church-yard. A straight gravel walk stretches between the graves, up
to the ancient church, which is very small, and has one tower closely
covered with ivy. The fine old Saxon porch, and one doorway show great
age; but it is in the whole effect rather than in any detail of the
little church and its surroundings that the charm lies. One cannot
imagine a more quiet, remote spot! On one side is the group of
yew-trees which Gray mentions in the poem, and in their shelter are
the hoary stones which mark the graves of the "rude forefathers of the
hamlet." Standing there, one almost hesitates to speak above a whisper
for fear of arousing something or somebody out of sleep, or of
breaking the wonderful spell of the place. Pausing under those trees,
and feasting one's eyes upon the lovely, rural scene, not a sound
reaches the ear except the twitter of the birds, and perhaps the faint
jingle of a cow-bell. Mrs. Pitt gave a start at the sound of John's
voice, when he suddenly said:
"Let's go and find Gray's tomb, Philip; the guidebook says it's on the
other side of the church."
The rest lingered for just one more look at the little church, with
its vines, and the rich, dark-red brick-work of the moss-grown Saxon
porch, which the sun touches lovingly as it filters through the heavy
leafage of the yew-trees; then they followed Philip and John.
Close to the outer wall of the church is a large tomb in which Gray is
buried with his beloved mother. No word on the slab tells that the
famous poet is buried within; there is only his mother's epitaph,
which Gray wrote, and in which he speaks of himself as "the only child
who had the misfortune to outlive her."
When Mrs. Pitt came up, John was standing near the tomb with his hat
off, saying, "All right, Mr. Gray; I'll read your poem over again just
as soon as ever I get home."
The bustling, lively scenes of Eton School presented a marked contrast
to the quiet of Stoke Poges. Moving about the grounds between the
different school-buildings, were dozens of boys all dressed in the
regulation Eton suit, such as Philip himself wore. They were laughing,
shouting, and playing games, just like other boys, but such actions
somehow seemed out of keeping with their quaint costumes. From the
automobile John looked down upon them, his eyes full of wonder and
surprise.
"I suppose they are real boys," he said in a puzzled way, "but they
don't look like them."
While Philip talked with some of his friends, and John lingered near
the group, the others visited the beautiful Eton Chapel, and were
especially interested in the familiar picture of Sir Galahad, which
hangs there. The principal buildings of the school are ranged about
two large courts; in the center of the Outer Quadrangle is a bronze
statue of Henry VI, the founder of the school. The library is valuable
and contains some costly books and manuscripts. Fox, Peel, Chatham,
Wellington, and Shelley were Eton boys, and the latter's autograph may
still be seen on one of the desks.
As they left Eton and crossed the bridge over the Thames, they duly
admired the magnificent view of Windsor Castle, which may be enjoyed
from that point. Above its many roofs and towers stands the great
round keep, the oldest part of the castle, having been built by Edward
III.
The castle is on a hill in the center of the town, and the quaint,
red-roofed houses reach even to its walls. After passing the statue of
Queen Victoria, the automobile left the party at the entrance to the
castle, through Henry VIII's gateway, carved with the Tudor Rose.
Inside, they joined a party and were shown about by a guide.
They saw so many buildings that John and Betty found it rather
bewildering. In thinking it over afterwards, certain objects remained
most clearly in their memory.
"St. George's Chapel is really the most beautiful thing there, of
course," said Betty, as they rode away. "I never saw such carving as
there is on the seats--no, stalls--in the choir! Henry VIII, Jane
Seymour, and poor Charles I are buried there, too. I like those faded
banners and the coats-of-arms which belonged to the Knights of the
Garter. The whole place is lovely, I think. There are lots of little
chapels off from it, too, like Westminster Abbey; didn't the guide say
that the tomb of Queen Victoria's father, the Duke of Kent, is there?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Pitt, "and I hope you haven't forgotten the
Albert Chapel. It adjoins St. George's, you remember, and we stood in
the doorway when our turn came and looked in. It is very old, and is
on the site of an ancient chapel of St. Edward, but Queen Victoria
made it what it is now, and restored it in honor of her husband,
Prince Albert. The interior is truly remarkable for its fine marbles,
mosaics, sculptures, stained-glass, and precious stones. I fancy they
would not especially appeal to you, however. How did you like the
State Apartments? It was fortunate that the Royal Family was not in
residence, so that we could be admitted."
"Well," began John, "they made us hurry so that I didn't see very
much. That guide drove us along as though we were a flock of sheep! I
liked that big room though, where all the portraits of the generals
are. They called it the Waterloo Room, didn't they? Anyway, there were
splendid pictures of Wellington, Metternich, Bluecher, and lots of
other fellows. Did you see the busts of Wellington and Marlborough in
one of the other rooms, Philip? There are silk flags which hang over
both the busts, and that cross old guide growled out that they are
replaced every year on the anniversaries of the two
battles;--Wellington gets a new flag on June 18th, because of Waterloo
in 1815, and Marlborough gets his on August 13th, on account of the
battle of Blenheim in 1704."
"In that room," explained Mrs. Pitt, "is where the 'command'
theatrical performances are held. When the King hears the report of a
play which he thinks he would like, he simply commands the company to
come to him; and if he happens to be at Windsor, he and the Court
witness the play in the Waterloo Chamber. Your American Sousa's Band
played there once. I saw Betty and Barbara lingering before the large
picture of Charles I and his family. I am glad you liked it, girls,
for that's an especial delight of mine. Dear little 'Baby Stuart' is
so lovable! That was in the Van Dyck Room, which contains many of that
master's works. Those State Apartments are only for the use of Royal
guests, you understand, when they come on visits. I always wish that
we could see the King or Queen's private rooms, don't you? It would be
so interesting. What's your favorite part of the castle, Barbara?"
"Oh, I like the terrace better than anything else," Barbara answered,
without a moment's hesitation. "The view of the valley, with the river
and Eton Chapel in the distance, is so pretty! Then, there is
something so stately and impressive about the wide, long terrace
itself. I once read that it was Queen Elizabeth's favorite walk, and
there couldn't be a more appropriate place for a queen to choose. I
like that gateway with E. R. on it, showing that it was built in
Elizabeth's reign; and it's fun to look up to the little bay-window
which is said to have been her room. Then I like the old Curfew
Tower, too," she added.
"Yes," broke in Mrs. Pitt. "That's one of the gloomiest parts of the
whole castle, in its history as well as in its aspect. Of course,
terrible things happened at Windsor just as they did elsewhere; but
although Windsor dates from a very early period, and figures in the
reigns of all the sovereigns, its history contains more of the bright
and happy than of the tragic. Down in a miserable, windowless cell in
the lower part of the Curfew Tower, it is wrongly said that Queen Anne
Boleyn was put to spend the night before her execution, as you know,
and there still remain in the Tower some fearful instruments of
torture. The Horseshoe Cloister near there, is very ancient, and the
houses are delightfully mediaeval. Did you look in some of the tiny
windows as we passed through? It is said that in a small hall there,
in the Horseshoe Cloister, Shakespeare's 'Merry Wives of Windsor' was
first produced."
"Who was it that the guide told us was imprisoned near the Round
Tower, and who fell in love with a lady whom he saw walking in the
gardens? I have forgotten the names." It was Betty who spoke, for she
had been quietly thinking over the visit.
"That was young James of Scotland, whom Henry V caused to be captured
in time of truce, and thrown into prison at Windsor, where he remained
almost twenty years. The English treated him kindly, however, and he
spent his time in studying and watching the lady in the garden, who
afterwards became his queen."
"Oh! But, really, the stables are best of all!" exclaimed Philip, who
loved horses like a true Briton. "I do like to go there and be shown
about by one of those men in the black suits and yellow vests, and the
bright cockades in their silk hats. Once when I was little, one of
them let me go into a stall and feed some sugar to a splendid great
horse named Black Beauty. I wished I could do it to-day, too! All the
carriages which carry the Court ladies are stupid, I think, but the
horses and ponies are jolly!" whereupon Philip and John went off into
an animated discussion about the horses of the Royal Stables, and how
much they envied the men who cared for them.
"Oh, what a sweet little village!" cried Betty, jumping up excitedly,
as the automobile slowed down and entered a little narrow lane.
Chalfont St. Giles is an extremely picturesque, old-time village. Its
thatched-roofed cottages huddle together in a beautiful green valley,
and about the edge of a pond where ducks swim, and happy, barefooted
children play. One of the old houses is a place of interest to many,
as the great poet, John Milton, lived there after he fled from London
at the time of the plague.
The poet's home is a most primitive cottage with low ceilings, and a
little dark room, lighted by one casement window, in which he may have
written part of "Paradise Lost." When standing in that chamber, one is
reminded of the well-known picture which shows the blind Milton
dictating one of his poems to a daughter. Outside is a delightful
old-fashioned garden in which the largest and reddest of poppies grow,
and where it is said that Milton loved to linger.
"I wish we needn't hurry," sighed Mrs. Pitt, "but I'm afraid we'll be
late to dinner. See, we are short of time already!"
So they quickly took their seats again for the short trip back to
town, and drew their wraps about them, as the air had grown chilly.
They all felt rather tired, and were silent as they reviewed in mind
the history and scenes of Windsor Castle, one of the most beautiful
and certainly the most famous of English royal residences.
[Illustration: JOHN MILTON LIVED THERE AFTER HE FLED FROM
LONDON.--_Page 105._]
CHAPTER NINE
MORE ABOUT LONDON
"Big Ben," the great bell on the clock-tower, was just booming ten
deep strokes as our party neared the Houses of Parliament. A steadily
rushing stream of people, buses, hansoms, and trucks (not forgetting
bicycles, which are still numerous in England), was pouring across
Westminster Bridge, and swinging around the corner into the wide
street called Whitehall; but in the near vicinity of the graceful,
long building, with its pinnacles and spires, in which the English
laws are made, all was quiet and few people were moving about. In a
square court from which steps lead down to the river, a sentinel was
pacing back and forth.
"In the days when the Thames was the most used highway of the
Londoners, here was probably one of the places where the nobles could
step on shore from their luxurious barges." Mrs. Pitt said this as
they were looking down upon the soldier from the street above.
Close up against one side of the Houses of Parliament is Westminster
Hall, with its quaint row of supporting buttresses. This ancient
edifice was built by William Rufus, the son of the Conqueror himself.
Having entered by St. Stephen's Porch, the usual approach, they went
down a few steps at the left into this fine old room. It is empty now,
and its vastness is unadorned except by some statues of kings and
queens along the sides.
"This hall," stated Mrs. Pitt, "was first begun by William Rufus, but
it has been restored and added to at various times by many of the
other sovereigns. It also formed part of the ancient Palace of
Westminster. I want you to notice especially the oak roof with its
heavy timbers, and unsupported by any columns. It is considered very
fine in its construction, and I think it beautiful, as well. Have you
the guidebook, Philip? Read to us some of the great events of the hall
while we stand here."
So Philip began. "Well, some of the earliest meetings of Parliament
were held here; also, all the kings as far down the line as George IV
have celebrated their coronation feasts in this hall. Here Charles I
was tried and condemned (there's a brass in the floor which marks
where he stood at the trial), and here Cromwell in royal purple robes
was received as Lord Protector. Some of the others who were tried here
are William Wallace, the Scotch patriot, Sir Thomas More, Sir Thomas
Wyatt, Guy Fawkes, and the Earls of Essex and Strafford. Until very
recently the Law Courts adjoined here."
"Thank you, Philip; now, if you are ready, Betty, we'll go on and see
something more of this great building."
It gives one a slight idea of the extent of the huge structure to know
that therein are one hundred stairways and eleven hundred rooms!
Visitors are shown the "King's Robing-room," the "Victoria or Royal
Gallery," the "Prince's Chamber," and so many rooms and corridors,
that it is impossible to remember them all, or even to appreciate them
at the time of a visit. Fine wall paintings, statues, and rich
decorations of all kinds abound. Both the rooms where sit the House of
Peers and the House of Commons, respectively, are magnificent
apartments; perhaps the former is rather more splendid in appearance,
with its stained-glass windows picturing all the English sovereigns,
its frescoes, and throne, with the gilded canopy.
As they finally passed out and started over toward Westminster Abbey,
Mrs. Pitt said:
"It was at one of these entrances (perhaps at the very one by which we
just left), that a most curious thing happened in 1738. It had just
been decided that ladies should no longer be permitted in the
galleries of the Houses. Certain noble dames who were most indignant
at this new rule, presented themselves in a body at the door. They
were, of course, politely refused admission, and having tried every
known means of gaining entrance, they remained at the door all day,
kicking and pounding from time to time. Finally, one of them thought
of the following plan. For some time they stood there in perfect
quiet; some one within opened a door to see if they were really gone,
whereupon they all rushed in. They remained in the galleries until the
'House rose,' laughing and tittering so loudly that Lord Hervey made a
great failure of his speech. Wasn't that absurd? It seems that there
were 'Suffragettes' long before the twentieth century."
Arrived at the Poets' Corner once again, they found that one of the
vergers was just about to conduct a party "in behind the scenes," as
Barbara called it. "Behind the scenes" includes the Chapel of Henry
VII and that of Edward the Confessor, besides the many smaller ones
which surround the choir.
These little irregular chapels are crowded with all sorts of tombs,
from those of the long effigy to those of the high canopy. Sometimes a
husband and wife are represented on the tomb, their figures either
kneeling side by side, or facing each other. Often the sons and
daughters of the deceased are shown in quaint little reliefs extending
all around the four sides of a monument. The figures are of alabaster
or marble, and there are frequently fine brasses on them which bear
the inscriptions. It is interesting to remember that the effigy or
reclining figure of a Crusader always has the legs crossed.
A flight of black marble steps leads up to Henry VII's Chapel. Betty
thought this reminded her a little of the choir of St. George's Chapel
at Windsor,--and it is true that the two are somewhat similar. To
build this memorial to himself, Henry VII tore down another chapel,
and also an old house in which the poet Chaucer once lived. The
loveliest feature of this chapel is the "fan-tracery" of the ceiling.
Its delicacy and grace are very beautiful! There are wonderfully
carved oak choir-stalls here also, each having been assigned to a
certain Knight of the Order of the Bath, and decorated with the
Knight's armorial bearings. Above each stall is a sword and a banner
of faded colors. The tomb of the founder, Henry VII, and of his wife,
Elizabeth of York, is in the center of the chapel, and surrounded by a
brass screen. George II and several members of his family, Edward VI,
Charles II, William and Mary, Queen Anne and her consort, and
Cromwell, are all buried near by--most of them having no monuments. In
the north aisle of this chapel is the tomb of the great Queen
Elizabeth, and just opposite it, in the south aisle, is that of her
cousin and enemy, poor Mary Queen of Scots.
Just behind the high altar is the chapel of Edward the Confessor,
containing the once splendid, mediaeval tomb of that sainted King. Its
precious stones have been stolen away now, and the whole is covered
by a gorgeous cloth put there at the coronation of Edward VII.
"I've seen the tombs of so many kings and queens," exclaimed John,
heaving a sigh, "that I truly can't take in any more. Why, they're so
thick all around here that you can't move without bumping into three
or four of 'em! There's Henry V, and overhead the shield and helmet he
used at Agincourt; and here's Edward I, and Richard II, and Edward
III, and Queen Eleanor, and Queen Philippa. Who was she? Oh, here's
the old Coronation Chair, isn't it?" At sight of this, he once more
became interested.
This famous old chair was made in the time of Edward I, and every
English sovereign since that day has been crowned in it. Underneath
the seat of the chair is kept the ancient Stone of Scone, which is
said to have been used as a pillow by the patriarch Jacob. Edward I,
in 1297, brought the stone from Scotland as a sign of his power over
that country, and placed it in the Abbey. King Edward III's sword and
shield-of-state stand beside the chair. There is something about these
three objects which makes one stand long before them. They are so
ancient--so deeply impressive--and embody so much of English history
itself.
In a little room above one of the smaller chapels are found the
curious Wax Effigies. These figures made of wax, and of life size,
were carried at funerals, and were intended to look like the deceased,
and dressed in their clothes. They are very ghastly, robed in their
faded, torn garments, as each peers out from its glass-case. Queen
Elizabeth, Charles II, William and Mary, Queen Anne, General Monk,
William Pitt, and Lord Nelson are among those represented.
Betty stood before the figure of Queen Elizabeth, whose waxen face is
pinched and worn, and really most horrible to look at.
"Didn't she die propped up on the floor in all her State robes?" asked
Betty.
"Yes," was Mrs. Pitt's reply. "It isn't any wonder that she looked
like that, is it? She is said to have been beautiful in her youth, but
later, she became so very ugly that her ladies-in-waiting got false
looking-glasses, for they didn't dare to allow their mistress to see
her wrinkles."
[Illustration: "OH, HERE'S THE OLD CORONATION CHAIR, ISN'T IT?"--_Page
113._]
After lingering for a short time in the grand old Abbey, they all
mounted a bus and rode down to Bishopsgate Street to take lunch, at
Crosby Hall.[A] This splendid old example of a London mediaeval palace
(having had a varied career since its great days), is now turned into
a restaurant, and our party took seats at a long table in what was
once the Banqueting-hall.
[Footnote A: Crosby Hall was taken down in 1908, but is soon to be
re-erected in Chelsea, near the site of the home of Sir Thomas More.]
"This is really a very historic old house," declared Mrs. Pitt. "It
was built in 1470 by Alderman Sir John Crosby, who died about the time
it was finished, and it passed into the hands of the Duke of
Gloucester, afterwards Richard III. Here, that cruel man had the news
of the successful murder of the little Princes in the Tower, and here
held his great feasts--in this room, I suppose."
They were all looking about at the lofty hall with its carved oak
ceiling, minstrels' gallery, stained-glass windows, and large
fireplace.
"This has recently all been restored, and I suppose it gives us a very
slight idea of its past glory. Later on, Sir Thomas More lived here,
and then Philip Sidney's sister, the Countess of Pembroke, owned it.
Shakespeare mentions it in his play of 'Richard III,' you know. In
mediaeval times, there were many great houses in London (Baynard's
Castle and Cold Harbour foremost among them), but all except a little
part of Crosby Hall have disappeared. The owners of these houses, the
wealthy nobles, lived in great magnificence, having four, six, or even
eight hundred servants. Just fancy how large the establishments must
have been! In Queen Elizabeth's day, the French Ambassador was lodged
here with four hundred retainers. At that time, there were more great
palaces in London than there were in Verona, Florence, Venice, and
Genoa, all counted together; but instead of being situated on the
Grand Canal or in a spacious square, the English palaces stood in
narrow, filthy streets, surrounded by the poor hovels of the common
people.--It seems to me that our lunch is a long time coming," she
commented.
Adjoining Crosby Hall is a very interesting church--St. Helen's, which
has been called the "Westminster Abbey of the City," because of famous
citizens of "the City," who are buried there. Among them is Sir Thomas
Gresham, the great merchant of Queen Elizabeth's reign, who founded
the Royal Exchange, and did much to increase London's trade. The
church--dating mostly from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century--is
very quaint and old. It consists of two parallel naves, divided by
pillars.
"The church was once connected with an ancient nunnery which covered
the whole square outside. The naves were originally quite separated by
a partition; one side was used by the nuns, and the other by the
regular members of the parish. Shakespeare once lived in St. Helen's
parish, and is charged up on the church books with a sum of something
over five pounds." Mrs. Pitt gave this information as they walked
about, gradually growing accustomed to the dim light.
"See here, John," whispered Philip; "here's something interesting.
It's this little square hole in the wall, which is called the 'nuns'
squint.' That woman, whom I suppose is the caretaker, has just been
telling me what that means. You see, the nunnery was on this side, or,
at any rate, the part where the nuns slept. When a nun was dying, the
rest would carry her to that little 'squint,' and in that way she
could look through to the church and see the altar."
Leaving St. Helen's Place, and passing the picturesque, narrow facade
(or front) of Crosby Hall, Mrs. Pitt took them along Cheapside, one of
the most crowded streets of the city. The amount of traffic is
tremendous there, and it is said that sometimes teams are held eight
hours in the alleys before they can get out. They noted Bow Church,
and the site of John Gilpin's house at the corner of Paternoster Row.
"Oh, is that the John Gilpin in Cowper's poem?" cried John, excitedly.
"He lived here, did he? And where did he ride to?"
"I believe he went out through Tottenham and Edmonton. Mrs. Gilpin was
at the Bell Inn at Edmonton when she saw her husband fly by. Over the
entrance at the Bell is such a funny picture of the scene! They don't
know just where he went, do they, Mother?" inquired Barbara.