under a building, they saw the terrible Traitor's Gate,--a low, gloomy
arch, with great wooden doors. The water formerly came through the
arch and up to the steps, at which the unfortunate prisoners were
landed. As the Princess Elizabeth stepped from the boat, she cried,
"Here landeth as true a subject, being a prisoner, as ever landed at
these stairs; and before Thee, O God, I speak it!"
"Isn't there a proverb, 'A loyal heart may be landed at Traitor's
Gate'?" questioned Mrs. Pitt; and turning to the guide she added,
"Wasn't it right here where we are standing that Margaret Roper
caught sight of her father, Sir Thomas More, after his trial?" As the
guide nodded his assent, she went on, "You all remember Sir Thomas
More, of course,--the great and noble man whom Henry VIII beheaded
because he would not swear allegiance to the King as head of the
Church in England. In those days, an ax was always carried in the boat
with the prisoner, on his return to the Tower, after the trial. If the
head of the ax was turned toward the victim, it was a sign that he was
condemned. It was here, as I said, that Margaret Roper stood with the
crowd, eagerly watching for the first glimpse of her beloved father;
and when he came near and she saw the position of the ax, she broke
away from the soldiers, and flung herself into her father's arms. The
two were so devoted that their story has always seemed an especially
pathetic one to me. I suppose there were many like it, however."
"Indeed there were, lady," returned the guide, quite moved.
Just opposite Traitor's Gate is the Bloody Tower, the most picturesque
bit of the entire fortress. The old portcullis there is known as the
only one in England which is still fit for use. At the side is an
ancient and rusty iron ring, which attracted John's attention so much
that he asked about it.
"Boatmen coming through the Traitor's Gate yonder, used to tie their
boats to that ring," the "beefeater" told them. "That shows you 'ow
much farther h'up the water came in those days. H'in a room over the
gateway of the Bloody Tower there, the Duke of Clarence, h'according
to some, drowned himself in a butt of Malmsey wine; and in h'an
adjoining room, they say that the little Princes were murdered by
h'order of their uncle, the powerful Duke of Gloucester, who stole
their right to the throne. Right 'ere, at the foot of these steps, is
where 'e 'urriedly buried them, h'after 'is men 'ad smothered them."
The children stood gazing at the little window over the gateway, their
eyes big with horror. It did not seem as though such terrible things
could have been done there in that little room, into which the sun now
poured through the tiny window.
Every night at eleven o'clock, the warder on guard at the Bloody
Tower challenges the Chief Warder, who passes bearing the keys. Each
time this conversation follows:--
"Who goes there?"
"Keys."
"Whose keys?"
"King Edward VII's keys."
"Advance King Edward VII's keys, and all's well."
Not until then, may the keys in the Chief Warder's care be allowed to
pass on.
Some steps just beyond lead into the Wakefield Tower, where the "Crown
Jewels" are now kept. The "beefeater" remained below, but Mrs. Pitt
took the young people up into the little round room where the splendid
crowns and other jewels are seen, behind iron bars. After examining
minutely the objects on view, while leaning just as far as possible
over the rail, John burst out with:
"Just look at those huge salt-cellars!" pointing to several very large
gold ones. "I should say that the English must be about as fond of
salt as they are of mustard, to have wanted those great things! Oh, I
don't care for these!" he added. "They are stupid, I think! Imagine
being King Edward, and owning such elegant crowns, scepters, and
things, and then letting them stay way down here at the Tower, where
he can't get at them! What's the use of having them, I'd like to know!
Oh, come on! I've seen enough of these!"
"Wait just a minute, John," interrupted Betty. "See! here's Queen
Victoria's crown, and in it is the ruby that belonged to the Black
Prince, and which Henry V wore in his helmet at Agincourt! Just
think!" with a sigh. "Now I'll go."
"Speaking of crowns," observed Mrs. Pitt, in passing down the stairs,
"have you ever heard about the large emerald which George III wore in
his crown, at his coronation? During the ceremony, it fell out, and
superstitious people regarded it as a bad omen. Their fears were
realized when that sovereign lost something much dearer to him than
any jewel: his American Colonies."
The previously-mentioned White Tower stands in the center of all the
other surrounding buildings. It is large and square, with turrets at
the four corners,--an ideal old fortress. As they approached, the
guide took out some keys and unlocked a door, starting down some
steps into the darkness. "Oh, the dungeons!" gasped Betty, and she and
Barbara shivered a little, as they followed.
Just at the foot they halted, and the guide showed them some round
holes in the floor.
"'Ere's where they fastened down the rack. This 'ere's the Torture
Chamber. You may think that being so near the entrance, the cries of
the victims could be 'eard by the people outside, lady, but these
walls are so thick that there was no possible chance of that. Ah, down
in these parts is where we still see things, ladies!"
"Why, what do you mean?" whispered John, dreading and yet longing to
hear.
Thus encouraged, their guide continued:--
"Once h'every month, it is my turn to watch down 'ere, during the
night. Some of us don't like to admit it, lady, but we h'all dread
that! Many things which 'ave never been written down in 'istory, 'ave
'appened in these 'ere passages and cells! Ah, there are figures glide
around 'ere in the dead o' night, and many's the times I've 'eard
screams, way in the distance, as though somebody was being 'urt! Now,
this way, please, and I'll show you Guy Fawkes's cell,--'im h'as was
the originator of the Gunpowder Plot, and tried to blow up the 'ouses
of Parliament."
They felt their way along the uneven floors, and peered into the
darkness of Guy Fawkes's cell, which was called "Little Ease."
"Just imagine having to stay long in there!" sighed Betty. "Not able
to stand up, lie down, or even sit up straight! Did they make it that
way on purpose, do you think?"
"They certainly did, Miss," declared the guide. "They tried to make
'im confess 'o 'ad associated with 'im in the plot; but 'e wouldn't,
and they finally put 'im on the rack, poor man! A terrible thing was
that rack!"
"Let's come away now," broke in Mrs. Pitt quickly. "I really think we
have all had about enough of this, and there are more cheerful things
to be seen above."
So they threaded their way out to the entrance again, getting whiffs
of damp, disagreeable air from several dark dungeons, and passing
through a number of great apartments stacked with guns. It was a
relief to gain the main part of the building, where other people were,
and plenty of warmth and sunlight. Their spirits rose, and they
laughed and joked while climbing the narrow, spiral stairs.
The large room in which they found themselves was filled with weapons
also, and various relics of the old Tower. It was used as the great
Banqueting-hall when the Tower was the Royal Palace, as well as the
fortress, the State prison, the Mint, the Armory, and the Record
Office. The apartment above this was the Council Chamber. They went
up.
"It was here that Richard II gave up his crown to Henry of Bolingbroke
who became Henry IV, by demand of the people," said Mrs. Pitt.
"Richard was a weak, cruel king, you remember, and was confined in a
distant castle, where he was finally murdered. Suppose we examine some
of this armor now. This suit here belonged to Queen Elizabeth's
favorite, the Earl of Leicester. Notice the initials R. D., which
stand for his name, Robert Dudley. This here was made for Charles I
when he was a boy; and that belonged to Charles Brandon, Duke of
Suffolk; and this, to Henry VIII himself. Aren't they interesting?
Yes, what's that you have found, Barbara?"
The two boys were absorbed in the armor for some time, but Barbara and
Betty liked a figure on horseback, which represents Queen Elizabeth as
she looked when she rode out in state. It is strangely realistic, for
the figure is dressed in a gown of the period said to have belonged to
that Queen.
"Do you suppose that jewels were sewn into the dress where those round
holes are?" asked Betty, gently touching the faded velvet with one
finger.
They all examined the dreadful instruments of torture, some of them
taken from the Armada, and the ghastly headsman's block and mask, and
then they descended the winding stairs again and went into the little
shadowy St. John's Chapel, on the floor with the Banqueting-hall.
"I want you all to remember that this is called the 'most perfect
Norman chapel in England,'" began Mrs. Pitt. "Some day when you have
learned more about architecture, that will mean a great deal to you.
These heavy circular pillars and the horseshoe arches show the ancient
Norman style. It's a quaint place, isn't it? Here Brackenbury, the
Lieutenant of the Tower, was praying one evening when the order came
to him to murder the two little Princes. In this chapel, the Duke of
Northumberland, the aged father of Lady Jane Grey, heard Mass before
he went out to execution. 'Bloody Mary' came here to attend service
upon the death of her brother, Edward VI. Somewhere on the same floor
of this tower, John Baliol, the Scotch King, was imprisoned and lived
for some time in great state. There is (at any rate, there was) a
secret passage between this chapel and the Royal Apartments. I have
read so much about the dreadful conspirators who skulked about the
Tower, and the fearful deeds that were done here, that I can almost
see a man in armor, with drawn sword, lurking behind one of these
pillars!"
Some soldiers in their gay uniforms were parading on Tower Green when
they went out again, and the scene was a merry, bright one.
"How different from the days when the scaffold stood under those
trees!" exclaimed Mrs. Pitt, as they approached the fatal spot. "Here
perished Lady Jane Grey, Anne Boleyn, Katharine Howard, and Queen
Elizabeth's unfortunate favorite, the Earl of Essex. Most of the
victims were beheaded just outside, on Tower Hill. Now, we'll look
into St. Peter's Chapel."
It is a gloomy, unattractive enough little chapel, but there are
buried here many illustrious men and women, whose lives were unjustly
taken by those in power. Here lie the queens who suffered at the
Tower, and, strangely enough, their tombs are mostly unmarked. John
Fisher, the ancient Bishop of Rochester, lies here, and Guildford
Dudley, husband to Lady Jane Grey, the Earl of Arundel, Sir Thomas
More, and many others whose names are forever famous.
Our party visited the little room in the Beauchamp Tower, which so
many examine with intense interest. Many people were imprisoned there,
and the walls are literally covered with signatures, verses,
coats-of-arms, crests, and various devices cut into the stone by the
captives. Perhaps the most famous is the simple word "JANE," said to
have been done by her husband, Guildford Dudley. A secret passage has
been discovered extending around this chamber, and probably spies were
stationed there to watch the prisoners and listen to what they said.
"That's the Brick Tower," said Mrs. Pitt, pointing to it with her
umbrella, as she spoke. "There's where Lady Jane Grey was imprisoned,
and there Sir Walter Raleigh lived during his first stay at the Tower.
It was when he was in the Beauchamp Tower, however, that he burnt part
of his 'History of the World,' the work of many years. It happened in
a curious way! Do you know the story? He was at his window one morning
and witnessed a certain scene which took place in the court beneath.
Later, he talked with a friend who had been a nearer spectator of this
identical scene, and they disagreed entirely as to what passed.
Raleigh was very peculiarly affected by this little incident. He
reasoned that if he could be so much mistaken about something which
had happened under his very eyes, how much more mistaken must he be
about things which occurred centuries before he was born. The
consequence was that he threw the second volume of his manuscript into
the fire, and calmly watched it burn. Think of the loss to us! Poor
Raleigh! He was finally beheaded, and I should think he would have
welcomed it, after so many dreary years of imprisonment. He is buried
in St. Margaret's Church, beside Westminster Abbey, you know."
"Was there a real palace in the Tower?" inquired Betty, while they
retraced their steps under the Bloody Tower and back toward the
entrance. "Isn't there any of it remaining?"
"Yes, there was a palace here once, for royalty lived in the Tower
through the reign of James I. No part of it now exists, however. It
stood over beyond the White Tower, in a part which visitors are not
now allowed to see."
On a hill just outside the Tower, in the center of a large, barren
square, is a little inclosed park with trees and shrubbery. Here stood
the scaffold where almost all of the executions were held. The place
is now green and fruitful, but it is said that on the site of the
scaffold within the Tower, grass cannot be made to grow.
As they walked toward a station of the "Tube," an underground railway,
John suddenly heaved a great sigh of relief and exclaimed:
"Well, I tell you what! I've learned heaps, but I don't want to hear
anything more about executions for a few days! What do you all say?"
CHAPTER SIX
ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL AND ITS VICINITY
When Betty came down to her breakfast the following morning, she found
her plate heaped with letters and fascinating little parcels of
different shapes. For a moment she looked puzzled, then she exclaimed:
"Oh! I know! It's my birthday, and I'm having such a splendid time
sight-seeing, that I had forgotten all about it! How lovely!" as she
glanced again at the presents.
"See, John!" she cried, opening the first package, which had an
American postmark, "see what mother has sent me! It is such a pretty
tan leather cover, with little handles, to put on my Baedeker. You
know I always carry the guidebook, and read about things for Mrs.
Pitt. Now, I can keep the book clean, and besides, people can't
recognize me as an American just from seeing my red book! That's a
fine idea, I think!"
John thought that his sister was not opening the bundles quite fast
enough, so he pounced upon one and unwrapped it for her.
"This long thing is father's gift, Betty. It's an umbrella, of course,
and a fine one! Here's a card which says, 'Knowing that two umbrellas
could never be amiss in England, I send this.' Do you suppose he
guessed that you'd lost yours?"
After the bundles were all opened, the letters hurriedly devoured, and
Betty had at last settled down to eating her cold breakfast, Mrs. Pitt
said:
"I had not decided exactly what we would do to-day, and now I think
I'll let the birthday girl plan. Where will you go, Betty?"
After due consideration, Betty announced that she would choose to
visit St. Paul's Cathedral, and afterwards, by way of contrast, to
have lunch at the Cheshire Cheese.
"What in the world's that?" inquired John.
Mrs. Pitt laughed. "You'll see, for we'll go there, as Betty suggests,
when we have seen St. Paul's. I'm not sure whether you'll care to have
lunch there, but we'll look in, at any rate. It's rather different
from the places where you are accustomed to take your lunch! No, you
must wait, John! I'm not going to tell you any more about it!"
"What a beautiful day!" Betty cried, taking her seat on the bus a
little later. "I do wish it wouldn't always be so windy, though! I
almost lost my hat then!"
"As you stay longer in London, you'll notice that a really clear day
is almost always a very windy one as well. We Londoners have to accept
the two together," Mrs. Pitt told the visitors.
Leaving Trafalgar Square, the bus carried them by Charing Cross
Station, in front of which is a copy of the old Charing Cross. Edward
I, when his queen, Eleanor of Castile, died, put up many crosses in
her memory, each one marking a spot where her body was set down during
its journey to Westminster Abbey for burial. A little farther along,
the bus passed the odd little church of St. Mary-le-Strand, which is
on an "island" in the middle of that wide street and its great busy,
hurrying traffic. It is good to remember that on that very spot, the
maypole once stood. Narrow side streets lead off the Strand, and
looking down them one may see the river, and understand why the
street was so named. It originally ran along by the bank of the
Thames, and the splendid houses of the nobles lined the way.
"These fine stone buildings on our left are the new Law Courts, and
the griffin in the center of the street marks the position of old
Temple Bar. There! We've passed it, and now we are in Fleet Street.
Temple Bar was the entrance to the 'City,' you know. To this day the
King cannot proceed into the 'City' without being first received at
Temple Bar, by the Lord Mayor. At one time, the city of London
comprised a small area (two and a quarter miles from end to end), and
was inclosed by walls and entered by gates. Originally there were but
four gates,--Aldgate, Aldersgate, Ludgate, and Bridgegate. Think what
a small city it was then! It is curious to know that in spite of that,
there were then one hundred and three churches in London. The real
center of life for centuries was at 'Chepe,' or Cheapside, as it is
now called. You'll see it later."
[Illustration: "THE KING CANNOT PROCEED INTO THE 'CITY' WITHOUT BEING
FIRST RECEIVED AT TEMPLE BAR BY THE LORD MAYOR."--_Page 68._]
Betty had been looking eagerly, even while she listened to what Mrs.
Pitt was saying. Her eyes now rested upon an old church, over the
door of which stood a queer, blackened statue of a queen.
"The church is St. Dunstan's," responded Mrs. Pitt again. "That old
statue of Queen Elizabeth is one of the few things which escaped the
great fire in the reign of Charles II. The figure once stood on the
ancient Lud Gate of the city. They say that it was in the church-yard
of St. Dunstan's that John Milton sold his wonderful poem of 'Paradise
Lost' for five pounds."
"Let's see,--that would be twenty-five dollars, wouldn't it? I haven't
your English money clear in my mind yet," John confided to Philip. "I
can't somehow feel that it's real money unless it's in dollars and
cents."
Philip soon pointed to a little alley-way on their left, and said,
"The Cheshire Cheese is in a little court back of there. You can't
think how many buildings, courts, and alleys are hidden in behind all
of these shops. Some of the old inns, or coffee-houses, which were
famous are (or were) there. Now, here's Ludgate Hill, and in a minute
you'll have a view of St. Paul's."
St. Paul's Cathedral stands on a hill, and because of its position
and huge dome it is the most conspicuous of London's landmarks. But,
because of the closely surrounding buildings, it is much hidden from
near view. As the bus mounted Ludgate Hill, having passed under the
railroad-bridge, they suddenly saw the tremendous cathedral looming up
before them.
They paused for a moment by the statue of Queen Anne, in front of the
main entrance, while Mrs. Pitt, following her delightful habit,
reminded them of certain notable facts.
"No one knows exactly how long there has been a church upon this
site," she began, beckoning them closer to her, as the noise of the
traffic was so great, "but Bede, the oldest historian, says that a
chapel was built here by a Saxon king, before the time of the Romans.
When Sir Christopher Wren, the architect, built this present edifice,
after the great fire of 1666, he found relics of three periods,--the
Saxon, the British, and the Roman. St. Paul's has been burned five
times. The last fire (the one of which I just spoke) destroyed the
church which we know as 'old St. Paul's.' Now, let's go in, for there
is much to be seen."
Next to St. Peter's at Rome, St. Paul's in London is the largest
church, in the world. The first impression a person gets is one of
great vastness and bareness, for, unlike Westminster Abbey, here one
does not encounter at every step famous statues, memorials, and
graves. The nave is tremendous in width and in length. Chapels open
from both sides, but they seem far off and shadowy. Way in the
distance is the choir, the altar, and the group of chairs used at
services. Everything is quiet, empty, and bare.
"I never imagined such a huge church!" said Betty, much impressed. "I
feel lost and cold, somehow. What are you thinking, Mrs. Pitt? I'm
sure we'd all like to hear."
"I was just picturing, as I always do when I come here, the scenes the
nave of old St. Paul's presented in Henry VIII's time. Would you like
to hear? Well, in the sixteenth century, this nave was called 'Paul's
Walke,' and it was a place of business. Yes," she assured them, as
John and Betty exclaimed, "down these aisles were booths where
merchants of all kinds sold their wares. Counters were built around
the pillars, and even the font was used by the vendors. Pack-horses
laden with merchandise streamed always in and out, and crowds of
people elbowed their way about, shouting and gesticulating excitedly."
"But didn't they have any services at all in St. Paul's Cathedral?"
asked Betty wonderingly.
"Oh, yes!" continued Mrs. Pitt, "the services went on just the same.
The people were used to the noise and confusion. Here came the tailors
to look at the fine new clothes which the young dandies wore when they
took their morning promenades. All the latest books and poems were
always to be found on sale here. Bishop Earle wrote 'Paul's Walke--you
may cal--the lesser Ile of Great Brittaine. The noyse in it is like
that of Bees, in strange hummings, or buzze, mixt of walking, tongues,
and feet; it is a kind of still roare, or loud whisper.'
"I am glad to be able to say, however," she continued, "that before
that dreadful period, there was a time when the cathedral was not so
dishonored. Once these walls were covered with valuable shrines,
pictures, and tapestries, and costly jewels glittered everywhere.
There was one huge emerald which was said to cure diseases of the
eyes. Here came John Wycliffe, the great reformer, at the summons of
the Archbishop of Canterbury, to answer for the publication of his new
doctrines. Here, Henry of Bolingbroke prayed for his successful
seizure of the throne, and here he also wept over the grave of his
father, John of Gaunt. Sir Philip Sidney was buried here, and his
father-in-law, Sir Francis Walsingham, Queen Elizabeth's secretary;
and there was a magnificent monument to Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord
Chancellor, but these were all destroyed by the Great Fire."
About the aisles and nave are many monuments to great soldiers,
sailors, painters, statesmen, literary men, and others. Most of them
are very ugly, and our party did not linger long over these. After
walking under the dome, and looking up into its tremendous heights,
they went down into the crypt, which is really the most interesting
part of the cathedral.
The crypt is vast, dark, and gloomy. Other parties may be heard
walking about and talking in the distance, without being seen, and
their voices echo strangely. In the "Painters' Corner," Sir Joshua
Reynolds, West, Lawrence, Landseer, and Turner, all famous artists,
lie buried beneath the pavement. Sir Christopher Wren, surrounded by
members of his family, lies under the dome, as was his wish. Lord
Nelson and the Duke of Wellington both have splendid tombs there.
"These are all we now have of the monuments of the old cathedral,"
remarked Mrs. Pitt, pointing to where in a corner some mutilated
figures, heads, and broken monuments lay, all in a heap.