outsides of the vehicles were covered with all sorts of gay
advertisements and signs, in bright and vivid colors; in this way, and
in their tremendous numbers, they differ from the New York buses on
Fifth Avenue.
"To-night, we will take you out for a ride on top of a bus if you
like, John," said Philip.
John, losing his shyness, began to ask questions, and to give his
opinion of the things he saw.
"I think the buses are great! I shall always choose that seat just
behind the driver, where I can talk to him. He must have fine stories
to tell, doesn't he, Philip? I like the hansoms, too. There really
seem to be more hansoms than anything else in London! Just look,
Betty, at that long row there in the middle of the street! I suppose
they are waiting for passengers. And there's a line of 'taxis,' too.
My, but these streets are crowded! Fifth Avenue isn't in it!"
Philip and Barbara looked at each other and smiled. All the sights
which were so familiar to them, seemed very novel to their American
visitors.
"I suppose it would be just the same to us, if we were to visit New
York," said Barbara. "Those bus-horses, which you admire, do look very
fine at first, but the work is so hard on them, that they only last a
very short time. Their days are about over now, for soon we shall have
only the motor-buses."
[Illustration: "OH, WHAT'S THIS PLACE? I AM SURE I HAVE SEEN PICTURES
OF IT!"--_Page 12_.]
"Oh, what's this place?" cried John excitedly. "I am sure I have seen
pictures of it! Why, Philip, I think you once sent me some
post-cards which showed this!"
"Oh, yes, this is Trafalgar Square," broke in Mrs. Pitt. "People
sometimes call it the center of all London. Here is the celebrated
statue of Lord Nelson--here, in the middle; see all the flower-girls,
with their baskets, around its foot. That large building, with the
pillars, is the National Gallery, where I may take you to see the
pictures. The church near it they call St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.
Yes, it doesn't seem a very appropriate name now, but once it really
was 'in the fields,' it has stood here so long. Do you notice all the
streets leading out from this great square? That way is the direction
of the Strand and Fleet Street; Westminster Abbey is not far away; and
you can see the towers of the Houses of Parliament--just there. You
will soon grow more familiar with all this. Now, we must go this way,
and before long, we shall be at home. I think you'll be glad to rest
after your tiresome journey. This is Regent Street, where many of the
shops are. Aren't they attractive?"
"Yes," said John, "but how very low the buildings are! As far as I can
see they are all of the same height. They are almost all yellow, too,
and with the bright buses the scene is very gay."
They rode along for some time, the silence being often broken by
exclamations and questions. John and Betty could not understand how
people avoided being run over when they all dashed across the street,
right under the very noses of the horses. It was amusing to see people
stumbling up the narrow, winding stairs of the buses, as they jolted
along, and even the signs over the shops attracted some attention.
They wondered if the King and Queen could shop in them all, for so
many bore the words, "Jewelers to T. R. M.," or "Stationers to Their
Royal Majesties." London seemed very large to them on this first
drive--very strange and foreign, and they were glad when the cab drew
up before a big house in a spacious square, and the rest cried, "Here
we are at home!"
CHAPTER TWO
THE FIRST EVENING
The big library at Mrs. Pitt's home was a fascinating place, the two
visitors thought. The ceiling was high, the wainscoting was of dark
wood, and the walls were almost entirely lined with book-cases. John
was delighted with some little steps, which you could push around and
climb up on to reach the highest shelves. This room suggested great
possibilities to both the young visitors, for, as they were to stay
many months, there would certainly be days when it would be too wet to
go out, and they could by no means entirely give up their reading.
As they had felt rather chilly on their bus-ride that evening, the
four young people all came into the library upon their return, and
drew their chairs up to the tiny grate. Betty and John had greatly
enjoyed this new experience, for they had been truly English. Having
jumped aboard while the bus was moving slowly, near the curb, they
had scrambled up the little steps and taken the seats behind the
driver. They had not noticed much about where they were going, for it
had all seemed a jumble of many lights, crowds of people, and noise.
But John had slipped a coin into the driver's hand, and there had been
a steady stream of stories from that moment. London bus-drivers have
plenty to tell, and are not at all loath to tell it--especially after
the encouragement of a tip. John was delighted to hear about the time,
one foggy Christmas Eve, when his friend had "sat for four hours, sir,
without daring to stir, at 'Yde Park Corner." John envied him the
splendid moment when the fog had finally lifted and disclosed the
great mass of traffic, which had been blinded and stalled for so long.
As John stood in front of the fire thinking it all over, he suddenly
exclaimed, "It was fun to hear that driver drop his h's; that was real
Cockney for you!"
Betty looked puzzled for a moment, and then said, "Wasn't it supposed
that only people who had been born within the sound of the bells of
old Bow Church could be real Cockneys?"
[Illustration: "DO YOU REMEMBER THOSE QUAINT LITTLE VERSES ABOUT BOW
BELLS?"--_Page 17._]
"That's right, Betty; your history is good," said Mrs. Pitt, who had
just entered; "but John, I must tell you that dropping h's is not
necessarily Cockney. The peculiar pronunciation of vowels is what
characterizes a true Cockney's speech, but many others drop h's--the
people of Shropshire for instance.
"Do you children remember those quaint little verses about Bow Bells?"
continued Mrs. Pitt. "In the days when Dick Whittington was a boy, and
worked at his trade in London, it was the custom to ring Bow Bells as
the signal for the end of the day's work, at eight o'clock in the
evening. One time, the boys found that the clerk was ringing the bells
too late, and indignant at such a thing, they sent the following
verses to him:
"'Clerke of the Bow Bells,
With the yellow lockes,
For thy late ringing,
Thou shalt have knockes.'
"The frightened man hastened to send this answer to the boys:
"'Children of Chepe,
Hold you all stille,
For you shall have Bow Bells
Rung at your wille.'"
"That was bright of them," commented John, as he rose to take off his
coat.
Philip and Barbara had long since thrown off their wraps and pulled
their chairs away from the fire, saying how warm they were. Even after
John had dispensed with his coat, Betty sat just as near the tiny
blaze as she could, with her coat still closely buttoned.
"No, thanks; I want to get warm," she answered, when they spoke of it.
"It seems to me that it's very cold here. Don't you ever have bigger
fires?"
As Betty spoke, the little blaze flickered and almost went out.
"I'll shut the window," said Philip. "I remember, now, how cold
Americans always are over here. Mother has told us how frightfully hot
you keep your houses. We don't like that, for we never feel the cold.
Why, just to show you how accustomed to it we English are, let me tell
you what I read the other day. At Oxford University, up to the time of
King Henry VIII, no fires were permitted. Just before going to bed the
poor boys used to go out and run a certain distance, to warm
themselves. Even I shouldn't care for that!"
"Let's make some plans for to-morrow," exclaimed Mrs. Pitt. "What
should you like to see first, Betty?"
"I want to go somewhere on a bus!" was John's prompt answer, at which
everybody laughed except Betty.
"Oh, yes, but let's go to Westminster Abbey just as soon as possible,
John. I've always wanted so much to see it, that I don't believe I can
wait now. Think of all the great people who have been associated with
it," said Betty very earnestly.
"Very well, I quite agree on taking you first to the Abbey," said Mrs.
Pitt. "It is a place of which I could never tire, myself. And strange
to say, I very seldom, if ever, get time to go there, except when I'm
showing it to strangers. Why! It's twenty-five minutes past nine this
very minute, children; you must go to bed at once!"
CHAPTER THREE
WESTMINSTER ABBEY
The first thing that Betty heard the following morning was a gentle
knock upon her bedroom door, and a voice saying, "It's seven o'clock,
and will you have some sticks, Miss?"
"What sticks? What for?" Betty asked sleepily.
They were for a fire, it seemed, and Betty welcomed the idea. She was
soon dressed, and Barbara came to show her the way to the
breakfast-room.
"You can't think how good it does seem not to be thrown about while
dressing, as we were on the steamer! Do you know that I can't help
stepping up high over the door-sills even yet!" laughed Betty, as they
went downstairs together. "Mrs. Moore, the friend of mother's in whose
care we came, you know, told me that I should probably feel the motion
for some time after landing."
[Illustration: "I ONLY WISH I COULD BE A GUARD AND RIDE A HORSE LIKE
ONE OF THOSE!"--_Page 21._]
To the surprise of John and Betty, there was a very hearty breakfast
awaiting them. They had expected the meager tea, toast, and jam, which
some Americans consider to be customary in English homes, because it
is encountered in the hotels.
Early in the morning, the buses were even more crowded than the night
before, and they had some difficulty in finding seats. John placed
himself beside a soldier dressed in a scarlet coat and funny little
round cap held on sidewise by a strap across his chin, with every
intention of starting up a conversation with him; but one glance at
his superior air discouraged the boy from any such attempt. When they
arrived at Trafalgar Square again, they jumped off, and walked down
towards the towers of the Houses of Parliament. In front of the Horse
Guards they stood in admiration of the two mounted sentries, stationed
there.
"Those black horses are great!" cried John. "How fine those fellows do
look sitting there like statues in their scarlet uniforms, and their
shiny helmets with the flying tails to them! I only wish I could be a
Guard, and ride a horse like one of those!"
"Would you rather be a Horse Guard, or a bus-driver, John?" asked
Betty teasingly.
"Sometimes you see dozens of the Guards together; that's a fine
sight!" said Barbara, after the laugh had subsided. "They escort the
King when he goes out in state. Oh, you'll see them often."
That comforted John somewhat, but he could not resist turning around
for several glances towards the gateway where the Guards were.
"Why do they always stand there?" he questioned.
Mrs. Pitt explained that they were organized by Charles II, who needed
all possible protection to enable him to hold the throne after his
exile in foreign lands. After the days of Cromwell, times were very
unsettled, and many disturbances were likely to occur. Hence the duty
of these Guards was probably to keep the peace (the 'prentices and
common people were very hot-headed), and to escort the King, as they
still do.
"Perhaps," she went on, "you don't understand who the 'prentices were.
Long ago it was the custom to apprentice boys to one of the great and
powerful guilds or companies. These were organizations of many
merchants belonging to the same trade; such as shipbuilders,
carpenters, candle-makers, and so forth. Their main object was to see
that the work which was turned out was good. Every man belonged to his
guild; some were for 'common and middling folks,' while kings and
princes were members of others. A great deal of good was done by these
companies, for each, besides aiding and protecting its own members,
usually had some other charity. For instance, the guild at Lincoln fed
yearly as many poor as there were members of the guild; and another
kept a sort of inn for the shelter of poor travelers. The guilds
played an important part in the life of the time. Well, as I was
saying, when a boy had chosen the trade which was to his taste, he
went to the city, and was apprenticed to a member of one of the
guilds, with whom he usually lived. The boys were called 'prentices.
Their life was not an easy one, and yet, it seems to me that they must
have enjoyed it. In those days, there were great tournaments and grand
processions of kings, with hundreds of servants and followers, all
splendidly dressed in brilliant colors. Men wore magnificent clothes
of silks and velvets and cloth-of-gold, with costly jewels, such as
ropes of pearls; and their servants, whose duty it was to go before
their masters on the street, wore suits of livery with the silver
badge of their master. London in those days was a wonderfully busy
place! On board the ships sailing up the river were men in strange
costumes, from foreign lands. The 'prentices would often stop work to
watch a company of Portuguese sailors pass, or a gorgeous procession
of bishops with their retainers; and from this little verse we know
that they did not always return very quickly to their duties. Do you
know this?
"'When ther any ridings were in Chepe,
Out of the shoppe thider would he lepe;
And till that he had all the sight ysein,
And danced well, he would not come again.'
"There were always processions, too, in winter as well as in summer,
for the people seemed not to mind rain or storm in the least. The boys
had many holidays,--there were frequent pageants, feasts, and
celebrations of all kinds,--and on the whole, I think they must have
been very happy in spite of the long hours of work, don't you?
Another curious custom was the keeping of cudgels in every shop for
the use of the 'prentices, in case of a fight--and I imagine that they
were numerous. Now, come close to me, children, while we cross this
street; there's the Abbey right ahead of us."
As they entered the north transept of Westminster Abbey, the dim
light, in contrast to the sunshine outside, was almost blinding. At
first, all was indistinct except the great rose-window, in the
opposite transept, through which the light strayed in many colors. The
morning service was in progress, so they sat down near the door, and
listened and looked. How beautiful!--how tremendous it all was! Even
John's overflowing spirits were quieted, it was so wonderfully
impressive! The rose-window still stood out clearly against the deep
shadows all about it, but a faint light could now be seen coming in
through the little windows, high up near the roof,--the clerestory
windows, they are called. Betty could see the massive roof, the long
aisles crowded with marble monuments, and the pillars. The canon's
voice was heard intoning in a deep, monotonous key; reading followed,
and then some one sang, in a high, clear voice, which seemed to come
from far away, and yet to fill all the space of the great building.
Betty could not have spoken a word; she was filled with a kind of
wondering awe such as she had never known before.
John, more matter-of-fact, was examining the statues nearest to him.
He touched Betty's arm to attract her attention, and said, "See, there
are lots of statues here, Betty, but I only know the names of William
Pitt and Benjamin Disraeli, 'Twice Prime-Minister.' Do you remember
him? Wonder if William Pitt was an ancestor of our Mrs. Pitt!" he
rambled on, not seeing that his sister took no notice of him.
As for Betty, she scarcely knew that any one had spoken to her. She
seemed to be back in the Middle Ages, and the present had vanished
away.
When the service was ended, they walked about, examining the monuments
as they went.
[Illustration: "THERE'S THE ABBEY RIGHT AHEAD OF US."--_Page 25._]
"This long, broad aisle extending from the main entrance to the choir
is called the nave," explained Mrs. Pitt. "The shorter aisles which
form the crossing are the transepts, and the choir is always the
eastern end of the building, containing the altar. These are facts
which you will want to learn and remember."
"The kings and queens are all buried here, aren't they, Mrs. Pitt?"
questioned John. "Will they put King Edward here, too, when he dies?"
"A great many kings and queens are buried here, though not all," Mrs.
Pitt told them. "The Royal Tombs are there, behind those gates, in the
chapels which surround the choir. We can't go in there unless we take
a guide, and I thought we would wait for another day to visit the
lovely chapel of Henry VII and all the famous tombs. I don't want you
to see too much at one time. No, John, King Edward probably will not
be buried here. Queen Victoria, his mother, lies at a place called
Frogmore, near Windsor, and it is likely that her son will choose that
spot, also. Here's the Poets' Corner, and there is at least one face
which I'm sure you will be glad to see. This is it."
As she spoke, the party stopped in front of the well-known bust of our
poet, Longfellow, which I suppose every American is proud to see.
"So they read 'Hiawatha,' even in England," Betty remarked.
"There are tablets all over the floor, under our feet! Look, I'm
standing on Dickens' grave this very minute! And there's 'Oh, Rare Ben
Jonson,' right there on the wall; I've always heard of that. And
here's Spenser, and Chaucer, and Browning, and Tennyson, very close
together. Oh! It's dreadful! I don't want to step on them! Why,
everybody who ever was anybody seems to be here!" gasped John,
forgetting his grammar in his interest.
"Here are busts of Scott (there's the man for me!), and Burns,
Goldsmith, and Coleridge; I know all these names. Here's a statue of
Shakespeare, though of course he isn't buried here. There's a tablet
to Jenny Lind. Wasn't she a singer? Seems to me I've heard my grandpa
speak of her. And, if here isn't Thackeray's grave--there in the floor
again! Well! Well!"
"Come over here, John, and see this," called Philip, pointing to a
tomb on which was this inscription:
Thomas Parr of ye county of Salop, born A.D. 1483. He lived
in the reignes of ten princes, viz.--King Edward IV, King
Edward V, King Richard III, King Henry VII, King Henry VIII,
King Edward VI, Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James, and
King Charles; aged 152 years, and was buryed here, 1635.
"Well, that beats them all!" laughed John, who was greatly pleased.
Mrs. Pitt now led the rest into the little chapel of St. Faith, off
the south transept, where they sat down to rest.
"It's the most wonderful place I ever dreamed of!" said Betty quietly,
as though she were talking to herself. "This little chapel is the
quaintest, oldest thing I ever saw! The walls are so dark; that tiny
window up so high, hardly lets in any light at all; and the altar,
with the faded picture, is so strange! I can't believe it is the
twentieth century; the people in the Abbey now don't seem real to me
at all. They look so small and shadowy beside the huge statues of
people of other days! Surely the people the statues represent belong
here, and not we! Why, I feel so far back in history that I shouldn't
be in the least surprised to see Raleigh, or Chaucer, or Queen
Elizabeth, walk into this chapel, right now! I should probably go up
and say 'How do you do?'" she added laughingly.
Betty did not know that any one had heard her talking, but Mrs. Pitt
had been listening, and when Betty was silent, she said:
"Come, let's go out into the sunshine of the cloisters now. I am
really afraid to have Betty stay in here any longer! The first thing
we know, she'll be disappearing into the Middle Ages! She's almost
there now!"
As they went through the low door into the cloisters, she continued,
"I want to explain to you children, that in connection with this
Abbey, as with all, there was for centuries a great monastery; and
that the buildings which we shall see, as well as the cloisters, had
to do with the monks. Henry VIII dissolved all the monasteries in
England, you remember."
The ancient cloisters of Westminster Abbey are deeply interesting and
impressive. They are four arcades built around the square grass-plot,
which was the monks' burial-ground. The fine tracery of the windows is
now much broken, and is crumbling away with age, but its exquisite
carving is still plainly seen. The original pavement yet remains; it
is much worn by the feet of the monks, and is almost covered by
tablets which mark the resting-places of the abbots, as well as of
others. The members of our party were touched, as are all, by the
pathetic simplicity of the epitaph: "Jane Lister, Dear Childe, 1688."
Those four short words suggest a sad story about which one would like
to learn more.
"You must know," said Mrs. Pitt, "that the cloisters were something
besides burial-places. Here the monks spent most of their time, for
this was the center of the life of the monastery. The southern
cloister, over opposite, was the lavatory, and there the monks were
forced to have their heads shaved,--every two weeks in summer, and
every three in winter. These walls were then painted with frescoes,
the floor and benches were covered with rushes or straw, the windows
were partly glazed, and lamps hung from the ceiling. In one of the
cloisters was held a class of novices, taught by a master, and this
was the beginning of Westminster School. I believe the pupils were
allowed to speak only French. How would you like that?"
Adjoining the cloisters are numerous little passageways, with low
arches, which lead into tiny courts dotted with flowers and little
fountains. In the houses about, live the canons of the Abbey and
others connected with the church. Lovely glimpses of sunlight and the
bright colors of flowers are seen at the ends of these dark, ancient
passages.
Westminster School may also be reached from the cloisters. Our party
stood a moment in the doorway of the schoolroom to see the splendid
old hall, with its fine oaken roof. This was once the dormitory of the
monks, but is now taken up with the boys' "forms," or desks, piled
with books. The walls above the wainscoting, and the window-recesses,
are covered with signatures of the scholars,--some of them famous, for
the school was begun as long ago as the time of Henry VIII, who was
the founder. The visitor may see the name of the poet, Dryden, on one
of the desks; he was a pupil there, as were also Sir Christopher Wren,
the architect; Ben Jonson; Southey, the poet; and John and Charles
Wesley.
"What is that iron bar for?" questioned the curious John, pointing to
a long bar which stretches from wall to wall, across the middle of the
room.
"That divides the Upper and Lower Classes," was the prompt reply of
Mrs. Pitt, whose stock of knowledge seemed endless. "At one time, a
curtain was hung over that bar. Don't you know the story which is told
in the 'Spectator Papers,' about the boy who accidentally tore a hole
in this curtain? He was a timid little fellow, and was terrified at
the thought of the punishment which he felt sure would be his. One of
his classmates came to the rescue, saying that he would take the blame
upon himself, which he did. It was years later, when the timid boy had
become a great judge, that the Civil War broke out, and he and his
friend took opposite sides. The kind man who had saved his friend from
punishment was a Royalist, and was captured and imprisoned at Exeter,
where the other man happened to come at the same time, with the
Circuit Court. At the moment when nothing remained but to sentence the
'rebels,' the judge recognized his friend, and by making a very
hurried trip to London, he was able to secure a pardon from Cromwell,
and thus succeeded in saving the man's life."
"That was fine!" said John. "He did pay him back after all, didn't
he? I thought he wasn't going to."
"Now, we will just look into the Chapter House and the old Jerusalem
Chamber, before we go," said Mrs. Pitt, as they left the school.
The Chapter House is a beautiful, eight-sided room, dating from the
thirteenth century. Here the business of the monastery was always
conducted, and at the meetings which came every week, the monks were
allowed to speak freely, and to make complaints, if they wished. Here
also the monks were punished.
"They used to whip them against that central pillar, there," the guard
explained. "Here sat the abbot, opposite the door, and the monks sat
on benches ranged around the room. Parliament met here for many years,
too, its last session in this room being on the day that the great
King Hal died."
The Chapter House has been restored now, and the windows are of modern
stained-glass. In the cases are preserved some valuable documents, the
oldest being a grant of land, made by King Offa, in 785.
To reach the Jerusalem Chamber, it is necessary to go through a part
of the cloisters, and into the court of the Deanery. On one side is
the old abbot's refectory, or dining-hall, where the Westminster
school-boys now dine. John went boldly up the steps and entered. After
a few minutes, he came running out again, exclaiming:
"Nobody stopped me, so I went right in, and looked around. A maid was
setting the tables, and I noticed that she stared at me, but she
didn't say anything, so I stayed. The hall is great! It isn't very
large, but is paneled and hung with portraits. The old tables, a
notice says, are made from wood taken from one of the vessels of the
Spanish Armada. Wonder how they found it and brought it here! I was
just going to ask the maid, when a savage-looking man appeared and
said I had no business there. So I came away. I don't care; I saw it,
anyway!" he added, as they approached the entrance of the Jerusalem
Chamber.
All three sides of this little court were the abbot's lodgings, and
are now the deanery. The Jerusalem Chamber was built about 1376, as a
guest-chamber for the abbot's house.
"The name is curious, isn't it?" remarked Mrs. Pitt. "It probably came
from some tapestries which formerly hung there, representing the
history of Jerusalem. It was in this room, right here in front of the
fireplace, according to tradition, that Henry IV died. A strange dream
had told the King that he would die in Jerusalem, and he was actually
preparing for the journey there, when he was taken very ill, and they
carried him into this room. When he asked where they had brought him,
and the reply was, 'To the Jerusalem Chamber,' he died satisfied. Many
bodies have lain here in state, too,--among them, that of Joseph
Addison, whom they afterwards buried in the Abbey. When we come again,
I will show you his grave. Now, notice the bits of ancient
stained-glass in the windows, and the cedar paneling; except for that,
there is nothing specially noteworthy here."
As they left the Dean's Yard and crossed the open space in front of
the great western towers of the Abbey, John and Betty agreed that if
they could see nothing more in England, they were already repaid for
their long journey across the ocean.
CHAPTER FOUR
PENSHURST PLACE: THE HOME OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
In Charing Cross Station one morning, Mrs. Pitt hurried up to the
"booking-office," as the English call the ticket-office, to "book"
five tickets to Penshurst. While the man was getting her change, she
turned and said to Philip:--
"Please ask that guard who is standing there, on which platform we
shall find the 9.40 train for Penshurst."
Philip did so, and returned with the information that they should go
to Platform 8. So they all mounted the steps and walked over the
foot-bridge which always runs across and above all the tracks, in an
English station. There was a bench on the platform, and they sat down
to await the arrival of the train. About 9.35, five minutes before the
train was to start, John happened to see a train official sauntering
by, and asked him if it was correct that the Penshurst train left from
that platform.
The man stared. "Really, you are quite mistaken," he drawled; "that
train leaves from Platform 2. You had better hurry, you know; you
haven't much time."
John waited for nothing more, but ran to tell the rest, and they all
started for the other end of the station. Up the steep steps again ran
Mrs. Pitt, with the four young people following. Along the bridge they
flew till they reached Platform 2, and then they almost fell down the
steps in their hurry, for the train was already there.
When they were fairly seated in a third-class carriage, John, still
out of breath, exclaimed:--
"Whew! My! I never ran faster in my life, did you, Philip? How the
girls kept up, I don't know! You're a first-class sprinter all right,
Mrs. Pitt! We'd like you on our football team, at home! My, but I'm
hot!"
He paused for breath, and then went on excitedly:
"There was a close call for you! We'd have lost it if I hadn't spoken
to that guard, just in fun! There we were calmly waiting, and all of a
sudden, we took that wild dash across the bridge! It was great! I
hope somebody caught a photograph of us! I'd like to see one! How
stupid of the guard to make that mistake! They never seem to know very
much, anyway. If I ever am a guard, I shall be different; I shall know
things!"
They all had a good laugh over the adventure, and Mrs. Pitt assured
John that when he was a guard, they would all promise to use his
station.
"Don't these trains seem different from ours, Betty?" the future guard
asked of his sister. "It seems so queer to me why they want to take a
perfectly good, long car, and chop it up from side to side, into
little narrow rooms, like this! What's the use of having so many
doors?--one on each side of every 'compartment'! And then, they put
handles only on the outside, so you have to let down the window and
lean away out to open it for yourself, if the guard doesn't happen to
do it for you! We Americans couldn't waste so much time!"
Just then, Betty, who could contain herself no longer, burst out
laughing.
"Why, what in the world's the matter?" cried Barbara.
Betty could only point to a passing train. "It's only the funny
little freight cars!" she finally explained, rather ashamed that she
had let her feelings escape in that way. "They look so silly to us!
They seem about a third the size of the ones at home. Really, these
remind me of a picture in my history-book, of the first train ever run
in America!"
Mrs. Pitt smiled. "Yes, I can imagine just how strange they must seem
to you, for I remember very well how I felt the first time I ever rode
in one of your trains. To me, one of the most interesting things about
visiting a foreign country, is to see the different modes of travel."
"Oh, please understand that I think so, too!" urged Betty. "It was
only that I couldn't help laughing just at first, you see. I wouldn't
have your trains just like ours for anything, and I'm sure that John
wouldn't either."
[Illustration: "WHAT'S THE USE OF HAVING SO MANY DOORS?"--_Page 39._]
"Now," said Mrs. Pitt, "there is a little confession which I feel that
I ought to make. It's about where we are going to-day. Probably most
people would blame me for not taking you to Windsor or Hampton Court,
on your first trip out of town. Both those places are charming, but
I wanted to show you, first of all, this dear little corner of Kent.
All tourists flock to Windsor and Hampton Court, but a great many do
not know about this tiny, out-of-the-way village, with which I fell in
love years ago. Penshurst Place was the home of Sir Philip Sidney, and
is still owned by a member of the same family. You know that Sir
Philip lived in Queen Elizabeth's time, and that his name stands for
the model of a perfect courtier and ideal gentleman. He died when he
was very young--only thirty-two, I think--and he did very little which
you would suppose could have made him so famous. That is, it was
little in comparison with what Raleigh and Drake accomplished, and yet
the name of Sidney ranks with all the rest. It seems to have been more
in the way he did things, than in what he did. Of course, you remember
the story of his death,--that when he was dying, he passed a cup of
water which was brought him, to another dying soldier, saying, 'Thy
need is greater than mine.' Well, to-day we shall see where he was
born and bred,--where Ben Jonson, Edmund Spenser, and Queen Elizabeth
all visited."
They were now riding through Kent, in which county is some of the most
picturesque English scenery. Although it was only the last of April,
the grass was the freshest green, the great trees were in full leaf,
and primroses were beginning to spring up in the fields. They sped
through little villages of thatched-roofed cottages, each with its
tiny garden of gay flowers. There were little crooked lanes, bordered
by high hedges, and wide, shady roads, with tall, stately elms on
either side, and fields where sheep grazed.
"Oh, there's a cottage which looks like Anne Hathaway's!" exclaimed
Betty. "It couldn't be, could it? Anyway, it's real story-book
country!"
They left the train at the little station of Penshurst, two miles from
the village. Behind the building stood a queer, side-seated wagon,
with one stout horse. The driver, when Philip found him, seemed loath
to bestir himself, but was finally persuaded to drive them to the
castle.
Penshurst village proved to be even prettier than those they had seen
from the train. The Lord of Penshurst Place is a very wise,
appreciative man, and he has made a rule that when any cottage in the
village is found to be beyond repair, it shall be replaced by a new
house exactly like the original. In consequence, the houses look
equally old and equally attractive, with their roofs of grayish
thatch, and the second stories leaning protectingly over the lower
windows, overgrown with rose-vines.
Mrs. Pitt went into the tiny post-office to buy their tickets of
admission to the castle, and when she called out that there were also
pretty post-cards to be had, the others quickly followed. Having
chosen their cards, they all walked through the little church-yard,
with its ancient yew trees, and out into a field from which they could
see Penshurst Place itself.
"Why! isn't it a huge place!" cried Barbara. "This is just as new to
Philip and me, you know, Betty, for we have never been here, either."
"How charmingly situated it is!" exclaimed Mrs. Pitt enthusiastically.
"Just a glance at it would tell you that it was never a strong
fortress. Like Raby Castle, another favorite of mine, I believe that
Penshurst never stood a siege. But it is so stately and graceful,
standing in the center of these perfect lawns and groups of noble old
trees! It is a beautiful contrast to the many fortress-castles! This
seems to speak of peace, happiness, and safety."
The castle covers a great deal of ground, and is low and square, with
here and there a turret. A terrace, or broad walk, runs the length of
the front of the building, where the moat formerly was, and the party
crossed this to reach the entrance-way. His Lordship came out just
then, with his dog, and glanced kindly at the eager young people.
Continuing, they crossed a square court, and came to a second gateway,
where a servant met them and conducted them into the old-time
Baronial-hall, dating from the fourteenth century.
"This," announced the guide with tremendous pride, "we believe to be
the only banquet-hall now remaining in England, where the ancient
fireplace in the center of the room still exists. You'll see many fine
halls, but you'll not see another such fireplace."
[Illustration: "THIS SEEMS TO SPEAK OF PEACE, HAPPINESS, AND SAFETY."
_Page 44._]
John went up to investigate, and found that right in the middle of the
vast room was a high hearth, on which some logs were piled. "But
how----?" he was asking, when the guide's explanations flowed on once
more:
"Yes, the smoke went out through a little hole in the roof. This
hall has never been restored, you see. That's the best thing about it,
most people think, lady. Here's the oak paneling, turned gray with
age; there, up on the wall, are the original grotesque figures, carved
in wood; here, are two of the old tables, as old as the hall; and
there's the musicians' gallery, at that end, over the entrance."
Mrs. Pitt was leaning against one of the massive tables, with her eyes
partly closed. "Let's just imagine the grand feasts which have been
held here," she mused. "I can almost see the Lord and Lady, dressed in
purple and scarlet, sitting with their guests at a table across this
end of the room. A board stretches down the length of the hall, and
here sit the inferiors and retainers. A long procession of servants is
winding always around the tables, bearing great roasts, birds,
pasties, and all sorts of goodies, on huge platters, high above their
heads. Up in the gallery here, the musicians are playing loudly and
gayly, and even when they cease the guests do not lack for
entertainment, for the fool, in his dress of rainbow colors, is
continually saying witty things and propounding funny riddles. In such
a place much elegance and ceremony were the necessary accompaniments
of a grand feast. In a book giving instructions for the serving of the
Royal table, is this direction, which always interested me: 'First set
forth mustard with brawn; take your knife in your hand, and cut the
brawn in the dish, as it lieth, and lay on your Sovereign's trencher,
and see that there be mustard.' As you see, they were exceedingly fond
of mustard. Richard Tarleton, an actor of Queen Elizabeth's time, who
was much at Court as jester, is reported as having called mustard 'a
witty scold meeting another scold.'"
The guide was growing impatient, and Mrs. Pitt ceased, saying
reluctantly, "Well, I suppose we must go on."
A servant rang a bell, and soon, down some stairs came a dear little
old lady dressed in stiff black silk, with white apron and cap, and
mitts on her hands. She escorted the party up the stairs, into her
domain.
"Wouldn't you just know to look at her that she had been in the family
all her life?" whispered Barbara to Betty.
First they saw the Ball-room, a stately apartment in which hang three
very valuable chandeliers, which Queen Elizabeth gave to Sir Henry
Sidney. The next room is still called "Queen Elizabeth's Room," for
here that Queen slept when upon a visit to the house. The same
furniture which she used is still in place, as well as some tapestries
made in honor of the visit, by Lady Sidney.
"If Queen Elizabeth slept in that bed," remarked Betty, "she couldn't
have been very tall."
Their guide, taking this as criticism of one of her beloved treasures,
was quick to say:
"It only looks short, because it's so uncommon wide, begging your
pardon, Miss."
"Did that stool belong to anybody?" questioned Barbara, tactfully
changing the subject. "It looks as if it has a history."
"And it has, Miss; that stool was used by the late Queen Victoria (God
bless her!), at her coronation at Westminster Abbey!" and the loyal
old lady patted the black velvet stool respectfully.
The rooms and corridors of the old house are crowded with things of
interest. Sir Philip's helmet is there, and a bit of his
shaving-glass. In a small room called the "Pages' Closet," are
preserved rare specimens of china--Queen Elizabeth's dessert-set, in
green, and Queen Anne's breakfast-set, in blue and white. Betty and
Barbara were deeply interested in Mary Stuart's jewel-case, and they
laughed over a very curious old painting which shows Queen Elizabeth
dancing. The long picture-gallery is lined with portraits--most of
them Sidneys--and among them those of the mother of Sir Philip, and of
his sister, the Countess of Pembroke, for whom he wrote his "Arcadia."
When they again passed through the Ball-room on their way out, they
were shown a little square window on one of the walls, which they had
not noticed before.
"Why! I can see down into the Banquet-hall!" exclaimed Philip, who had
climbed up to look through.
"Yes," said their guide, "in the olden times, the master at the ball
could look through there to see how the servants were behaving, down
in the hall below."
Out on the lawn again, they lingered for a few minutes while Mrs. Pitt
reminded them that there is every reason to believe that under those
very trees Spenser wrote his "Shepherd's Calendar."
Reluctantly they left the castle and walked back to the carriage,
which awaited them in the village.
"If all English castles are as beautiful as Penshurst Place," declared
Betty earnestly, "I can't go back to America until I have seen every
one!"
CHAPTER FIVE
THE TOWER OF LONDON
"I should think they'd call it 'The Towers,' instead of 'The Tower,'"
remarked Betty, surveying the curious, irregular jumble of buildings
before her, as they left the bus.
"That's true," Mrs. Pitt agreed; "but I suppose the name was first
given to the White Tower, which is the oldest part and was built by
William the Conqueror as long ago as 1080. Why did they call it the
White Tower? Well, I believe it was because they whitewashed the walls
in the thirteenth century. Why, what's the matter, John?"
"I want to see who those fellows in the funny red uniforms are," John
called back, as he ran ahead.
[Illustration: "I WANT TO SEE WHO THOSE FELLOWS IN THE FUNNY RED
UNIFORMS ARE."--_Page 50._]
When they reached the entrance, they saw John admiring a group of
these "fellows," who stood just inside the gate. In reality, they are
old soldiers who have served the King well, and are therefore
allowed to be the keepers and guides of the Tower. They bear the
strange name of "beefeaters" (a word grown from the French
"buffetiers"), and are very picturesque in their gorgeous scarlet
uniforms, covered with gilt trimmings and many badges, a style of
costume which these custodians have worn ever since the time of Henry
VIII, and which was designed by the painter, Holbein.
Any one may pay sixpence for a ticket which entitles him to wander
about the precincts of the Tower, and to see the "Crown Jewels," and
the armory, but Mrs. Pitt, being more ambitious for her young friends,
had obtained a permit from the Governor of the Tower. This she
presented to the "beefeater" who stood by the first gateway, after
they had crossed the great empty moat. The old man stepped to a tiny
door behind him, opened it, disclosing a small, winding stair, and
called "Warder! Party, please!"
A venerable "beefeater" with white hair and beard came in answer to
the summons, and bowing politely to the party, immediately started off
with them. They set out along a little, narrow, paved street, lined
by ancient buildings or high walls.
"They do say h'as 'ow the Princess Elizabeth, afterwards Queen, was
h'imprisoned in that room, up there," stated the guide, pointing to a
small window in a wall on their left. "By Queen Mary's h'orders she
was brought in through the Traitor's Gate, there. That was a great
disgrace, you know, Miss," he said to Betty, "for h'all the State
prisoners entered by there, and few of them h'ever again left the
Tower."