Leaving London by the Harrow road, in course of an hour we came to the
famous college town, which lies about fifteen miles north of the city.
It is known chiefly for its boys' school, which was founded early in the
reign of Queen Elizabeth and at which many great Englishmen received
their early education. The school is situated on the top of a hill, one
of the most commanding positions in the vicinity of London, and on the
very summit is the Norman church. The view from this churchyard is one
of the finest in England. For many miles the fertile valley of the
Thames spreads out like a great park, exhibiting the most pleasing
characteristics of an English landscape. On one side the descent is
almost precipitous, and at the edge, in the churchyard, stands a
gigantic elm--now in the late stages of decay--which still bears the
sobriquet of "Byron's Elm." It is said that Byron, during his days at
Harrow, would sit here for hours at a time and contemplate the beautiful
scene which spread out before him. A descendant of one of the poet's
friends has placed near the spot a brass tablet, inscribed with the
somewhat stilted lines, On a Distant view From Harrow Churchyard,
"Spot of my youth, whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans the cloudless sky;
O! as I trace again thy winding hill,
Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still.
Thou drooping elm! Beneath whose boughs I lay,
And frequent mused the twilight hours away;
How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,
Invite this bosom to recall the past,
And seem to whisper, as they gently swell,
'Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell'"
We reached Harrow too late to attend church as we had hoped, the morning
services just closing as we entered the churchyard. We saw everywhere
numbers of students in Sunday garb, and an odd appearance these boys of
from fifteen to eighteen presented in a costume very nearly the
counterpart of an ordinary dress suit, usually set off by a high silk
hat. Harrow is associated with the names of many men who attained high
rank in English history and literature, some of whom strove in their
boyhood days to anticipate immortality by carving their names on the
wooden desks. Among these may still be seen the rudely cut letters of
the names of Byron, Sheridan and Peele.
The town, which slopes away from the top of the hill, has an up-to-date
appearance and is a favorite place for suburban residences of wealthy
Londoners. The road leading down the hill from the church turned sharply
out of view, and just as we were beginning the descent a gentleman
hastened to us and cautioned us not to undertake it. He said that
numerous motors had been wrecked in the attempt. We went down by a
roundabout way, but when we came to pass the hill at its foot, we found
it was not nearly so steep as some we had already passed over.
Two or three hours over narrow and generally bad roads for England
brought us to the village of Chalfont St. Giles, where John Milton made
his residence while writing "Paradise Lost." It is a retired little
place, mere lanes leading into it. The shriek of the railroad train does
not disturb its quietude, the nearest station being several miles away.
The village doubtless appears much as it did in Milton's time, three
hundred years ago, and the cottage which he occupied stands practically
unaltered. A notice posted outside stated that the cottage would not be
shown on Sunday. But such announcements had little terror for us by this
time, and we found no difficulty in gaining admittance to the quaint
little building. It is in the Elizabethan style, with half-timber frame
and sagging tile roof. The windows have small, diamond-shaped panes of
leaded glass set in rude iron frames and open on a typical English
flower garden. The villagers purchased the cottage by public
subscription and its preservation is thus fortunately insured. The
tenant acts as caretaker and apparently takes pride in keeping the place
in order. The poet's room, directly on the right when entering, is
rather dark, and has a low-beamed ceiling. There is a wide fireplace
with the old time appliances accompanying it, and one can imagine the
blind poet sitting by his fireside on winter days or enjoying the
sweetness that in summertime came through the antique windows from the
flower garden. Here he dictated "Paradise Lost" to his daughter, who
acted as his secretary. One can not help contrasting the unsurpassed
majesty and dignity of the great poem with the humble and even rude
surroundings of the cottage. Milton came here in 1665 to escape the
plague which was then devastating London. His eldest daughter was at
that time about seventeen years of age, and there is reason to believe
that she was with him during his stay in St. Giles. We were delighted
with the place, for we had seen little else more typical of old-time
England than this cottage, which would have been worth seeing aside from
its connection with the great epic poet. In front was the garden, a
blaze of bright colors, and the walls were half hidden by climbing
rose-vines in full boom--for the roses in England stay much later in
the summer than they do with us. The entrance to the cottage fronts on
the garden. There is no door next the street, the great chimney built on
the outside leaving no room for one.
[Illustration: MILTON'S ROOM IN COTTAGE AT CHALFONT ST. GILES.]
We were now in the vicinity where William Penn was born and where he
lies buried. We had some trouble in finding Jordans, the little
meeting-house near which is the grave of the Quaker philanthropist. Many
of the people of whom we inquired did not know of its existence, and
after considerable wandering through the byways we learned that we were
within a mile of the place. For this distance we followed a shady lane,
over-arched by trees and so ill kept that it was about as rough motoring
as one will find in England. Directly at the foot of a steep hill we
came upon the meeting-house, nestling in a wooded valley. It had in its
plain simplicity the appearance of an ordinary cottage; with the Quakers
there in no such thing as a church, for they prefer to call their places
of worship simply "meeting-houses." We were surprised to find a number
of people about the chapel and soon learned that we had the good fortune
to arrive on one of the meeting days. These meetings had for years been
held annually, but during the present summer they were being held once a
month. As the Friends are not numerous in this vicinity, many of the
congregation had come from long distances--some from London. We learned
this in conversation with a sweet-faced, quiet-mannered lady who had all
the Quaker characteristics. She said that she and her husband had come
from London that day, most of the way on their cycles; that they had
been in Philadelphia and knew something of America. She presented us to
a benevolent-looking, white-bearded man who afterwards proved to be the
leader of the meeting, simply saying, "Our friends are from Iowa." The
old gentleman pressed us to remain, as the meeting would begin
immediately, and we were delighted to acquiesce. There were about forty
people gathered in the little room, which was not more than fifteen by
twenty feet in size and supplied with the plainest straight-backed
benches imaginable. It was a genuine Quaker meeting. For perhaps half an
hour the congregation sat in perfect silence, and finally the old
gentleman who acted as leader arose and explained--largely for our
benefit, I think, as we were the only strangers present--that this was
the Quaker method of worship. Unless a member of the congregation felt
he had something really worth saying, he waited to speak only "as the
Spirit moved him." I could not help thinking that I had been in many
meetings where, if this rule had been followed, everybody would have
been better off. However, in the course of a few minutes he arose again
and began his talk. We had attended many services in England at noted
churches and cathedrals, but for genuine Christianity, true brotherly
love and real inspiration, I think the half hour talk of the old Quaker
was worth them all. We agreed that it was one of our most fortunate
experiences.
In the churchyard we stood before the grave of William Penn, marked by
the plainest kind of a small headstone and identical with the few others
beside it. We expressed wonder at this, but the lady with whom we had
previously talked explained that it would be inharmonious with the
Quaker idea to erect a splendid monument to any man. For many years the
graves had not been marked at all, but finally it was decided that it
would not be inappropriate to put up plain headstones, all of the same
style, to let visitors know where the great Quaker and his family rest.
And very simple were the inscriptions chiseled upon the stones. All
around the meeting-house is a forest of great trees, and no other
building is in the immediate vicinity. One might almost have imagined
himself at a Quaker service in pioneer times in America, when the
meeting-houses were really as remote and secluded as this one seemed,
rather than within twenty miles of the world's metropolis, in a country
teeming with towns and villages.
It was about three o'clock when we left Jordans with a view of reaching
Oxford, still a good many miles away, by nightfall. In this vicinity are
the Burnham beeches, made known almost everywhere by the camera and the
brush of the artist. A byway runs directly among the magnificent trees,
which we found as imposing as the pictures had represented--sprawling
old trees, many feet in circumference, but none of very great height.
Near by is Stoke-Poges church, whose memory is kept alive by the "Elegy"
of the poet Gray. It is one of the best known of the English country
churches and is visited annually by thousands of people. The poet and
his relatives are buried in the churchyard and the yew tree under which
he is said to have meditated upon the theme of the immortal poem is
still standing, green and thriving. The church, half covered by ivy and
standing against a background of fine trees, presents a beautiful
picture. In the immediate neighborhood a monument has been raised in
memory of Gray--a huge bulk of stone of inartistic and unpleasing
design. The most appropriate monument of the poet is the church itself,
with its yew tree, which is now known wherever the English language is
spoken.
Two or three miles farther on is Windsor, with its castle, the principal
residence of royalty, and Eton College, its well known school for boys.
This school is more exclusive and better patronized than Harrow, and I
was told that it is quite a difficult problem for the average youth to
enter at all. The sons of the nobility and members of the royal family
are given the preference and expenses are so high as to shut out all but
the wealthy. Windsor Castle is the most imposing of its kind in the
world. It is situated on the Thames River, about twenty miles from
London. Crowning a gently rising hill, its massive towers and
battlements afford a picturesque view from almost anywhere in the
surrounding country and especially from points of vantage in the park,
where one can catch glimpses of the fortress through some of the avenues
of magnificent trees. On a clear day, when the towers of the castle are
sharply outlined against the sky and surmounted by the brightly colored
royal standards, one might easily imagine himself back in the good old
days of knight-errantry. Windsor is shown to visitors at any time when
the royal family is not in residence. Queen Victoria and Albert, the
Prince Consort, are buried in Frogmore Park, near by, but the tombs are
sacredly guarded from the public. The grounds surrounding the castle are
laid out in flower gardens and parks, and the forest of more than seven
thousand acres is the finest in England. It is one of the royal
preserves where the king occasionally goes hunting, but it really serves
more the purpose of a great public park. There are many splendid drives
through the forest open to everybody, the main one leading straight away
from the castle gates for about four miles and terminating at an
equestrian statue of George the Third, of more or less happy memory.
A broad road leads from Windsor to Oxford; it is almost straight and
without hills of consequence. It is a favorite route for motorists, and
at several points were stationed bicycle couriers of the Motor Union to
give warning for police traps. These guards patrolled the road and
carried circular badges, red on one side and white on the other. If the
white side were shown to the passing motorist, the road ahead was clear;
but the red was a caution for moderate speed for several miles. This
system, which we found in operation in many places, is the means of
saving motor drivers from numerous fines. The bicycle courier receives a
fee very thankfully and no doubt this constitutes his chief source of
revenue for service rendered.
About ten miles from Oxford we passed through Henley-on-Thames, famed
for the University rowing-matches. Here the river lies in broad still
stretches that afford an ideal place for the contests. The Thames is
navigable for small steamboats and houseboats from London to Oxford, a
distance of sixty miles, and the shores of the stream throughout afford
scenes of surpassing beauty. Just at sunset the towers of Oxford
loomed in the distance, and it was easy to recognize that of Magdalen
College, which rises to a height of two hundred feet. Though Oxford is
one of the older of the English towns, parts of it seemed as up-to-date
as any we had seen, and the Randolph Hotel compared favorably with the
best we found anywhere.
[Illustration: DISTANT VIEW OF MAGDALEN TOWER, OXFORD.]
The time which a tourist will devote to Oxford will depend upon his
point of view. To visit the forty-four colleges in detail and to give
any time to each would manifestly require several days--if not
weeks--and especially would this be true if one were interested to any
extent in student life in the University. Manifestly, people touring
England in a motor car do not belong to the class described. In order to
get the most out of the trip, there is a constant necessity for moving
on. By an economical use of time, one may gain a fair idea of Oxford in
a few hours. This was what we had done on a previous trip and
consequently we spent little time in the city on our second visit,
merely remaining over night. I think the method we pursued would be the
most practical for anyone who desires to reach the most interesting
points of the town in the shortest time. We engaged an experienced
hack-driver, who combined with his vocation the qualities of a well
informed guide as well. We told him of our limited time and asked him to
make the most of it by taking us about the universities, stopping at
such as would give us the best idea of the schools and of university
life. He did this to our satisfaction, and as we passed the various
institutions his comments gave us a general idea of each. He stopped at
some of the more noted colleges, where we often found guides who
conducted us about the buildings and grounds. Perhaps Magdalen College
is as interesting as any. Its fine quadrangular tower is one of the
landmarks of the city, and they will tell you of the quaint custom that
has prevailed for many centuries of celebrating May Day morning with
music from the top of the tower by a choir of boys. Magdalen has its
park and gardens, and Addison's Walk--a pathway extending for
considerable distance between an avenue of fine trees beside a clear
little river--is reputed to have been a haunt of the great essayist when
a student at the University. Next to Magdalen, the most celebrated
colleges are New College, Christ Church and Merton. At the first of
these Cecil Rhodes was a student, and the great promoter must have had a
warm feeling for the University, since his bequest has thrown open the
various colleges to more than a hundred students from all parts of the
world, but principally from the United States. Practically all of the
students have their quarters in connection with the colleges and meals
are served in public dining rooms.
Aside from its colleges, there is much else of interest in and about
Oxford. The castle, of which there are scant remains, is one of the very
oldest in England and has a varied and often stirring history. During
the Parliamentary War, Oxford was one of the strongholds of the king and
underwent many sieges from Cromwell's army--which was responsible for
the final destruction of the castle. As a seat of learning, the town
dates from the time of Alfred, who was born at Wantage, only twenty
miles away. Naturally, Oxford was always prominent in ecclesiastical
affairs and during the reign of Mary the three bishops of the English
church suffered martyrdom there. In one of the public places of the city
stands a tall Gothic monument commemorating the services of these men
and incidentally putting severe strictures on the "errors" of the Roman
church. The language in which this latter clause is stated caused a
storm of protest when the monument was erected, but it had no more
effect than did the protest against the iron-clad, anti-Catholic
coronation oath of the king. The Bodleian Library, located in Oxford, is
the greatest in England, with the exception of the library of the
British Museum.