John and Betty's History Visit Part 9

"Very well, we will," her mother panted; "we're nearly there now."

The view to which Barbara and her mother referred proved to be really very beautiful. On one side of the hill is a little park from which a precipice descends to the river. Looking through an opening in the luxuriant foliage of the trees (an opening which takes the place of a picture-frame), one sees a glorious view of the green valley below, through which the lazy Thames winds dreamily; and if the day is clear, Windsor Castle may just be discerned in the distance.

"Philip, you and John go and engage one of those drivers over opposite the hotel, to take us for a little drive in the Park; as soon as I order our luncheon, I'll be out again to go along." With that, Mrs.

Pitt disappeared for a few moments into the Star and Garter.

Richmond Park is a favorite resort for tourists, and driving and bicycle parties. It contains some fine old trees, and a great many deer which add to its attractiveness. Mrs. Pitt directed the coachman not to drive about much, however, but to show them two points of interest.

"This is the 'King's Mound,'" she observed, as the horses slowed down.

"Yes, that little low mound of earth just this side of the clump of trees. I'll admit that it looks uninteresting enough; but it is known as the spot where Henry VIII stood while listening for the sound of the gun at the Tower, which told him of the execution of Anne Boleyn."

"Ugh!" Betty interposed, in disgusted tones, giving a little shudder.

"Think how he must have felt! Horrid old thing!"

"Don't be silly, Betty!" retorted John. "I guess a little thing like that wouldn't trouble him!"

Almost in the center of the Park is a house called White Lodge, which has long been a royal residence. It is approached by an avenue, which was the scene of Jeanie Deans's interview with Queen Caroline, as Scott describes it in his "Heart of Midlothian."

Their lunch was quickly over, and they were again on their way down the long hill. In the town of Richmond, they mounted another tram for the forty-minute ride to Hampton Court.

"If we only had had a bit more time," Mrs. Pitt apologized, "I should have shown you what still remains of the famous old palace of Richmond. Henry VIII and Elizabeth both held their courts there often, and there the latter died in 1603. The palace was destroyed by order of Parliament in 1649; only a small part of it was spared, and in that the widow of Charles I, poor Queen Henrietta Maria, was allowed to live. Are you getting plenty of history, Betty, my dear?"

"Oh, yes, but I'm always ready for more," smiled that young lady in response.

The tram set them down very near the great palace of Hampton Court.

They went quickly through the entrance-gates of wrought iron, and walked towards the building itself. This West Front is as Wolsey left it, and is made of the old crimson bricks, with here and there a black one. Pa.s.sing under the gatehouse, they came into the Green or Base Court, and here they paused to look about them.

"You'll remember that the great and powerful Cardinal Wolsey built Hampton Court," suggested Mrs. Pitt. "He lived in regal state, and had almost as large a retinue of servants and followers as the King himself. To gratify his great love for splendor and luxury, he built this magnificent residence for himself. He was in need of a home a little removed from the city, where he could rest and enjoy the fresh air. Yet it was also accessible to London, for he could be rowed up the river in his barge. Wolsey's two great ambitions--wealth and power--were both gratified, and for a while all went well; but time brought the King's displeasure, and it was he who took possession at Hampton Court after the complete disgrace which led to the death of the Cardinal. Henry VIII tore down some of Wolsey's buildings, and put up new ones in their stead; and other monarchs added portions also; for instance, the huge State Apartments were erected under the supervision of Sir Christopher Wren, and by order of King William III.

We shall see all these later on. Have you noticed those little oriel windows of the gatehouse? They are the originals of Wolsey's palace, and I think this court here is also much the same as he built it. In his day there were pretty latticed windows in these surrounding buildings, a gra.s.s plot in the center, and around these narrow pa.s.sages Wolsey probably rode on his a.s.s."

"a.s.s!" cried John. "What for? With all his money, couldn't he even have a horse?"

"Oh, rather!" Mrs. Pitt laughed. "No doubt Wolsey would have liked one, but he was wise enough to always follow custom in such matters as had to do with his outward appearance and att.i.tude. All religious men rode on a.s.ses; it was the habit of the day. Now, come this way, and see the Great Hall. Oh, Philip! Please fetch me my umbrella; I left it on the step in the court, there!"

Leading into the second or Clock Court, is Anne Boleyn's gateway.

Under this is a broad flight of stairs which takes one to the Great Hall, erected by Henry VIII, probably on the site of Wolsey's earlier hall. It is a grand old room with a fine timber roof, and complete with its das or raised platform at the end, its minstrels' gallery over the entrance doors, its old tapestries, stags' heads, and suits of armor, and its windows mostly filled with modern stained-gla.s.s. Out of the hall are two smaller apartments, which also contain good tapestries. From here, the visitor again descends to Anne Boleyn's gateway.

"What a funny old clock!" exclaimed Betty, spying it, up above on the tower under which they had just pa.s.sed. "It seems to be so mixed up, somehow, that I can't tell the time by it."

"It is curious! It's Henry VIII's Astronomical Clock; it has all sorts of appliances and strange attachments. That's why you can't read it.

It was recently repaired and set going again."

"The King's Grand Staircase" is broad, stately, and quite as impressive as its name, and this leads to the pompous State Apartments. These great square rooms, one opening out of another, seemed endless to the young people, and contained no attractions for them. The walls are covered with pictures, some of which are fine, but there are so many which are very similar that even Sir Peter Lely, Holbein, and Van Dyck become hopelessly tiresome. These rooms also contain some old furniture which is interesting, but on the whole, the best thing about them is the ever charming view of the gardens from the windows. The visitor may enter one tiny room called "Wolsey's Closet," which is deeply impressive with its paneled walls and ancient ceiling. The very atmosphere of the sixteenth century still seems to linger here, and one can easily believe that nothing herein has been changed since the great Cardinal used it daily. Near this is a long gallery which is supposed to be haunted by the ghost of Queen Catharine Howard. After the dullness of the State Apartments, this possessed great interest for the boys, and they lingered here as long as Mrs. Pitt would allow. They were forced to come away disappointed, however, without having heard even one little scream.

"You'd better spend the night here, John," remarked Philip, in teasing tones. "That's the proper time to see and hear ghosts." John decided not to wait, however.

Of all the one thousand rooms of the great palace, they saw only one more, and that was Henry VIII's Gothic Chapel, gorgeous in its fine carving and gilding, and in which the magnificent ceremony of the baptism of Prince Edward, afterwards Edward VI, was held.

The gardens of Hampton Court are perhaps better known and enjoyed than the palace itself. They are very extensive, and are laid out in the French style. Directly before the long front of William III's addition, is a great round basin with a fountain, and beyond stretches the "Long Ca.n.a.l,"--a straight and narrow artificial pond, bordered by very beautiful trees. Then there is the "Home Park" on either side of the ca.n.a.l; here Henry VIII and Catharine Howard probably wandered often during their long honeymoon at Hampton Court; and here William III was riding on the day when he was thrown from his horse and killed.

There is what is called the "Wilderness,"--in reality a maze--which was greatly enjoyed by the party; and nearer the palace, again, is the tennis-court, where that game has been played for three centuries and a half. Some of the players here have been Henry VIII, the Earl of Leicester, Charles I, Charles II, and the present King, Edward VII, when he was Prince of Wales.

"And didn't that American, Pett.i.tt, play here?" inquired John. "He won the World's Champions.h.i.+p in England, you know. Yes, I thought it was here, though the word Hampton Court never meant much to me before to-day."

There is still the remarkable Hampton Court Vine, the fame of which has spread so far. The vine fills a whole greenhouse, and one of its branches is a hundred and fourteen feet long. The attendant told Betty that the crop consists of about eight hundred bunches, each one weighing a pound. Having duly marveled at this, they explored Queen Mary's lovely bower or arbor, where that Queen used to sit with her ladies at the tapestry-frames.

"Dear me, let's go back now!" said Betty. "I'm sure we've been miles over these grounds."

So they walked along the paths where Henry VIII made love to Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard, where Queen Elizabeth took her morning walks, and where Pope, Swift, Addison, and Walpole wandered in more recent days.

"I think I haven't mentioned Cromwell to you in connection with Hampton Court, but he must not be forgotten, for he came here after he was made Protector, and lived with as much pomp and splendor as any king. Every time I visit this palace I marvel at the amount of history with which it is connected, and at the number of scenes for which it was the setting!"

As she spoke, Mrs. Pitt was leading the way to the railroad-station. A London train came along very soon, fortunately, but they ran up and down in vain looking for seats in their customary third-cla.s.s compartment. These were all crowded, the following day being a "bank holiday," so when the guard at last came to their rescue, he put them in a first-cla.s.s compartment. This greatly interested John and Betty, as they had not seen one before.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "EVERY TIME I VISIT THE PALACE I MARVEL AT THE AMOUNT OF HISTORY WITH WHICH IT IS CONNECTED."--_Page 136._]

"It isn't so very different, after all," commented Betty. "The cus.h.i.+ons are a little nicer, and there's carpet on the floor, but that's the only change from an ordinary third-cla.s.s carriage."

"I know it," said Philip. "And most English people never think of traveling first-cla.s.s except on a long journey; for it really is very little better, and the price is so ruinously dear!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STRATFORD-ON-AVON

"We're going to stay in a really, truly old inn at last, aren't we!"

Betty gave a sigh of satisfaction and walked rapidly along by Mrs.

Pitt's side, as that lady led the way from the station at Stratford to the famous Red Horse Hotel.

"Stratford is exactly like any other little English town," John was commenting to Philip. "There are plenty of new houses made of s.h.i.+ny, red bricks, and all put close together in blocks, with their tiny lawns and gardens in front. I suppose they build that way even in the small towns, because you haven't as much room to spread out as we have in America. Too bad, though, I say! Makes a little town look just like a big city, only smaller. I thought Stratford would be different!" His tones betrayed not a little disappointment.

As they came into the central and older part of the town, however, even John was forced to admit that it was "different," after all.

Along Stratford's narrow, clean little streets stand many old houses adorned with great oak timbers, quaint inscriptions, and carvings; and quicker than all else, the sight of these, remaining here and there between the more modern structures, makes one feel the antiquity of the place. These houses totter a little, and lean their upper stories over the street,--perhaps with a kind of curiosity to see better the strange and more and more startling scenes which the centuries bring forth. For instance, what must these ancient houses, which perchance witnessed the pa.s.sing of some splendid pageant of the "s.p.a.cious times of Queen Elizabeth," think of the bustle and prosperous commercial air which the town has gradually taken on? What of the sight-seers whose automobiles go tearing along, uttering weird and frightful sounds? No wonder the old houses stand on tiptoe and bend farther and farther over the street in their amazement and horror!

The young people were delighted with the odd little Red Horse Hotel.

As it was market-day, the wide street before it was crowded with people, and down the middle was a row of queer, covered wagons, in which the farmers bring their produce, and which are used as stalls on arrival at the market-place. The little hotel is severely plain and square, and has a pa.s.sage leading into an old-time court-yard. Inside, it has quaint little rooms filled with antique furniture, narrow corridors, and uneven floors, with here a step up, and there two steps down. Leaving their luggage in the rooms a.s.signed to them, the party immediately set out for "the Birthplace," as all Stratford people invariably call the famous Shakespeare house on Henley Street.

"Is that it!" gasped John, as they stood on the opposite side of the way and gazed across at the first home of the great Poet. "Why, I didn't suppose it was as big as that! And it doesn't look old a bit!"

Shakespeare's birthplace has been too often pictured, and is far too familiar to all to need any description given it here. Perhaps it does seem rather larger than we imagined, and the outside certainly looks surprisingly strong and new.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHY I DIDN'T SUPPOSE IT WAS AS BIG AS THAT!"--_Page 140._]

"But you know it now belongs to the nation," Mrs. Pitt explained, "and is always kept in perfect condition. The last restoration was finished only about fifty or sixty years ago. Although the house was so completely renewed, the greatest care was used to make it look as nearly as possible as it did at the time of Shakespeare's birth in 1564. That window above the entrance, with the little diamond panes, is the original, and is in the room in which the Poet was born."

Going under the old porch and through the door with its high threshold, our friends found themselves in the family living-room of the house. It is low and rather dark, and has whitewashed walls and an earthen floor. This was in all probability the kitchen and dining-room as well, and one is reminded of the fact by a huge fireplace which juts out into the room. In olden times this would have been filled with great pots and kettles hanging over the fire on cranes. The chimney is deep enough and wide enough to have two little seats within it--one on either side. John quickly bent down and seated himself where he could look straight up the chimney and see a square patch of blue sky.