A CLOUDLESS DAY.
Sherwood Forest.--Nottingham.--Story of the Wise Men of Gotham.
"Have stood by the graves of Wordsworth and Coleridge. The trees were
green and cool; the Rotha rippled beside the poets' resting-place, and
Helvellyn and Catchedicam in the distance rose in the calm, bright
air. Beautiful indeed are these mountains in midsummer. The whole Lake
region is beautiful--beautiful!"
Such was the brief entry Wyllys Wynn made in the journal in his
guide-book, on returning from the English Lakes.
"There is a touching story associated with Helvellyn," said Wyllys to
Master Lewis, as the boys were returning from the Lakes, "that Scott
has told in very musical verse. It is of a little dog that watched
beside the dead body of his master for several months, and was found
guarding the bones. Will you not relate it to us?"
"Wordsworth and Scott, I think," said Master Lewis, "both tell the
story in verse.
"About the year 1805 there dwelt in the district a young man of
elegant tastes, who loved to explore these mountain regions. He was
well known for his literary attainments, and greatly beloved for his
gentle and amiable manners.
"He used to make frequent excursions among the wild mountains, and
would spend whole days feasting his eye on the exhaustless beauties
they afforded. He was always attended by a little terrier dog, to
which he was greatly attached, and which was ever on the alert to do
his master's bidding. Scott, in his ballad, calls the young man the
Wanderer, and so I will call him now.
"One spring day, when the streams were swollen, and the mountains were
all alive with waterfalls, birds, and flowers, the Wanderer set out on
an excursion that promised unusual attractions, attended by his little
favorite. He penetrated too far, or remained too long; night probably
overtook him, and he lost his way. He fell from a precipice, and was
dashed in pieces. For several months the little dog watched by the
remains of his beloved master, only leaving them, it is supposed, to
obtain necessary food. The remains of the Wanderer were found during
the following summer by a party of excursionists, and, when
discovered, the terrier was guarding them with pitying care.
"Sir Walter Scott, in company with Wordsworth, ascended Helvellyn
during the following autumn, and visited the spot where the Wanderer
died. The well-known ballad, one of the most pathetic of Scott's
poetical compositions, was the result of this excursion.
"'I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,
Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide,
All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,
And starting around me the echoes replied.
On the right Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending,
And Catchedicam its left verge was defending,
One huge, nameless rock in the front was ascending,
When I marked the sad spot where the Wanderer had died.'"
The Class stopped at Sheffield, and thence began their first
experience of English stage-coaching to the old town of Mansfield.
They entered the latter upon a market-day, and found the streets full
of empty carts, cattle, and rustic people, presenting a scene of truly
ancient simplicity. Mansfield is still a miller's town, and must
present nearly the same appearance as in the days of Henry II., who,
according to the old ballad, was lost in the forests near the place.
The forests, however, have changed: little remains of them but a
heath, traversed by wild and romantic roads. Here and there a great
tree, like a forest lord, may be seen, to remind one of the kingly
hunting days.
Leaving Mansfield for Sherwood Forest, strange houses by the wayside,
excavated in limestone and recalling the supposed age of the
cave-dwellers, as in an unexpected picture, much excited the boys'
curiosity.
Sherwood Forest, or as much of it as remains, is twenty-five miles
long and about eight broad. The new growth of trees is very fine; but
it is the remains of the grand old oaks that attract the tourist and
summer wanderer. The wood has a ground-work of exhaustless ferns, the
delicate birches flutter in the warm winds, their peculiar shade
contrasting with the greenery around them. Here and there oaks of
different ages and altitudes rise gray, gnarled, and almost
leafless,--oaks on which a thousand tempests have beaten, and around
which ten thousand storms have blown. In Henry II.'s time not only
Nottingham, but the whole of England, was covered with oaks.
[Illustration: SHAMBLE OAK.]
Tommy Toby was very urgent to visit some of the old historic oaks of
Sherwood, especially such as are associated with quaint stories and
tragic histories.
Procuring a guide, the Class went first to see Shamble Oak. Think of
it: in the main circuit it is thirty-four feet! It is called Shamble
Oak because a butcher once used its hollow trunk to conceal stolen
sheep. He was hung on an oak.
The guide next took the boys to a dreamy old place called Welbeck
Park, to see the Greendale Oak, supposed to be seven hundred years
old, and which has a circumference of more than thirty-five feet!
"It looks as though it had the rheumatism," said Tommy. "With all of
its crutches and canes it will not live many years longer. Do you
think it will?"
"I think it likely to outlive all of us," said the guide. "More than
one hundred and fifty years ago an arch was cut in this tree, and a
lord rode through it on his wedding day. It was very, very old then;
but the lord is gone, and the oak lives."
[Illustration: GREENDALE OAK.]
The guide procured for the party a vehicle, and drove to Parliament
Oak, under which it is said that Edward I. held a Parliament in 1290.
The tree still furnishes green boughs. Its girth is about twenty-nine
feet.
Newstead Abbey, the home of Lord Byron, forms a part of the old
forest of Sherwood, and is but a short distance from Mansfield. It was
founded by Henry II., and presents one of the picturesque and
interesting ruins in this part of England.
"You will not be allowed to visit the Abbey," said the guide. "The
rooms of Lord Byron remain just as he left them; his bedstead, with
gilded coronets, his pictures, portraits of friends, writing-table,
and all; but it is private property, and visitors are not allowed."
"The Abbey was built by Henry as one of the many peace offerings which
he made for the murder of Thomas à Becket," said Master Lewis. "You
remember the story?"
[Illustration: PARLIAMENT OAK.]
"Yes," said Wyllys Wynn. "Thomas à Becket claimed that the power of
the clergy was superior to the power of the king, and Henry pronounced
him a traitor. He was killed at the altar by a party of conspirators,
whose deed had the supposed sanction of the king. Henry did penance at
Thomas à Becket's tomb."
"He stripped his back, and allowed the monks to whip him, did he not?"
said Tommy. "I remember the picture of it in my history."
Distant views of Newstead, so full of strange memories and fantastic
histories, were all the Class could obtain. The ruin looked down upon
the charming old Nottinghamshire woodlands like a picture of the
past, and the spirit of romance and poetry seemed to linger around it
still.
[Illustration: MORTIMER'S HOLE.]
Going next to the fine old town of Nottingham, almost the first thing
which the boys desired to see was Mortimer's Hole. This is a passage
through a sand-rock, more than three hundred feet in length. Through
this passage young Edward entered Nottingham Castle by night, and thus
surprised and captured Mortimer (Earl of March). The wicked Earl was
conveyed by the same passage out of the castle so secretly that the
guards were not aware that it had been entered.
In the evening spent at Nottingham, Tommy Toby was asked about his
story of which he had spoken in connection with the place.
[Illustration: MURDER OF THOMAS À BECKET.]
"It is not a story of Nottingham, but of Gotham, near Nottingham. It
is about the Wise Men."
"Who went to sea in a bowl?" asked Frank.
"No, they were much wiser than that. I will try to tell it in the way
Master Lewis tells his stories: in the rather _decorated_ style."
"I hope you will always have as nice a sense of honor as you show
now," said Master Lewis, "whenever you make the slightest change from
plain truth to parable. You have a tact for story-telling, for one so
young; and you studied up the story of 'The Frolicsome Duke,' which
you told the Club, in a manner that quite surprised us. I hope this
story will prove as entertaining."
THE STORY OF THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.
"More than six hundred and fifty years ago, there reigned in England a
king, named John. They called him _Sansterre_ or Lackland, for, unlike
his brothers, he had received from his father no fiefs.
"He was the son of Henry Plantagenet, a good king, as kings went in
those rude times, who governed England for thirty-four years.
"His mother was Eleanora of Aquitaine, who was, in her day, the
prettiest girl in France. But she was a wilful little woman and full
of craft. She married the French king first, but, not liking him on
account of his monkish ways, she procured a divorce, and told Henry
Plantagenet, who was young and handsome and gay, that she would like
to marry him. He accepted the proposal, because the union would add to
his dominions several provinces. Henry loved Rosamond Clifford,--'Fair
Rosamond,'--whom he had met in the valley of the Wye, and who was the
prettiest girl in all the world.
"The marriage proved an unhappy one. Henry soon discovered what a
wily, wilful little woman she was; he tried to curb her, and a
terrible time he had.
"Richard succeeded his father. It was he who made the grandest crusade
of the Middle Ages; who was married at Cyprus in flower-time; who
fought with noble Saladin at Acre and Jaffa; who was obliged to sail
away from the Holy Land; who looked back from his beautiful ship on
the unconquered coast with regret; who was shipwrecked and cast upon a
hostile coast; and who was discovered, when imprisoned in a gloomy old
castle on the Danube, by the harp of Blondel the Troubadour.
"Then came John, in whose veins flowed the worst blood of King Henry's
family. Prince Arthur, Geoffrey's son, had the best claim to the
crown, but somehow John got himself crowned, and he began to reign so
terribly that the hearts of the barons quaked within them; and so, for
a time, he silenced all opposition. He was as cunning as bad Queen
Eleanora, and he loved to make mischief as well. He would order that a
man should be killed, apparently with as little conscience as he would
have ordered a butcher to slay a sheep. Most bad kings have been
notable for some good qualities; King John, so far as I know, had
none.
"In Nottinghamshire there is an old town, removed from the great
centres of life and activity, called Gotham. The inhabitants were of
good Saxon stock, and they hated the whole race of Norman
Plantagenets. These people had learned something of liberty from bold
Robin Hood, 'all under the greenwood tree.'
"One day there came a report to Old Gotham that King John was making a
progress, and would pass through the town. Now it was an old custom in
feudal times that the course that a king took, in passing for the
first time through a district or a shire, should become ever after a
public highway. The people of Gotham wanted no public highway to their
town, no avenue that would open their retreat to the Normans, and put
them more easily in the power of brutal kings. And they hated John. So
they held a council, and resolved that the feet of John Lackland, the
murderer, should never dishonor the town of Gotham.
[Illustration: RICHARD'S FAREWELL TO THE HOLY LAND.]
"But the people understood that it would be a foolhardy work to oppose
the progress of the king openly. They must rely upon their wits.
The men decided to go in a body and fell large trees across a certain
upland, over which the royal party must pass to enter the town. This
they did, making a barrier through which mounted horsemen would find
it difficult to break, and which would compel a party like the king's
to turn off by another way.
"When King John came to the eminence, and found his progress arrested,
he was very angry, and, finding a couple of rustics near the place, he
demanded of them who had made the barrier.
"'The people of Gotham,' answered one of the rustics.
"'Go you to Gotham,' said the king, 'and tell the people from me, that
as soon as I return to camp I will send a troop to cut off their
noses.'
"The two rustics ran off, terribly frightened, and reported the
cheerful intelligence at Gotham. Oh, then there were stirring times in
that old town! The people had no wish to receive a kingly decoration
in that way.
"What was to be done?
"They met for consultation.
"Now there were wise men in Gotham, and, when the convention met,
these wise men expressed their opinions not only on the nose question,
but on public affairs in general. After a long deliberation, one of
these wise men, whom I will call Fitz Peter, said: 'Our wits have thus
far prevented King John from setting foot in our town, and our wits
are able to save our noses.' This opinion was received with great
satisfaction.
"But how should they accomplish the end?
"Now chief among the wise men of Gotham was one whom I will call
Leofric. He at last stood up with a very knowing look, and said: 'I
have heard of many people who were punished for being wise, but I
never heard of a person who was punished for being a fool. When the
king's troops come, let us each imitate a safe example, and act like a
fool.'
"At this the people shouted. So they decided to rely on their wits
for the safety of their noses, and to act like fools.
"One morning, very early, as a party of horsemen were leaving the town
for hunting, a troop appeared, with a fierce sheriff at their head.
"The bowmen were terribly scared, and the question passed around as to
what they should do. They hit upon a plan, and threw away their
hunting-gear. When the sheriff came up, he found the old men rolling
great stones up the hill, and the young men bending over and grunting
as if they were in great distress.
"'What are you doing?' demanded the sheriff of one of the old men who
was tugging away at a stone.
"'We are rolling stones up hill for day.'
"'You old fool!' said the sheriff. 'Go home and go to bed, and day
will come itself.'
"'Why,' returned the man, as though greatly astonished, 'I never
thought of that. How wise you be! You are the wisest man I ever did
see!'
"'And what are _you_ doing?' asked the sheriff, of one of the young
men.
"'We do the _grunting_,' was the prompt reply.
"'The old men do the lifting, and the young men do the grunting!'
exclaimed the sheriff. 'Well,' he added, in sudden good-humor, 'that
is the way the world goes everywhere!' And he galloped away, leaving
the men unharmed.
"The sheriff next met four old women, with brooms on their shoulders.
"'Whither away?' asked the sheriff.
"'To the priest's, to be married,' said they all.
"'To the priest's, to be married?'
"'We go every morning to be married,' answered one of the old crones,
'and we have been for the last forty years!'
"'Then why are you not married?'
"'The priest says that we do not bring the right thing. We carry
something new every morning.'
"'But why do you not take a _man_?'
"'A MAN!' exclaimed the old woman, leaping straight into the air. 'A
MAN? I never thought of that! How wise you be! Why, you are the wisest
man that I ever did see!'
[Illustration: LIMESTONE DWELLINGS.]
"The sheriff next met some men who had started on a journey, each of
whom carried on his back a door.
"'Why do you carry that door?' asked the sheriff of one of the
travellers.
"'Left my money at home.'
"'Then why not leave the door at home too?'
"'Afraid of thieves.'
"'Afraid of thieves? Then leave your door at home to protect your
money.'
"'They can't break in, because, you see, I've got the door.'
"'Leave your door at home, and take your money with you.'
"'I never thought of that. How wise you be! You are the wisest man
that I ever did see!'
"The sheriff let the travellers pass on unmolested.
"'The people are all fools here,' he said.
"'It would be too bad to harm such simple people,' said his comrades.
"'Fools all,' said the sheriff.
"'Fools all,' said the horsemen.
"'Let us go back,' said the sheriff, 'and report to the king that the
people in Gotham are fools.'
"'Right,' said the men.
"So they returned to the king, and reported that Gotham was a place of
fools. And from these circumstances, or incidents like these, if I may
believe an old tale, the men of that place were called, in derision,
'The Wise Men of Gotham,' from that day."