John and Betty's History Visit Part 7

John felt impatient at having to stop, and looked questioningly around at Mrs. Pitt from his place on the front seat. The others were already getting out, he found, and Mrs. Pitt was saying:

"This is Stoke Poges, and I want you to see it, for it's such a lovely spot. Probably you have all learned in school parts of Gray's 'Elegy,'

and very likely you never cared or thought much about the poem. Even if that's true, you can't possibly help loving this peaceful, beautiful place, in which it was written."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MOSS-GROWN SAXON PORCH.--_Page 97._]

They were now walking along a little path which led into the 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 h.o.a.ry 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 leaf.a.ge 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 princ.i.p.al 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 ma.n.u.scripts. Fox, Peel, Chatham, Wellington, and Sh.e.l.ley 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 pa.s.sing 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-gla.s.s, 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, Blucher, 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 pa.s.sed 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 c.o.c.kades 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 cas.e.m.e.nt 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 n.o.bles could step on sh.o.r.e 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 b.u.t.tresses. 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 bra.s.s 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 Ess.e.x 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-gla.s.s windows picturing all the English sovereigns, its frescoes, and throne, with the gilded canopy.

As they finally pa.s.sed 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 n.o.ble 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 t.i.ttering 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 bra.s.ses 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 a.s.signed 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 bra.s.s 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 b.u.mping 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.