John and Betty's History Visit Part 2

Those four short words suggest a sad story about which one would like to learn more.

"You must know," said Mrs. Pitt, "that the cloisters were something besides burial-places. Here the monks spent most of their time, for this was the center of the life of the monastery. The southern cloister, over opposite, was the lavatory, and there the monks were forced to have their heads shaved,--every two weeks in summer, and every three in winter. These walls were then painted with frescoes, the floor and benches were covered with rushes or straw, the windows were partly glazed, and lamps hung from the ceiling. In one of the cloisters was held a cla.s.s of novices, taught by a master, and this was the beginning of Westminster School. I believe the pupils were allowed to speak only French. How would you like that?"

Adjoining the cloisters are numerous little pa.s.sageways, with low arches, which lead into tiny courts dotted with flowers and little fountains. In the houses about, live the canons of the Abbey and others connected with the church. Lovely glimpses of sunlight and the bright colors of flowers are seen at the ends of these dark, ancient pa.s.sages.

Westminster School may also be reached from the cloisters. Our party stood a moment in the doorway of the schoolroom to see the splendid old hall, with its fine oaken roof. This was once the dormitory of the monks, but is now taken up with the boys' "forms," or desks, piled with books. The walls above the wainscoting, and the window-recesses, are covered with signatures of the scholars,--some of them famous, for the school was begun as long ago as the time of Henry VIII, who was the founder. The visitor may see the name of the poet, Dryden, on one of the desks; he was a pupil there, as were also Sir Christopher Wren, the architect; Ben Jonson; Southey, the poet; and John and Charles Wesley.

"What is that iron bar for?" questioned the curious John, pointing to a long bar which stretches from wall to wall, across the middle of the room.

"That divides the Upper and Lower Cla.s.ses," was the prompt reply of Mrs. Pitt, whose stock of knowledge seemed endless. "At one time, a curtain was hung over that bar. Don't you know the story which is told in the 'Spectator Papers,' about the boy who accidentally tore a hole in this curtain? He was a timid little fellow, and was terrified at the thought of the punishment which he felt sure would be his. One of his cla.s.smates came to the rescue, saying that he would take the blame upon himself, which he did. It was years later, when the timid boy had become a great judge, that the Civil War broke out, and he and his friend took opposite sides. The kind man who had saved his friend from punishment was a Royalist, and was captured and imprisoned at Exeter, where the other man happened to come at the same time, with the Circuit Court. At the moment when nothing remained but to sentence the 'rebels,' the judge recognized his friend, and by making a very hurried trip to London, he was able to secure a pardon from Cromwell, and thus succeeded in saving the man's life."

"That was fine!" said John. "He did pay him back after all, didn't he? I thought he wasn't going to."

"Now, we will just look into the Chapter House and the old Jerusalem Chamber, before we go," said Mrs. Pitt, as they left the school.

The Chapter House is a beautiful, eight-sided room, dating from the thirteenth century. Here the business of the monastery was always conducted, and at the meetings which came every week, the monks were allowed to speak freely, and to make complaints, if they wished. Here also the monks were punished.

"They used to whip them against that central pillar, there," the guard explained. "Here sat the abbot, opposite the door, and the monks sat on benches ranged around the room. Parliament met here for many years, too, its last session in this room being on the day that the great King Hal died."

The Chapter House has been restored now, and the windows are of modern stained-gla.s.s. In the cases are preserved some valuable doc.u.ments, the oldest being a grant of land, made by King Offa, in 785.

To reach the Jerusalem Chamber, it is necessary to go through a part of the cloisters, and into the court of the Deanery. On one side is the old abbot's refectory, or dining-hall, where the Westminster school-boys now dine. John went boldly up the steps and entered. After a few minutes, he came running out again, exclaiming:

"n.o.body stopped me, so I went right in, and looked around. A maid was setting the tables, and I noticed that she stared at me, but she didn't say anything, so I stayed. The hall is great! It isn't very large, but is paneled and hung with portraits. The old tables, a notice says, are made from wood taken from one of the vessels of the Spanish Armada. Wonder how they found it and brought it here! I was just going to ask the maid, when a savage-looking man appeared and said I had no business there. So I came away. I don't care; I saw it, anyway!" he added, as they approached the entrance of the Jerusalem Chamber.

All three sides of this little court were the abbot's lodgings, and are now the deanery. The Jerusalem Chamber was built about 1376, as a guest-chamber for the abbot's house.

"The name is curious, isn't it?" remarked Mrs. Pitt. "It probably came from some tapestries which formerly hung there, representing the history of Jerusalem. It was in this room, right here in front of the fireplace, according to tradition, that Henry IV died. A strange dream had told the King that he would die in Jerusalem, and he was actually preparing for the journey there, when he was taken very ill, and they carried him into this room. When he asked where they had brought him, and the reply was, 'To the Jerusalem Chamber,' he died satisfied. Many bodies have lain here in state, too,--among them, that of Joseph Addison, whom they afterwards buried in the Abbey. When we come again, I will show you his grave. Now, notice the bits of ancient stained-gla.s.s in the windows, and the cedar paneling; except for that, there is nothing specially noteworthy here."

As they left the Dean's Yard and crossed the open s.p.a.ce in front of the great western towers of the Abbey, John and Betty agreed that if they could see nothing more in England, they were already repaid for their long journey across the ocean.

CHAPTER FOUR

PENSHURST PLACE: THE HOME OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

In Charing Cross Station one morning, Mrs. Pitt hurried up to the "booking-office," as the English call the ticket-office, to "book"

five tickets to Penshurst. While the man was getting her change, she turned and said to Philip:--

"Please ask that guard who is standing there, on which platform we shall find the 9.40 train for Penshurst."

Philip did so, and returned with the information that they should go to Platform 8. So they all mounted the steps and walked over the foot-bridge which always runs across and above all the tracks, in an English station. There was a bench on the platform, and they sat down to await the arrival of the train. About 9.35, five minutes before the train was to start, John happened to see a train official sauntering by, and asked him if it was correct that the Penshurst train left from that platform.

The man stared. "Really, you are quite mistaken," he drawled; "that train leaves from Platform 2. You had better hurry, you know; you haven't much time."

John waited for nothing more, but ran to tell the rest, and they all started for the other end of the station. Up the steep steps again ran Mrs. Pitt, with the four young people following. Along the bridge they flew till they reached Platform 2, and then they almost fell down the steps in their hurry, for the train was already there.

When they were fairly seated in a third-cla.s.s carriage, John, still out of breath, exclaimed:--

"Whew! My! I never ran faster in my life, did you, Philip? How the girls kept up, I don't know! You're a first-cla.s.s sprinter all right, Mrs. Pitt! We'd like you on our football team, at home! My, but I'm hot!"

He paused for breath, and then went on excitedly:

"There was a close call for you! We'd have lost it if I hadn't spoken to that guard, just in fun! There we were calmly waiting, and all of a sudden, we took that wild dash across the bridge! It was great! I hope somebody caught a photograph of us! I'd like to see one! How stupid of the guard to make that mistake! They never seem to know very much, anyway. If I ever am a guard, I shall be different; I shall know things!"

They all had a good laugh over the adventure, and Mrs. Pitt a.s.sured John that when he was a guard, they would all promise to use his station.

"Don't these trains seem different from ours, Betty?" the future guard asked of his sister. "It seems so queer to me why they want to take a perfectly good, long car, and chop it up from side to side, into little narrow rooms, like this! What's the use of having so many doors?--one on each side of every 'compartment'! And then, they put handles only on the outside, so you have to let down the window and lean away out to open it for yourself, if the guard doesn't happen to do it for you! We Americans couldn't waste so much time!"

Just then, Betty, who could contain herself no longer, burst out laughing.

"Why, what in the world's the matter?" cried Barbara.

Betty could only point to a pa.s.sing train. "It's only the funny little freight cars!" she finally explained, rather ashamed that she had let her feelings escape in that way. "They look so silly to us!

They seem about a third the size of the ones at home. Really, these remind me of a picture in my history-book, of the first train ever run in America!"

Mrs. Pitt smiled. "Yes, I can imagine just how strange they must seem to you, for I remember very well how I felt the first time I ever rode in one of your trains. To me, one of the most interesting things about visiting a foreign country, is to see the different modes of travel."

"Oh, please understand that I think so, too!" urged Betty. "It was only that I couldn't help laughing just at first, you see. I wouldn't have your trains just like ours for anything, and I'm sure that John wouldn't either."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHAT'S THE USE OF HAVING SO MANY DOORS?"--_Page 39._]

"Now," said Mrs. Pitt, "there is a little confession which I feel that I ought to make. It's about where we are going to-day. Probably most people would blame me for not taking you to Windsor or Hampton Court, on your first trip out of town. Both those places are charming, but I wanted to show you, first of all, this dear little corner of Kent.

All tourists flock to Windsor and Hampton Court, but a great many do not know about this tiny, out-of-the-way village, with which I fell in love years ago. Penshurst Place was the home of Sir Philip Sidney, and is still owned by a member of the same family. You know that Sir Philip lived in Queen Elizabeth's time, and that his name stands for the model of a perfect courtier and ideal gentleman. He died when he was very young--only thirty-two, I think--and he did very little which you would suppose could have made him so famous. That is, it was little in comparison with what Raleigh and Drake accomplished, and yet the name of Sidney ranks with all the rest. It seems to have been more in the way he did things, than in what he did. Of course, you remember the story of his death,--that when he was dying, he pa.s.sed a cup of water which was brought him, to another dying soldier, saying, 'Thy need is greater than mine.' Well, to-day we shall see where he was born and bred,--where Ben Jonson, Edmund Spenser, and Queen Elizabeth all visited."

They were now riding through Kent, in which county is some of the most picturesque English scenery. Although it was only the last of April, the gra.s.s was the freshest green, the great trees were in full leaf, and primroses were beginning to spring up in the fields. They sped through little villages of thatched-roofed cottages, each with its tiny garden of gay flowers. There were little crooked lanes, bordered by high hedges, and wide, shady roads, with tall, stately elms on either side, and fields where sheep grazed.

"Oh, there's a cottage which looks like Anne Hathaway's!" exclaimed Betty. "It couldn't be, could it? Anyway, it's real story-book country!"

They left the train at the little station of Penshurst, two miles from the village. Behind the building stood a queer, side-seated wagon, with one stout horse. The driver, when Philip found him, seemed loath to bestir himself, but was finally persuaded to drive them to the castle.

Penshurst village proved to be even prettier than those they had seen from the train. The Lord of Penshurst Place is a very wise, appreciative man, and he has made a rule that when any cottage in the village is found to be beyond repair, it shall be replaced by a new house exactly like the original. In consequence, the houses look equally old and equally attractive, with their roofs of grayish thatch, and the second stories leaning protectingly over the lower windows, overgrown with rose-vines.

Mrs. Pitt went into the tiny post-office to buy their tickets of admission to the castle, and when she called out that there were also pretty post-cards to be had, the others quickly followed. Having chosen their cards, they all walked through the little church-yard, with its ancient yew trees, and out into a field from which they could see Penshurst Place itself.

"Why! isn't it a huge place!" cried Barbara. "This is just as new to Philip and me, you know, Betty, for we have never been here, either."

"How charmingly situated it is!" exclaimed Mrs. Pitt enthusiastically.

"Just a glance at it would tell you that it was never a strong fortress. Like Raby Castle, another favorite of mine, I believe that Penshurst never stood a siege. But it is so stately and graceful, standing in the center of these perfect lawns and groups of n.o.ble old trees! It is a beautiful contrast to the many fortress-castles! This seems to speak of peace, happiness, and safety."

The castle covers a great deal of ground, and is low and square, with here and there a turret. A terrace, or broad walk, runs the length of the front of the building, where the moat formerly was, and the party crossed this to reach the entrance-way. His Lordship came out just then, with his dog, and glanced kindly at the eager young people.

Continuing, they crossed a square court, and came to a second gateway, where a servant met them and conducted them into the old-time Baronial-hall, dating from the fourteenth century.

"This," announced the guide with tremendous pride, "we believe to be the only banquet-hall now remaining in England, where the ancient fireplace in the center of the room still exists. You'll see many fine halls, but you'll not see another such fireplace."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THIS SEEMS TO SPEAK OF PEACE, HAPPINESS, AND SAFETY."