A distinguished observer, Prof. Goldwin Smith, expressed it forcibly
when he said that the epitaph of nearly every ruined castle in Britain
might be written, "Destroyed by Cromwell." It takes a tour such as ours
to gain something of a correct conception of the gigantic figure of
Oliver Cromwell in English history. The magnitude and the far-reaching
results of his work are coming to be more and more appreciated by the
English people. For a time he was considered a traitor and regicide, but
with increasing enlightenment and toleration, his real work for human
liberty is being recognized by the great majority of his countrymen. It
was only as far back as 1890 that Parliament voted down a proposition to
place a statue of Cromwell on the grounds of the House of Commons; but
two years later sentiment had advanced so much that justice was done to
the memory of the great Protector and a colossal bronze figure was
authorized and erected. I know of no more impressive sight in all
England than this great statue, standing in solitary grandeur near the
Houses of Parliament, representing Cromwell with sword and bible, and
with an enormous lion crouching at his feet. It divides honor with no
other monument in its vicinity and it seems to stand as a warning to
kingcraft that it must observe well defined limitations if it continues
in Britain. I saw several other statues of Cromwell, notably at
Manchester, Warrington and at St. Ives.
An incident illustrating the sentiment with which the Protector is now
regarded by the common people came under my own observation. With a
number of other sightseers, we were visiting Warwick Castle and were
being shown some of the portraits and relics relating to Cromwell, when
the question was raised by someone in the party as to his position in
English history. A young fellow, apparently an aspirant for church
honors, expressed the opinion that Cromwell was a traitor and the
murderer of his king. He was promptly taken to task by the old soldier
who was acting as our guide through the castle. He said, "Sir, I can not
agree with you. I think we are all better off today that there was such
a man as Cromwell."
That appears to be the general sentiment of the people of Great Britain,
and the feeling is rapidly growing that he was distinctly the defender
of the people's rights. True, he destroyed many of the historic castles,
but such destruction was a military necessity. These fortresses, almost
without exception, were held by supporters of King Charles, who used
them as bases of operation against the Parliamentary Army. If not
destroyed when captured, they were re-occupied by the Royalists and the
work had to be done over again. Therefore Cromwell wisely dismantled the
strongholds when they came into his possession, and generally he did his
work so well that restoration was not possible, even after the Royalists
regained power. The few splendid examples which escaped his
wrath--notably Warwick Castle--fortunately happened at the time to be in
possession of adherents of Parliament. The damage Cromwell inflicted
upon the churches was usually limited to destruction of stone images,
tombs and altars, as savoring of idolatry. This spirit even extended to
the destruction of priceless stained-glass windows, the loss of which we
can not too greatly deplore, especially since the very art of making
this beautiful glass seems to be a lost one.
At Cambridge we were within easy reach of the scenes of the Protector's
early life. He was born in 1599 at Huntingdon, sixteen miles distant,
and was twenty years a citizen of St. Ives, only a few miles away. He
was a student at Cambridge and for several years was a farmer near Ely,
being a tenant on the cathedral lands. As Ely is only fifteen miles
north of Cambridge, it occurred to us to attend services at the
cathedral there on Sunday morning. We followed a splendid road leading
through a beautiful country, rich with fields of grain almost ready for
harvest.
The cathedral is one of the largest and most remarkable in England,
being altogether different in architecture from any other in the
Kingdom. Instead of a spire, it has a huge, castellated, octagonal
tower, and while it was several hundred years in building, a harmonious
design was maintained throughout, although it exhibits in some degree
almost every style of church architecture known in England. Ely is an
inconsequential town of about seven thousand inhabitants and dominated
from every point of view by the huge bulk of the cathedral. Only a
portion of the space inside the vast building was occupied by seats, and
though the great church would hold many thousands of people if filled to
its capacity, the congregation was below the average that might be found
in the leading churches of an American town the size of Ely. One of the
cathedral officials with whom I had a short talk said that the
congregations averaged small indeed and were growing smaller right
along. The outlook for Ely he did not consider good, a movement being on
foot to cut another diocese from the territory and to make a cathedral,
probably of the great church, at Bury St. Edmunds. In recent years this
policy of creating new dioceses has been in considerable vogue in
England, and of course is distasteful to the sections immediately
affected. The services in Ely Cathedral were simpler than usual and were
through well before noon.
Before returning to Cambridge we visited St. Ives and Huntingdon, both
of which were closely associated with the life of Cromwell. The former
is a place of considerable antiquity, although the present town may be
said to date from 1689, at which time it was rebuilt after being totally
destroyed by fire. One building escaped, a quaint stone structure
erected in the center of the stone bridge crossing the River Ouse and
supposed to have been used as a chapel by the early monks. Cromwell's
connection with St. Ives began in 1628, after he had been elected to
Parliament. He moved here after the dissolution of that body and spent
several years as a farmer. The house which he occupied has disappeared
and few relics remain of his residence in the town. In the market square
is a bronze statue of the Protector, with an inscription to the effect
that he was a citizen of St. Ives for several years. A few miles farther
on is Huntingdon, his birthplace. It is a considerably larger town, but
none of the buildings now standing has any connection with the life of
the Protector. Doubtless the citizens of Huntingdon now recognize that
the manor house where Cromwell was born, which was pulled down a
hundred years ago, would be a valuable asset to the town were it still
standing.
From Huntingdon we returned to Cambridge, having completed a circular
tour of about sixty miles. We still had plenty of time to drive about
Cambridge and to view from the outside the colleges and other places of
interest. The streets are laid out in an irregular manner, and although
it is not a large city--only forty thousand--we had considerable
difficulty in finding our way back to the hotel. The University Arms is
situated on the edge of a large common called "The Field." Here in the
evening were several open-air religious services. One of these was
conducted by the Wesleyans, or Methodists, with a large crowd at the
beginning, but a Salvation Army, with several band instruments, soon
attracted the greater portion of the crowd. We found these open-air
services held in many towns through England and Scotland. They were
always conducted by "dissenting churches"--the Church of England would
consider such a proceeding as too undignified.
We wished to get an early start from Cambridge next morning, hoping to
reach London that night, and accordingly made arrangements with the head
waiter for an early breakfast. We told him we should probably want it at
7:30, and he looked at us in an incredulous manner. I repeated the
hour, thinking he did not understand, but he said he thought at first
we were surely joking. However, he would endeavor to accommodate us. If
we would leave our order that evening he thought he could arrange it at
the time desired, but we could easily see that it was going to upset the
traditions of the staid hotel, for the breakfast hour is never earlier
than nine o'clock. However, we had breakfast at 7:30 and found one other
guest in the room--undoubtedly an American. He requested a newspaper and
was informed that the morning papers were not received at the hotel
until half past ten o'clock, although Cambridge is just fifty miles from
London, or about an hour by train. The curiosity which the average
American manifests to know what happened on the day previous is almost
wanting in the staid and less excitable Britisher.
We were away from Cambridge by nine o'clock and soon found ourselves in
a country quite different in appearance from any we had yet passed
through. Our route led through Essex to Colchester on the coast. We
passed through several ancient towns, the first of them being Haverhill,
which contributed a goodly number of the Pilgrim Fathers and gave its
name to the town of Haverhill in Massachusetts. It is an old, straggling
place that seems to be little in harmony with the progress of the
Twentieth Century.
Our route on leaving Haverhill led through narrow byways, which wind
among the hills with turns so sharp that a close lookout had to be
maintained. We paused at Heddingham, where there is a great church and a
partly ruined Norman castle. The town is made up largely of cottages
with thatched roofs, surrounded by the bright English flower gardens. It
was typical of several other places which we passed on our way. I think
that in no section of England did we find a greater number of
picturesque churches than in Essex, and a collection of photographs of
these, which was secured at Earl's Colne, we prize very highly.
Colchester is an interesting town, deserving of much longer time than we
were able to stay. It derived its name from King Cole, the "merry old
soul" of the familiar nursery rhyme. It is one of the oldest towns in
England and was of great importance in Roman times. One of the largest
collections of Roman relics in Britain is to be found in the museum of
the castle. There are hundreds of specimens of coin, pottery, jewelry,
statuary, etc., all of which were found in excavations within the city.
The castle is one of the gloomiest and rudest in the Kingdom, and was
largely built of Roman bricks. It is quadrangular in shape, with high
walls from twenty to thirty feet thick surrounding a small court. About
a hundred years ago it was sold to a contractor who planned to tear it
down for the material, but after half completing his task he gave it up,
leaving enough of the old fortress to give a good idea of what it was
like.
The grim old ruin has many dark traditions of the times when "man's
inhumanity to man" was the rule rather than the exception. Even the
mild, nonresistant Quaker could not escape the bitterest persecution and
in one of the dungeons of Colchester Castle young George Fox was immured
and suffered death from neglect and starvation. This especially
attracted our attention, since the story had been pathetically told by
the speaker at the Sunday afternoon meeting which we attended at Jordans
and which I refer to in the following chapter. While there is a certain
feeling of melancholy that possesses one when he wanders through these
mouldering ruins, yet he often can not help thinking that they deserved
their fate.
Colchester suffered terribly in Parliamentary wars and only surrendered
to Cromwell after sustaining a seventy-six day siege, many traces of
which may still be seen. There are two or three ancient churches dating
from Saxon times which exhibit some remarkable specimens of Saxon
architecture. Parts of Colchester appeared quite modern and up-to-date,
the streets being beautifully kept, and there were many handsome
residences. Altogether, there is a strange combination of the very old
and the modern in Colchester.
We left this highway at Chelmsford to visit the Greenstead Church near
Chipping-Ongar, about twenty-two miles from London. This is one of the
most curious churches in all England. It is a diminutive building, half
hidden amidst the profusion of foliage, and would hardly attract
attention unless one had learned of its unique construction and
remarkable history. It is said to be the only church in England which is
built with wooden walls, these being made from the trunks of large oak
trees split down the center and roughly sharpened at each end. They are
raised from the ground by a low brick foundation, and inside the spaces
between the trunks are covered with pieces of wood. The rough timber
frame of the roof is fastened with wooden pins. The interior of the
building is quite dark, there being no windows in the wooden walls, and
the light comes in from a dormer window in the roof. This church was
built in the year 1010 to mark the resting place of St. Edmund the
Martyr, whose remains were being carried from Bury to London. The town
of Ongar, near by, once had an extensive castle, of which little
remains, and in the chancel of the church is the grave of Oliver
Cromwell's favorite daughter. A house in High Street was for some time
the residence of David Livingstone, the great African explorer.
From Chipping-Ongar we followed for the third time the delightful road
leading to London, passing through the village of Chigwell, of which I
have spoken at length elsewhere. On coming into London, we found the
streets in a condition of chaos, owing to repairs in the pavement. The
direct road was quite impassable and we were compelled to get into the
city through by-streets--not an easy task. In London the streets do not
run parallel as in many of our American cities. No end of inquiry was
necessary to get over the ten miles after we were in the city before we
reached our hotel. It was not very convenient to make inquiries, either,
when driving in streets crowded to the limit where our car could not
halt for an instant without stopping the entire procession. We would
often get into a pocket behind a slow-moving truck or street car and be
compelled to crawl along for several blocks at the slowest speed.
It was just sunset when we stopped in front of the Hotel Russell. We had
been absent on our tour six weeks to a day and our odometer registered
exactly 3070 miles. As there were five or six days of the time that we
did not travel, we had averaged about six hundred miles a week during
the tour. The weather had been unusually fine for England; we had
perhaps half a dozen rainy days, but only once did it rain heavily. We
had now traveled a total of 4100 miles and had visited the main points
of interest in the Kingdom excepting those in the country south of the
city, where we planned a short tour before sailing. We remained in
London a week before starting on this trip, but during that time I did
not take the car out of the garage. I had come to the conclusion that
outside of Sundays and holidays the nervous strain of attempting to
drive an automobile in the streets of London was such as to make the
effort not worth while.
[Illustration: BYRON'S ELM IN CHURCH YARD, HARROW.]